Brain Particles

I recently spent some extended time on a 2-week with acquaintances (I distinguish that firmly frrom “friends”) who, I believe, are pretty firm MAGA; most certainly, they are Trump supporters, Heading into this vacation, I resolved to stay low in the canoe – not inciting discord, and to just start talking about the Boston Red Sox as a diversionary tactic if politics came up.

Fortunately for all participants, politics was never a point of conversation. It wouldn’t surprise me to learn that everyone was behaving similarly to me for the same reasons. Certainly, no one in this group of social acquaintances (some of whom are friends) if they considered the above, wanted the vacation to be a misery fest of discord and gritted teeth. Everyone wanted to have a good time in a beautiful part of the world (we didn’t have a great time, but that’s a different story).

However…this time together pushed me to consider how to respond to MAGAts or Trumpsters if the subject was introduced. To date, I have politely diverted the conversation or avoided it altogether. First, because I doubt that arguing politics when differences are so vast adds value to a social relationship. Second, because I do a bad job holding my tongue in a civil manner when it comes to MAGA cult behavior or Trump himself. Third, I am conflict avoidant in the extreme. Discord makes me anxious.

It’s tempting to fire off an email to my friends (and acquaintances) outlining the many feelings I have about MAGA pseudo-conservatism, or Trump since he’s such a lying sack of puerile fetidness, but, no one has asked for my opinion, so why would I force it on them? However, I have decided that I will speak up going forward if the subject arises. No more dissembling, I have reached a point of disgust with MAGA cruel, racist and xenophobic positions (they’ve earned this on their own) and I have reached the conclusion that the former president not only has no redeeming qualities, but is a net negative force, like a swirling vortex to the ninth circle of hell, skipping all prior circles via an express elevator of his own making.

The man is evil, his movement is morally corrupt, and if it comes up, I intend to “hit away,” as Roy Hobbs told The Judge in ‘The Natural‘. I won’t force my opinion unbidden, but I will no longer restrain myself in the pursuit of social harmony. The tricky part will be to do this civilly, rationally, and with reasoned statements. To do otherwise is to betray my principles, and ranting just makes me reverse-MAGA, an opionated idiot.

Recognizing all of the above, I still revere my country and want the best for its population. I want compassion, fairness, and equality for all who want to be contributors to society, and I genuinely believe most folks want to add value through their lives.

I won’t argue, I won’t try to convince you, I’ll simply deliver my perspective “…since you brought it up”.

My wife (who is way more perceptive and smarter than me) often muses why people who otherwise may seem intelligent, rational, normal (insert your own adjective here) are so loyal to the former president and his MAGA contingent. We wonder this particularly when we hear the former president speak which I characterize as lie-infused gibberish in most instances.  Having no answer to my wife’s question, I have pondered this for several years myself. I have frequently said if a friend or relative said the things we hear the former president say, we’d ask them if they were okay, whether they needed to rest for a minute, or at the least get them a glass of water.  

After considerable thought I have concluded the former president’s supporters fall into three broad groups:

• The Fearful: People who ignore everything illogical, illegal, unethical, or just plain crazy (poodle satay anyone?) because they yearn for a society when their socio-economic standing wasn’t eroded or threatened by other social. ethnic, or cultural groups. I think most of these supporters are white people unsettled by shifts in the opportunity landscape. They may not be able to articulate their discomfort, but it often has a label: immigrants, affirmative action e.g., minorities, Jews, Muslims, Woke culture, etc. These labels are all dog whistles for “You’re different than me and I don’t like that I have to compete with you”.  Haters also fall in this group as hate is the result of fear.
• The Remoras: Those who see his installation to retain or increase their socio-economic status or grip on power over others. This includes political sycophants, politicians afraid of their base, The Fearful who are already in power, and the capital class wanting to protect and accrue more wealth. These folks are the ones I often call craven, cynical, hypocrites, greedy motherfuckers, etc. Think Elon Musk, any Republican in Congress, investment bankers, business owners that took PPP money when they had no need for it to float their company, or the Kochs. Their theme: “What’s in it for me?”
• The Apathetic & Indifferent: For whatever reasons, these people have no interest, enthusiasm, or concern re electoral outcomes. They are either hardened cynics, intellectually incurious, or limited in empathic capacity to care about anything beyond their immediate concerns. Think of an acquaintance who has a complete lack of interest for learning or exploring new ideas. Those who regard themselves as deeply religious and are disinterested in anything “different” or those who are unplugged from cultural literacy comprise this subset. Culturally illiterate folks are usually unable to converse or interact in a diverse culture, having limited or no ability to understand nuance, idiom, or shared references. The apathy angle comes into play when this group says, “my vote won’t make any difference” or “Well, all politics is dirty”. While technically true, they miss the point of the power of numbers and the need to have a stake in society. For me, these folks are the hardest to comprehend; they are like the walking dead.

