Not this:
This:
Category: Culture
Happy Stink Rebrands
As a young boy, Happy Stink dreamed of his global empire “X-Caliber”. “It’s like an adventure story, you see? Only with an X. You know, to make it cooler.”
A Feature, Not a Bug
The County singer Luke Combs has popularized “Fast Car”, an old Tracy Chapman gem from my bygone era. The Washington Post used the occasion as a springboard to address larger issues of race and sexual identity and the lack of representation in country music. Some pushed back, feeling the editorial was gratuitous. Can’t we just like the song? Does everything have to be about “those issues”? The back and forth commenced.
What interested me though, was the way the two camps are talking past each other. One side is asking for a cease fire in the culture wars, the other is offended at the attempt to rule out of bounds beforehand legitimate questions surrounding “those issues”. A song written by a black lesbian popularized in country music is a healthy sign, a cause for celebration. It is also an occasion to ask and raise questions because the barriers are real and still exist. The back and forth is a feature, not a bug. If the Washington Post made its argument and was greeted with universal agreement and acclaim, I suspect the real world would look much different then the world they are describing.
But it also got me thinking. Is there a sizable underground contingent of black lesbian country performers desperate but unable to cut into the mainstream? And how would a country Tracy Chapman, an undeniable whistle-popping, feet-stomping talent succeed in that market? Would she have to be careful, proceed with a subtle, covert lesbianism, or could she give it the full Cardi B treatment? In the end, it’s all about winning, I suppose. That seems to be the way America resolves these cultural disputes. At a certain point, the talent, the ear-worm catchiness converts even the most hard-hearted cynical souls. The bug is the feature. So feature the bug, front and central.
What Happens?
What happens when you take testosterone supplements?
Your penis turns into a collection of cracked egg shells.
Secrets
Before you tell me your secret, you should give me the chance to opt out beforehand. You can’t tell me something, then after the fact, tell me that it was done in strict confidence and never to divulge to another person. Now you’ve co-opted me into the process of hiding. But I don’t share the same level of guilt and shame because it’s not mine. I can never personalize it at the same level. Are you asking me to be you? Is that what a soulmate means to you? I’ll never have the affinity to protect something at a personal level that is not personal to me. It’s a bond of faith, an oath, a test really. Will you treat my secret as if it’s my own? That’s an awful big burden to ask someone to bear. So a heads up. Maybe I’ll agree. Certainly for a spouse, a loved one, a family member I may readily commit to undertake this burden. But even in those cases, a heads up is warranted. Already the act of sharing is unburdening, but why the need? Is the secret so unbearable it must be shared? Am I a priest? I’m not sure anyone has a secret so unbearable it can’t be shared with the world. Not even the one secret we believe sets us apart from all others but really binds us all together. I am guiltless, artless, and have no problem sharing this secret with the rest of the world in a cavalier way. That secret? That all of this, this long journey into night, is tiresome, wearisome, and pointless. Is that what you are afraid to say? Well, don’t. Say it out loud and laugh. Who knows. Our laughter might have the power to raise God from the dead.
Not on Twitter
A consensus seems to be forming around the idea that our recent (possibly transitory) inflation was largely driven by corporate profiteering responses in the face of a global supply chain shock caused by the Covid-19 pandemic. See: https://www.newyorker.com/news/persons-of-interest/what-if-were-thinking-about-inflation-all-wrong and https://www.levernews.com/how-pundits-inflation-myth-crushed-the-working-class/
The devil, of course, is in the details. Economists, enamored with outdated 19th century views on causality, hellbent on separating the wheat from the chaff, will continue to debate the “true cause” versus “the symptom” of inflation as if the world ever truly has a single identity to reveal. Nevertheless, one can lump variations on this economic tale under the single heading Greedflation.
Early on, Democratic politicians like Elizabeth Warren and Bernie Sanders were pushing the Greedflation line of reasoning. Economists like Noah Smith pushed back hard, equating it to the kind of fringe, gold-buggery economic ideas we often see on the right. On Twitter, I challenged Mr. Smith’s characterization. Whether or not profiteering was driving most, much, little, or none of our inflation seemed to me a genuine empirical question, perfectly consistent with textbook ECONOMICS of monopolistic pricing power (e.g., are “firms raising prices in anticipation of future cost increases? Or it an increase in monopoly power or higher demand?”) In other words, the Warren/Sanders line may be wrong, probably is wrong, but was certainly valid economic reasoning to be refuted by empirical evidence not dismissed through hand waving from high academic perches. Mr. Smith huffed, dismissed and snarked. Really, how much do grocers control pricing? Well, I don’t know. I’m not an economist and I certainly don’t specialize in market share and the ability of individual firms to set market price. Nor does a simple glance at market share reveal the scope of the problem because grocers are also retailers of products and can therefore use their leverage to assert monopolistic pricing practices on individual items (regardless if they take advantage of that position or not). Nevertheless, that wasn’t the point. The point is standard economic orthodoxy admits the possibility which is why I pushed back that this line of thinking was a fringe idea. (Even this was a step down for Mr. Smith as we went from totally bonkers idea to Kroger does not have sufficient monopoly power.)
