Or. . . trying to explain, to people who clearly don’t get it, the value of compact titles.
One of the advantages of my having stopped using this space is that you only have to skip one post to see the one where I said there wasn’t any reason to expect a Trump choke. In a shocking twist, however, it turned out that I wasn’t pessimistic enough by some distance. I can absolutely assure that this isn’t something that happens very often.
So. . . as you know, Republicans who pretend to disavow Trump as a racist demagogue are cowardly liars. They have, after all, been participating in the same racists demagoguery as Trump for decades, they’ve just kept a paper-thin division up. That’s all that Trump has changed, really. Now even the morons can tell that the Republican party has nothing to offer beyond racism. What’s only surprising to the ostensible intellectual wing of the party is it turned out to be a huge boon.
Whether that ignorance was naive or cynical is neither here now there. What’s more important is that the people who are fooling themselves into thinking that Trump is too much for them are going to come around. The only thing about this that isn’t completely obvious is that it will take a bit longer if our boy DT wins. In fact, Trump getting elected and glassing the entire globe is the only scenario in which the Republican party doesn’t drop way below his level.
If DT doesn’t make it to the presidency, Republicans are going to be unwilling to give up on the crowds he drew; in fact, those crowds have been desperate for more direct pandering for ages, so if they aren’t drawn further into the Republican mainstream, then they could easily be picked up by another party who they would support regardless of prospect.
(Remember when cops didn’t like Nazis? Good times.)
So, you know, the whole Donald Trump thing: hilarious, no? This headline alone is almost cathartic, not do mention the volume of digs a real pro like Roy Edroso gets in. I’ve spent a lot of time over the years being grumpy about how easily the GOP base falls in line once the party apparatus starts getting heavy-handed, and suddenly all that seems to be collapsing. Like all sensible people, I’m waiting for Trump to be sabotaged in the primaries, run as an independent, and ensure the biggest GOP failure in a presidential election since the party was formed.
The big problem with this, is that Trump’s current position is already so improbable, that I don’t really feel safe assuming that’s going to happen. While a lot of the “this is the beginning of the end for Trump” has been wishful thinking on the part of GOP pundits, it really is true that he’s had a lot of opportunities to fall down, and all of them have seemed to bolster him in the end. I guess I feel like given how strange this race has turned out I’m not willing to be totally confident that the GOP isn’t going to run trump, and while I think that would be a disaster, I don’t feel it’s guaranteed.
So I guess we can take bets on whether the post-apocalyptic wasteland will look like Ridley Walker or A Canticle for Leibowitz.
I had too much hair, it was keeping my up at night.
So I cut some of it off.
Later I got dressed. This is the latest in an ongoing series called “Joaquin looks like either a settler or a skinhead, depending on when he shaved last.”
So vanity, but also change. I’ve really kind of gotten into a rut in terms of my relationship with time, and I’m looking for excuses to kind of jar myself into shape. Aside from Temboo and yard-work I’m so scattered that I’m better off avoiding doing anything, rather than starting it and then forking off onto some other activity (which form Markov Garden inevitably means stupid distraction-oriented internet use.) I need to figure out some way to make myself feel more monastic. If only I had a bell!
I had planned to be so good. Furthermore, I guess I’d sort of hoped to coast along on the momentum that came with the previously-mentioned promotion, but of course I don’t work that way. Instead, it seemed to cause a bit of a rupture and everything got kind of destructured.
Pinterest is great. Despite initial reservations, I think I’m getting more out of it than any other internet service these days. After my initial reaction to the information flood my impulse was to stop following everyone to whom I was automatically subscribed when I created my account. Luckily I didn’t do this, and instead starting dropping individual boards in which I was clearly not interested. The result is that I avoid being inundated with crap, but I’m still seeing a lot of things that are very cool that I wouldn’t have found left to myself.
In the olden days that doddering old fools like me only barely remember almost all personal web presences included a substantial link section. People would use these to collect lists of pages that they wanted to keep around, and there was a sort of discovery process whereby you would find someone’s homepage and follow their links, learning about various corners of the web as you went. Traditionally-minded bloggers like Warren Ellis still frequently post entries that are lists of links, but in general this process has moved within the silos of social networking sites. Of course, Pinterest is a social networking site too, but it’s very easy to get stuff into it and (and really, this is the most important thing) one doesn’t have to be logged in to view content.
I’ve been really scattered. I’ve always tended to be this way a bit, but it has accelerated lately. I think. I definitely feel like I am less able than usual to determine what I should be doing next, which often means that I waste time doing nothing. It is also the case that my attention span has been really dismal. I’m not positive what that is about.
The most obvious victim of this has been Markov Garden, which is currently pretty dormant. It is very hard for me to decide what to do about that. Part of me would like to really focus on how I can get organized in such a way that a next step is either obvious or discoverable when I find myself wondering what I ought to do. Part of me thinks that the most important thing is to finish what I’ve started and trying to organize myself more effectively ought to wait until after that has happened. If you hadn’t guessed from the previous paragraph, the outcome of this conflict is always that I don’t do anything worthwhile.
So. . . scarf, goofy t-shirt, Kung Fu slippers (not that I’m not entitled), Instagram mirror shot, cat, and I was (no lie) waiting for a test run of my Ruby project to complete when I took this picture.
At Hampshire, people who didn’t know me called me Comic Book Boy, because when I showed up there I looked like Dream of the Endless. Now things have truly come full circle, and I look like Neil Gaiman.
But light makes a big difference.
As you are probably aware, Malcolm Gladwell is a man who makes his living repackaging conventional wisdom with glib, offbeat twists. He allows the dullest of the hegemonically enfranchised to feel clever and iconoclastic, so he’s quite a success.
You may also know that Neil Gaiman is a fantastic comic writer, and a perhaps somewhat rougher novelist. He is also married to Amanda (Fucking) Palmer, but that’s neither here nor there. Slightly more salient is that his hair is beautiful enough to corrupt to American legal system.
Bear these facts in mind as you read the following dialog.
Me.: What are you doing?
C.: Reading the New York Times.
Me.: Yeah, how are rich people saving the world?
C.: (baleful glare)
Me.: What does Malcolm Gladwell say about it?
C.: I don’t know.
Me.: Can’t hear him through his hair?
So then C says she doesn’t know what Malcolm Gladwell looks like, so we head to Google Image Search. She just searches by name, my search string is “does malcolm gladwell look retarded or what?” The whole point of this post is that one of the images that this search returned was this one:
So there you have it, in a sufficiently strong wind, Neil Gaiman’s justice-destroying hair makes him look like Malcolm Gladwell. It’s a crazy world.