Most of You Need to Fuck Off

Well that was a clusterfuck. There's not much that hasn't already been said, and far better than I could ever say it myself. So let's just jump right into it.

First of all, I'm going to go ahead and redact my previous blog post. This election definitely deserves to be discussed further. I originally wrote that post with the expectation (along with many others) that this election would go to Hillary. Quite unfortunately, I was wrong. Silly me.

The election, instead, went to recycled pile of old leather wallets doused with liquified orange peels brought to life by necromantic means, Donald Trump. Excuse me, President-Elect.

But fuck that. The refrain of "not my President" rings true today as Americans (roughly half, but likely more) find themselves staring at their hands in the hopes that they'll become robotic spiders and crawl away, ensuring that this is all some sort of horrible dystopian nightmare. But it's time to dispense with our coping and begin the process of moving forward, I guess. This post isn't really about that yet, though. Because honestly I'm still coping.

I don't know what to say. This blog is typically reserved for measured thought and calm reflection, but I'm beginning to think that I might be full of shit and that maybe we should just say fuck it and yell at the top of our lungs for a few months. Or four years. Which brings me to some of you on Facebook. A lot of you, actually.

There have been several variations of people in the wake of the news of Donald Trump's victory, with many leaning towards awful fuckwits hellbent on lording Trump's victory over the rest of us. To you, I have little to say, as I imagine not much will change you mind. The insults are mainly for my own self-satisfaction.

It's those of you taking a sort of passé apathetic approach to the whole thing that are so irksome. Congratu-fucking-lations on being born into a situation where you can afford a lack of feeling about the whole ordeal. The rest of the country is meanwhile scrambling to figure out how to proceed with their lives from here. If you are still saying that this is just as bad as if Hillary had won, then you're actually a fucking moron. Because you fail to recognize, as is wont to happen among the portion of the population most prone to self-advertised apathy (white dudes), that it's not just about how you fucking feel about things. It's also about how the others (women, PoC, LGBTQ+, Muslims, etc.) live and breathe. Which is decidedly not well, after last night.

And those of you who are still blaming the Democratic Party or Hillary's voice or whatever the fuck dumbass shit you've conjured up to delude yourself out of responsibility: well, also fuck you. We did this, together. Men and boys. White guys who hold social issues at arm's length in order to keep everything as abstract as possible. Living by an ideology is fine, but separating yourself from it is, frankly, cowardly.

I am to blame for this. In some part, at least. And to my fellow Americans (and, let's face it, citizens of the world) who will be far more affected by this than I: Um....sorry doesn't cut it. I owe you far more than an apology. I don't know what I'll do yet, but I'm not going to sit back and pretend like this is happening without my input. All I can do at the moment is urge my fellow fuckwits to try and do the same.

And that's it. No clever sign-off. This really isn't fun nor funny. If you wrote Harambe in, please jump into a gorilla cage and join your chosen candidate's brethren. That's it. G'night.

What Will We Talk About?

So, it's almost all over, thank GOD. Tomorrow we'll found out who gets to sleep with the nuclear codes and we can go back to just being existentially angry. Problem is: what the hell will we talk about? Up until now, we've spent the past >year (Jesus...) filling dead air with inane openers designed to steer conversation towards "So this election, huh?" But when it's all said, done and bitched about, what will we do?

Okay, well first: Let's dispense with the idea that discussion of the election will immediately dissipate post-tomorrow. I give it a good several months more of think pieces and unbearably long essays contemplating the notions of power before we finally settle back into our normal state of mind. What is that again? I can't remember a time before this election, can you? We can be glib and pawn it off as a sort of post-election mindset shift, but that's probably horseshit. As unique as this election was, it certainly didn't awaken a portion of ourselves that wasn't already there. And to say otherwise is to be remarkably narcissistic. Who really cares how you feel about this election? Don't worry, the question is directed right back at me too.