Regardless, this isn’t a complaint about who was right or wrong. It’s about presentation of basic economic data and facts. Greedflation was a novel and somewhat unorthodox explanation. But it was not out of left field, conspiratorial as some economists (more anxious to display their centrist chops then to disseminate factual thoughtful discourse) argued at the time.
Twitter could work to flush out these ideas better, bring to the surface those hidden assumptions that drive much of the architecture of how we approach problems. A better discourse for sharing ideas. But that promise remains unfulfilled. Instead we reinforce dubious lines of thinking, and reject attempts to refine our discourse. I was less bothered by Smith’s cavalier dismissal (as if he couldn’t be bothered to think of a single, valid example of monopolistic pricing power and besides who the hell am I, some anonymous loser on Twitter?) then the legions of followers who felt compelled to pile on with personal anecdotes of unnecessary and often unrelated examples. This is why I’m no longer on Twitter. It’s great promise is unrealized because we cannot be challenged or asked to reflect in a more careful manner in a mad rush to be first (first = relevant).
And no, I’m not gonna pay for your substack where our current crop of elite intellectuals cocoon themselves within a select privileged list of paid subscribers (how does one set a market price on bullshit?). Really, the idea that Everyman is an island on to himself, is this what we think the future holds? If you really value your ideas you would want them to be free and accessible to all. But I am, and have always been, a democrat first and foremost.
The Draw of the Single Vision
There’s a style of artistry, something I call for lack of a better word humanist, that appeals to me. It is nothing concrete in my mind, perhaps not even generalizable. I have only a vague definition of what I mean, a gossamer web, something which the rigorous push and pull of analysis might break apart the entire delicate tapestry inside my hands (though does that make it any less real?) Perhaps it is best to first explain what I don’t mean. By humanist, I don’t (simply) mean a style of thinking which elevates human matters above the divine, placing primary importance on rational empathy over and above spiritual or religious inspiration. Rather, it is a singular vision, root and branch, one constructed and aimed solely on our actual lives, that is to say, the lived experience.
I’m not even sure I can explain what quality I’m trying to identify from a loose coterie of writers, artists, filmmakers that share some deeper affinity. I can only point out master technicians of the form. To keep it simple, I’ll pick three, two filmmakers and a novelist: Robert Bresson, Agnès Varda, and Kazuo Ishiguro. There is a control each brings that is shattering (of illusion and pretense) and mesmerizing. A singular, almost divine gaze holds us in rapt attention for the entirety of the experience. Yet what we see is often trivial, mundane, ordinary, in other words, human existence in its naked unapologetic form. There is no judgment pasted over our experience or smuggled back into the world through clever artifice. There is no contemporaneous moralizing. (True, Varda hued closest to that line, but orthogonally. Varda’s reflections are only one note in an entire narrative ensemble.)
These works of art, approached and built upon a foundation of radically different techniques, impart the same message. If you want judgment, dear viewer, if you want meaning, that is yours, all yours, no one else’s. Feel free to cry, laugh, or dismiss. But this is human, singularly human. Their commitment to hold and maintain that same consistent (pervasive) level of attention to their subject matter is extremely difficult from a technical point of view. In Kazuo’s Worlds, inhumanity seeps like water through the gaps and holes of what is left unspoken but implied. Film Directors hold special admiration for Bresson, in particular, as they know how incredibly difficult it is to maintain a consistent look, measure, tone, rhythm, technical control over a film shoot while at the same time allowing the characters and the story the freedom to come alive. Few of us can achieve the mastery needed for this singular vision before we break down, no, no, this is too much, and must avert our gaze out of simple human dignity and respect (or so we tell ourselves) before we try a new approach. And they lived happily ever after. Amen. Magical thinking.
As a writer, I’m always looking for the novel entry point from which to begin to fashion and mold my clay. I can’t draw or make art, but if I did, I always supposed I would have been a sculptor by temperament. I write in a similar fashion, starting from a loose mock-up or cartoon. Then I proceed to throw words down before molding and shaping them into a single construction. I do this because I am confused and want to clarify the mess of ideas inside my head. My beautiful confusion, as Fellini would say. But these artists, have achieved something profound, not singular constructions, but singular visions. To achieve a singular vision, perhaps the height of artistic achievement, requires an exceptional level of craftsmanship. So that would be a basic ingredient in my definition of humanist: constructed from exceptional craftsmanship to produce a singular vision of human lives and the lived experience without judgment, magical thinking, or artifice. Each of these artists, master technicians in their own way, produced remarkable art that seems to descend from above, outside time but fully entrenched in the moment, carried by gossamer wings, a singular vision I never thought possible, certainly within my own abilities.