According to the APA Dictionary of Psychology¹, derangement is a term that refers to a disturbance in the regular order or normal functioning of something, and is sometimes used loosely to mean mental illness or mental disturbance¹. Another source defines derangement as a disturbance in mental functioning². The Cambridge Dictionary gives a similar definition, stating that derangement is the state of being completely unable to think clearly or behave in a controlled way, especially because of mental illness³.

If you had an acquaintance who continuously and consistently insisted on the stating opposite of patently observable facts, you would probably be concerned about them in a short amount of time. For example, if you commented on the recent win by the Kansas City Chiefs over the Buffalo Bills and they earnestly insisted that the Bills won the game by a perfectly executed field goal, you might laugh at first, thinking they are joking. If they persisted in this fiction, especially if they did so in all sincerity, you would start to wonder what’s wrong with your friend. If this behavior was repetitious, e.g., “it’s still 2023”, “I drive a Porsche”, “I wasn’t there with you”, you would probably believe they have a mental disorder or neurological issue. What I don’t think you would do is dismiss it as “Oh, that’s just Dave, he does that all the time.”

This brings me to Mr. Trump. It seems to me he fits the above description but we have come to accept his behavior as “Oh, that’s just Trump; he lies all the time” instead of wondering how deranged or neurologically impaired he may be. We have become immune to the absurdity of his rhetoric, the clownish nature of his claims, chalking it up to buffoonery & bluster. In turn, we are inured to all other outlandish claims, Nikki Haley’s overt claims of victory in Iowa and New Hampshire despite the basic math of a larger number is greater than a lesser number. 

I think we have lost the ability or willingness to apply logic or critical thinking to verifiably obvious “alternative facts”. News reporting holds none of these statements up as ridiculous nonsense and certainly doesn’t appear to aggressively challenge outright baloney. Everyone shrugs and moves on. 

Is this because constantly scrolling data and images deadens us to stimulus? Are we simply so used to being fed input that we just accept what we see and hear without examination? Have we become the joke: “If Abe Lincoln said if it was on the web it had to be true”?  It’s as if someone statred pumping sewage into your house and you simply accepted it as a thing that now happens.

I think we need to stop accepting derangement as normal and call it out for what it is. Just because someone beclowns themselves regularly, that doesn’t make it normal in any world. By normalizing bold faced lying and absurdity, we find ourselves in a surreal landscape where is derangement is normal and sanity is the outlier.

Resist absurdity, call out the ridiculous.

 _____________________________________________________

¹: [APA Dictionary of Psychology](^1^)

²: [Psychology Dictionary](^2^)

³: [Cambridge Dictionary](^3^)

Source: Conversation with Bing, 1/25/2024

(1) APA Dictionary of Psychology. https://dictionary.apa.org/derangement.

(2) What is DERANGEMENT? definition of DERANGEMENT … – Psychology Dictionary. https://psychologydictionary.org/derangement/.

(3) DERANGEMENT | English meaning – Cambridge Dictionary. https://dictionary.cambridge.org/dictionary/english/derangement.

(4) APA Dictionary of Psychology. https://dictionary.apa.org/derangement.

(5) What is DERANGEMENT? definition of DERANGEMENT … – Psychology Dictionary. https://psychologydictionary.org/derangement/.

(6) DERANGEMENT | English meaning – Cambridge Dictionary. https://dictionary.cambridge.org/dictionary/english/derangement.

Since today is Father’ s Day I can’t help myself from thinking a bit on what kind of father I have been. On the whole I think I come up a bit short. whether I am victim to popular societies vision of what a father should be or I am truly short in terms of Measuring Up, I’m not sure. I do know that I could have been a better father looking back. In general I present a stoic demeanor and rarely allow my feelings to be revealed. I don’t think this provided a great model for my children and in fact follows the example of my father who rarely showed any emotion at all actually, he took some pride in that. From the little I know his father was a stern man who was unlkely to break character.

Instead, I wish I had played more, laughed more, cried more, and expressed more. I didn’t have a great example but that’s no excuse. My father took pride in declaring that he “Did not like tonplay games” so there was very little Monopoly or games of catch that took place. Unfortunately my immediate memory of play was a game of catch where he thought it was funny to throw the ball at my head. He meant no harm, he just thought it was a funny joke. For a kid who was somewhat afraid of the ball, I didn’t think it was all that funny and I think that ended the game of catch.

