No kings.

Hi there. Sorry the comments on the previous post were closed. I posted that on my re-downloaded WordPess mobile app, thinking it might make posting on the fly easier. Didn’t realize it defaulted to closed comments; I just thought you guys were not into it yesterday. I need to find that setting and fix it.

How’d your No Kings rally go? Detroit’s went swimmingly, but as this is the third one, I’m no longer surprised by that. The first one, in…April? Yes, April 5. That one was a revelation, seeing thousands of people coming out to say, essentially, We Can’t Believe This Shit, And We Object. That was a moving march up and down Woodward, no speakers, just fellowship. The second, in June, was held at Clark Park, and was stationary; we came, held up signs, but didn’t listen to the speakers. (I kept hoping they’d put on a rousing playlist, but no.) This one, at Roosevelt Park under the newly renovated Michigan Central Station, was also a speaker-forward event. We walked around, took some pictures of the best signs, stayed a decent interval and left to enjoy a couple beers in the warm October sunshine.

The important thing is to show up. Be one of the millions who are not OK with what’s going on. There won’t be a quiz on the speakers’ remarks.

One guy was yelling about Palestine, with a sign that accused Biden, Harris and Trump of complicity in genocide. I pegged him as yet another Arab-American Jill Stein voter. It was a nice day, so I didn’t want to ask how the new regime was working out for his countrymen and women in Gaza. (As of Sunday? Not well.)

But it was the Grosse Pointe demonstration that was truly heartening. Officially it was for the Pointes, Harper Woods and the east side of Detroit, but it was really robust — a couple blocks of people covering the sidewalks at a busy corner, shaking signs. I didn’t stop because I was en route to Detroit, but honked the whole length of the demonstration. It was a long honk.

So we head into the cool months — I have to assume this will be the last one until spring — knowing we’re not alone, that millions are as horrified and distraught and angry as we are.

Meanwhile, if you haven’t seen this, you should see this:

This is what you-know-who posted early Sunday morning, after the No Kings protests had largely wrapped. I know none of these know-nothings care what the rest of the world thinks about us, but I do, and so should you. This is not just literally disgusting, it’s horrifying in what it says about the man who posted it. I wear my Is He Dead Yet? T-shirt with pride, but also dread.

This, by the way, is what the vice president posted yesterday:

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— JD Vance (@jd-vance-1.bsky.social) October 18, 2025 at 3:32 PM

I guess he really is the worst stereotype of the American hillbilly: Mean, parochial, clannish, violent.

But let’s not dwell on the bad news as the week starts, OK? Seven million of us showed up yesterday. That’s something. Have a good one. Here’s a cute dog to cleanse your palate:

Posted at 1:44 pm in Current events, Detroit life | 20 Comments
 

Ready.

Still thinking about the other side. See you at the demonstration, brothers and sisters.

Posted at 7:48 am in Current events, Detroit life | 7 Comments
 

Deflecting.

The older I get, the more of a grammar-and-usage pedant I become. The dumbass slang that every generation has can chap my ass, some days. The other day I saw the word obsessed to describe about 20 different things, from makeup to some nutritional supplement. I scrolled on, and learned that a particular influencer had declared this sweater made me reevaluate my entire life. That’s a powerful sweater, dear. You’ll be wearing that one a while.

Obsessed is up there with iconic in that it seems to be slung about most often by young women with vocal fry. OMG I am obsessed with this yoga mat. My new lip color has my husband shook. Kate introduced me to ate, which apparently means “to do well.” How were the shows in Canada? Oh, we ate.

Good to know.

I bring this up because… well, I’m not sure why. I saw a set of photos from Chicago this morning that were absolutely shocking, and in psychological self-defense, I needed to think about grammar and Uncrustables (amusing story, gift link) and respond to texts about the latest posting in the Wedding Attire Approval subreddit. Another old-person rant incoming: What the hell with these ridiculous wedding dress codes? When did people forget how to dress for a goddamn wedding? Going to a funeral? Wear black. Wedding? Something nice that’s not white. Job interview? Like the neatest, cleanest person who holds the job you want. Why complicate it, and where the hell do young people get off demanding black tie, especially at a time when virtually no one owns formal clothing anymore? The only wedding couples I’ve known who asked their guests to wear special clothing were getting married in non-traditional ceremonies and faiths, and even then they’re optional.

