My Christmas spirit is eluding me

I'm writing this post on my phone.

Between Trump's increasingly bonkers behavior (even more unhinged than usual) and the worsening dystopian hellscape of coronavirus, it's been hard for me to give much of a shit about Christmas. The holiday spirit is eluding me. 

I managed to throw some lights on our shrubs outside yesterday, but it was even more haphazard than usual. It was a miracle that I even found the Christmas lights amongst the chaos of our garage. But they were located and I took the improvisational approach to decoration. I somply grabbed whatever strand of lights was next and plugged them together. I suppose it turned out acceptable. Just call me the Jackson Pollack of exterior holiday decoration.

A somewhat non-political post

This will not be a political post, I promise. I'm sure all three of my readers might be tired of my rants. (But honestly, the Republican Party has lost its fucking mind?).

In mundane personal news, I set a modest goal on Goodreads of reading 15 books this year and I finally reached that goal. And now, I've padded that total one cartoon book (does that count?) to make the total 16. Maybe I can cram in one more book before the end of the year.

I must admit that the book that got me to 15 was volume 2 of the One Piece manga. However, I did read a "real" book that I finished reading on Monday. The book is Confessions of a Bookseller by Shaun Bythell: Here is the review I wrote on Goodreads:

A breezy and often humorous diary of Shaun Bythell, a second-hand bookshop owner in bucolic Wigtown, Scotland. Bythell's book shop (and small community) is populated with eccentric employees and customers.

Beyond the lowkey humor, this is an illuminating view into the difficulties second hand book shops (or all brick-and-mortar book stores, for that matter) have in surviving a world dominated by online shopping and retail behemoths like Amazon.

Recommended for book lovers and anyone who has worked in the book business.

What I didn't mention was that as of last Saturday, I only had two days left of my library checkout period and couldn't renew the book, so I had to read about 300 pages in two days, which I somehow managed to do. It was a miracle.

Well, seeing as how I am writing this at work and I am off the clock and should be heading home, I will cut this short and--maybe--return later.

Big surprise, another rant

Well, we're into December and it's looking increasingly like Trump will have to be dragged out of the White House by the Secret Service. He's in denial about the election and has convinced his cult that his "victory" was stolen. I will give Trump credit in one area: he is a master of manipulation. His followers will believe anything he says. 

Otherwise, Trump is like a shit stain in a pair of underwear.

The worst aspect of this whole election denial is what it says about the current state of our country: One reality doesn't exist anymore. People feel free to create their own "realities" based on their own skewed worldviews. I blame a lot of this on social media and the world wide web. "News sources" are created to cater to whatever political view one has. These "news sources" are of varying degrees of legitimacy, with the majority being illegitimate. This extends to social media, where people live in their own bubbles and shout in their own echo chambers. When there is political discourse (if it can even be called that), it's people SHOUTING AT EACH OTHER IN ALL CAPS, expressing opinions and anger that they'd never do in person. I don't know how we get out if it.

At some point, I will actually write about something else other than politics, but this Trumpian cluster fuck is pretty much constantly on my mind. This motherfucker lost the election and just will not go away. He is a pox on our country, as much of a virus as the coronavirus.

Speaking of coronavirus, people are dropping like flies at a pace more furious than anything seen since the early days of the pandemic and Trump clearly doesn't give a single shit--and he's convinced his cult not to give a single shit either.

I continue to go to work every day, as I have done since June 11. I am fully masked and only remove the mask to eat or drink. In the late summer and fall, when the infection and death numbers were down, I was venturing to record stores (Flat Black & Circular in East Lansing, The Record Lounge in Lansing). But now that cases are spiking higher than ever, I'm taking a break from that. I don't want to get sick and potentially get others sick because I was so desperate to browse through vinyl. I've put the blinders on and am aiming straight forward to 2021, just trying to stay safe until the vaccines come and we can get beyond this shit show.

Biden/Harris win

I am breathing sighs of relief every day since Saturday morning. I have felt an enormous weight lifted from my shoulders. I am sleeping better. Music sounds sweeter.

Trump has lost and despite all of his whining, law suits, recriminations, and tantrums--will be out of the White House on January 20. If I need to drive down to Washington, D.C. and help remove Trump with a straight jacket and handcuffs, I will gladly do so.

So allow me to backtrack. When I last posted on Wednesday, November 4, I was disappointed that the count had Biden up by a fingernail, if that. But honestly, I should have expected that. The count at that point reflected the in-person voters, which were mainly Trump voters. By the time the mail-in ballots were counted, which were overwhelmingly Biden voters because Biden voters believe in science and that the coronavirus pandemic is real, the tide had shifted. By Thursday, I was feeling much more relieved. By Saturday it was official. Joe Biden is the 46th President of the United States. Kamala Harris is the first female Vice-President in American history. (And the first Black Vice-President and the first Vice-President of Asian descent).

While I was agonizing over the election last week, I did everything I could to avoid the wall-to-wall 24-hour news coverage. That involved going out for runs/walks and watching any television that was NOT election coverage: Pen15 on Tuesday night, a PBS Nature documentary and Colosseum: Roman Death Trap (also on PBS) on Wednesday evening, and more episodes of Pen15 on Thursday night. I can't even remember Friday night.

Every major news outlet declared Biden the winner on Saturday morning, and the first thing I did was play a vinyl copy of R.E.M.'s Out of Time that I'd bought about a week before but hadn't yet had a chance to listen to. That album has never sounded sweeter. It was an extraordinary feeling of relief that will only bet better when Trump is gone on January 20.

