My wife, the venerable She Who Must Obeyed, works in the school system. Like all other rational people, we have some concerns. As a guy who has written about killer plagues and various apocalypses for a living, I’m rather focused as I watch my dire predictions come true. Rather than hash all that out with my many, many opinions, I have a suggestion: Listen to the latest episode of This American Life.
Hosted by Ira Glass, the podcast is always well-produced and thoughtful. This may be the best one yet. It’s called Long-awaited Asteroid Finally Hits Earth. Despite the ominous title, not all the news is bad (and it’s all interesting).
From an anti-mask demonstration by outraged parents to anxious teachers working the frontline of the pandemic, this is a thought-provoking story of how people are learning and coping. Students’ reactions to our new reality might leave you a little more hopeful as we tiptoe into the fall and whatever comes next.
Have a listen. You’ll be glad you did!
This American Life
https://www.thisamericanlife.org/715/long-awaited-asteroid-finally-hits-earth
You are not a cog
I used to do this thing when I was a kid. Pillows go down first. Those were the hills. Then a blanket went on top. That was the battlefield. After that, I set my little green plastic soldiers, tanks, and cannons in place. WWII went on for years in my basement. The fun was in setting the pieces up for the bombing raid.
Boom! Boom! Boom! Fun!
Then I’d reset until Gilligan’s Island came on the TV (the snowy channel from Bangor. Maine).
One day, my father burst into the room looking irritated, frantic even. “You’re playin’ all the time! Every time I see you, you’re playin’!“
And I was like, “Dad, I’m nine.”
The mindset became ingrained, though. Protestant Work Ethic, we called it, as if work wasn’t hard enough we had to bring religion into it. As if people of other faiths weren’t all busting their asses, too.
The core concept was this: If you aren’t doing something to make money, you’re valueless.
Given a single quiet moment, my father would announce it was time to mow the lawn or clean out the garage. When you’re ordered to clean out the garage every five weeks, you really want to torch the place.
Mom was no different. I don’t recall her sitting down until she was confined to a wheelchair. She hated it if anyone dared to have a nap. Her favorite line was, “The day’s a-wastin’!”
We are blind to the things we take for granted. The sky is blue, grass is green, and we’re put on Earth to rise and grind, life’s a bitch and then you die.
We don’t know what we don’t know.
The Epidemic of Busyness
A friend of mine organized a TEDx Talk in Chicago. I watched it this morning. The first speaker observed that we are suffering several epidemics: COVID-19, of course, but racism and economic challenges, too. She spoke eloquently about busyness and her speech really got me thinking how much I’ve messed up the first half of the year. I’ve indulged in bad thinking that does not serve me, but I’m working on it.
When we went into quarantine, many of us didn’t know how to handle it. We were unprepared for the pattern break. Lifting our noses from the grindstone, many of us thought, what do I do with myself? If I’m not working and producing every hour, this must be sin. And was it necessary to commute to work to put my nose to that grindstone? It hurts.
Have you seen this meme?
We have to stop talking as if we’re “working from home” when we’re actually living where we work.
My wife, the thoughtful psychologist, prefers this: We’re not working from home. We’re living at home and trying to get work done.
It is quite a privilege to work from home, of course. While the rest of us complained about confinement and got deeply into making sourdough bread starters, nurses, doctors, delivery people, and grocery store workers didn’t get to have that “time off.” There’s understandable guilt in allowing essential workers to take the biggest hit, especially when they don’t receive hazard pay and adequate protection. (That issue is a whole other blog post.)
There’s also the guilt of feeling we should be doing more with our time. I’d like to absolve you of that last bit. I’m still trying to break those chains myself.
You have value even when you aren’t working
“Playing video games is not wasted time.”
The first time I heard that sentence, it was a genuine challenge for me. After all, the day’s a-wastin’! But you know what? Those video games were fun. Lots of dopamine hits. Relaxation. Relaxation is healthy. Going for a walk without a particular purpose in mind is healthy.
We often fail to value relaxation because Capitalism doesn’t value downtime. “Downtime” as in, “The production line is down! Quick, pull that injured worker off the line, toss in another sacrifice, and crank ‘er up again! We’re losing money!”
If you don’t think about it too hard, it’s easy to call poor people lazy. When you do think about it for more than a second, you realize that the poorest among us tend to be among the hardest workers. How many jobs, gigs, and side hustles does it take the average person to cobble together a decent living? How much downtime do they get from their non-living wages? How much of living do they get to enjoy?
Answer: You won’t find poor people on the golf course unless they’re mowing it.
Hardcore proponents of everlasting economic growth aren’t comfortable with you having any fun unless they’re selling it to you. “Don’t just stay home! Get out there and feed the economy!” Idleness, in any form, is suspect.
When we fall for this trap, we fail to value ourselves.
