The Newspaper of Farce

The Tom Cotton Affair with the New York Times (and, oh, how appropriate is that phrasing...) has become an absurdist fantasy. Arkansas senator Tom Cotton wrote an op-ed for the Times that encouraged the use of military force against all protesters in the nation as a way to "restore order." It sounded typical of a screed written for The American Conservative, railing against "chic salons" for encouraging civic participation, rather than meekly accepting the right of police to kill Black people with impunity. But the response to it was overwhelmingly negative, given that it was encouraging military intervention against American citizens (which is illegal in several different ways) during a mass protest against police brutality. The Times' response was that they were just going about their business of "presenting opinions; even those we disagree with." Many other journalists, as is the typically kneejerk response, leapt to their defense with pearl clutching about "free speech" and the "freedom of ideas." But it's not that simple.

"Free speech" means one thing and one thing only: the government can't prosecute you for what you say or write. Full stop. Do not pass Go. That's it. That's the only thing that clause of the First Amendment means. As I've often said to people over the years, there's no part of the Amendment that means people can't shun you for acting like an asshole, if you insist on acting like one. No one is forced to listen to your wackjob opinions; US Senator or no. But then we come to the "freedom of ideas" part and how it's argued as being more ethical/principled/whathaveyou to have distasteful opinions presented so that they can be refuted by those same principled people. And that's the far more complex issue, since that isn't the Times' real intent and hasn't been for a very long time.

First off, publishing Cotton's piece can actually be addressed by legal precedent about free speech issues. In the same way that you're not allowed to shout "Fire!" in a crowded theater, promoting the idea that violence should be used against the population because they're exercising those same First Amendment rights doesn't seem to be the wisest contribution to public safety. There is a certain amount of professional responsibility incumbent upon journalists and newspapers and, unless one wants to be perceived as a trash propaganda organization like Fox News or OANN, a little editorial discretion might've been employed here to protect the public, including a not inconsiderable number of Times readers, one would think. In short, Cotton was promoting violence and the Times gave him one of the largest platforms in the world from which to do so.

Secondly, there is a certain obligation for any serious publication to recognize the validity of the opinions they're displaying, as it were. The Times' publisher, A. G. Sulzberger, claimed that he was fine with publishing opinions that he didn't agree with. Does that mean I could write up a screed on Holocaust denial and expect that the Times would publish it? How about just cutting to the chase for American racists and write up something on returning Black people to slavery so we don't have to worry about police brutality or the associated protests? I'm betting he doesn't agree with those opinions, either, but I'm betting that any writer, senator or no, who brought those opinions to the Times would be rejected out of hand. And there's the rub.

See, the Times has long been known as the Newspaper of Record. It's essentially the voice for "the way things are" in America. If news makes it to the Times, then it carries the authority of the largest paper in the nation's largest city. It is what is to be believed; even trusted. But the Times has fully embraced that mantle, such that their main mission over the past 25 years has largely been to be the voice of the establishment, no matter whom that establishment happens to be. As an example, the NYT was one of the most vocal cheerleaders for the invasion of Iraq, despite that invasion being based on ludicrous evidence or the lack thereof. It was Maureen Dowd who delivered the story that DoD operatives on site had gestured to a man who they say provided the evidence of "weapons of mass destruction", but whom she wasn't allowed to speak to or even know the name of. But, since it was printed in the Times, it gained the imprimatur of truth because that's what the Times wanted. The current government under George W. Bush wanted the invasion so the Times wanted the invasion. It's the equivalent of Pravda; just with better writing.

That tendency has carried over into the madhouse that is the administration of the Idiot. Despite the man's habit of lying virtually every time he opens his mouth, the Times will never call him on those lies. They're "inaccuracies" or they "lack evidence" or his statements are "confused." There's no confusing the intent of the Times, though. They're the establishment. The current establishment is represented by the Idiot. Therefore, what he says must be reported as if it carries veracity. The institution that is the president of the United States can't be mocked or reviled. That would mean other institutions might be mocked or reviled! Like... the New York Times. Too late...

The paper has decided that, in order to provide some semblance of dignity to what the Idiot and his sycophants (like Cotton) say, they have to apply the "both sides" approach to everything they print. That's why "some experts say" that hydroxychloroquine might be effective against COVID-19, as the president has stated. No valid study or actual expert has said this. It's also why "Antifa might make up elements of the protests." No evidence of this suspicion has been confirmed, especially given that there is no organization known as "Antifa." It's also why Cotton's fascist fantasies were given space by the Newspaper of Record. It's a valid, conservative opinion, after all! But it's not a valid opinion to suggest violating the law in the name of shooting American citizens in the streets. It's a criminal one. But the Times wants to present it as valid so they can continue to print opinions from the conservative wing of American politics that has lost all moral authority to govern in any way, shape, or form. But since the Idiot is the establishment, faithful hound dog NYT tries to make authoritarian wet dreams sound credible.