No, we're still the same self-absorbed, morality-hawking, human Bluetooth speakers connected to our subconscious that we were pre-election. We've just had a convenient and relevant vessel to distribute our anger through for the past year. But after? I don't know, I guess we'll complain about Game of Thrones spoilers and the occasional hour-long bump in social justice interest on Twitter. That's fine, I guess. Here are several other things you could talk about, though:

• California's drought 
• The Rock's movie career 
• Millennials 
• Westworld season 2 
• How cool Obama was
• A new Drake record, probably 
• Something Kanye did 
• Ken Bone (it'll be retro by then) 
• Whether you should buy a dog 
• Yourself 
• The North Dakota Access Pipeline (this is the right answer, btw) 
• This blog (this is the wrong answer) 
• Me (???) 
• Where your keys are 

And if none of those tickle your fancy, you could always just talk about nothing. In fact, that might be preferable.

Good luck, America. 

Making a Meme

At this point, it should be obvious that presidential debates fall more on the side of theater than they do actual policy talk. They aren't really interviews, and they certainly aren't conversations. They're an exercise in talking in circles until one person either concedes (highly unlikely) or slips up (unlikely, but fun to watch).

Last night, both candidates literally walked and talked in circles in an awkward town hall-style debate wherein audience members and moderators asked them questions and gave them two minutes (or however long they needed to fit in their campaign slogan) to talk. Included in this bit of theater was an on-camera studio audience that sat mere feet away from the two candidates the whole time, holding back sneezes and really debating on whether that butt itch is worth it. Naturally, the internet latched on to these people. One guy in particular stoked their fire.

Ken Bone is a guy from Missouri who wore a red sweater on national television. He also asked a pretty contentious question about energy. This would turn out to be the least compelling bit about him. The internet à la Twitter would go on to immortalize Ken Bone the only way they know how: by pointlessly and inexplicably collating around him in some strange cult ritual of fame-making.

Tweets lauding Ken Bone as the debate's winner began flooding the Internet and pictures of his affable face nestled in his comfy red sweater became instant Facebook fodder. Why? Why does this ever happen? More importantly: why does this always happen?

Since the dawn of televised anything, people have magnetized to strange things, often exclusive from the intended draw. In sitcoms and television dramas, they're called breakout characters (see: Frasier and Barney Stinson). In the news, they're granted an archetype, indicative of something larger in the universe (see: Joe the Plumber). But what about the middle-ground? Where news and drama meets?

This is the place the internet occupies. A self-professed, but oft-unspoken ironic indifference to the goings-on of the world, save for the strange pockets of humanity that sometimes seep through the television. Ken Bone, for better or worse, hitched a ride on one of these moments and came to life quite dramatically over the course of a single night. He became a breakout star and an archetype for the people simultaneously. He's been featured on almost every single major news site.

What is it? Is it the sweater? The question? The name? (It's most certainly the name) It's a bit of everything, I suspect. That last article I linked is a New York Times article seriously speculating on Ken Bone's indecision. And perhaps this is what the media is trying to turn Ken Bone into: the model of the undecided voter, trapped in between two sordid candidates. Undoubtedly, they will say this. But Ken Bone is far more than that. Ken Bone is the model of American popular culture. Our ability to pluck galvanizing inspiration from normalcy and create a star, if only for a moment.

The internet in particular has become a jumping off point for fame, its own chaotic Hollywood system, producing without regard for camera-friendliness or perpetuity. It has allowed society to create a consensus machine, sending odd bits and ends through the grinder, and resulting in strange unfathomable creations. Such as Ken Bone's newfound media attention.

So what is it? What isn't it? It's America. It's the internet. It's fame, poverty, suffering and confusion. It's the media. It's the people. But, really, it's just Ken Bone.

The Problem With the Free Hugs Guy

God, I feel like the guy who shit in the Christmas stocking. I say "the guy" like there's a designated dude who does this. Did he not visit you? Maybe this year. It certainly wouldn't be out of line for 2016. In that particular theme of shittiness, I'm here to take away something you love. The Free Hugs guy. Or me, if you really aren't convinced, I suppose.

The Free Hugs Project was started by Ken Nwadike. It was a direct response to the tragedy that was the 2013 Boston Marathon bombings. Wearing a black t-shirt that says "Free Hugs" and accompanied by a cameraman, Nwadike goes all over the country giving out free hugs. It's a fairly simple premise that hopefully doesn't require any more explanation than that.