Some thoughts the day after Election Day

I'm trying to figure out what this "Day After the Election" most closely resembles: 2000 or 2016.

2000 in that we don't know who won and aren't entirely sure when we will find out who won--and it's possible that if Trump wins he will take the White House ONCE AGAIN without a majority of the popular vote. That would be three times in the last six presidential elections that the winner will not have the majority of the popular vote. Surprise, surprise: all three are Republicans.

2016 in that many of us are thinking: who in their right mind would vote for Trump? It actually feels worse in 2020 than it did in 2016. I could almost understand the impulse four years ago to go with the outsider (even though it should have been clear to anyone with a shred of decency that Trump was/is a charlatan). But four years later, the Trump presidency was as bad or worse than I envisioned it in 2016, yet this election will likely go down to the wire.

The bottom line is that white people continue to disappoint. The Republican Party under Trump has fully embraced being the party of white grievance and they have a captive audience.

So I am on pins and needles right now. I am incredibly disappointed that this election is as close as it is. It speaks poorly of us as a nation.

One week until the election (he said while trying not to pee his pants in fear)

We are exactly one week from the election and I am scared shitless. Yes, I have heard that Biden is ahead, but I have no faith in polls anymore. 2016 traumatized me so much that I don't want to hear about polls. I practically run away in fear when I see or hear mention of any presidential poll.

For one thing, are Trump supporters even answering the phone when the pollsters call? And if they do, are they being honest?

We have a system in which the electoral college determines who becomes president. Popular vote is practically meaningless. If Biden doesn't get votes where it matters the most (Florida, Pennsylvania, Michigan, Ohio, Illinois in particular) it may not mean anything. He can win California and New York easily but still lose the election.

So I am hoping for the best but bracing myself for the worst. I am not sure how the country can survive another four years of Trump, and I hope that most people are just tired of him. Clearly, his cult will not be swayed. They are not even worth trying to reach. They need to conclude for themselves and on their own that Trump is a con man. They certainly won't listen to us "libtards."

I am simply hoping that there are enough reasonable people who have become weary of this four-year shit show and are ready for a change.

 

 

The Tragically Hip "Fully Completely" (1992) review

(The fourth in my series of Tragically Hip album overviews, in which I investigate the discography of this criminally undervalued Canadian band).

Fully Completely was the Tragically Hip's artistic and--at least in Canada--commercial breakthrough. Recorded in England with producer Chris Tsangarides (best known for his work behind the boards for heavy metal bands), Fully Completely was the slickest recording of the Hip's career to that point.

Some, myself included, argue that the album is overly-produced and too slick, but the point of the album was to break the band commercially, and perhaps a conscious effort to break away from spontaneous, live feel of the first few albums and make an obvious "studio" album. Whatever the Hip or Tsangarides were thinking, and I can't pretend to read their minds, the strategy worked brilliantly in Canada, where the album hit #1 on the charts and spawned six singles. Unfortunately, the United States and the rest of the world remained completely oblivious.

For whatever overproduction there is on the album, the Hip make up for it with the best songwriting of their career up to that point The tracks on Fully Completely are tight and well-constructed with killer hooks.

For the first time in their career, the band eschewed the overt blues and bar band influences of their first few records in favor of a more nuanced and varied approach. The palette was widened to include the acoustic folk rock of "Wheat Kings," the dark atmospherics of "Courage (for Hugh MacLennan)," "Pigeon Camera," and "Locked in the Trunk of a Car." There is, however, plenty of room left for furious blasts of rock power in "The Wherewithal," At the Hundredth Meridian" and "Fifty Mission Cap."

Gord Downie's interest in the Canadian cultural and historical landscape, tentatively touched upon in Up to Here and explored a bit more in Road Apples, is broadened even further on Fully Completely. The lyrics in songs such as "At the Hundredth Meridian," "Fifty Mission Cap, "Locked in the Trunk of a Car" and "Wheat Kings"  have a specificity and focus that Gord had never approached before.

The album opener is "Courage (for Hugh MacLennan)," a song inspired (and in one verse, directly lifted from) that Canadian author's novel The Watch That Ends The Night. (For what it's worth, I have never read the book). The song seems to be about how we all face our fears with varying degrees of success. Sometimes courage comes, and sometimes it does not, or--as the lyrics state--courage "couldn't come at a worse time." Still, we find a way to muddle through to the best of our ability. Sometimes it doesn't matter if we have courage in facing our daily travails. We summon the strength to come through it.

The key verse of the song is the one Gord took directly from MacLennan's book: "There's no simple explanation for anything important any of us do/And, yeah, the human tragedy consists in the necessity of living with the consequences/Under pressure, under pressure." Who really knows why we do what we do? We just react to situations and make the best choices we can under the circumstances. But sometimes the results of our actions are not favorable. Therein lies the tragedy. We want to do well, we want to make good decisions, but the end result is often out of our hands.

Of course, none of these lyrics would matter if they weren't matched with one of the Hip's best melodies. The song has a melancholy yet forcefully determined pulse that matches Gord's (and Hugh MacLennan's) words perfectly. "Courage (for Hugh MacLennan)" is such a well-constructed song that it was beautifully covered by Sarah Polley in the 1997 film The Sweet Hereafter. Polley's version is soft, slow, and lilting, in contrast to the Hip's aggressively rocking recording.