Counter Narratives
Michael Warren Davis pens a curious article for The American Conservative entitled “What Russia Means: I want to tell you why Western elites hate Russia.” Curious, as I was not aware of the real roots of my own antipathy to Russia’s expansionist resurgence, itself another curiosity in Russia’s strategy of addition through SSR subtraction, or that Putin (surprise!) emerges as the central defender of real Russian hegemony: the Russian Orthodox Church (ROC). The ROC! That great bane of our elite existence, the resurrection of which, the author gushes, “is nothing short of a miracle.” Indeed, we stand in awe of this lauded institution’s ability to survive the dark purges of Bolshevism (never let the complex nuances of historical swings from active persecution to passive tolerance stand in the way of a good story to tell). And what’s more I believe him, trust his reporting in a sort of leap of faith, miraculous sort of way, that the resurgence of the ROC is both measurable, well-defined, and real (e.g., not a miracle) and also miraculous (e.g., against all odds, a stacked deck worse than the pain of Autocephaly, schism, etc.)
It’s a deep secret we elites are not fond of telling the rest of you (no elite would bother to read the words of another elite which is why I only glanced at the article) that the real policy of containment was not, as the cover story goes, to contain the threat of a creeping Soviet expansionism, but rather to contain within the borders of The Iron Curtain, the awesome frightening spectre of Christianity. (Karl Marx: A spectre is haunting Europe — the spectre of communion communism.) Let Stalin and his ilk deal with the threat, is something I imagine George Kennan said over a port of Brandy (an 1858 Croizet Cognac Leonie no doubt) and a Havana cigar while typing away at his Long Telegram, too long if he wanted to tell the truth (no need, we elites know and prefer not to tell ourselves or anyone else for that matter) so keep it simple Georgie boy! Sadly, the beast was not contained for the Soviet Empire collapsed, Bolshevism was destroyed, and Kennan’s dreams of an enlightened detente between the twin poles of Eastern state atheism and Western “NGO-style liberal democracy” lay shattered in ruins (I said contain, not destroy you buggers!)
It took the collapse of the Soviet Empire to bring into sharp focus the true barbarian at our gates. The ROC, with its smudged and worn away Rublev icons, primitive churches in quaint rural settings, Epiphany Baths, and Kupala Night bonfires, inspire a fear and terror in our elite (go ahead, say liberal or woke, you know you want to!) hearts greater than the sum of Soviet nuclear arsenal. No wonder that Western darling Ukraine vowed to stand up to the one force preventing NGO-elites from our single-minded goal of castrating children (where exactly does the ROC stand on infant circumcision?) Only the foolish would demand proof of such an astonishing counter-narrative. The article is its own kind of Epiphany Bath, a much needed cold splash to bring the sins of our time into full view. King Putin, Defender of the Faith, by the Grace of God, go and smite the enemies of God (go ahead, say liberal or woke, you know you want to!)
Blue Lives Revisited
Policing is a dangerous profession. There is a certain level of criminal behavior tolerated in the general public (under the banner and law of personal freedom – unlimited gun ownership, stand your ground, etc.) which compounds the uncertainty of any potential police encounter. Police are trained to control the situation but in America we allow too many unknowns to enter the equation. We fail the police in this respect. But we also fail them in another respect. We reduce enforcement to a subjective determination of the situation. In theory, this grants a police officer wider freedom of action. But in practice, this forces a greater level of tension to act rather than be acted upon. We fail the police by ignoring the level of psychological pressures this places on even the most mundane and routine situations.
In an earlier post, I refuted the whole Blue Lives Matter as a rhetorical device by bad actors who could care less about police lives and the stresses they endure and wished only to support unrestrained physical force against black people. Sadly, 1/6 proved this point. It was easy enough for those who proclaimed Blue Lives Matter to take a fire extinguisher and smash it on top of Officer Sicknick’s head. None of them respect the authority that policing represents as the embodiment of the rule of law.
The standard by which police reform should be measured, and the success by which it is to be judged, will be in how it better protects the lives and well-being of police officers and the general public.
Biden Won
In the end, it wasn’t even that close. The narrative could have been reinforced on the day after the election. But Joe Biden was denied a clean election. Republicans in the battleground states Biden would end up winning made sure the process was drawn out in order to create the seeds of doubt. In the end, Dems kept the House, won the Presidency by 4.5% or more than 7 million votes, and took the Senate. Had that narrative been reinforced, perceptions may not have been allowed to crack the cement of consensus.
All eyes fixated, as they always due post Bush v. Gore, on the early returns of Florida even though Florida is not replicable throughout the country. It’s metropolitan areas are not as rich a source of untapped democratic votes. Much of the North and interior resembles the rural South. The politics of Cuba throw off the political calculus.
Everyone says the stakes are high, but this time they really were. Those who attacked the capitol, the citadel of our democracy, laid bare the ugliness, vindictiveness, and violence that had followed the reign of the sad, clown-faced man. Many lessons will be drawn, such as the cowardice of people who know better. For me, the lesson I draw is the dangerous fantasy too many of us harbor – that of uncontested rule. Biden won. There will be an opposition. But will it be loyal both in the spirit of unity and allegiance to democracy? That remains in much doubt.
The Hack 