But then we come to the coup de grace: According to an internal meeting at the Times, held to try to defuse the staff revolt against the Cotton piece, not only did James Bennet, opinion editor at the paper, not read the piece before he gave the go-ahead to publish it (that's kind of the basic function of an editor...), but it turns out that it wasn't Cotton who pitched the piece to the Times:

From New York Times town hall: op-ed team pitched the piece TO Tom Cotton. Not the other way around.

— quarantine toddler task force (@PatrickCoffee) June 5, 2020

So, not only does the Times give credence to ridiculous statements like Cotton's. It solicits them. This more than anything else shows the paper for what they are. They're promoting fascism. They're promoting authoritarianism. Why? Well, because those things are usually a positive result for very wealthy entities like the paper, its publisher, and its editors. If they could just get those pesky people off the streets, then they could all go back to shopping at Columbus Circle and not have to think about Black people at all! And, of course, it means that, just like Dowd, they'll still be invited to all the best parties in DC. They'll still have access. They'll still be inside, where the wealthy kids play.

Meanwhile, everyone else, on the outside, who've been relying on the Times as an impartial source of information... Well, you'll have to look elsewhere. The Newspaper of Record has become a farce.

Piercing the American religion

A friend asked a question on the board last night: "Psychologically, what makes 'us' hate protesters so much? What causes people to be more viscerally upset by people marching and yelling and waving signs or taking a knee or even doing property damage than they are by straight-up murder?" Putting aside the obvious racist implications for a moment, by response was this:

The simplest answer is this: Pointing out that something is wrong with America makes people uncomfortable because patriotism is the national religion of this country and it essentially lacks foundation. When you question someone's religion, if they're a committed believer, then they rely on their faith in the tenets of that religion. They believe in an idealized set of principles that are embodied by faith in a higher power or mysteries that can neither be easily explained or easily disproved. Neither you nor they can prove that their god does not exist. Similarly, neither you nor they can prove that said god exists. Their faith is based upon the idea that there is a higher purpose for themselves and for everyone.

Patriotism, OTOH, is based on ideas that are rooted in reality. It just may not be the reality that everyone wants to face. Mo Wagner, former University of Michigan and current LA Lakers basketball player, was tweeting yesterday about how when he first came to the US, everyone greeted him with: "Welcome to America, the greatest country in the world!" Everyone. It happened so often that it went from surprising to funny to kind of weird. There is a mindset that exists among Americans that the US is the pinnacle achievement in socio-political history; that since this is the "land of the free" and the "birthplace of democracy" and the "land of opportunity" to which so many wish to come, everything about it must be good and proper.

But the truth is that the US is all of those things for really only a very few people. For everyone else, it can be those things, but often is markedly different, in both degree and substance. When people point that out, many people react viscerally, as if you've questioned their personal character. Colin Kapernick was attacked for kneeling during the national anthem when he attempted to call attention to racism and police brutality. But for many, he wasn't pointing out racism. He was defiling the anthem! He was disrespecting the flag and the troops! He was despoiling our football, that most American of games! But what he was really doing was pointing out that it's only the "land of the free" for part of the population and people really don't want to hear a contrary opinion to what they've been taught since they were young and have had continually reinforced on a daily basis from news and entertainment media, every time a politician opens his or her mouth, and from every flag-waving sports entity that insists on playing the national anthem before every game.

Hell, they make young children recite a pledge of allegiance to a piece of cloth at the start of every school day. What greater sign of religion is there than everyone mumbling the national psalm together? It ends with "... with liberty and justice for all." But any casual experience in many American communities will tell you that the "liberty" part is often based on your skin tone and there sure as shit ain't no justice for anyone who doesn't have the money to buy it. But if you question the national religion, you're "unAmerican." You've stepped outside the illusion and are implicitly mocking anyone left within it. Many people object to that because, unlike actual religions, their belief isn't rooted in an idea about a higher power. It's rooted in the concept that America is the best thing ever and can't be questioned in the first place. Any evidence to the contrary must be based on the people being wrong; not the place. That's a lack of foundation. There is no faith there; just an insistence that a mirage is real.

Donald Trump is the walking manifestation of that insistence. His contradictory message- that America is the greatest nation on Earth and yet needs to be "made great again" -is the perfect embodiment of a population that knows the core is rotten but insists on shining the apple. It's like sports fans insisting that their team is the greatest ever, while fans of all the other teams chuckle behind their hands. Samuel Johnson said that "Patriotism is the last refuge of a scoundrel" because he knew that vermin like the current president and Senate Republicans would continue to flog it as their lone defense against the perfidy of their actions. He also knew that much of the public would respond because, just as with organized religion, most people need something to believe in. Not everyone can be comfortable living in a Hobbesian world. But, at the very least, people should be willing to argue the point without sheltering in a bunker of distractions from the reality that faces us.

