It wasn't skinheads and KKK members who voted Trump into office. Not folks who fell for the con and eagerly bought the bombast. Not belligerants in gimme caps raving about immigrants and demanding their country back. It was moderate conservatives, who believed they were averting disaster by voting against Hillary. They deeply dislike Trump, and never drank his lemonade. Many of them further believed that the status quo could use a shake-up, even by someone damaged.
A number of my friends held this position, and they're lovely people, so I'm taking some of the current invective against them a bit personally. Very few liberals pronouncing on these people actually know any Trump voters. They just see the extremists on TV, and extrapolate. They are engaging in the same faulty reasoning as those who see jihadi lunatics on TV and conclude Moslems are all trying to kill us.
The line I hear again and again is that "voting for a bigot is complicit with bigotry, regardless of other factors".
I staunchly reject that. Bigotry has always been a flaw, but only recently deemed an unpardonable sin, and only among certain idealogical tribes. Failure to deem it an unpardonable sin is neither tantamount to nor condoning of that flaw. It's rigid and unconciliatory to imagine it so. In fact, it is itself an example of bigotry.
Perhaps you share my view that the left is reacting deplorably (and counterproductively) with the flag burning and carrying on, when Trump hasn't actually done anything yet (and has even settled down into behaving like some semblance of a mensch for at least the time being). If so, bear in mind that when we find flaw with the actions of the left or the right; of men or women; or of either side of any other dichotomy, we are always finding flaw with greater humanity; incompletely registering a perfectly appropriate misanthropy. The stupid things groups do are the things humans do.
We were blessed with Obama for eight years, and that was way better than we deserved. This isn't us dropping into a pit. This is just the normalizing descent from that freakish peak. The world boasts 2.5 billion professed followers of Christ and millions of professed admirers of Gandhi and MLK. But - especially when the stakes rise a tad and we get our dander up - the message still hasn't sunk in.
Friday, November 11, 2016
Thursday, November 10, 2016
Trust but Encrypt
As I've said, I'm appalled by the pre-judging, the vows to blindly obstruct, and all the rest (I'm not marching; I already voted! That was my marching! My side lost! That happens, and it's okay! That's Democracy!).
Now, more than ever, I ask myself whether we human beings will ever learn to react to extremism with enlightened moderation rather than with reciprocal extremism.
I always surprise and upset foodies when I tell them that if MacDonald's made terrific hamburgers, I'd be the happiest guy on Earth. Who wouldn't want quality delivered with that convenience, efficiency, and price? I'd be very very pro-MacDonald's if their food was great. Why the hell wouldn't I be??
Similarly, if Trump turns out to be even a pretty good president (Obama himself wasn't perfect, and he was great!), I'll be a happy camper. The campaign's over. I'm not longer judging character. I care about what he actually does in his official duties, period. And I'm willing to keep the open mind Clinton and Obama sincerely and appropriately urged me to.
So I'm feeling much more conciliatory than most. With that in mind, I believe the following suggestion is prudent, warranted, and by no means paranoid:
Now, more than ever, I ask myself whether we human beings will ever learn to react to extremism with enlightened moderation rather than with reciprocal extremism.
I always surprise and upset foodies when I tell them that if MacDonald's made terrific hamburgers, I'd be the happiest guy on Earth. Who wouldn't want quality delivered with that convenience, efficiency, and price? I'd be very very pro-MacDonald's if their food was great. Why the hell wouldn't I be??
Similarly, if Trump turns out to be even a pretty good president (Obama himself wasn't perfect, and he was great!), I'll be a happy camper. The campaign's over. I'm not longer judging character. I care about what he actually does in his official duties, period. And I'm willing to keep the open mind Clinton and Obama sincerely and appropriately urged me to.
So I'm feeling much more conciliatory than most. With that in mind, I believe the following suggestion is prudent, warranted, and by no means paranoid:
Hey, no joke, and I'm paraphrasing smarter people. If you plan on opposing Trump:
— John Rogers (@jonrog1) November 9, 2016
Get Tor.
Get Signal.
Get a VPN
2FA on your emails.
Now.