The heaviest guitar sound of the Hip's career, no doubt instigated by Tsangarides, ushers in "Looking For a Place to Happen." Gord Downie name drops French explorer Jacques Cartier and is ostensibly about Cartier's travels in Canada ("I've got a job/I explore...to find a place/an ancient race"), The song seems to change chronology a few times, fast-forwarding to the modern age with it's "gallery gods and garbage bag trees." But, as I've stated before in these Tragically Hip album reviews, I can't pretend to know what Gord's meaning is in many of his songs. "Looking For a Place to Happen" is full of cryptic lines that defy easy analysis...but when the band cooks as hot as they do in this track, it hardly matters what Gord is singing about.

"At the Hundredth Meridian" is the song that convinced me of the Hip's greatness, and Gord Downie's facility with songwriting. Opening with several sledgehammer guitar riffs, followed by Johnny Fay's primal drumming accompanied by an insistent guitar figure, Gord joins in with the amusing first line, "Me debunk an American myth/Take my life in my hands?" as if to openly ask if it's wise of him to tell his story of the Great Plains without fear of American reprisal. Assuming it's safe to carry on, or simply not caring, Gord lays it out: the Great Plains actually begin west of the 100th meridian of Canada, at least in his mind. He goes on to describe scenes of "weeds standing shoulder high," "ferris wheels...rusting," "a raven carry[ing] a mighty old skull." Scenes of both desolation and natural beauty, a landscape unencumbered by the artificiality of the city. Gord then envisions his own death, and implores anyone listening to not allow his final resting place to be in "the swollen city breeze" but instead in the plains of Canada.

None of  "At the Hundredth Meridian"'s lyrics would pack the same punch if Rob Baker, Paul Langlois, Gord Sinclair, and Johnny Fay didn't cook up a fiery brew of musical fury. Much like other songs on the album such as "Locked in the Trunk of a Car," "Fifty Mission Cap," and "Wheat Kings," the music perfectly fit the words that Gord Downie sings.

Fully Completely is an album that is supported by what I consider the "tent pole" songs: "Courage (for Hugh MacLennan)," "At the Hundredth Meridian," "Locked in the Trunk of a Car," "Fifty Mission Cap," and "Wheat Kings." I may take heat from other Hip fans for writing this, but the remaining seven songs are filler. Well, maybe "filler" is too negative, but there is no denying that "Pigeon Camera," "We'll Go Too," "The Werewithal," and album closer "Eldorado" are not as strong as the "tent pole" songs. I know that there is considerable love for the title track "Fully Completely" (it was voted by fans to be included in the Yer Favourites compilation) but I have never had a great deal of affection for that song.

Now don't get me wrong, "Fully Completely," "We'll Go Too," and "The Wherewithal" (quite possibly the closest the Hip ever got to metal) are perfectly fine and enjoyable while they are playing, but I don't find myself thinking much about them when they're over.

So after deciding that I will not expend much energy on the "filler" songs of Fully Completely, lets get to one of the important tent pole songs, "Fifty Mission Cap." Ostensibly about hockey player Bill Barilko, who scored the winning goal for the Toronto Maple Leafs in the 1951 Stanley Cup Finals, the song--upon closer inspection--is more about the unnamed narrator of the song, who relates the story of Barilko, and then tells the listener that he "stole" the story from a hockey card, and furthermore informs us that he tucks the hockey card in his fifty mission cap. ("Fifty mission cap" refers to the weathered and beaten caps worn by flight crews during World War II). "Fifty Mission Cap" demonstrates the sheer depth of Downie's songwriting. The lyrics peel back like the layers of an onion, and continuously changes perspective. By the end, I am more curious about the narrator than Bill Barilko. Who is the narrator? Is he (assuming the narrator is a "he") wearing a real fifty mission cap, or is it more likely a non-military cap made to look like a fifty mission cap? And why is he providing us with this information? Whatever the case may be, "Fifty Mission Cap" is another deep meandering journey into Canadiana, made all the more powerful by the piledriving instrumental accompaniment. It's no surprise the song has been embraced by the Maple Leafs and hockey arenas around Canada.

The one-two punch of Canadiana continues with the pastoral "Wheat Kings." It is a meditative examination of David Milgaard, wrongly imprisoned for a crime he did not commit. At the risk of sounding like a blubbering fanboy, Gord Downie's lyrics are sublime. The opening line, "Sundown in the Paris of the Prairie" immediately establishes the setting. The song is gentle and contemplative, but as much as I enjoy it and am moved by it, I am sure I'd find it even more powerful if I was Canadian.

Fully Completely concludes with two sturdy if unspectacular songs, the forementioned metal-ish "The Werewithal" and "Eldorado." This is a situation in which the album sequencing might have been improved by having "Wheat Kings" close the album instead of "Eldorado." This is a minor quibble because Fully Completely is an outstanding album: the Tragically Hip's first fully realized and wholly original album.

Next up in this exploration of the Tragically Hip's catalog: Day For Night. That is an even more daunting challenge than Fully Completely, so who knows when I'll finish that.

A little book report about Bernard Malamud's The Natural

This post is about The Natural, a book that--after seeing the movie--it "only" took me 36 years to get around to reading.

Do I need to write a synopsis of the plot? Should I assume everyone knows about it by now? If not, here you go: young talented baseball pitcher Roy Hobbs is on a train to Chicago for a tryout with the Cubs. Once he arrives in Chicago, he is seriously injured in a tragic event (no spoilers). Fifteen years later, having bounced around and somewhat rebuilt his life and reclaimed his baseball talent, Roy is called up by the fictional New York Knights. Stuff happens: some great, some bad. (Once again, no spoilers).

I had always heard that The Natural (the book) was quite different from movie version, and this is definitely true.  