Long story short, this guy grows more and more famous as time goes on, netting all sorts of media attention and countless YouTube views. Everyone, for the most part, loves this guy. He's giving out free hugs! He's promoting peace! What's not to like there? It's a pretty neutral message, when you come right down to it. Not really something that anyone in good conscience can say they disagree with. The notion that everyone deserves love is a hard thing to sneer at, even for the most ardent of cynics.

And yet.

Nwadike, presumably upon hearing of the recent protests in response to the police shooting of a black man in Charlotte, NC, donned the black shirt and headed to North Carolina. He was not received well.

In case you skipped watching the video, because you're a lazy piece of shit with something BETTER to do with your Friday night (you fucking animal), Nwadike hugs a police officer and the crowd of protesters immediately turn on him, calling him a "pussy nigga."

The semantics of that particular phrase aside, the crowd sort of had a point. What the fuck was this guy doing? Granted, the facts surrounding the shooting are still foggy. Mainly because we have a justice system that likes to keep it that way for the sake of anti-transparency and shrouding any and all police activity in mystery. But still. Should we hate these particular cops for the shooting of Keith Lamont Scott? Maybe not.

But also, maybe we shouldn't be hugging cops and espousing their humanity in the face of tragedy carried out....by the cops. It's a fine line between respect and adoration, and Nwadike's embracing of the police officers as part of an attempt to "humanize" them is giving them far more of a benefit of the doubt than has ever been given to the protesters, who have been called any number of racist and dehumanizing things. It's hard to say that we shouldn't respect the idea of peace and humanity in all people, regardless of station. But it's also irresponsible to attempt to elevate people who are already on the top floor looking down.

What Nwadike misses in his uplifting diatribe about the humanity in all of us, is that he's literally preaching to the choir. The entire point of the protests are to establish, in the face of widespread ignorance and hatred, that black men and women are human beings, worthy of the same respect and consideration granted to other, less marginalized people. And one could argue that Nwadike is attempting to educate his own community of black men and women on the inherent decency that should be granted to all of us, regardless of position. One could argue this, perhaps, if Nwadike's primary audience was black men and women. But, by my count (and this is admittedly flawed), people who are absorbing Nwadike's message the most, are white people who don't want to feel guilty about being complicit in systemic racism.

Indeed, much of the problem with Nwadike's video is less about him (although he is problematic) and more about the people sharing it. It allows a certain creeping sleeper-racism in the form of pseudo-acceptance. It really says something that when presented with the tragic death of a black man, white people are sharing a video of a black man hugging the cops. You can almost feel "one of the good ones" on the very tip of each of their tongues. It's that same "All Lives Matter" rhetoric that has so thoroughly already been proven as racist bullshit.

So the Free Hugs Guy, while seemingly nice, is problematic. It's a hard pill to swallow. No one will blame you for having trouble with it. But it's important to note that just because the package comes in a nicely wrapped, beautifully worded peace offering, doesn't mean it isn't still full of shit.

Pat McCrory Stands Amongst Crushed Beer Cans

Complex amalgamation of reanimated human parts, Pat McCrory, took time off his busy bathroom inspection schedule to toss around the ol' pigskin in Boone this past Saturday. Under the guise of being there to watch the football game, McCrory bravely met with his most critical constituents: football fans.

McCrory managed to net a few pictures with nondescript white folks while he was there, prompting anyone nearby to scatter for fear they might be roped in next. Here are a few embarrassing pictures of McCrory with several people he later consumed for energy.

"Help ussssss"

"Please. He's....growing...too...powerful..."

But the picture that really says it all is the above shot of McCrory posing with a football amongst a field of crushed beer cans. The beer cans, in this case, are a metaphor for North Carolina. First of all, though, who decided that THIS was the shot? You have the governor, presumably the most respectable office in the land, and you take a picture of him weakly holding a football in between emptied cans of Miller and PBR?