Wednesday, November 9, 2016
My Second Biggest Shock
My second biggest shock today is that I don't hear any liberals or moderates expressing hope that Trump will rise to the occasion, that he'll do better than expected, and that he will abide by the bright promise he made this morning ("I pledge to every citizen of our land that I will be president for all Americans").
All I see is granite, clenched-jaw antagonism. That's how Obama was forced to launch his presidency, and we've been much the worse for it. The moment compels our best wishes, as much conciliation as we can muster, and our keeping (per Hillary Clinton's request this morning) an open mind.
Even if he keeps his worst impulses in check, we still won't love all his policies. That's okay, he won; his policies will reign for a while! But pre-hating out of fear and expectation, before he's even entered office, is what they did to Obama. Can't we be better?
I'll say to you what I once said to Mitch McConnell (on my TV screen!): if this president fails, that means we all fail. And if we want Trump to consider his better angels, why on earth would we solidify against him from the get-go, engaging his most transactional and self-serving impulses?
As an American, I want Trump on my side. So I will be on his side until he crosses a line - a truly actionable one, not just some vindictive tweet, or some policy I happen to disagree with (I didn't agree with Obama on all his policies, either, and I think he was a great president).
All I see is granite, clenched-jaw antagonism. That's how Obama was forced to launch his presidency, and we've been much the worse for it. The moment compels our best wishes, as much conciliation as we can muster, and our keeping (per Hillary Clinton's request this morning) an open mind.
Even if he keeps his worst impulses in check, we still won't love all his policies. That's okay, he won; his policies will reign for a while! But pre-hating out of fear and expectation, before he's even entered office, is what they did to Obama. Can't we be better?
I'll say to you what I once said to Mitch McConnell (on my TV screen!): if this president fails, that means we all fail. And if we want Trump to consider his better angels, why on earth would we solidify against him from the get-go, engaging his most transactional and self-serving impulses?
As an American, I want Trump on my side. So I will be on his side until he crosses a line - a truly actionable one, not just some vindictive tweet, or some policy I happen to disagree with (I didn't agree with Obama on all his policies, either, and I think he was a great president).
Look, Love, Think
Liberals work very hard to advocate for tolerance and respect for people who look differently, or love differently, or pray differently.
If I had an extra genie wish, I'd use it to help liberals invest some of that same passion into tolerating and respecting people who think differently.
Read
If I had an extra genie wish, I'd use it to help liberals invest some of that same passion into tolerating and respecting people who think differently.
Read
White People Voting Trump
It's not that White People were in cahoots to keep the others down (well, at least it's not MOSTLY that). It's that working class white people are less sensitized to racist-raving lunatics, even if they are not themselves racist. They hear that shit all the time, even if they dislike it, so it's less of a deal-killer. I'm shocked by some of Malcolm X's tone, and it surprises me when kind-hearted black people - who don't agree with that stuff - let it slide. They're simply paying attention to the bigger points, hardly registering the bellicose yadda-yadda that leaves me horrified.@jonrosenberg break that down further… basically it’s just White people for Trump. White 18-29s are solidly Trump. pic.twitter.com/wAaeh0zmBz
— CM Harrington (@octothorpe) November 9, 2016
So these white people can recoil, however uncomfortably, to a Trump - who they dislike and mistrust - when confronted with a candidate they REALLY dislike and mistrust.
If Joe Biden had run, only the beady-eyed knuckle-draggers would have gone Trump.
Distilling the Essential Impasse
Liberals only rarely encounter lunatics spewing hateful ignorance. It's a deeply traumatic experience. Moderate conservatives see that type much more often, so they abide it more easily, even if they disagree.
Opposite's true, as well. Here in the NYC area, there's some liberal extreme/fringe I disagree with. I abide it easily, because I'm used to it. It feels like family.
This is how many kind-hearted, non-racist, non-awful people manage to not be totally put off by Trump's deplorable side. They see what we see, and disagree like we do, but they're less sensitized.
....and they're recoiling from Hillary. Biden would have drawn massive bipartisan votes.