Dad’s become a little wiser in his later years. Now, when I feel like I’m not writing enough or selling enough books, he says, “Even birds don’t fly all the time.”
I’m not lazy, but I still berate myself for not getting more done. I’m trying to break that habit. I don’t have the toy soldiers, anymore, but sometimes, when my son is out, I get on his computer and play Sniper Elite 4.
Boom! Boom! Boom! Fun!
The Writing Life: Vicissitudes
The writing life has its ups and downs. As I was closing up shop yesterday, my editor, Gari Strawn of strawnediting.com, noted, “It’s been a week of a day.”
Amen, sister! Yesterday felt like Thwart Day. Whatever could go wrong, did.
First, I discovered that Google Docs can’t be trusted. Editorial changes we’d made to a book I’m doctoring did not necessarily take (as detailed today on my writing blog, Chazzwrites.com.)
But the hijinx didn’t end there. Besides getting a new word processing platform together for the editorial team’s collaboration, my internet connectivity became sketchy. (See that, right there? That’s what you call foreshadowing, partner.)
Working furiously to meet a deadline, other projects I thought I was going to get to faster had to be pushed further back. Not happy about that, but to pay the bills, the writing life often has to be about short-term and long-term.
My son’s PC crapped out on him so I consulted (AKA did the heavy looking on as he poked through the machine’s innards). I nodded sagely as he diagnosed the need for a new power supply.
Which got me thinking, when was the last time I did a full manual backup of my computers?
Backup
I once belonged to a writing group where some odd questions were often posed. Most memorable: “Who here writes with a quill pen?” Settle down, d’Artagnan. Write or type, but don’t be so precious and extra.
My son’s computer issues spurred me to be more proactive about the health of my desktop and laptop. Both are climbing into the age where they are antiques. It was past time to protect them better. I’d used Sophos before. This time, I installed AVG tuneup on both machines and eliminated many gigabytes of duplicate and useless files. Then I did a full backup, updates and virus scan. The process took some time, but it was inexpensive. It felt good to clean up my babies. My living does depend on their health, after all.
Finding balance
The writing life isn’t just about tickling brains, sly jokes, and meteoric wordplay. Because my brain navigates a meatwagon through the world, I’m also trying to find balance for my health. Despite some all-nighters recently (because of looming deadlines and tech glitches I couldn’t plan for) I try to stop work by 9 pm. After that, my brain is too overstimulated and I’ll be up for the night. Though the day had been an example of Murphy’s Law, I made time to go on a long walk with She Who Must Be Obeyed. Sometimes that’s the only time we have for long talks, as well.
I’ve gone back to vegan eating. There’s a long theory about the relationship between ingestion, temperature, and sleep, but the short answer is, for me, more vegan = less insomnia. Since I’ve gone vegan, my energy is up and I’m not schlumping around like a wounded animal quite as much.
I even made time to give myself a haircut last night. I shave it tight on the sides. Any tighter and I’d look like I have mange. It’s kind of a Peaky Blinders vibe.
Despite yesterday’s frustrations, it turned out better by the end. I’m more calm than I might otherwise be. Thwart Day was tough, but I was determined to make today better.
Then the internet totally crapped out on us this morning.
Thor…damn…it.
And so … we begin again. When I mention my frustrations to a friend, he always comes back with how much harder he has it. I’m not sure whether he’s bragging or complaining, but he’s not wrong. There are vicissitudes, but the writing life is still pretty sweet compared to all my other options.
Breathe. Repeat. Continue.
The grim future scenario I didn’t want to write
We’ve seen too many videos of police attacking viciously peaceful protesters. One would be too many, but there are many more than one, and not just in one city. In many cities.
As I began writing this, it started to become another long post about the injustice I see, I deleted that. I did a long post yesterday and if you get it, you get it. If you don’t, you’re willfully blind and there’s no sense having that conversation.
So here’s my quick thought for the day:
People saw a police officer kill George Floyd on video. We were told that wasn’t what we saw. Then they tried to introduce mitigating factors and excuses to play it down. Gaslighting, he’s no angel, and copaganda.
Some watched this careless abuse of power in disbelief. Many would tell you they knew this was going on for years. Until George Floyd’s funeral, there was still a lot of disbelief and sorrow floating around. I think that’s coming to an end. Not the movement, the emotion.
Police were ordered to crush dissent and it’s apparent a lot of them could not wait to assault citizens exercising their First Amendment right. The attacks on peaceful protesters are horrifying. However, when you push a spring down that hard, it’s going to pop up and catch you in the jaw.
My apocalyptic predictions
- The sorrow will fade somewhat but the protests will not. Authorities want the protesters to resign. The more they push down, the more they prove the point of Black Lives Matter. Instead of resignation, you will see steely resolve.
- As abuse of innocents grows (especially when it comes from a nameless, faceless force with no accountability) anger will expand to eclipse the sorrow.