Police are the biggest gang in town

There's a funny perception of figures like Wyatt Earp in American history. He's often presented as a "lawman" who "brought order to the Wild West." This is commonly thought because Earp was named a US marshal while he was in Kansas City and later brought that authority to Arizona. He was a "good guy" in an era supposedly loaded with "bad guys" that would've been an even greater number without these knights in shining armor. But the truth is a bit less black-and-white than that.

The truth is that Earp was hired muscle, like a lot of men were in those times and places. In Kansas City, he was employed by one group of wealthy business owners to enforce the law against men often employed by other business owners or those who just wanted to take advantage of situations where and when they could. In other words, Earp was kind of a gang leader. He just happened to run with/lead the biggest gang in town and that's why he came out of it looking like someone who operated on behalf of wider society. History is, after all, written by the winners. Does this sound familiar?

I was at the Beverly Hills protest. Everyone was peaceful and kind. Shop owners cheered us on and motorists honked in support and raised their fists in solidarity. Aside from a little graffiti, there was no vandalism. Then the cops came and attacked people to start a fight. Why?

— Eugene Gu, MD (@eugenegu) May 30, 2020

Cops right now are the biggest gang in town in many of the communities that they ostensibly serve. They've demonstrated this repeatedly over the past few days as they assault citizens with vehicles, attack journalists, and occasionally flash the true colors that motivate those actions against the people that they claim to protect.

Who is this serving?

Who is this protecting? pic.twitter.com/IK8DkwLLUT

— jordan (@JordanUhl) May 31, 2020

How do I know they're a gang? Because they all wear the same colors and they all unify behind each other when one of them does something wrong. Now you can say that about many social groupings, like football teams. But cops are one step beyond, because they have authority over other social groupings. Earp was granted authority not just by the local ownership class, but also by the federal government because he happened to serve the interests of that ownership class who, of course, owned that government the way they always have and most certainly do now. (Are we as outraged by the looting of a Target as we are by the rampant looting of the public treasury during a pandemic?) Modern policing is no different. They're mostly there to prevent property crimes (Don't mess with our turf or the merchants under our protection), gather revenue for the local governments (our protection...), and enforce the interests of the wealthy. When it comes to being confronted by the wider public, it's very much a case of "us vs them."

Now, the kneejerk response to criticism like this is usually something like: What are they supposed to do? (Feel free to adopt the Helen Lovejoy tone here.) Well, let's take a look at the sheriff of Genesee County in Michigan:

He disarmed his men, took off his own gear, and joined the march. That's a deliberate choice to approach a situation not in a confrontational manner, which almost inevitably escalates the emotion and tension of any situation, but in a cooperative manner. He wanted to convince the people marching that the cops were members of their community, rather than the enforcers of it. He wanted his police to not be the local gang telling people how they should live, but rather just other people in town, who live with them.

Another kneejerk response is: What about the criminals? Well, that's easy. If the police aren't treating everyone as a criminal, then it's pretty easy to spot the actual criminals, right? If the police are cooperating with the demonstration, rather than confronting it, then it's really simple to pick out the few degenerates coming from other places to try to take advantage of the chaos that the police are no longer creating or helping to fuel. There was no looting or vandalism during the demonstration in Genesee County last night and, if there had been, the instigators would've been seen and removed instantly. That's when the police are actually part of a community and not the overlords of it.

And it's clear that there have been attempts to turn a tense situation into a riotous one by people who think a "race war" is the path toward a better White America. And it's clear that there have been simply random attempts to take advantage of the situation and get some kicks breaking windows and stealing stuff. But the real problem runs deeper than either of those. That problem is having a gang, detached from its surrounding community, oblivious to the concerns of its residents (especially Black residents), armed to the teeth, and eager to use all those toys on the people they're supposed to be protecting. Any mobster would tell you that randomly abusing the people under your racket is a bad way to do business. Until we have an approach to policing that is honestly about protecting people, rather than property, it's bad business for everyone but the 1% (like usual.)

The Others' problem

Derek nominated me for one of those silly games on Facebook the other day, where you're supposed to give an image of a film that "impacted you" without any other explanation and then nominate someone else to also participate. Movie enthusiast that I am, I figured I'd actually join in, despite my attention given to Facebook being minimal, at best. Over the first three days, I picked three films that really stand out to me and which I may write some detail about later. On the fourth day- today -I picked another that I'm really fond of: Escape from New York.