Opposite's true, as well. Here in the NYC area, there's some liberal extreme/fringe I disagree with. I abide it easily, because I'm used to it. It feels like family.
This is how many kind-hearted, non-racist, non-awful people manage to not be totally put off by Trump's deplorable side. They see what we see, and disagree like we do, but they're less sensitized.
....and they're recoiling from Hillary. Biden would have drawn massive bipartisan votes.
Election Night with My Trump Friends
Forgive the poor writing. Like many of you, I'm feeling a bit foggy/numb. But I have a takeaway I think you might find helpful. Skip to the final paragraph (above the italicized postscript) if you'd like.
I spent last night in one of my favorite watering holes, out of state, where lots of Trump supporters hang out, some of them friends of mine, and all really nice, non-racist/sexist/monstrous people.
The bartender is a youngish guy, way nicer and more sympathetic and respectful to a wider range of people than I am. He admitted he'd voted for Trump, but he couldn't stand the guy. I asked whether he recognized what a shallow narcissist he was, and he frowned back at me, offended. "Duh!" He'd voted Trump because 1. he's in the habit of mostly voting Republican from the old days, and 2. he absolutely can't stand Hillary. That's it. He hadn't been conned by The Wall or any of the rest of it.
Hearing him say this - a real live person rather than a thought experiment - I saw the parallel more clearly than ever before. The vast majority of Clinton voters - including me - voted for Hillary fully aware of her flaws, because they absolutely couldn't stand Trump. It was a recoil. And the other side, like a passing train on the other track, did likewise.
It was an edge case election of reciprocal recoil voting. We find it tough to empathize with the recoilers on the other side - "But she/he's so AWFUL!" we protest. We angrily dispute any assertion of symmetry. But the symmetry wasn't in the candidates, it was in the sentiment. That's how to understand this, and that's how to re-normalize your neighbors.
A reciprocal-recoil election is a dangerous, volatile pit of gurgling emotional irrationality. If Biden had run, he'd have wiped the floor with Trump. The problem with Clinton wasn't with Clinton, it was with Clinton sentiment. On the other side, Jeb probably would have wiped the floor with her.
We imagine that Trump supporters bought into his bullshit. And while some surely did, most were simply recoiling. That's all. And, by this point, every American knows a lot about recoil. The daffy surprise this morning, as the smoke clears, is that we're more alike than we imagine. And the other daffy surprise is that now that the recoiling's over, a big chunk of the other side shares our worry (if not our terror) about what's to follow.
As Trump's victory became clear, my bartender friend didn't celebrate. Rather, he tightened into a fearful thoughtfulness I'm not sure he himself noticed (though it'll likely blossom as the week progresses). I asked if he was experiencing buyer's remorse, and he chuckled nervously. I think he, and a lot of American Brexit voters, are feeling as free-fallish this morning as I am.
The main thing I want to say is that none of the Trump people were celebrating. Seeing avid Trumpies cheering and rejoicing on TV last night was like watching Middle Eastern radicals burning American flags on TV: it's a mistake to assume you're viewing the widespread sentiment. There's a whole lot of Brexit hangover, though the loudest, most strident voices will be seen in media for a while. I'm awfully glad to have a diverse set of friends for a truer picture.
For the third time, I highly recommend "The March of Folly" by Barbara W. Tuchman, a beautiful analysis of how successful, stable societies every once in a while go insane and poison their own water.
I spent last night in one of my favorite watering holes, out of state, where lots of Trump supporters hang out, some of them friends of mine, and all really nice, non-racist/sexist/monstrous people.
The bartender is a youngish guy, way nicer and more sympathetic and respectful to a wider range of people than I am. He admitted he'd voted for Trump, but he couldn't stand the guy. I asked whether he recognized what a shallow narcissist he was, and he frowned back at me, offended. "Duh!" He'd voted Trump because 1. he's in the habit of mostly voting Republican from the old days, and 2. he absolutely can't stand Hillary. That's it. He hadn't been conned by The Wall or any of the rest of it.