The book is darker—much darker than the movie. Roy Hobbs is, well, kind of a jerk. Not always a jerk, but frequently a jerk. He is far from the heroic version played by Robert Redford in the movie. Hobbs is certainly a bit clueless and is overly swayed by women who are shallow and/or mentally ill. (And yes, I agree with people who have noted that the female characters in the book are fairly one-note). Roy’s worst moment is when he reads a letter sent to him by one of his love interests, Iris Lemon. In the letter she explains in painfully honest detail the struggles she faced as a young mother—but once Roy is reminded that Iris’ daughter had a child—making Iris a grandmother—Roy rips up the letter and throws it away. Dick move, bro.).

Most of the characters in the book are disagreeable to just plain unlikeable. There are some exceptions. Pop Fisher (the Knights manager) is a good guy just trying the best he can, aware that he is not a great baseball manager. All he wants is to win the pennant once, and then retire from baseball and become a gentleman farmer.

Red Blow (where did Malamud come up with these names?) is a coach on the team who takes Hobbs under his wing and offers sage advice.

There is only one “good” woman in the book, the aforementioned Iris Lemon. Unlike Memo Paris, Pop’s niece whom Roy pines after, Iris actually cares about Roy. She’s also the only one to understand him and not afraid to call out his bullshit. Unfortunately, Roy can’t get over the fact that Iris is a grandmother (albeit a young grandmother). Late in the book it is revealed that Roy got Iris pregnant when they had a romantic rendezvous on a beach at Lake Michigan. It is implied that perhaps Roy will finally come to his senses and make a life with Iris, but the book’s rather abrupt ending never brings any closure to the Roy/Iris relationship. (Anyone who has seen the movie knows that its ending is completely different from the book—and it is obvious that Roy and Iris do end up together).

Perhaps my problem with Roy is really MY problem and not Roy’s. As I already mentioned, it took me 36 years to get around to reading the book, so inevitably I compare the Roy of the book to the Roy of the movie, and of course the Roy of the book will come up lacking. He is not the pure handsome hero as portrayed by Redford, and that is entirely the point of Malamud’s book.

All of these observations are about The Natural as a story, and I have not looked at the allegorical aspect of the book, which I suppose is about the illusory nature of the American Dream and all that high falootin’ jazz.

I enjoyed the book and am happy that I finally read it. Baseball fiction is not easy to do well. Up to this point, The Celebrant (Eric Rolfe Greenberg) and Shoeless Joe (W.P. Kinsella) were the two best I'd read in the genre. (I have yet to read Bang the Drum Slowly, but I should some day). The Natural easily reaches the level of those books as good baseball fiction. As a novel, it's good, but falls well short of greatness. (Quite frankly, the writing is a little clunky at times). However, if anyone reading this is a baseball fan and has not given The Natural a try, I encourage you to crack it open.

GTO: Great Teacher Onizuka

 

I thought I'd take some time off from political ranting to talk about one of the benefits of this pandemic, which is my older son exposing me to and teaching me the pleasure of anime.

 

I have already written a little bit about One Piece in here, now I'll talk a bit about Great Teacher Onizuka. It's a show that ran from 1999-2000 and focuses on 22-year-old Eikichi Onizuka. Onizuka is a bleach-blond former gang member who is trying to get on the straight-and-narrow by becoming a middle school teacher at an elite private school. The trouble is Onizuka is preternaturally incapable of being anywhere near the straight-and-narrow. Much of the bizarre humor of the show derives from Onizuka being a 22-year-old horn dog virgin (yes, virgin!) with, shall we say, "unorthodox" methods of dealing with his students.

 

The humor of the show is often cringe worthy, since Onizuka is attracted to the female students he is supposed to be teaching. (In my recent manga/anime education, I have discovered that this is a common trope). If this makes it a bit more acceptable (and less gross), Onizuka's predilection towards the girls is not portrayed as cool, and in fact usually gets Onizuka in comically ridiculous trouble.

 

The show is a comedy with occasional dark edges. Much humor is derived from Onizuka attending a third-rate college, his overly familiar relationships (but NOT sexual, even though the show consistently pokes the boundaries of good taste without going over the edge) with his students, and the hard-assed assistant principal who can't stand Onizuka and constantly threatens to fire him. Despite Onizuka's unconventional approach to education, he manages to get enough positive results to gain respect from the students and keep his job at the school.

 

I am not saying anything you can't learn from the Great Teacher Onizuka Wikipedia entry, so let me just say that I enjoy this show. Sure, some of the humor leaves me thinking, "Oh did he actually DO that!? Should I REALLY be laughing at that?!" The humor is just so outlandish, though, that I enjoy it. I have also grown to appreciate the exaggerated, surrealistic facial expressions that anime characters have when they are anguished. When Onizuka (or really, any character) is angry, his eyes become bloodshot and his mouth twists into a grimace.

 

I won't pretend to know everything (or anything) about Japanese culture, but the show strikes me as commentary on class differences and the intense competitiveness of Japanese schools. (The horror of Japanese schools is also a common trope of anime/manga).

 

The opening credits of Great Teacher Onizuka are outstanding. The first shot is of a toilet flushing and the sound of a motorcycle revving up. Everything is in black and white. After the toilet flushes, a tipsy and probably hungover and nude Onizuka teeters out of his bathroom, cigarette dangling from his mouth. The next shots are of a cocky looking Onizuka sauntering down the street while shaking a can of spray paint. We later see him standing next to a tag he sprayed with a pile of paint cans on the sidewalk. Later, he is seen painting a bull's eye on his stomach and then shoots his reflection in a mirror. In a minute and a half, Onizuka's character is presented to the viewer: cocky and a just a little arrogant, prone to over indulgence, but also with more than a tinge of self-loathing.