Maybe if we stopped shlepping through life in PJs and slippers, we wouldn’t have to do it this way.

That Uncrustables story is a wealth of information. As I recall, Uncrustables — basically a PB&J empanada busy moms keep in the freezer — were not favored by young Kate, so I only bought one once, at Cedar Point. But evidently they’re a cult favorite, and not just of children:

They’re not just a staple for kids (and the harried parents who have to feed them), they’re being wolfed down by the thousands in NFL locker rooms. Kansas City Chiefs star tight end Travis Kelce, a.k.a. the future Mr. Taylor Swift, revealed on his podcast that he scarfs down Uncrustables “probably more than I eat anything else in the world.” They’re often found at the finish lines of races, to refuel runners with carbs and the macronutrient of the moment, protein.

Who knew? Not I.

Those Chicago photos were really awful.

Posted at 11:37 am in Current events | 60 Comments
 

Artificial.

I was at a political fundraiser Friday. Never mind who– Oh, let’s not be coy. It was for Jocelyn Benson, who’s running for governor as a Democrat. I wasn’t there because I am a huge fan, although I think she’ll be the nominee and as usual, the people on the other side are ghastly. I was there because the event was being held at a friend’s former house, and she wanted to see it, three years later. I donated to justify having a glass of wine and some little phyllo-wrapped cheese things.

The wild card in the 2026 Michigan gubernatorial race is Mike Duggan, outgoing mayor of Detroit, who’s running as an independent. He’s not just any third-party flake, and has a chance to spoil either party’s chances, depending on the nominees. Given that Duggan has been a lifelong Democrat, it could easily be the Dems. Given that he has coddled the Detroit billionaire class (en route, to be fair, to transforming at least part of the city), it could also be the Republicans.

I mentioned this to someone during the chitchat portion of the evening, and she confidently asserted that Benson has little to fear from Duggan. And she knows this how? “AI says so.”

Which is the long way around to saying that in a very short time, a shocking number of people I know have integrated ChatGPT into their lives. They ask it the current value of a particular classic car, the chances of rain a week from Tuesday, to tell them a joke. Condense this document I don’t want to read. Give me some questions to ask this person when I talk to them. And so on.

I know I, too, use AI; I’m not naïve. I use Google, which now gives you an AI summary of your results whether you ask for one or not. If they sound fishy, I double-check them. I should always double-check them, because I’ve gotten straight-up hogwash more than once.

The other day, while lifeguarding, I couldn’t get the pace clocks — the natatorium wall clock that counts seconds in big digits, so swimmers can time their 50s and 100s — working correctly. So I turned them off with a shrug, figuring every minute spent fiddling over it is time I wouldn’t have eyes on the water, and that’s more important. Someone piped up, “Ask AI! It’ll tell you!”

The ones that really floor me are those who use AI to essentially do their jobs for them. The product is obvious — bland, anodyne, with the weird absence-of-humanity feel to it, which are then sold to clients. Sooner or later, the client will figure out what they’re being served and think, logically, what do I need this clown for? Way to put yourself out of business.

Do any of you do this? Is it worth it?

I finally figured out the pace clock via the time-honored tradition of asking someone who had the job before me. It turns out you have to set one to Lead and the other to Follow, and they sync themselves and work just fine.

It was a good weekend. Not much bloggage, but here’s a gift link: How a bad man got a good paramedic fired because he didn’t like what she said about Charlie Kirk.

Have a good week, all.

Posted at 4:04 pm in Current events, Same ol' same ol' | 35 Comments
 

Not the Ohio of yore.

Late but welcome, fall has arrived. I always note that there’s a week’s load of laundry a couple times a year that contains both shorts and at least one flannel shirt, and I guess it’s this week. It was 70 and muggy when I got up Tuesday morning, currently struggling to reach 50. Dinner last night was adjusted from chicken on the grill to BLTs. Can’t deny it: It feels great.

Check with me in another month, when the whining begins.

So. The week began at a gallop and has slowed to a forward canter. Coming back from my creative-writing class at Wayne State, on surface streets to avoid the freeway parking lot, I listened to “All Things Considered,” and wondered after a spell if it might be wiser for me to just quit paying attention to the news altogether. In an interview with Illinois Gov. J.B. Pritzker, he said (paraphrasing), “President Trump doesn’t read, and doesn’t know what ‘insurrection’ means.” The reporter, with her Bias Alert going WHOOP-WHOOP-WHOOP, said, “I think the president would disagree with you on that.” Gee, thanks, I feel so much better now. We wouldn’t want to let an American governor get away with speaking the truth, would we?

