Stranger in a Strange Land. . .

A Commentary, Sort Of.

A Confession, of Sorts. . .

I’ve never read Stranger in a Strange Land.

I might get around to it someday. I appreciate a good sci-fi novel. I love Octavia Butler. I’ve read a bit in the Dune universe, not so much in the land of A Song of Ice and Fire.

I’m not an aficionado. I’m not even a nerd, at least not of this variety.

But, I feel like a stranger “Stranger” everyday. And when I look around, I struggle to see the world I once knew. I’m sure it’s a little bit me, and a little bit you.

A Brave New World. . .

(I have read this one, but it was a long time ago.)

I embarked on a crash course of my previous reality shortly before the world decided to go insane.

My wife and I started our family just prior to the start of Pandemic (I’ve taken to capitalizing this as an event...like Christmas, but far more horrific.) We were at a friend’s wedding in Costa Rica a few weeks before the world shut down, and we stood on a beach joking about the impending “apocalypse.” A few months later, our son was born in the heart of a global lockdown.

Becoming a parent is its own unique adventure. But, doing so in the middle of a pandemic was a bit extra, I think. (Hard to say never having done it before...but others seem to think it “special.”)

The current generation of kids being born have been labeled “The Polars,” or Generation Alpha more formally. We’ll have to wait and see whether or not the “Polar” moniker sticks. It’s meant to reflect two features of their existence. One is the impacts of climate change, like the melting of the polar ice caps (get it?), that they’ll have to deal with. The other is the increasingly polarized political landscape within which they arrived, are growing up, and which shows no sign of slowing down.

Flippity-Dippity-Do. . .

I’m far more concerned about the latter half of this dichotomy than the former, for both me and my kid. There’s little more we can do about climate change than what we’re, on a personal level mind you, already doing. And while the impacts might be severe, they are some years in the future. Neither of these are as true for the current political environment.

Not only are we directly responsible for this atmosphere, but we can work to remedy the situation and make a significant difference, which is good news, because I’d argue the potential negative impacts associated with it are far more pressing, relevant, and possibly dangerous.

But, first a word about polarities: black/white, good/evil, yin/yang, up/down, dark/light.

You know them. You love them. They’re everywhere you look. They’ve been around for a long time. Heck, I’d go so far as to say they’re real and natural. Now, some might balk at that, and that’s fine. They can fight it out with the Universe. I’m not at all interested in that debate, which more or less boils down to whether they’re “good or bad,” because it’s old, tired, and not at all fruitful. Love them or hate them, polarities aren’t going anywhere anytime soon.

But here’s something that’s quite interesting about them, regardless of their ontological status. The more extreme they get, the more unstable they become.

This feature is represented for us in the taiji symbol (what’s often called the “yin-yang”), showing that as the darkness and light grow they get closer and closer to “bleeding” over into the other. There’s even a little seed of opposition growing in the heart of the other.

So, it shouldn’t come as a surprise then when we see manifestations of this in the real world. Case in point: the Earth’s magnetic field. It turns out from time to time that it flips, essentially making north south and south north, until it flips again and then south becomes north (which it originally was) and north south. It’s truly a topsy-turvy world.

And, that’s pretty cool. Because it means, in spite of there being “either/or,” at the end of the day, it’s “both/and.” Something I think we forget about all too often, but which we’ll need to remember if we’re to reconcile ourselves into seeing beyond the “us vs. them” mindset.

Can We Talk. . .

I think I’ve been pretty upfront about where my proclivities lie. I’m a punk at heart, a philosopher in the head. None of that’s going to change. It’s been this way since the beginning, most likely a result of when I was born, but also because it’s just me. As a result, I’ve never cared much for “What I’m supposed to do, be, or think.” This means, I’ve lived most of my life alone, even if I’ve been surrounded by people. I could be the “alone in a crowd” poster child, if there was such a thing.

Politically speaking, this has led to a lot of cynicism (for instance, I didn’t vote in my first election until 2016, and I am in no way convinced that democracy is the best form of government), but if I were forced to pick a side, it would have to be the Left.

They really are the only viable, “acceptable” option. That’s why I spend my time and energy pointing out their “flaws.” It’s because I care more about whether they get things right. I have more hope for them, in that I have any. And it’d be nice to be able to not have to hold my nose and vote for them because they’re the best of a bad deal, which at the moment they are.

And, if I’m being honest, I think a lot of the positions they hold at the moment aren’t engendering an environment conducive to a healthy, functional, and liberal (in the traditional sense) society. Something I’d very much like for my kid to experience.

Since the election, I’ve offered my insights about how to deal with these times, and how to use this time as an opportunity to work on ourselves. Despite my best efforts, I’ve seen a whole lot more doubling down than introspection. But, not one to roll over and quit, I thought I’d take another stab at righting the ship in the hopes I won’t be out here all alone forever.

Purity Tests . . . Not Just for Virgins Anymore. . .