I'm a big fan of John Carpenter's early career. I think there was a tension to his technique that really made his work shine, even on the lower budgets that he was often working with or the, uh... less than stellar material. Let's not kid ourselves: Escape is a B movie. Despite the presence of bankable stars like Kurt Russell, Isaac Hayes, and Lee Van Cleef, the story is pretty shallow and no one gives a performance that would see them considered for a little, gold statue. It's your average, nigh-on post-apoc, speculative fiction (e.g. "What if World War III really happened AND crime ran out of control?!") There were a lot of them in those days; still firmly embedded in the Cold War and with a stagnant economy that Reagan had not yet performed his "miracle" upon. I had been politically aware for a few years by then and was in Tennessee, attending a small, recently post-military school outside Knoxville. When we finally convinced our floor manager to let us walk into Sweetwater, the local town, and catch the latest Hollywood depiction of a destroyed Statue of Liberty (all of us with fond memories of the end of the original Planet of the Apes (spoiler!), despite said image having little to do with Escape), we hit a brief moment of nirvana.

Here was a hardass ex-soldier who spoke in an OTT, raspy growl, dropping into New York, the locus of crime and corruption (even as a Detroit native, I remember this impression), and taking on the whole city so he could get out in the process of... rescuing the president? Wait. What? Even at that age, I was pretty much a cynic and reflexively distrusted most American officials of any kind. I had no idea why Snake Plissken would want to rescue the leader of the system that created so many problems! (Even then, I was pretty much a Marxist, too.) Of course, Snake felt the same way ("The president of what?"), until he was effectively blackmailed into it. So, yeah, instant hero identification. But as we got through the film and came to the last scene; the one that takes place in that image above, I realized that this was something unusual for my young eyes and brain. Not only was Snake an anti-hero, doing the right thing incidentally, rather than intentionally, but the opposition was more complex than your typical villain, too. Bob Hauk (Van Cleef) was trying to maintain order, within the prison and within the nation, which was his job (and saving a life, I guess.) The Duke of New York (A #1!; Hayes) was trying to speak for an entire city of supposed criminals; heavy with the implication that something akin to martial law had dropped them into this Lord of the Flies situation, justly or not. And the president (Donald Pleasance) wasn't some corrupt mastermind, devising ways to screw everyone for his own benefit. No, the thing that stood out most to me about that president is the same problem that most of them carry, intentionally or not, fictional or real.

It was the indifference.

The poignant moment of that scene depicted above is Snake's pointed question to the man he'd just risked his life to rescue and that several others had given theirs to enable. The president's response to that question is a blank acknowledgement that people he didn't care about did something to make sure he was still among the living. He was more worried about being on camera in a couple minutes (similar to the current idiot.) He was oblivious to the suffering, the trauma, and the struggle that took place to make sure that he was still president and "leader of the free world." As we sit here with Minneapolis burning as a response to yet another Black man being murdered by the police ostensibly there to protect him and all of us, that indifference is the thing that once again really stands out to me.

The manifestations of it are all around us. It is always happening to someone else. Therefore, why should we care? It's especially easy in the case of those of us who are White Americans. Black people are already deemed The Other. That bad stuff only happens to The Others and usually because they encouraged it somehow, right? It's the same situation with COVID-19. "I won't get it! I'm invincible!" Yeah, sure. You're invincible. But it's not about you. It's about all of the other people that you might transmit it to who don't happen to be invincible in their own mind like you. "But it's mostly affecting nursing homes and old people and I'm not old and I don't go to those places!" Sigh... This is just like when Republicans argue against national healthcare... right up until that moment when some part of their family goes bankrupt because of cancer or a similar situation. Then, suddenly, they realize that "this is a problem that affects all of us!"

But in this case, it doesn't affect all of us. It affects Black people. In most cases, even other minorities in this nation don't live in fear of being approached by the police. Only Black people. White people may get nervous about how fast we're driving when we pass a cop on the highway. But we don't fear being pulled over just because we're driving. And it's not just the harassment. As situations like George Floyd, Sandra Bland, Terrence Crutcher, and Michael Brown (and on and on and on...) demonstrate, their very existence is enough to encourage treatment that results in their death. Or we go one step further and discover that even being shot by non-cops isn't always sufficient to be treated as not The Other, as in the case of Ahmad Arbery, without massive public pressure. That's the purest example of racism: the treatment of others as if they were less than human. Less than animal, in some cases. How many people were just as outraged over Amy Cooper's treatment of her dog as they were over the fact that she lied to the police in order to encourage them to come and deal with this Black man who had only asked her to follow the law? She made that call and made it in that manner because she knew there was a high possibility that Cooper would be mistreated by said police; perhaps even killed. She made that call with malice. That's racism. But she was indifferent to the effects on him. That's also racism.