 

Great Teacher Onizuka is a fascinating show, and if you have any interest in anime, check it out.

 

 

Friday musings

The world continues to be a crazy place. Here are some musings I have had recently:

 

If you think that the whole ridiculous politicization of masks is bad, just wait until the day we (I hope) have a vaccine for COVID-19. There will be plenty of people who will not want to get it, and they will largely be the same people who refuse to wear a mask. And think of how crazy the battle has been over opening schools in the fall. How will we deal with vaccinating kids for the virus? Will children not be allowed in public schools unless they are vaccinated. (I limit this to public schools because presumably private schools will be able to do as they wish). Considering how terrible our health insurance is in the United States, what happens with coverage of a vaccine? I hope that children will be able obtain a vaccine either free of charge or for a limited cost.

 

I feel particularly bad for my older son, who was hoping to attend college in Germany beginning in the 2020-21 school year, and to be with his girlfriend in Germany. Due to coronavirus, and Americans rightfully viewed as toxic by the rest of the world, this is on hold. But this whole situation just piles on to the guilt I feel for having children during what I had no idea--back in the early aughts--would be such a terrible time to be alive. Nine days after the birth of our older son, 9/11 took place. Four years later, we had our younger son, but I don't know that we were considering the state of the world. By 2004, we had just settled into a life of far off wars in Afghanistan and Iraq and the mild daily irritation provided by President George W. Bush. Then, eight years of Obama in office gave us (cough--white people--cough) the misguided and naïve belief that we had entered a warm fuzzy post-racial world.

 

I the immediate future, the U.S. has to deal with how we will teach our children in the fall, and no solution is a perfect solution. If our younger son's school does on-line learning, the hard part will be actually getting him to DO the work. Even though my wife may be working from home at that time, she is too busy to be checking on his progress throughout the day. Thankfully, he is a sophomore in high school and shouldn't (in theory) need constant prodding. However, as we discovered in the final few months of the 2019-2020 school year--in which younger son was at home--he didn't exactly apply himself that much. Who am I kidding, he essentially blew off the end of the school year. So, I have no idea how this will work. I have even less of an idea how this will work for parents of young children--particularly parents who cannot work from home. The whole situation is a mess.

 

The entire world is a mess.

A strange Fourth of July

I don't like the Fourth of July under normal circumstances, but this year it was particularly depressing. But hey, at least I didn't have to go to any annoying fireworks display, dealing with mobs of irritating people. I just had to listen to people in my neighborhood blowing stuff up until midnight--though it sounds like I had it better than others in my area, who had amateur fireworks making noise until 1:30 AM. It was a strange Independence Day overall. The only "normal" part of it was grilling burgers and hot dogs. In any event, that is about as close to the typical form of celebration I ever choose to do on the Fourth of July.

 

If I ever go to a fireworks display, it is out of a sense of obligation. I enjoy the visual display of professional fireworks (though they are pretty much all the same) but the worst part of them is getting there, dealing with mobs of annoying people, and then trying to get the hell out when it's over. At least I didn't have to deal with that this year.

 

Watching Hamilton on Disney+ was as close to "patriotic" as I got this Fourth, and even that was slightly depressing. There was actually a degree of optimism in the country when Hamilton debuted in the mid-teens, and has all but disappeared in 2020. Still, despite the tinge of sadness, I enjoyed viewing Hamilton and became quite emotional throughout the entire broadcast. Part of that is from the story itself (I mean, who doesn't get choked up when--spoiler alert--the Hamiltons' son dies?) and just the enthusiastic, positive exuberance of the whole affair. It's a flame that is currently virtually extinguished in the United States. Perhaps it's still flickering with the Black Lives Matter protests. Maybe the the young people in our country are throwing kindling on the flame right now. I sure hope so.

End of the month thoughts

One thing I have been thinking recently: Is Trump really stupid, or is he just very smart in pretending to be stupid. I'd say he is street savvy and not book smart (at all). I doubt he's read a book in his life, and his father bought him his degree from Penn. I could further go off on this piece of shit occupying the White House, but I think you all know how I feel about him and honestly right now I don't feel like wasting any more time writing about this racist, bloated sack of shit.

 

Covid-19 cases are back up. Did we re-open too soon? Are the people who are "over it" (or were never "with it" to begin with) to blame? Of course, the vacuum in leadership in Washington contributed to this and continues to contribute to this disaster. And as this pandemic has sadly shown, we are largely a nation of spoiled arrogant fools.

 

And now that Covid-19 is seriously kicking our asses again, we have re-entered a phase in which I am paranoid about everything. I am now wearing my mask at work about 90 percent of the time: always when I am in open/public areas (which is what we are supposed to do) and even when I am in the "plastic bubble" known as my work cubicle.

 

Speaking of work, was I ever actually away from work for three months? I'm been back here almost three weeks and that stay-at-home time already seems like a long time ago. Of course, I am concerned that if numbers continue to uptick here in Michigan, the library will have to be put in mothballs again and we'll be home for who knows how long.

 

I am cranking this out during my lunch break at work, one of the few times I am sans mask. Only a few minutes left until I am back on the clock, so I will press the "publish" button...

Random thoughts about our current shit show

Bars in Florida opening to soon and people getting sick. Americans are selfish and stupid, reflected in the selfish and stupid president.