It’s been said before in different ways, but I feel compelled to say it again. If for no other reason than I feel it in my bones. So here it goes; I have to laugh, because otherwise I’d cry.

I’ve lost count of the number of times now I’ve been accused, passively and otherwise, of being “conservative.” The implication being that perhaps I voted for Trump, or harbor secret predilections toward his positions, but am too ashamed to say so aloud.

I’ve come to the conclusion that such “inquiries” say far more about those making them than they do me, or anything I think or say. Why? Well, because that’s how it tends to work, especially when people couch their opinions in questions, and because it’s a patently absurd notion. Absurd, if you know me at all, and also in that simply questioning, or challenging, a “settled” position on the Left is sufficient to raise the specter of one’s allegiance.

This practice is endemic to institutions which police their ranks with “purity tests.” Obviously, purity tests began as assays of young women’s virtue, but have thrown off the yokes of merely deciphering antiquated notions of sexual innocence and embarked on a bigger role of culling the ranks of the heathens unwilling, or unable, to uphold the standards set forth by the guardians of the one true doctrine, by asking, “I see you think for yourself. Are you sure you belong here?”

You don’t believe “white supremacy” is always the only answer? Banishment. You don’t want to stand and parrot the land acknowledgement declaration? Devil, be gone. Think it’s problematic to let individuals deemed too young to vote, drive, drink, and go to war make irrevocably life altering decisions about their future sexual and reproductive function? You shall not pass.

It’s ridiculous.

I had a conversation a couple of months ago with a family friend here. It dawned on me while we chatted that she had never, or at least had not recently, considered the possibility that she could be friends with someone, both theoretically and actually, who didn’t agree with her on every issue. We were having such a nice conversation, I didn’t break the bad news to her that we likely didn’t agree on a whole slew of things. And thankfully, she didn’t seem to notice.

This is where I’m suppose to make some argument about how and why this is so bad, so illogical, so counterintuitive to the healthy, sustainable functionality of a multicultural and intellectually diverse liberal society, but I’m too busy shaking my head and giggling under my breath. And, it seems if one were to need further elucidation on the obviousness of the problems with all this, there isn’t much hope my words will make a difference.

It seems such persons are also likely to be infected with the paternalistic tendencies which accompany the more egregious versions of purity consciousness and will simply read my analysis and suggestions as the product of false consciousness, or simply just not knowing what’s good for me, and by extension everyone else, which brings us to our next topic.

Mommy, Mommy May I. . .

If I can’t remember how many times I’ve been accused of being on the “wrong” team, there isn’t a chance in hell I’ll remember how many times I’ve heard or seen someone in “my tribe” lament how some people just don’t seem to know what’s good for them.

Don’t get me wrong. I also struggle to understand how all those Latinx people don’t understand what’s best for them, but I keep that shit to myself. No, but seriously, I think an essential component of a functional democratic leaning society is the belief in a citizenry's ability to think for themselves, to make decisions in alignment with their interests and values. I suppose, it’s unfortunate if those decisions don’t align with the established findings of the purity police, but I hate to break it them, they’re kind of acting like entitled fucking prigs.

The self-righteousness of such paternalistic thinking boggles my mind. When did it become acceptable, what to speak of fashionable, to think “we” have all the answers to life’s problems, or to think “we” know what’s important to a group of people, let alone a single other person. It’s as if the collective years of experience gained by those on the Left in therapy, and/or self-help, haven’t been applied to the political sphere.

And, all I’m saying is, maybe we listen to people and stop assuming we know what’s in their “best interest.” Oh, yeah, and then not shit on them, or ignore them, or try to convince them otherwise if what they tell us isn’t what we think it ought to be.

Punk’s Not Dead. . .We Are. . .

I discussed briefly in my last piece how I thought Punk had moved to the Right, literally.

There was more I wanted to say there, in particular, about how when I was growing up, shaving my head, dyeing my stumble, getting tattooed and pierced, wearing army fatigues, encouraging friends to do donuts in the front yard of a friend’s girlfriend’s best friend’s house, and acting belligerent in any number of ways to offend whomever, I never stopped for a single second and worried what anyone thought of me. And if, or when, they offered up their disgust, outrage, confusion, you name it, I gave zero fucks.

Well, that’s not actually true. The fucks I gave were celebrations. If someone didn’t like my hair...Good! If they didn’t understand why I was getting tattooed...So what! Don’t like my friends, my loud music, my in your face rejection of everything you hold sacred...Perfect! Mission accomplished. Rebellion and rejection was the point. I wasn’t running to file a DEI complaint because someone didn’t affirm who I thought I was.

Now, I’m not suggesting this level of open air defiance is a good way to govern a country, let alone one’s personal life after a particular age, but I do think a good dose of “not caring” and saying what you think, even if it’s unpopular, brings with it a certain level of authenticity which people find refreshing. And I think it’s unarguable that those on the Right have done a much better job of embracing this spirit than those on the Left.