- People who didn’t have weapons before will purchase them. Their fear of authority will recede, replaced with utter frustration.
- You’ll begin to see weapons at protests in the hands of protesters.
- As peaceful protests fail to move those in authority, good and hopeful people who chanted “Give peace a chance,” will be quieter.
- “No justice, no peace,” will get louder.
- More shots will be fired and the fire will not come from only one direction.
- Donald Trump will lose the election in November but will not concede.
- There will be more blood.
- America will remain divided.
I’m not advocating violence. I’m seeing it coming, as predictable and as expected as a rush-hour bus at its first stop. I hope, somewhere in there, people who defy their oppressors will get the concessions they deserve. I hope they receive the legal protections and the value they were told was coming if they only remained patient for-goddamn-ever.
2020 is the year the dam breaks. The reservoir of patience is broken.
Black.
Lives.
Matter.
Don’t like my predictions? Neither do I.
To avoid bloodshed and chaos, the authorities will have to make concessions.
Here are some necessary concessions:
8 CAN’T WAIT
And from Killer Mike:
Plot. Plan. Strategize. Organize. Mobillize.
This is 2020
Early in the Trump presidency, I listened to a podcast with two veterans of the United States military. They debated a point about the chain of command. One was convinced that if the president issued an unlawful order, all his military would disobey. The other was sure Trump would simply fire any defiant officer and work down the chain of command until he found a lowly private who would do as ordered. The order in question? A nuclear strike on a peaceful ally.
And now there are Little Green Men in tactical gear with no identification or even insignia in Washington. Nobody knows who they are. They say they serve the Department of Justice. That’s not an actual police force. Does William Barr have his own SS now? Sure looks like it.
I’ve been called Mr. Cynical many times. Watching the violent reaction of police to peaceful protesters tells me I was not sufficiently so. Has anyone seen police arrest any actual looters? I’ve been watching very carefully and the authorities seem very motivated to assault peaceful protesters exercising their First Amendment rights.
Note to the Media: Don’t lose sight of why the protests are happening in favor of endless shots of the same fires and broken windows.
Also, don’t tell us some rioters were “roughed up” by police. They’re protesters, not rioters. It’s assault or maybe attempted murder. Too often, it becomes murder, remember? If I beat you, you wouldn’t say you got “roughed up.” You’d say you were attacked.
The few looters serve the false narrative that the protesters are the problem. I have seen several instances where protesters have deterred the looters. No credit for that, of course. I won’t even get into the actions of agent provocateurs and propaganda put out by a system we’re told to trust and respect.
I know several people who seem to think police can do no wrong. I don’t know how they can maintain that delusion in the face of so many sadistic videos of militarized police attacking people who are no threat who are merely asking for accountability. They’re asking for police to live up to the reputation they want pre-schoolers to believe.
Don’t tell me it’s a tough job. Being a minority is tougher and you can’t retire from being a visible minority.
Don’t tell me they’re “just following orders.” That’s some Nuremberg shit and you know it.
Don’t tell me I can’t criticize police actions because I’m not a cop. (Yup, I’ve heard that before.) Nobody has to be an expert to see that so much of what’s going on is wrong.
Don’t tell me being a cop is dangerous. First, nobody gets drafted into becoming a police officer. Second, there are quite a few jobs that are more dangerous. Being a taxi driver is more dangerous but we don’t put them above the law. You know who else is in more danger of dying of a gunshot wound in the United States than police? School children.
Accountability is a moral necessity. De-escalation, not escalation. Prosecution not persecution. Equitable sentences, not sentences based on race. Decriminalize poverty by funding social programs and provide true equal opportunity, educationally and economically. Stop turning wellness checks into death sentences. Prosecute people who make false reports to police on P.O.C. for the crime of being P.O.C.
But, Rob, it’s more complicated than that. No, not really. Systemic change could happen. These policies aren’t set by aliens on a distant planet. We did this, so we could change this. Police could be escorting peaceful protesters, join their marches, quit or leave them alone. At the very least, the authorities could be targeting looters instead of innocent citizens who dare to ask not to be killed.
But don’t take it from me.
Instead, listen to 8 Can’t Wait.
I posted the following on Facebook this morning. I’m posting it again here so I can look back and, I hope, call myself too cynical.
Reverend Al Sharpton delivered a powerful and inspiring eulogy for George Floyd. His words reminded me of the church I used to belong to. He ended with asking the gathering to stand in silence for 8 minutes and 46 seconds. To George Floyd, those 8 minutes and 46 seconds must have felt like hours.
Rev. Sharpton congratulated George Floyd on changing the world. His little daughter has said her father has changed the world. I shed tears over that. The world is not changed yet. I know, I know, early days. I want to believe things will change. I really do. But the racists aren’t ready to give an inch yet.
That’s always been their fallback position: They tell the oppressed to be patient. They say they want justice and change, but not yet.
*Never* yet.