 

Things I miss: stopping by Replay Exchange or Flat, Black & Circular after work. Replay is closed and, though FBC is open, I just don't feel ready to hang out at a record store right now. In fact, there is no place I feel like "hanging out" right now.

 

---

 

I have taken several days between the first part of this post and now. Friends and family are all that are keeping me from losing my mind.

 

Where to even start. The COVID-19 cases continue unabated in this country, and have I mentioned that our "president" is an utter disgrace? We aren't simply the laughing stock of the world, we are flat-out pitied by the world. I never thought I'd live to see the day when the United States was pitied by the global community.

 

Alright, enough ranting for now.

 

What else is in the news? How about Aunt Jemima finally going away. First of all, how in the hell was Aunt Jemima even still a thing in the year 2020? And though it seems like the vast majority of people have no problem with Aunt Jemima being pitched into the dustbin of history, it's amusing to hear some white people behave as if they have some sort of emotional attachment to Aunt Jemima. Puh-leeze!

 

It feels like every twenty years or so, we need to be woken up from our American amnesia and realize that there is plenty of racist and/or problematic garbage that needs to be dealt with. In the past, we (I should probably specify "white people") fall asleep again. It remains to be seen what happens this time. My hope is that real change takes place. 

 

Okay, that is enough for now. I will send this missive out into a cyberspace.

Back at work for the first time in 89 days

My 89-day stay-at-home stint is now over. I am back at work in downtown Lansing for the first time since March 13.

 

My workspace looks hermetically sealed in plastic. We have disinfecting wipes, hand sanitizer, and must wear masks whenever we are outside our cubicles. Unless I am walking down a corridor or in the break room, people generally appear as ghostly shadows through the plastic sheeting surrounding my cubicle.

 

This is the first time I have been in Lansing since March 13. Almost three months--and I live only eight miles from the city. This is the longest period of time I have not been in Lansing since--I am guessing--1991.

 

It would be an understatement to say it feels strange. If you've ever read Nineteen Eighty-Four or seen the movie adaptation, you'll remember Winston Smith's tiny cubicle at the Ministry of Information. That is what this feels like. Okay, not quite as bleak perhaps, but not too far off. Definitely closed off. But better safe than sorry, as the cliche goes. I'm happy that my employer is taking our health seriously, even if it makes work depressing. Hell, this whole coronavirus pandemic is depressing on multiple levels.

 

I like to walk on my breaks, and went out walking for downtown for the first time since, well, the last time I was at work in March. Unsurprisingly, the streets are fairly deserted. I saw where windows had been broken during the demonstrations that took place in Lansing several days ago (honestly, since all the days blend together, I can't even remember when the demonstrations were. Two weeks ago I suppose?). I was heartened by the encouraging messages written on many of the boards.

 

I have washed my hands probably 20 times today and disinfected my work area at least a few times. There are about 40 minutes left in my first day back in almost three months, so back to work I go.

A brief expression of sorrow

Could the world possible get any worse? (That is a rhetorical question. Of course it could, and I sure as hell hope it doesn't).

George Floyd is murdered in Minneapolis, captured in perhaps the most chilling video I have ever seen. I honestly don't know how anyone but the most deluded racist can NOT conclude that the cop involved in this (Derek Chauvin) is a racist sociopath/psychopath. He deserves to be convicted of this crime and sent to prison for a long time. 

How many more times do we have to talk about a black person killed by police? When will this ever end? When will police ever be held accountable for their actions?

The ensuing rebellions around the country, and in particular the tone deaf response from our horrible president, have been depressing. It just compounds the depression I have already had regarding coronavirus and Trump's terrible response to that crisis.

I am depressed about the state of our country. It gets worse all the time, and I wonder when we hit rock bottom. I don't think it's an exaggeration to say the soul of this country is at stake in this November election. 

Another dispatch from the CoronaClusterf***

Hi folks, thought I'd take some time to check in.

I am still at home and doing the "shelter-in-place/stay-at-home" thing, and I have to be honest with you, I am in no hurry to get back to "normal" (whatever that even IS anymore). It's not that I don't want coronavirus to end (of course I do), but with over 100,000 Americans dead--and the rate of infection only slowing slightly--I am still not quite chomping at the bit to return to my physical work space.

The news is almost constantly depressing, but even more so lately with yet more black people being murdered by cops, our idiot president acting like, well, an idiot every single day (and offering no leadership during this pandemic). When the news isn't about the ever increasing death toll and unemployment tally, it is racist bullshit occurring and our "president" behaving like a racist asshole. It is exasperating, exhausting, and nerve-wracking, but I at least feel that I am in a somewhat protective cocoon working in my house and going out only occasionally to walk/run in the neighborhood or pick up takeout from local restaurants. 

Okay, enough of our current clusterfuck.

In other news, I actually did something I rarely do: I finished reading two books on exactly the same day. And more amazingly, in the time that I was simultaneously reading them, I gave them equal time. Usually when I try to read two books at the same time, one of them gets way more attention than the other. The books were David Bowie: The Oral History by Dylan Jones and The Narcissism of Small Differences by Michael Zadoorian. The Bowie biography was equally dishy and intelligent. The multitude of interviewees manage to weave together a full image of David Jones (the actually reserved middle class kid from Bromley) and his public persona, David Bowie. At 500+ pages, it may be more Bowie than most need, but I thoroughly enjoyed it.