But I can’t stop, because that’s how I’m made. Before that, I heard the last few moments of an interview with Beth Macy, who has a book out this week. She was on “Fresh Air,” and had an op-ed in the NYT Sunday, and has this piece in the Atlantic today. Title: “What Happened to Ohio?” and yeah, it’s a gift link. It’s about Urbana, where Alan started his newspaper career and from which Macy hails. Turns out it’s not the place she grew up:

I was most shocked by what I gleaned from people I’d known the longest. My childhood friend Joy, a Black lay minister who had conducted my Mom’s celebration of life, revealed that she didn’t believe George Floyd was killed by Derek Chauvin. My niece’s husband, a type 1 diabetic, turned down not one but two life-saving transplants because the donors had taken COVID vaccines. When I spoke with my sister Cookie about my oldest son, Max, who was about to marry his husband, she used the Old Testament scripture from Leviticus to condemn homosexuality.

A friend asked recently what it felt like to spend time in a place I had once loved but no longer connected with, and I had to admit that my predominant emotion was pain. Often, I’d leave two or three days before my rental was up, eager to return home to my husband, my dog, and my largely privileged circle of friends who don’t espouse beliefs that repulse me.

Sigh. When does this shit end? Do we ever get out of it? I’m skeptical.

Posted at 8:45 am in Current events | 38 Comments
 

The stone-faced.

When life grows a little overwhelming, as it’s been this week… Listen to me. “This week.” It’s Wednesday. And already we’ve had a whatever-that-was at Quantico yesterday, a government shutdown, deepfake racist AI coming from the Oval — it sometimes becomes too much. When I’m feeling outmatched by reality, I go to Reddit.

Reddit, the platform where no trivial topic is too small to create a community of fellow travelers to waste time discussing it all. My current fave subreddits: John and Carolyn and Wedding Attire Approval. In the first, lonely women rehash the lives and deaths of John F. Kennedy Jr. and his wife Carolyn Bessette Kennedy, endlessly. A typical post might be a closeup of Carolyn, and a question: Do you think she had very subtle rhinoplasty? Comments: 85. It’s really amazing. Wedding Attire Approval consists in large part of innocents wandering into a den of bitches, posting photos of perfectly fine dresses and asking if it’s appropriate for a guest at a wedding. The answer, frequently? NO. Forensic analysis of this dress reveals it was once carried through a room containing white thread! Therefore it cannot be worn to any wedding or wedding-related event!

I’ve known that women shouldn’t wear a white dress to a wedding — that’s for the bride — but I swear, these lunatics make up rules I never heard of. No white to a bachelorette party. No white to a rehearsal dinner. And the latest is when someone will post a photo of a light pink or pale blue dress, but it gets the veto because it might “photograph” white. Or a stunning floor-length dress with a white collar could be photographed from the wrong angle, suggest the guest might be the bride, and RUIN ALL THE PICTURES.

I know the great thing about the internet is, there’s a corner for everyone, and if the algorithm didn’t push it into my face all the time, I could forget it exists. But it does, and I can’t.

Meanwhile, here’s an analysis of the event at Quantico yesterday (gift link, natch):

It was a speech unlike any other and just like every other.

…Several hundred military commanders turned up at Quantico on Tuesday morning. Some had flown in for it from places as far away as Germany, Brussels, Japan and South Korea. They sat mostly in silence as Mr. Trump talked for 73 minutes about the same things he talks about almost every day, no matter where he is or to whom he is speaking.

He talked to the generals about Joseph R. Biden Jr. and the infamous autopen. He talked about the media. He talked about tariffs and the border. He talked about the time he went to a restaurant in Washington to eat dinner. He talked about not being awarded a Nobel Peace Prize he felt he had earned.

He talked, in other words, exactly the same way he talks to rally crowds and the sycophants who gather around his table at Mar-a-lago. Only the military brass didn’t do what those crowds do — laugh and smile. They sat mostly stone-faced while President Wetbrain talked for…73 minutes. He told them he wanted American cities to serve as “training grounds” for soldiers; in other words, that he expected American troops to kill and wound Americans. What did he expect? Cheers? Clearly he did.