My other memory is of the time my father and I were going to play golf on a weekend afternoon. We live near the golf club and could walk to the clubhouse from home. When we arrived at the course, he ran into some folks he knew and they invited him to play with them. I remember him looking at me and saying “You don’t mind do you?” being a stoic little man I of course said “No”, hoisted my bag, and walked home. What I recall about that walk are the feelings of shame at being ‘less than’ someone he wanted to spend time with, a heaping amount of anger, and disappointment all the way home.

Do we only remember the bad stuff or is my memory correct? I’m not sure but I’m damned if I can remember some good times like my wife can.

None of this is a plea for sympathy or an excuse for not being kinder and more open with my own children but it does (maybe) help me understand my shortcomings.

If I understand myself better I can find ways to improve. It may not be too late, even at 65. From this Father’s Day on I’ll try to kill the stoicism and increase the fun.

Running errands on a Saturday morning, a pickup truck sporting a large TRUMP 2020 flag flying from the cargo bed zooms by in the opposite direcetion. This isn’t the first of these I’ve seen. Although I don’t see one every day, since I rarely venture out during this COVID-19 pandemic except to get more ice cream or wine. After seeing this Trump spangled banner roll by I wonder: why do I only see giant flags and giant signs with ‘Trump’ on them? Why don’t I see the same thing for Biden or Bernie or a Green Party or Libertarian candidate? What’s with the giant flags and huge signs?

Is a giant flag (GF) or giant sign (GS) a physical version of shouting? If so, is it ‘shouting from the rooftops’ or is it more like ‘shouting in your face’? I’m genuinely curious and haven’t been able to settle on a reasonable explanation for the motivation to adorn your truck/car/house/front yard with a massive banner.

Maybe it’s only a southern thing? Down here it’s still not unusual to see the more than occasional oversized Confederate flag. Is this just an extension of the same identity declaration? If so, I still wonder: why so big?

One of my pet theories is the GF or GS is exists to offset the uncertainty of the owners convictions. Or, maybe it’s an in-your-face declaration of a cause that they know is lost or at the least unpopular. I am wary of those musings because they easily reflect my prejudice against the causes they represent but still, it is visual shouting.

If it’s the visual equivalent of shouting from the rooftops why don’t we see these for other causes? ‘PRO-NO-CHOICE’ or ‘I HATE FACTS’, OR ‘IT’S OK, SHE’S JUST MY COUSIN’ I’m curious and remain perplexed.

When my oldest was a little boy, probably 5 or 6 years old, we would watcch Pee Wee’s Playhose together. He liked the silliness of the whole thing and the constant visual and aural stimulation. I loved the inside jokes aimed at adults adult jokes (does anybbody remember what Jambi said when he goit a pair of hands?). We scheduled our Saturday mornings around Pee Wee’s Playhouse, and in those medieval days, recorded it on the VCR if we were going to be out. This was 31 years ago, folks. we even measured time in ‘Pee Wees’:

Him: “How long until we get there?”

Me: “It’s about 2 Pee Wees”

This was the norm for us. Fast-forward 30 years. Lots of water has passed under the bridge, my oldest has married, divorced, remarried, started a couple of new careers, and I’m inching toward retirement. Pee Wee was pretty distant in the rearview mirror. My wife and I are on a flight to NYC and a family is settling in one or two rows in front of us and their 5 or 6 year old son asks: “How long will we be on the airplane?” Dad answers: “It’s about 2 Mickey Mouses”.I was immediately carried 30 years back in time and in an instant, I traversed all of the joys, disappointments, successes, and failures in my life. Everything that flashed by wasn’t pretty and I wish I had a few do-overs, but I smiled. Some things are universal.

I’m drafting this entry while listening to a ‘Mindfulness’ webcast sponsored by my employer. Irony still exists but I am mindful of the shock and revulsion I feel watching George Floyd being choked out for 9 minutes.

The last 10 days have awakened a sense of dis-ease in me. I have been feeling rumblings of discomfort for a couple of years, but seeing someone get the life squashed out of them while the perp casually looks in his pocket for something (a pen? a stick of gum? his phone to check Insta?), paying little heed to the man he is calmly killing is jarring. Hearing Mr. Floyd call out for “momma” in his dying moment is at once heartbreaking and sickening given the actions (and inaction) of those sworn ‘to protect and defend’ him (and you or me) over that horrible 9 1/2 minutes. I want to look away but I know I shouldn’t.

We’re shocked and horrified. “This is unthinkable” we all say. Yet, I’m afraid it’s not so unthinkable, is it? Here it is in living color, there for us to watch over and over any time we want. It’s not unthinkable, there it is, right there. It’s not unthinkable because hard data tells us this happens quite regularly. We don’t know that because we aren’t exposed to it. If we saw it happen on the regular, maybe we’d think, “No, that happens a lot”, but that’s not our reality. It was George Floyd’s reality and now I see that it’s the reality of many many people I don’t know.