I am so thankful that Michael Zadoorian published a book when I most need some escapism. The Narcissism of Small Differences is another of his novels focused on residents of greater Detroit. Under the shadow of the 2009 recession. Joe and Ana are aging Ferndale hipsters trying to negotiate adulthood and figure out what they want from life. Like most of Zadoorian's books, the journey is as important as the destination. The small moments in these characters' lives are lovingly detailed, and the book is full of crackling dialogue. Minor characters like the pot-smoking, philosophizing urban explorer Brendan and the wiseass screenwriter Chick are as enjoyable as the main characters. (If Michael Z. decides to write spin-off books or stories based on these dudes, I'm on board). I also love all the references to locations, products, personalities, and bands from Detroit and Michigan. Another stellar offering from Mr. Zadoorian.

Next up: finish reading David Maraniss' Once In a Great City (another book about Detroit) and finally get started on Margaret Atwood's The Testaments. We'll see how that goes.

Well, I have worked on this blog post for about two days, now I'll put it to bed and publish it.

Two months of "shelter in place"

I feel as if I've settled into a routine now. The "new normal" is just "normal." With the pandemic still continuing with no end it sight, this normal will also continue with no definite end in sight. I say no "definite" end in sight because my workplace's tentative plan is to slowly open back up after Governor Whitmer's stay-at-home order expires on May 28. Of course, if she extends it, then that goes out the window.

I am in no hurry to go back into the public. As long as there is no effective treatment or vaccine for this horrible Covid-19 disease (and whenever I read about it, Covid-19 sounds like a disease out of a horror movie), I would much rather stay at home and limit my outdoor adventures to the bare essential trips. I will work and stay at home for as long as necessary. I do not want to put myself or my family in any unnecessary risk.

I have been spending my time editing and correcting ebook and eaudio records for the library, which is about as exciting as it sounds. It keeps me busy and makes me feel as if I can contributing in some small way. And honestly, I never realized how bad these records looked until now. They were in desperate need of editing and correcting. None of them have call numbers or genres, many don't have subject headings, and there is other incorrect or missing information.

This has also been the time that I have received an "anime education" courtesy of my older son. We have been watching a lot of Japanese anime. So far, my favorites have been the moody noirish Cowboy Bebop and One Piece. If you have any interest in epic Odyssey-like tales (with a healthy dose of goofy comedy), I highly recommend One Piece. One caveat however, at over 900 episodes, it will probably take you at least three years to watch it. We are probably at about episode 60.

So what else have I been up to? I have been running and walking through my neighborhood. That is my form of exercise. I am sure I have probably mentioned that in previous posts. Not too many people outside at one time, so plenty of space for physical distancing.

I am also currently reading a long, informative, but plenty dishy biography of David Bowie. It's called David Bowie: the Oral History (by Dylan Jones) and I am finding just the sort of escapist read I need right now. As for the dishy part, let's just say I know way more about Bowie's sex life than I ever wanted or needed to know. Thankfully, there is enough about Bowie's music and creative process to counterbalance all the stories about drugs and fucking.

That's all I have for now. Stay safe,everyone

One month of "shelter-in-place"

I thought it was about time to write an update to my last blog post.

It has been one month since my last post and one month since I/we have been in quarantine/shelter-in-place. The day that I wrote that March post was the last day I was actually AT work.

I have somewhat settled into life in our current dystopia. Instead of feeling panicky and paranoid, I'm just slightly nervous. Sort of a perpetual sense of unease under the surface. Not panic, not fear, but just a bit on edge.

Now, I am trying to find pleasure in the little things, and take life one day at a time. I know "find pleasure in little things" and "one day at a time" are cliches, but how else can we live our lives right now? There's not much to "look forward to," since any semblance of normalcy is likely many months away in a best case scenario. I just try to live in the moment as much as possible and not be bothered by stupid annoyances.

I get up in the morning--every day feeling like the movie Groundhog Day--take a shower, change into my "everyday clothes" (jeans, t-shirt, zip-up sweatshirt is the standard uniform) and after checking my phone, which always seems like a mistake because the news is almost always depressing, I get on with the day. I make a cup of coffee ("taking pleasure in little things"), plug away on library work on my borrowed laptop (the same laptop I am using to write this blog post. I hope the library doesn't mind). The night almost always concludes with me drinking a glass of wine, reading a book, or watching some escapist program on television. (This has generally been an old baseball game on the MLB Network, Schitt's Creek, Better Call Saul, and most recently The Boys and Good Omens on Amazon Prime).

I am well aware that I have it much better than many. I have a nice home, an employer that has guaranteed our jobs are safe for the duration, a good family, lovable (though occasionally annoying) companion animals, and no shortage of food. There are so many who aren't as fortunate.

Right now, I finished my day of library work and the ultimate mind-numbing escapism of Wheel of Fortune is on the television. So I'll take my leave for now and check in sometime in the near future.

Coronavirus (COVID-19)

I am trying hard not to live in a state of constant anxiety, but Coronavirus is here and it's terrifying. The entire nation is in complete upheaval.

There are many horrible and frightening aspects of this pandemic, but the worst might be not knowing how this plays out. How bad will it get? When is the endgame? How many people die?

Naturally, I fear for my family and friends (more than myself, truly). But I also don't wish this disease on anyone.

The only way I can deal with it right now is by writing about it in this blog.

I am already a person prone to depression and morose thoughts, so this is a particularly bad time. Just the last few nights, as COVID-19 has hit reality in a big way (it never should have taken us this long to take it seriously) I have not been able to sleep the last few days.

Maybe now that this is our "new reality," we will simply learn to cope with it and the panic will subside to some degree. I also hope that in lieu of a vaccine (which is likely a long way off), treatments can improve as the virus is better understood. (Or maybe they are as good as they can get--I'm no scientist).