Hearing him say this - a real live person rather than a thought experiment - I saw the parallel more clearly than ever before. The vast majority of Clinton voters - including me - voted for Hillary fully aware of her flaws, because they absolutely couldn't stand Trump. It was a recoil. And the other side, like a passing train on the other track, did likewise.
It was an edge case election of reciprocal recoil voting. We find it tough to empathize with the recoilers on the other side - "But she/he's so AWFUL!" we protest. We angrily dispute any assertion of symmetry. But the symmetry wasn't in the candidates, it was in the sentiment. That's how to understand this, and that's how to re-normalize your neighbors.
A reciprocal-recoil election is a dangerous, volatile pit of gurgling emotional irrationality. If Biden had run, he'd have wiped the floor with Trump. The problem with Clinton wasn't with Clinton, it was with Clinton sentiment. On the other side, Jeb probably would have wiped the floor with her.
We imagine that Trump supporters bought into his bullshit. And while some surely did, most were simply recoiling. That's all. And, by this point, every American knows a lot about recoil. The daffy surprise this morning, as the smoke clears, is that we're more alike than we imagine. And the other daffy surprise is that now that the recoiling's over, a big chunk of the other side shares our worry (if not our terror) about what's to follow.
As Trump's victory became clear, my bartender friend didn't celebrate. Rather, he tightened into a fearful thoughtfulness I'm not sure he himself noticed (though it'll likely blossom as the week progresses). I asked if he was experiencing buyer's remorse, and he chuckled nervously. I think he, and a lot of American Brexit voters, are feeling as free-fallish this morning as I am.
The main thing I want to say is that none of the Trump people were celebrating. Seeing avid Trumpies cheering and rejoicing on TV last night was like watching Middle Eastern radicals burning American flags on TV: it's a mistake to assume you're viewing the widespread sentiment. There's a whole lot of Brexit hangover, though the loudest, most strident voices will be seen in media for a while. I'm awfully glad to have a diverse set of friends for a truer picture.
For the third time, I highly recommend "The March of Folly" by Barbara W. Tuchman, a beautiful analysis of how successful, stable societies every once in a while go insane and poison their own water.
Tuesday, November 8, 2016
Adrenalin in the Voter Booth
A confession: I haven't voted in years. Not due to apathy, or lack of viable candidates. It's that I live in a state that always votes Democratic in major elections, and I've backed major Democratic candidates for the past while (if I'd liked a Republican, I'd have voted, to register my protest). As for local offices, I prefer to see them careen back and forth, one side compensating for the excesses of the other, and that will happen naturally without me.
The nation's leftward demographic shift has suited me pretty well for the most part (since the Republicans dropped into the abyss a while ago), but I'm not inclined to push my weight into it. There will come a time when the pendulum overswings, as it always does, so it's time to coast, not accelerate. I think of my non-voting as an act of engine braking.
But this morning I put on a button-down shirt and belt (after two years creating an ambitious project, having invested everything I've got into making it true and lovable and shiny, I've been slumping around in sweatshirt and droopy corduroys) and headed to my local polling place.
I strode into the booth and I shoved the lever down hard for Hillary Clinton. In my imagination, the click was a crash - alarming, even deafening. I Michael Bayed the motherfucker. And I voted straight down the Dem line, because anyone running on a ticket beneath that guy is too shameless to earn my vote.
I've proudly pushed my weight into this one, contributing to a foregone conclusion. For once, I've fully signed on.
Full disclosure: the preceding account was heightened for dramatic effect. Actually, they gave me a paper ballot and felt-tip marker. But I darkened that circle with absolutely savage intensity.
News flash: my car will survive!
The nation's leftward demographic shift has suited me pretty well for the most part (since the Republicans dropped into the abyss a while ago), but I'm not inclined to push my weight into it. There will come a time when the pendulum overswings, as it always does, so it's time to coast, not accelerate. I think of my non-voting as an act of engine braking.
But this morning I put on a button-down shirt and belt (after two years creating an ambitious project, having invested everything I've got into making it true and lovable and shiny, I've been slumping around in sweatshirt and droopy corduroys) and headed to my local polling place.