I don’t know what it’s like to live in fear of police. My paradigm is what I learned as a little boy: the policeman is your friend, but having a child who was a policeman exposed me to the daily life and constant fear that police feel that someone wants to kill them only because they exist. There’s a sick irony that Minorities feel the same about the police; they want to kill me just because I exist. Mix in abundant doses of suspicion and fear along with the ability to commit violence without significant repercussions (qualified immunity) and tacit or explicit support from your coworkers, and you have a pretty toxic recipe for disaster.

So we have a police culture of violence, often justified violence, the shield of qualified immunity for protection from a litigious society, workplace reinforcement of violence, and based on some 1st hand observations on my part – a pervasive paranoia that is often justified. Combine that with a persecuted citizenry with the deck stacked against them before they are even born and generations of reinforcement of subjugation and I can see easy repetition of tragic outcomes.

Dwelling on the police/violence/subjugation angle, I’m afraid I’ll lose sight of my main point: The only reason George Floyd’s murder is unthinkable to me is: I never (had to) gave the Minority experience significant thought before I saw a flat-out murder take place with my own eyes.I didn’t have to… It is quite ‘thinkable’ to those who already lived in that reality.

I always knew I was a little complulsive about keeping things under control and in order. I didn’t know COVID-19 would turn me into a full on maniac until I ran out of wine 2 weeks into isolation.

We were freshly into a county-wide (now statewide) stay-at-home order and my employer had approximately 150,000 folks working at home including me and my co-workers. No going out, no social contact except from 6 feet (or meters depending on what you read) away. Button up, hunker down, and stay home!

We were already pretty mindful of handwashing, face touching, and periodic disinfecting frenzies. On the day I became anxious about my dwindling beer and vino stores I went to get both from Total Wine. I ordered ahead, plotting that I could get in and out with minimal contact and drove to the wine store. As soon as I was about a mile away from the house, I could feel my heart rate increasing and my breathing getting quicker and shallower. After finding a spot right in front of the store (YES!), I plotted my entrance and departure to reduce my exposure to the bare minimum necessary, opened my trunk, pulled out a Clorox wipe to have at the ready , and entered the store.

I was at defcon-4. There were other people there! A manager said “Hello”, Oh my God, I thought they could have it. Look cool, act casual, I reminded myself, internally I hope. Shit! The takeout desk was all the way across the store. Deep breath, here I go. My grand plan was to completely avoid any close contact was unraveling. I’m a goner. I made it to the takeway desk and some guy was finishing his transaction “Moooooooove“, I thought.

A clerk acknowledged me, “Bennett”, I said, feeling like George Costanza in front of the soup nazi. “Keep it brief, get your stuff and go” I thought. My clerk was then suddenly handed off a call by her coworker. Dammit! Clerk 2 slides over and now I’ve been exposed to two people. Thing 2 asked to see my driver’s license. Hah! I was ready for this, I flipped open my wallet to reveal the license behind a plastic window, waving it just far enough for her not to get too close and then, Oh crap!! She touched my wallet with her gloved index finger; no doubt the same one she probably picked her nose with just before I arrived, to locate my birthdate. Jesus, look at me already, I’m clearly old. Dammit! More contact, ruinous physical contact!!

Everythinig was in a single carton. I gathered my booty and scampered out as quickly as possible ignoring hteir offers to help me with my load. “No, I’ve got it, no worries!” All the way to my car I was thinking “This box is touching me, it’s touching my clothes, I need to decontaminate myself!” I dropped the carton in my trunk which I had cleverly left open, closed it with my elbow, got in the car and promptly took a full bath with Clorox wipes. I wiped down my arms, my hands, the door handle, the steering wheel, my driver’s license, my wallet, and any other stionary surfaces. I drew the line at tossing my shirt out the window.

All the way home I’m thinking “Stupid ass, you’re going to die all because you needed some booze.” I was going to be the guy in the news about whom everybody says upon reading why he died: “Dumbass deserved it”. An ignominious end awaited me.

I made it home, I pulled the wine bottles and beer from the trunk leaving the cursed box of infection in there to cook, wiped down every bottle, wiped down my hands and arms (again), threw my clothes in the wash as I passed from the garage to the laundry room, ran upstairs and took a shower. I vowed that I’d never go out again as long as COVID-19 was prowling the town. 3 weeks later, I am happy to report I am still alive and didn’t kill myself or my wife with my trip for Satan’s elixirs. I haven’t been to a store since this debacle.

Unfortunately, we’re awfully low on wine again… but we have it down. Now – we order in and have a quarantine area in the garage. No entry until quarantine is complete! All we have to do is plan ahead… and keep the clorox wipes handy.