It's that indifference that is something of a plague on the fabled "American experiment." The idea of individualism emphasizes the suppression of feelings of consideration for others; of taking their feelings and well-being, physical and mental, into account when trying to climb the ladder of success. Even worse, the death of the American dream means that the 99% are reduced to stepping on each others' heads, regardless of the consequences, often even as they try to reach a point of sustainability, to say nothing of what most Americans deem "success." What that phenomenon means for society at large is multiplied tenfold for Black Americans.

And if we're going to get through the remainder of Republican control of government; if we're going to survive as a nation that serves the majority, rather than a wealthy minority; if we're going to pull down those edifices of wealth and redress the wrongs that that hoarding of wealth creates; then it's going to take all of us, of whatever color and of whatever gender. We can no longer look aside from what afflicts The Other. We can no longer ignore the fact that our Black brothers and sisters are people that need our help against a system designed to oppress them and a perception weighted against them. We can no longer be indifferent to the suffering of others if we are to call ourselves human. ("The name's 'Plissken'.")

Justin Amash and the travail of choices

I discovered that Justin Amash was seriously considering a presidential run as a Libertarian when I read the board this morning. The person who posted the story immediately attacked Amash for potentially threatening Biden's victory by providing conservatives that dislike Trump with another option. The first response to his post was a dismissal akin to "Egotistical politicians all think they're the savior that America needs.", which was also an expression of dismay that someone else other than the two anointed ones might get involved in the race. I found both reactions to be an interesting display of both a failure to see beyond one's own window and an assumption that almost all politicians, by their very existence, are bad people. Both are also implicitly expressions of American monotheism in politics.

First off, it's ridiculous to deny the presence of ego in politics. Most people who run for office have a fair share of it in order to stand up in front of people and say either "I have new ideas" or "I'm the voice for your ideas", if not both. Most politicians are fond of their own opinion. That's why they're politicians. The question of the presence of egotism is a bit murkier and certainly the speculation that all politicians have a messiah complex is just part of that "Politicians are bad people" trope. There are a number of reasons that most people choose to run for office. John Conyers used to talk about civic duty. When he started, there weren't a lot of people willing to stand up and talk about what was happening in that part of Detroit, because it was mostly Black. (I once joked with him, on a live mic, that he'd be better off joining the Greens, since his outlook was closer to ours. He suggested that we should talk later.) Similarly, a lot of minor party or impossible-to-win-in-this-red/blue-district races are run because there's no one speaking for the people in that locale who don't agree with the dominant viewpoint. And some people just think they can do things better than the person already there. Look at Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez, for example.

In this case, the latter motivation is likely what's moving Amash. The guy already left the GOP because of how insane it's become, despite continuing to spout off regular conservative viewpoints as an independent. How many times have we seen Republicans (Never Trumpers, etc.) talk about how repelled they are by what their party has become and, yet, Amash's run somehow has to be all about Amash? But they're all corrupt! They're all in on it! They're all fatuous egotists! Both sides! All sides! But if you can't believe anyone who wants to run for office might do at least OK in that office, then what's the point of any of this? The old homily that the "best person to run for president is the person who doesn't want the job" is moronic. What's the best example? The current idiot in the White House. He didn't want the job. He just wanted the attention, narcissist that he is. That's why he's spent half his time in office playing golf. Being president is kinda difficult. It's a lot of work. Who wants that? Well, really driven people who think they have good ideas. That old James Lipton questionnaire that he always asked of guests on Inside the Actors Studio had a "What job would you never want to do?" question. The nearly universal answer was "Politics."

There are few more ego-driven people in the world than actors. They have to be. That's part of their craft. And, yet, none of them want to take the role of society's presumed egotists. Why? The simple answer is that none of them want to be "bad people." The more reasonable answer is that all of them realize that it's a difficult job trying to respond to the wants and needs of a variety of people in whatever district, municipality, or nation that they happen to oversee. It's often a thankless job, whereas at least as an actor you get applause and sometimes awards. And it's also a job that brings such an intense level of warped scrutiny from media sources and the public that even those people already under intense scrutiny, as actors, are probably not interested in subjecting themselves to it. You can't please everyone or, often, even anyone when compromise (that thing that existed pre-1994) is the order of the day.

Which brings us to our second response: the idea that Amash is somehow threatening Biden's chances in November and should, therefore, be condemned for it. This is the opposite of the typical perspective; that Democrats are threatened by Greens and those to the left, while Republicans are threatened by Libertarians and those to the right. In this case, the initial poster determined that there are a lot of non-Trump conservatives out there, just like Amash, who would otherwise be voting for Biden. This is a much more difficult question (and assertion) and there's really no way to state anything about the situation as a fact. As we've all seen, repeatedly, in recent elections, there's basically no way to determine who someone will vote for given alternative choices. The popular theory on the Democratic side is that, without Nader's presence in the 2000 election, it's a "fact" that all of those Green voters would have voted for Gore.