Lucian Truscott quotes from the same speech. It was chilling, not just because of the kill-your-countrymen thing, but the fact this man is obviously losing his marbles:

He began by attacking Biden, naturally, complaining that “We were not respected with Biden. They looked at him falling down stairs every day – every day, the guy’s falling down stairs – and I said, that’s not our president. We can’t have it. I’m very careful, you know, when I walk down stairs, I walk…very…slowly. Nobody has to set a record. Just, try not to fall, ‘cause it doesn’t work out well. A few of our presidents have fallen, and it became a part of their legacy, you know. Walk nice and easy. You don’t have to set any records. Be cool! Be cool when you walk down, but don’t…don’t bop down the stairs. The one thing with Obama…I had zero respect for him as a president, but he would bop down those stairs, I’ve never seen…da-da-da-da-teh-deh-bop-bop…I’ve never seen…he would go down those stairs, bop-bop, he wouldn’t hold on, he’d go down those stairs, I said, it’s great! I wouldn’t want to do it. I guess I could do it, but eventually, bad things are gonna happen, and it only takes one. A year ago, we were a dead country. We were dead. This country was going to hell. We had nothing.”

And let’s not let that be overshadowed by this:

There were Black generals and admirals sitting amidst their white counterparts in that audience in Quantico today. Not one of them, white or Black, could have missed the rank racism when Trump imitated Barack Obama “bopping” down a set of stairs. Trump said he “never seen” anything like it, as if he were describing a tight end in a football game catching a difficult pass. None of them missed the racism when Trump mentioned, in speaking about “the nuclear” that there are two “N-words” you can’t say. Every person in that room knew what the other N-word is, and they got it that Trump was complaining that “political correct,” as he called it, had stopped its usage.

Ugh. Our president.

OK, I have an interview coming up that I must prep for. Carry on, enjoy your Wednesday, and we’ll see how it goes.

Posted at 10:38 am in Current events | 38 Comments
 

Another one.

Jeez, what a week. What a weekEND. I take one hour off — one! — to have a wholesome swim, and emerge to learn that a man has driven through the wall of an LDS church, jumped out of his pickup firing, then set the whole church on fire. It is now a smoking ruin. Two people are dead, three if you count the shooter, picked off by the police, more in the hospital and likely still more under the collapsed roof of the church. Little is known beyond that, although if the photos from the scene in legit newspapers are to be believed, the pickup had bed-mounted American flags of considerable size, two of them.

Police say they’re searching for a motive, should one exist.

The church looks to be a total loss. You can see the shooter’s pickup at the bottom of the photo that is leading the story as I write this at roughly 5:30 p.m. Might change in a while, might not.

Now they’re saying there were IEDs in the truck. The killer’s said to be 40. Maybe an Iraq vet, who knows. It’s folly to try to speculate on these things. As always: More will be revealed.

Edit: The shooter was indeed an Iraq vet. Thomas Jacob Sanford of Burton, Mich. He looks exactly like about a zillion other guys his age running around the state. And yes, more will still be revealed.

So hey, that’s the weekend! Just another mass shooting that will be forgotten by Wednesday.

Posted at 6:35 pm in Current events | 44 Comments
 

Roots.

If you’ll allow me one more post about our Fort Wayne visit? Let me tell you what our walk-off gift was, courtesy of the Allen County Public Library’s world-class (and I do mean world-class) genealogy department:

The Homecoming organizers told us this was in the works, and said that if we wanted our personal family tree, to provide birth, death and cities for our parents and grandparents. I am one of those people mostly left cold by this stuff; at some point it started to strike me the way past-lives ninnies did, the ones who are always the reincarnation of Cleopatra or Henry VIII, never a guttersnipe in Victorian London or one of Cleopatra’s litter-carriers. But what the hell, why not, I thought, and coughed up the names and dates. And this is what I received in return:

Lordy. All that? Yes:

From the summation inside the front cover, this goes back five generations, to the great-greats. The last of the bunch was born in the 1830s, several in Germany or Switzerland. Some Civil War vets in there. One of my great-great grandfathers had charge of Abraham Lincoln’s bier as he lay in state in Indianapolis for 24 hours on his funerary trip back to Illinois. Another was, get this, a newspaperman.