So, we need to learn to live in this new reality. A world without sporting events, concerts, and large gatherings for the foreseeable future. As disappointing as it may be, it is far better to err on the side of caution than take any risks. If a large amount of people become infected in a short period, our healthcare system will be overloaded. That would be a disaster.

I may post here and there a bit more often than before. Wishing everyone health and happiness in these difficult times/

Favorite podcasts of 2019

(I posted this on Facebook, and think it would be appropriate to post it in this blog--sorry for the screwy font that doesn't match the rest of the blog):

I thought I'd do another "Favorites of 2019" list, this one about podcasts. I listen to many podcasts (maybe TOO MANY) while working, running, walking, washing dishes, etc. So here are my top 20 of 2019 (listed in the order they appear in my Stitcher favorites):

WTF WITH MARC MARON: The granddaddy of podcasts and still one of the best. No matter the guest, the conversations are almost always engaging.

SLATE CULTURE GABFEST: Dana Stevens, Stephen Metcalf, and Julia Turner discuss the current week's notable films, music, books, etc. Sometimes veers into precious East Coast elitism (perhaps unintentionally) but is always an enjoyable listen and about the smartest podcast out there.

BEST PICK: This is a British podcast that each week randomly selects an Academy Award year and discusses in great detail the nominees and winner--and then decide if the winner was "the best pick" for that year. Lots of dry British humor throughout.

THE PRESS BOX: Bryan Curtis and David Shoemaker of The Ringer talk about the week in news from a journalistic perspective, and they are quite funny. Weekly feature is "The Overused Twitter Joke of the Week."

ARMCHAIR EXPERT: The quality of this podcast took me by surprise. Actor Dax Shepherd interviews a different guest each week in discussions that are frequently about 90 minutes to two hours long. Dax is a smart and perceptive guy. In somewhat the same vein as WTF.

THE BIG PICTURE: Another in the Ringer stable of podcasts. The always articulate and congenial Sean Fennessey (often joined by Ringer staffer Amanda Dobbins) talks about recent movies. Often features interviews with actors and directors.

LARRY WILMORE: BLACK ON THE AIR: Comedian, actor and television writer Wilmore talks about whatever is happening in this crazy world. Often venturing into politics, Wilmore is astute and practical in his views. Frequently features guests from all walks of life.

SCREW IT, WE'RE JUST GONNA TALK ABOUT THE BEATLES: Several UCB comedians, who also happen to be Beatles fans, do exactly what the podcast name indicates.

ROCK SOLID: Host Pat Francis takes a humorous approach to music fandom, and features guests (Pat's friends or Patreon donors) to talk about a different subject each week. There are deep dives into artist catalogs (i.e. "The Stones in the '70s," "Nick Lowe," etc.) or shows built on a theme (Songs that mention "rain" in the title).

ROCKIN' THE SUBURBS: One of my absolute favorite podcasts and one that has developed a great online community of music fans/nerds. Jim Lenahan and Patrick Foster post a new episode almost every day on a wide-ranging array of musical topics. Often features guests (musicians, music writers, and Patreon donors who choose a topic).

THE REWATCHABLES: Bill Simmons of The Ringer and a revolving panel (Sean Fennessey, Chris Ryan, Mallory Rubin, Amanda Dobbins, etc) talk about a different "rewatchable" movie each week. A rewatchable is generally a movie that, if you catch it on cable TV, you will watch no matter what. Each episode plays like a late night dorm room bull session (if the participants were all funny and smart). Each episode also has categories ("What's aged the worst," "Dion Waiters Award" for best performance in limited screen time, "Joey Pants/that guy" award for character actors, "Apex Mountain" for whose career peaked with that film, and a few others).

1001 ALBUM CLUB: A revolving panel discuss each and every album featured in the book "1001 Albums You Must Hear Before You Die." Two albums/two eps per week. Episodes are about 15-20 minutes long.

THE BILL SIMMONS PODCAST: The Ringer's Bill Simmons (unapologetic Boston sports fanboy formerly of ESPN and Grantland) talks sports, culture, movies, politics, being a dad, or whatever is on his mind. Often features famous guests (or his friends). Usually a fun listen.

THE WATCH: The Ringer's Chris Ryan and Andy Greenwald talk about current movies and television.

YO, IS THIS RACIST?: Hosts Andrew Ti and Tawny Newsome talk--in an often humorous way--about racism in America. Sadly, they never run out of racism news in the headlines. Often features a special guest host.

THE HUSTLE: Host Jon Lamoreaux takes a different spin on the music podcast, interviewing musicians who maybe have been out of the limelight for awhile but have fascinating stories to tell. Jon is enthusiastic and a good interviewer.

SLATE POLITICAL GABFEST: Hosts Emily Bazelon, David Plotz, and John Dickerson talk about the week in politics--which in the last few years has veered between depressing and crazy (or both). Always an intelligent discussion.

THE LAST PODCAST ON THE LEFT: An uproariously funny podcast about bizarre crimes, murder, UFOs, alien encounters and all manner of weirdness.

SOUND OPINIONS: I think of Chicago's Jim DeRogatis and Greg Kot as the Siskel and Ebert of music criticism. This podcast features deep dives into artists and albums, music news, and guest interviews. Jim and Greg disagree more often than they agree on music.

UNSPOOLED: Last but not least, this great movie podcast. Film critic Amy Nicholson and actor Paul Scheer have been methodically going through the AFI 100 films with these incredibly detailed looks at each film.