This is the point where another popular saying comes up: "Anecdote does not equal evidence." The difference is that this saying is actually accurate. I don't know whom Green voters in Florida or elsewhere would've voted for. I do know that I, as a Green voter in Michigan, wouldn't have voted for him because I've never voted for a major party candidate for president in my life. Without Greens on the ballot, I always voted for socialists who, incidentally, gained more votes in Florida than the difference between Bush and Gore in 2000, if you really want to get picky about it. Can anyone tell me, for certain, that non-Trump Republicans were going to bite the bullet and vote for Biden? Can anyone tell me they won't do that, anyway, even with Amash in the race? Of course not. That's about as predictable as Clinton losing all of the upper Midwest in 2016, right?

So, this is mostly about American political monotheism: Thou shalt worship no other gods before the Democrat and the Republican. This is the argument usually put forth by someone who is content with the current establishment, barring one orange, misogynist outlier. This is why entities like the New York Times won't mention that many current systems are broken or that the president tells lies almost literally every five minutes. They're content with the way things work right now. Life isn't as good as it could be, but they have jobs, they have health insurance, their 401ks and their mutual funds are doing OK; things were generally fine until the orange man-baby arrived. So, they don't want people to question the way the system operates (good luck with that during a pandemic!) They just want to focus on getting rid of the "other guys." This is what minor party people like myself used to laugh about when it seemed like the biggest difference between a Dem or GOP Congress was who had the larger offices in the Capitol.

Along comes former Republican, Justin Amash, and... he might spoil(!) everything! Once again, he's giving people CHOICE on the ballot! You know what happens when people have choices! The wrong people might win! But still the system will remain unchanged and the 'right' people will win it back later. This is the "boogeyman" argument that both major parties have used for the last thirty years. A lot of Democrats feel justified in currently saying something along the lines of "See?! We were right!" Well, yeah, albeit once in 30 years is similar to suggesting that the two non-Trumpers you've spoken to have said they're voting for Biden and that makes all the difference. Hey, the one time you were right has given us an election where only the hardcorest of the hardcore actually want to vote for president! Great. But it's not that simple, because it never is.

And now we're in a situation where all the systems are breaking down and their flaws are being seen not just by the people who have struggled under them for decades (if not centuries), but by everyone. Amash is essentially saying: "Hey. This isn't working. I'd like to do something different." And the response is: "All politicians are egotistical assholes and YOU'RE not the right kind of asshole!" In other words: "Not this time. This isn't the right time for change. Wait until next time." I would ask: "If not in the midst of a pandemic that's going to have lasting effects on life around the world, is there a time that is a good time?" Because time is what a lot of people will be lacking, quite soon. Without jobs, a lot of people are going to find themselves without food and shelter. Is your only answer to them going to be "Hey. Things will be fine if we all line up behind so-uninspiring-he's-soporific Joe Biden, so that things will go back to normal." 'Normal' is the problem; politically, economically, socially. Doing 'normal' with Democrats and Republicans is what has gotten us to this state of affairs; with people dependent on jobs for insufficient insurance, living paycheck-to-paycheck on those jobs, and not knowing what they'd do in any kind of calamity... just like this one.

Just as a side note: No, I'm not making a direct comparison between Dems and the GOP. Even if I were inclined to believe in the "all politicians are horrible" trope, as with all things in life, there are gradations of horrible. Some are clearly worse than others. In my direct encounters with most politicians, they're usually just regular people: dumb, self-interested herd animals. That's kind of demoralizing when it comes to the federal government, as you'd like to think that people who made it that far aren't fucking idiots but, as we've seen, that's very, very far from the case.

Walking old ground

Strangely, we've spent more time in front of the TV these days. Crazy, I know. With that in mind, one or both of us have sat down to watch things that came highly recommended within the past few years that we haven't gotten to. And, no, one of those things was not Tiger King. I realize it may be all the rage right now, but I sat through 40 minutes of the first episode to see what the fuss was about and turned it off. It was like an episode of Inside Edition, except longer and dumber (For those of you not old enough to remember Inside Edition, it was where Bill O'Reilly got his start in leading a "news" program, if that gives you any insight.) If I want to watch contemptible people trying to justify their awful or ridiculous behavior, I can watch our idiot president every day. I don't need to see animal cruelty on top of pettiness.