I’m still working my way through this. Much of it is U.S. Census records, death certificates and the like, but for the first time, I’m starting to see the appeal of doing this research. I don’t carry but a few teaspoons of these old gents’ blood, but it’s fun to see what they did with the hands they were dealt, and how they were carried off. A few of cancer, stroke, some vague “illness” and the big cataclysm on my mother’s side, her father’s exit: “suicide by firearm.” I have a small medal that was his, awarded for bowling prowess:

He was a bank teller. I’m thinking I’ll have it made into a necklace.

If you want to dig up your roots, you won’t find a better place. The story was always that the only equal of Allen County’s collection was the Church of Latter-day Saints in Salt Lake City, and the Library of Congress. I believe it.

So. Here’s a Sopranos joke, adapted for the times: An American walks into the Oval Office with a duck under his arm, and says, “This is the pig we elected.” The president says, “That’s not a pig, that’s a duck.” The American says, “I wasn’t talking to you.”

Doubt me? Don’t:

Over the summer, we learned (weirdly, via a social-media post by Jeanine Pirro) that Trump was planning to hang a row of paintings in the walkway adjacent to the Rose Garden, which connects the Executive Residence and the West Wing. …The portraits still haven’t been hung, but on September 21, White House photographers captured a new addition to the colonnade: a mock-up of a sign that reads “The Presidential Walk of Fame” in a large golden font.

Yep, that’s the pig we elected. Of the events of recent days, I have nothing to say that could be captured here. We elected a pig, and that’s that.

Happy Wednesday, eh.

Posted at 12:05 am in Current events, Same ol' same ol' | 44 Comments
 

Hysteria.

I think we’ve tipped into Princess Diana territory now. That is, the reaction to the assassination of Charlie Kirk is now at the level of hysteria, egged on by, among others, the widow Kirk, who first delivered a statement with a whiff of Rwanda c. 1994, and then posted one of the cringiest videos I’ve seen in some time, featuring herself mourning over the body of her husband in his casket, whispering I love you while the camera got in close enough to see every detail and capture every sound.

It was awful, the sort of spectacle that makes you think, girl, do you not have one friend or close associate who could tell you what a terrible idea this is? And then you realize, no she doesn’t, and in fact, they were probably all egging her on. Because content. And branding. And reach. And engagement. Rick Perlstein, a historian for whom I have a great deal of respect, wrote on Facebook that it’s of a piece with Jackie Kennedy refusing to take off her bloodstained pink suit after her own husband was shot. I wouldn’t go that far, but if there’s even a shred of truth to it, I don’t feel the least bit terrible about my cold cinder of a heart. Empathy is the most human emotion there is, but there are still ways to kill it.

In the confusion of recent days and of the confusion still to come, here’s something smart I read Saturday. It’s by Cary Gabriel Costello, a sociology professor at UW-Milwaukee. It’s long, and I feel bad about pasting it in its entirety, but it was posted on Costello’s Facebook page, and I don’t know of any other way to share the whole thing, since many of you have left that platform, and good for you. Here’s a link to it, anyway. One thing I try to remember as a mantra when big news breaks is: More will be revealed. Also, and this is increasingly true, not everything you see, even in a legit news source, is true, or even factual. As I look at the case of Tyler Robinson from the perspective of Sunday afternoon, I see a motivation that could be comprised of political philosophy, dead-endism and a large smattering of legit mental illness, as Robinson is smack in the middle of that fraught age range when those afflictions present themselves.

But I think it has more to do with what Costello writes, and I’ll stop blathering and let you guys read it. Happy week ahead and let’s reach the end of it with our sanity intact:

Hi. I took a month off social media, but I’m back upon request to talk about the person who shot Charlie Kirk this week.

Here’s what we know: shooter Tyler Robinson comes from a family of Republicans and loved hunting with them. He was obviously very proficient with guns. He was a gamer and very online. He etched his bullet casings with trolling phrases that reflect this online cultural milieu. And while his politics may have once been mainstream conservative ones, he had become disillusioned with the Republican party—because, as he told a friend, he had come to see them as little different from the Democrats, too content with the system that he wanted to see smashed.

You will see him referred to as a “groyper.” That’s a term for the followers of white supremacist Nick Fuentes, who hated Charlie Kirk for not being racist enough.