The New York Times just recently published an article showing that a number of Bernie voters moved to vote for Donald Trump because both candidates positioned themselves in defiance to the status quo, to the ruling elite, and to the “establishment” in general. And I can’t think of three better qualifiers to describe the Left than those. The Left has lost any sense of “sticking it to the man” with its unqualified pussy footing around everyone’s feelings, demonstrating in real time that if you don’t stand for anything, you’ll fall for everything.

Pissing on the Third Rail. . .

Here’s a funny story.

I’m blocked from several social media pages pertaining to acupuncture and the practice of Chinese medicine. Why? Because I had the audacity to question the veracity of a claim raised by a practitioner who happened to be Asian and a woman.

Let me set the scene.

It was toward the middle of the end of Pandemic. The woman in question taught a class online, which several of the students I’d taught before Pandemic attended. They posted about it on the Insta. I kept seeing a claim this woman made over and over again. It seemed way too out there, so I decided to ask her about it.

The claim was that the phrase “woo-woo” was an example of hate speech, as it was a racial slur referencing the “Wu Shaman.” And therefore, derogatory towards all Asian people.

Quick history lesson. “Wu” is a Chinese term meaning “shaman” or “sorcerer.” It’s speculated that very early practitioners of “Wu” were the predecessors to what would become known, in its various forms, as Chinese medicine. It’s fair to say the evidence for this is circumstantial, and that there’s little to no awareness of the “Wu” even amongst those in the profession. I’d stumbled upon one mention of them in all my studies.

So, it seemed curious to me that somehow, or other, people outside of the profession would know about “Wu” and its practitioners, and that they would’ve hated them and the Chinese so much that they thought it crucial to turn their name into a term of derision. And then, on top of that, this neophyte, wayward racial slur would find its way into the common lexicon, devoid of this history and these specific connotations.

But, I was open to the possibility.

So, I dm’ed her, and asked her where she’d found this information. Because admittedly, I’d done a little research and hadn’t found any such connection. The earliest instance I could find was a blurb about some 18th century British sailors who purportedly would stand on the side of their boats and say “woo-woo” as they tried to push the waves away from their vessels. After that, the word/phrase doesn’t appear until the 1970s and then more regularly in the 80s and 90s to either mimic the sounds of ghosts and/or UFOs.

I provided her my references and asked for some clarification on hers.

Long story short. In less than three back-and-forths, she’d included her friends in the “dialogue,” and I was deemed, and I quote, a “psychopath,” and blocked.

Okay. Let it be known, I retired from trying to win arguments on the internet in early 2013. I knew where this was going, but I will say, it happened much quicker and with a lot more ferocity than I expected.

Identity has become a defining focus of the Left. Such that I dare say no one is surprised by the above tale. A white guy has no place, no purchase, no platform from which to challenge an Asian women (although not Chinese I will say) about Chinese medicine, and how she “feels” about the term “woo-woo.” (I did come to find out that it was indeed her “feelings” that guided her self-discovery of the inherently white supremacist origins of “woo-woo.”) In short, this has got to end.

At the risk of reinforcing another stereotype, I’ll just quote the Roman playwright Terence, who had his character declare, “I am human, and nothing human is alien to me.”

There is so, so much to be said about identity. This isn’t the time nor the place to get into it. The topic deserves its own stage. I’ve thought about tiptoeing onto that stage from time to time, but it’s not worth it at the moment. It’s not an argument I’m going to win even if I felt like trying. Besides, who wants to hear what a white guy has to say about it anyway?

Suffice it to say, I think until the Left comes to grip with its preoccupation and obsession with identity in all its flavors, it’s doomed to remain on the sidelines. People are just people. They deserve to be treated as such, first and foremost.

A Square Peg in a Round Hole. . .

It’s occurred to me several times as of late that perhaps I’m not the best person to be offering advice to those who find themselves sitting comfortably on this “New Left.” I’m a lurker, a looky-loo, a stranger if you will. But, then I think perhaps it’s exactly this kind of outsider’s perspective that’s needed to save the sinking ship. I suppose you can decide for yourself, and history will either vindicate my thoughts, or not.

Either way, I’ll be honest. I’m not ever likely to be a card carrying member. Even if whatever arises from the ashes of the “New Left” adopts all my suggestions. As Groucho so eloquently put it, “I don’t want to belong to any club that would accept me as one of its members.”

I think too much. I ask too many questions. I’m full of contradictions. I like to stir the pot just to see what rises to the top from time to time. I’m painfully independent. I have yet to stumble upon an algorithm which “knows” me. This makes my daily Spotify experience far more frustrating than I imagine it’s intended, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.

I will, of course, continue to hold my nose and hope for the best. I will also continue to be a thorn in the side of those who prefer dogma over thinking. But, this won’t “save” the American experiment. For that, we might all have to find a bit of the “Stranger” inside in order “to return and see it new again.”