But one of the things we have watched that was worthwhile is Fargo. As a devoted Coen Brothers adherent, I am, of course, a fan of one of their greatest films. There were a couple people on the board constantly recommending the series as one of the best things on TV for a year or two, but we'd just never gotten around to recording it. (Does anyone actually watch TV with commercials, unrecorded, now that sports aren't happening?) Having watched the first season, I'd have to say that they were probably right. It certainly doesn't hurt that season 1 is basically just the film extrapolated to a larger picture. Lester Nygaard's (Martin Freeman) scheme is more impromptu than Jerry Lundegaard's and Molly Solverson (Allison Tolman) isn't pregnant or the chief of police, but the essence of the story remains the same, without a wood chipper, but with far more death and destruction. One of the keys to telling a good story in modern, serialized television is keeping a certain pace. That demands solid writing, directing, and especially editing. I think season 1 achieved that by constantly turning the bizarreness screw, but not turning it so fast that it became farce. Instead, we were regularly re-interested in what was happening with Lester, Molly, Lorne Malvo (Billy Bob Thornton), and their cast of supporting characters. No individual storyline rose above another, to where we were occasionally waiting for one scene to end to get back to another, more entrancing character.

There can be no argument that those production qualities were helped along by a stellar cast. Both Freeman and Thornton played characters that were similar to what they've done before, but neither with quite as much edge, in my experience. Thornton does "implacable" quite well, but usually not with as much malice. Similarly, Freeman does "bumbling" really well, but never to the point where he's finally lashed out and shown just how dangerous he can be. But the pinnacle to me was Tolman. She was delightful every time she came on screen and she played her role so subtly that it lent weight to the "reality" of the situation. We've all been in situations where we thought our boss and everyone around them were idiots, but no one (normally) explodes with indignation. Neither did Molly, as she simply swallowed the outrage of being the only competent person in the room and kept trying to do her duty (and a bit more.) I thought sheriff Bill Oswalt (Bob Odenkirk) really highlighted this by being clueless not because he was stupid, but because he was just looking at things from a small-town person perspective and was genuinely shocked at the level of perfidy that was happening in that small town, enacted by people that he'd known for most of his life. Again, that's a genuinely normal reaction in abnormal circumstances and I think that kind of thing made it more digestible to the audience. It was also kind of funny to see Keith Carradine again playing the retired lawman role, similar to what he'd played in Dexter, many years ago.

That, of course, leads right into season 2, which is about the younger Lou Solverson, among others. We're three episodes in and... we've kinda stopped. There are good story elements there and there is, at the very least, an interesting cast (Kirsten Dunst, Jesse Plemons of Breaking Bad fame, Ted Danson.) But, despite keeping that "edge of bizarre but still reality" motif, season 2 seems to lack the charm of the first season and the film, which was an essential element of what made both of them compelling. We'll probably get back to it, at some point, but right now it feels very much like a sophomore slump.

Speaking of sophomore slumps, let's talk about True Detective. We picked up HBO for free for a few days, so I thought I'd look in on the third season. As many of you may remember, I think the first season is one of the best things HBO has ever done, which is a very high bar, while the second season was a faceplant of genuinely epic proportions. Somehow, HBO continued to let Nic Pizzolatto be the showrunner and he did them the service of basically ripping himself off. In short, season 3 is a retread of season 1. It's largely the same premise: missing children, weird dolls, backwoods mysticism, local people covering for their own, etc. The genuinely new elements are twofold: 1. Issues of race in the South (Really?!) are confronted head on. 2. The format of following the investigation through three different time periods (1980, 1990, 2015) is an interesting one that keeps the story moving. Otherwise, more people might have figured out that this was just season 1 set in Arkansas.

The story is entirely based upon the relationship between Wayne "Purple" Hays (Mahershala Ali) and Amelia Reardon (Carmen Ejogo) which, again, is just like season 1. The latter was also centered around the relationship between Marty and Rust. That was the important part; not dead children or perv hoarders living in old fortifications out in the bayou. Same thing here. The dynamics of Wayne and Amelia completely supersede the "buddy cop" situation of Hays and Roland West (Stephen Dorff); thankfully, since the latter isn't much of a "buddy" situation and there isn't anywhere near the magnetism between Ali and Dorff as there was between Harrelson and McConaughey. Considering their importance, it's gratifying to see both Ali and Ejogo completely carry the season; especially Ali, whose emotional reactions and expressions utterly sell scene after scene. I'm a Mahershala Ali fan in the first place (his performance in Moonlight is a must-see), but he was really excellent here. It was also encouraging to see female characters who actively propelled the story forward, like Amelia, rather than being scenery.