Groypers harassed Kirk at his public events for years—the so-called “Groyper Wars.” Now consider the collage of images I’ve attached to this post. In the first image, you see the classic meme pose of the groyper: wearing a tracksuit and doing the “Slavic squat.” In the middle we see alt-right meme icon Pepe the frog in the groyper costume and pose. At the right, we see shooter Tyler Robinson in the same pose and costume.

Does a photo of Tyler Robinson in his 2018 Halloween costume dressed up as a groyper meme mean that Robinson considered himself a groyper in 2025? Not necessarily. What it does show was that he was familiar with the group and portrayed himself as one of them at that time. But there is a possible clue in what he etched on one of his unspent bullet casings: the chorus to the song Bella Ciao. This song was an Italian antifacist folk song that was treated as an ironic anthem by the groypers.

I want to point out that all across the major mainstream news outlets as I write, the fact that Bella Ciao was etched by Robinson on his ammo is being presented as evidence that he was an antifascist. I’m sure that was part of the fun for Robinson. As the other messages he etched show, he loved to troll. That’s central to the whole business of the channish online inchoate masculinist clan: mock your enemies, and show proficiency with in-jokes to impress your chortling tribe while leaving the other team befuddled and confused.

The set of narratives expected about motivations by news sources and politicians are very much disconnected with the messages sent by lots of young shooters seeking fame today. Etched on one of Robinson’s bullet casings is “hey fascist—CATCH!” Almost all of the news sources I have just checked are presenting this as proof that Robinson was antifa. They are not headlining the markings on other bullet casings—most local news stories are not even mentioning the others. And that’s because they don’t fit this narrative. The one that housed the bullet that killed Charlie Kirk read, “Notices bulges, OwO what’s this?” That’s a phrase used to taunt opponents in game chats and social media, mockingly pretending that the speaker is a furry expressing sexual interest in the person being mocked. It’s very much like the phrase etched on another casing: “if you read this you are gay lmao.” The point of these etched messages was to taunt Kirk. To own him. To show dominance and prowess. This was like a video game in real life, where everyone would see how good a shot Robinson is, and those in the know would admire his memery.

But the media (Fox no less than the NY Times), and politicians, and influencers, and vast swathes of Americans unfamiliar with this online, game-flavored masculinist form of communication can’t parse any of that. They want to answer a simple question: was the shooter leftwing or rightwing? Or, since most presumed he MUST be an infuriated leftie, which flavor of “woke” were they? The immediate speculation was that Robinson must be trans. Social media are clogged with thousands of posts asserting this. The Wall Street Journal initially reported that there was evidence that was the case. And they got that “information” from federal investigators, who claimed two pieces of “evidence”. The first was that the base of the bullet casings all contained a series of stamped letters including “TRN””, which was interpreted to stand for Trans. Those were just the manufacturer’s mark; the company was Turan Ammo.

The second piece of “evidence” was an etching read “↑ → ↓ ↓ ↓”. Why that was interpreted as “pro-transgender,” I have no idea. Either FBI investigators drafting internal communications were beyond incompetent in somehow interpreting this as trans messaging, or the statement that pro-trans messages were found on the bullets was always disinformation that someone leaked to the press in order to put fuel on the fire of the hate-narrative that trans people are violently unhinged. In any case, it’s nonsensical.

In fact, that series of arrows are just representations of the controller moves used when playing the game Helldivers 2 in order to drop a giant bomb. Robinson was showing a little love to fellow gamers while signaling he was the overpowered dispenser of destruction.

Robinson’s “manifesto” here is essentially that it is Game Over for the famous Charlie Kirk, conquered by Robinson. To the extent that he has politics legible to the familiar Democrats-vs-Republicans mainstream narrative we are all way too familiar with, it is most likely that he was at least sympathetic to the far right. His Ciao Bella was a likely nod to the groypers. But it was also an attempt, along with his “hey fascist—CATCH,” to stir hatred on the more mainstream right against the left. Robinson is above all else an accelerationist. He and his ilk want a war. They want America as it stands to burn. What they believe will rise from the ashes varies, and some are black-pilled enough to hope nothing does. But they all want to blow things up.

Robinson wanted people to pore over his etched messages, so he’d be inside our heads, taking up space, getting attention. He also wanted his messages to be confusing and seem contradictory so that people would fight about what they meant. Hopefully we’d tear one another to pieces over conflicting interpretations.