I strode into the booth and I shoved the lever down hard for Hillary Clinton. In my imagination, the click was a crash - alarming, even deafening. I Michael Bayed the motherfucker. And I voted straight down the Dem line, because anyone running on a ticket beneath that guy is too shameless to earn my vote.
I've proudly pushed my weight into this one, contributing to a foregone conclusion. For once, I've fully signed on.
Full disclosure: the preceding account was heightened for dramatic effect. Actually, they gave me a paper ballot and felt-tip marker. But I darkened that circle with absolutely savage intensity.
News flash: my car will survive!
Saturday, November 5, 2016
Toots and the Camry
I've driven my Camry for twelve years. I bought it at 46,000 miles, and it now has over 163,000, and has always been flawless. Literally nothing has ever broken. It does have one quirk, however. My Toyota is super into Toots and the Maytals.
Anytime anyone plugs an iPhone into the stereo system, it opens the Pandora app and chooses the Toots and the Maytals channel. It seems annoying, but the funny thing is that the Toots and the Maytals channel is so great (it's not just Toots; they cover a wide range of soul and reggae) that whatever you were trying to play quickly fades from your mind. You sit contentedly back in your seat, realizing the car knew better. You just can't beat its great musical taste.
Toots is currently touring, for the first time in years, and I went to see him Wednesday night in Williamsburg with my friend John. As he got in my car, John forgetfully attached his phone to play some music. As usual, the car ignored him and went straight to Toots. John, in turn, raised a worrisome point.
"Do you think it's gonna be pissed off that we're seeing Toots live?" he asked. "Jesus, yes, it might refuse to start," I answered. We plotted for a while about how we might back up to the stage door and ask them to prop it open a little so it could hear.
We caught the concert, it was amazing, and on the way home, I noticed the pickup wasn't quite right. The six cylinder monster of an engine hesitated when I hit the gas. I asked whether John had gained weight.
We finally made it back, and the next day I drove back to the city, where the car refused to re-start. I had to have it towed, and eventually learned that the starter was fried.
The new starter did not improve the power problem, though. It just got worse and worse. I'll know for certain on Monday, but at this point I'm pretty sure the engine's blown. Again, it was riding as good as new two days ago. It's been meticulously cared for, the engine is shiny and strong, and has never consumed even a drop of oil.
I do have an idea. Toots plays Boston tomorrow night. If I can get the car up there, and somehow move it close enough to enjoy the show, I feel my Camry might regain the will to drive.
See also the tale of my supremely high-maintenance television.
Anytime anyone plugs an iPhone into the stereo system, it opens the Pandora app and chooses the Toots and the Maytals channel. It seems annoying, but the funny thing is that the Toots and the Maytals channel is so great (it's not just Toots; they cover a wide range of soul and reggae) that whatever you were trying to play quickly fades from your mind. You sit contentedly back in your seat, realizing the car knew better. You just can't beat its great musical taste.
Toots is currently touring, for the first time in years, and I went to see him Wednesday night in Williamsburg with my friend John. As he got in my car, John forgetfully attached his phone to play some music. As usual, the car ignored him and went straight to Toots. John, in turn, raised a worrisome point.
"Do you think it's gonna be pissed off that we're seeing Toots live?" he asked. "Jesus, yes, it might refuse to start," I answered. We plotted for a while about how we might back up to the stage door and ask them to prop it open a little so it could hear.
We caught the concert, it was amazing, and on the way home, I noticed the pickup wasn't quite right. The six cylinder monster of an engine hesitated when I hit the gas. I asked whether John had gained weight.
We finally made it back, and the next day I drove back to the city, where the car refused to re-start. I had to have it towed, and eventually learned that the starter was fried.
The new starter did not improve the power problem, though. It just got worse and worse. I'll know for certain on Monday, but at this point I'm pretty sure the engine's blown. Again, it was riding as good as new two days ago. It's been meticulously cared for, the engine is shiny and strong, and has never consumed even a drop of oil.
I do have an idea. Toots plays Boston tomorrow night. If I can get the car up there, and somehow move it close enough to enjoy the show, I feel my Camry might regain the will to drive.
See also the tale of my supremely high-maintenance television.
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