I guess it isn't particularly surprising that a guy made famous for opening his mouth and releasing a pound of bullshit every time doesn't really take PR into account. After all, McCrory is a man of the people. He wears a yellow polo! He doesn't need your stinkin' advice on relating to the public.

I don't know if McCrory stayed for the game, but if he did, I imagine it involved a big cheesy smile and diving for the microphone whenever it was up for grabs. The reality is that McCrory's primary directive has only ever been to make himself look good, at the expense of having to answer for his own assclown-ery. One need look no further than...last Thursday. McCrory, answering questions at an event, decided that journalists were too mean and instead fielded questions from the much nicer members of his staff.

We'll see how well this goes in his concession speech in November.

Player Protest Pretty Pitiful

When I was a kid, we used to set off little (legal) fireworks in the driveway. They were fun and the anticipation of lighting them and then running away to watch them go off was about 50% of the fun. Every once and a while, though, one wouldn't go off. It would just stand there like a fucking idiot and I'd be left sort of empty, the momentum of the anticipation gone in an instant.

The Seattle Seahawks had big plans for Sunday. Which made sense, considering it was a big day. It was the 15th anniversary of 9/11, the first big home game of the season and a chance to add to the conversation started by Colin Kaepernick. Posting on Twitter, Seahawks wide receiver, Doug Baldwin, started the big rollout with this cryptic tweet:

To express a desire to bring people together, our team will honor the country and flag in a pregame demonstration of unity.

— Doug Baldwin Jr (@DougBaldwinJr) September 8, 2016

Initial rumors started spreading that the Seahawks were planning a team-wide protest for the game. Reports said that the players were going to link arms during the national anthem. Doug Baldwin, now being hailed as the "de facto Seahawks spokesman" sort of confirmed this with a sappy video posted to Twitter the day before the game.

Martin Luther King Jr. once famously said “Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that.”#BuildABridge pic.twitter.com/n1qP5c2RGM

— Doug Baldwin Jr (@DougBaldwinJr) September 10, 2016

In essence, there was a lot of PR buildup towards....something. We weren't really sure. I didn't go to the game, despite living about five minutes from the stadium, but that doesn't matter because I effectively received the same message. Which was jack shit.

Granted, they did link arms (while standing, that is) and, as Baldwin said on Friday: "We never said it was a protest." Sure. Whatever. That's actually not the point. The point is that you used the momentum, knowing full well what people would perceive it as, for your own gain. As part of some toothless act of "building a bridge." The obvious stank of All Lives Matter bullshit aside, this pledge of unity didn't really say anything at all. Maybe that the Seahawks want to build more bridges? Did they mean literal bridges?

Look, it's fine if you wanted to stand in unity for the victims of 9/11. That is A-okay. And, hell, it is fine if you don't want to sit down or kneel in support of Colin Kaepernick (though it should be noted that Seahawks cornerback Jeremy Lane sat during the anthem before the preseason game against Oakland a couple of weeks back). It's really your prerogative. But, again, using the national atmosphere and teasing a big protest that ends with you rattling off vague statements like "listen to our message" is kind of shitty. Also, what message?

In contrast to the hullabaloo started by Baldwin, several members of the Miami Dolphins (the opposing team during yesterday's game) kneeled in solidarity with Kaepernick and his (actual) message.

Gary!

Libertarian Party presidential nominee and cool-guy dad, Gary Johnson, took time off from smoking pot in the garage with your friends to appear on Morning Joe yesterday. It did not go well.

“And what is Aleppo?” Gary Johnson asks https://t.co/po7gg7UPWi pic.twitter.com/FnMf65IN6o

— POLITICO (@politico) September 8, 2016

Apparently still high, Johnson was stumped by MSNBC panelist Mike Barnicle's question about Aleppo.

“And what is Aleppo?”

The hottest club this side of the Mississippi? Cholesterol medication? A type of fancy cheese?

"You’re kidding."

No, Mike. Stop being a dick and tell us already!

"Aleppo is in Syria. It's the epicenter of the refugee crisis."

Ah. Hm. Well, I can confidently say that many of us probably wouldn't know the answer to that question.

Many of us are also not running for president. :/