The correct thing to do under the circumstances is not to feed the troll and give him what he wants: attention, social conflict, rising violence. Unfortunately, our president is not the sort of person to bring Americans together. He has declared that the left is to blame for the shooting, and anyone who critiques Kirk now that he is a martyr is fomenting terrorism. He’s not about to walk that back. And MAGA will follow his lead. If you looked around various social media in the 24 hours after the shooting, you saw thousands of people calling for actions from the banning of all leftist organizations to the extermination of Democrats to locking up all trans people in institutions.

Of course, there were also calmer heads on the right, and Republican politicians who at least acknowledged that Democratic politicians have recently been assassinated or had their houses burnt down. But the problem is that MAGA politics are not about compromise and standing up for the rights of those with differing political positions and identities. Everything happening in our national politics right now makes that clear.

Yet national reporting also shows that if there is one thing that Americans agree on right now, it is that they don’t feel safe and that something is seriously wrong with the nation. And while that’s certainly a very negative feeling, I think a lot about how we might capitalize on that and turn things around—before accelerationist, triggerhappy gloryhounds like Tyler Robinson take us all down.

I hope you are thinking about how to turn things around as well.

Posted at 2:42 pm in Current events | 56 Comments
 

One more time.

In case anyone is wondering, here’s what Charlie Kirk had to say when the state lawmakers were shot in Minneapolis earlier this summer:

“Total shocker that smearing a duly-elected president who won an overwhelming electoral mandate as a fascist or a king leads to violent political radicalization.”

After another shooting in Minneapolis, the one at Annunciation Catholic School, he offered this: “Was the shooter on hormone therapy?” and “Was he on SSRIs? We deserve to know.”

So while it’s obvious violence is terrible when it’s directed anywhere, I think I’m going to try to be better than Charlie Kirk at this moment — it’s about 4 p.m. Wednesday as I write this, and I don’t know Kirk’s condition — I’ll just keep my yap shut for now. I feel nothing anyway, so why embroider on that?

Croaky said something stupid about guns this week, too. “We had lots of guns when we were kids. Kids brought guns to school and were encouraged to do so.” He went on to blame psychiatric drugs for the fact they’re now firing them. I don’t know about you, but psychiatric drugs, while no panacea, have brought relief and normalcy to millions of people who suffer from mental illness. The conservative right is now very hot on “mental health,” which they seem to believe was something we all enjoyed until evil liberals took it away.

I’ve always understood the wholesale emptying and closing of public mental hospitals to be a dovetailing of the worse impulses of both the left and the right, the rare case where both sides bear at least some, and perhaps equal blame. I know many of us are older here, and as I recall we’ve talked about it here, too, but I was there and I remember. Liberals said it was cruel and illegal to warehouse people, that new psychiatric drugs offered hope to people who previously could only be treated with Thorazine and other heavy tranquilizers, the ol’ dozin’-and-droolin’ state on American mental wards. The right said, “Close expensive public institutions? Sounds great!” Unfortunately, community-based mental-health buildings never came to pass — they, too, were expensive — and we didn’t reckon that some people with some mental illnesses didn’t want to be treated with the new drugs. They were imperfect, they had unpleasant side effects, and they cost a lot. Lots of mental patients didn’t have any sort of home support network. And so they ended up on the street, almost literally overnight. You saw it too, I bet. It coincided with the closing of SRO hotels in many cities, as yuppies moved downtown and wanted those icky bums out of sight.

So every time a conservative bleats about mental health, ask them: What’s your plan? How much will it cost? Where will people be treated? Because as anyone with even a surface understanding of the issue knows, there aren’t enough beds available now, much less after we start taking the issue as seriously as they think we should. A man off his meds stabbed 11 people in a Walmart in northern Michigan a few weeks ago. It was a familiar story: Paranoid schizophrenic, in and out of treatment and shelters for years, only intermittently in touch with his family, etc. He desperately needed inpatient treatment and a lot of support, but in northern Michigan? Are you crazy?

You could say the same thing about the man who stabbed and killed the Ukrainian refugee in Charlotte. American prisons are already mental hospitals. You want to build a few hundred more? With what money?

Get ready for a new barrage of this, depending on who is arrested for the assault on Kirk.

It’s now 4:45 p.m. Just checked the Salt Lake Tribune, NYT and other sources; they haven’t pulled the sheet up over his face yet. Time will tell.

Edit at three minutes later: He’s dead.

Posted at 4:47 pm in Current events | 55 Comments