All of that said, unlike season 1, having seen it once, I have no compulsion to go back and see season 3 again; largely because we were retreading old ground from the beginning. The LA experiment crashed and burned in season 2, so Pizzolatto headed back to his home territory and... basically told the same story. I mean, I guess that's fine, if that's your schtick. Aaron Sorkin has gotten away with it for most of his career. But there were some really questionable approaches in the wrap-up, too. Like season 2's "entire plot contained in one desk drawer", we basically had an Agatha Christie summation in the final episode of this season. This wasn't about leaving unanswered questions or letting the characters (and the audience!) make their own decisions about what happened. No, this was all wrapped up with a nice bow on top. The End. Happily Ever After. Much of the final episode was like reading the Wikipedia summary of the entire series, which basically could've been "Watch season 1, instead." Also, the final image was strange. Hays being a LRP in Vietnam was an aspect of his character but not a really prominent one, so to close the series with him ducking into the bush again seemed markedly out of place after having summarized your whole story as being about the connections of family (both murder/kidnapping case and on a personal level.) Unless Pizzolatto was just going all Jacob's Ladder on us. The most absurdly funny aspect to this season was watching HBO's Inside the Episode shorts after each one, where Pizzolatto spares no effort to pat himself on the back for "how good this scene was" or "how much I like this part of the story." All creative types have to have some degree of ego. Most are usually more adept at containing it. I think I'm going to go rewatch Chernobyl...

Have mercy

While everyone is still under house arrest, we decided to continue our film-indulging ways by watching things that we otherwise would've seen at the Michigan Theater via other outlets (Netflix, Amazon, Hulu, etc.) This week's pick was Clemency, something we'd wanted to see after watching a couple trailers before other films, but its residency at the theater was only for a few days. Too-rich-to-give-his-employees-sick-time Jeff Bezos to the rescue(?) I guess.

I enjoyed Clemency in principle, but not so much in execution. It's not unusual that I'll see a film that I think has value because of its story and the message that story conveys, but might've had more if they didn't lean so hard into that message. This film was one of those. Alfre Woodard does a great job playing a prison warden (Bernadine Williams) who is so consumed by her job that she's allowed herself to simply become the tool that performs it, rather than the woman she used to be.  This is hammered home a couple times when she's overseeing the most stressful part of that job- organizing executions by lethal injection -and she becomes lost in the trauma of what she's witnessing while someone tries to get her attention. Repeated exclamations of "Warden?" don't snap her out of it. But finally using her name "Bernadine!" does. It's clear that her identity is lost inside her job until someone finally uses the now-unfamiliar title (her name) that separates her from her primary role. That role also leads her to nursing whiskey alone at the local watering hole and letting her marriage disintegrate, which her husband, Jonathan (Wendell Pierce) doesn't hesitate to remonstrate about, (Don't mess with The Bunk!), despite earnest attempts to keep it alive.

Sharing the slide with Woodard in this downward spiral is Aldis Hodge, as Anthony Woods, the next victim of the state's retribution. He also has some great moments as he comes to grips with the fact that his earnest pleas are falling on the same deaf machinery in the form of the warden, as in the form of the state process. One is essentially inseparable from the other. But he still makes headway with Williams so that we can see just how conflicted she is about what she's become, even as she retreats into that machine-like identity in order to escape the anguish that said conflict is bringing to her. It's a concise form of self-destruction that is the personal mirror of what the state is inflicting upon these prisoners. One can argue that their own actions led to their demise, but it's an open question as to whether being put to death is justified. Similarly, Bernadine must perform her duty, but is the price of the rest of her life and, possibly, her sanity worth that diligence? Again, in principle, that's a story with a solid foundation, interesting characters, and challenging questions. But...

It's simply too slow. The pace of the film is somewhere between overly-thoughtful and tedious. It's clear that writer/director Chinonye Chukwu wanted those long shots of Bernadine in the bar and Woods in his cell to convey the agony of the personal traumas that they were facing. But there are limits to all things and we reached them about halfway through a film that was slightly less than two hours. There were some great moments, like Woods bashing his head against his cell wall in frustration and Bernadine getting jarred from a nice anniversary celebration when she realizes that Jonathan is trying to coax her out of her duty. Those are solid, emotional, storytelling scenes. But they kind of get lost amidst the veritable sea of existential dread; the camera pulling back from Woodard's forlorn, deadened eyes or Hodge's desperate, anguished ones for what seems like several minutes. You remember that moment in Reds where Louise Bryant has been arguing that her repetitive writing is intentional because she's trying to make a point only to realize that it's actually monotonous? Here ya go.

I could see what Chukwu was trying to do and I kind of wanted her to do that. She wrote and presented an emotional film about an emotional topic. That's fine. The problem is that the camera spent so much time lingering on that emotion that I think it kind of missed the forest for the trees. At the aforementioned halfway point, I found myself repeatedly checking the clock because I was really kind of waiting for it to end. A bit more elaboration; a couple more interesting encounters; a few less plaintive stares into the camera and I think we're good to go. As much as I enjoyed the performances, I think you probably want to pardon yourself from this one.