The Cheap Seats

'Twas a month before inauguration in the great white North, Where Santa could be found pacing back and forth. You see, the old guy had just received an odd, angry note, From a strange orange man raging about some "unfair" vote. Letters should be from children , Santa distractedly mused, Not grown ass men, bitter about who the voters had choosed. Besides, Kris Kringle wondered , peering through his bifocal glasses, These words are unreadable, did this bozo fail all his classes? Still, St. Nick sat down figuring, Oh, what the heck, I've got a few minutes to read some of this dreck. After all , he chuckled, taking a long sip of his cocoa, A letter from an adult is nice, though this one seems loco . "I won by a lot!" it began. "The election wasn't even close!" And other false claims, all crazy and bellicose. "If those ballot counters had the right priorities, They would have tossed out the votes of those ethnic minorities!" Old Claus chok

* Our great abiding national myth is this: We are a chosen people who threw off the yoke of our colonial oppressors to forge a new nation out of the wilderness by pulling ourselves up by our bootstraps, rugged individualists who tamed a continent through sheer grit and determination. A meritocracy where anyone, no matter their color or creed, can rise as far as their talent and gumption takes them. Furthermore, we have welcomed "huddled masses yearning to breathe free" from the far-flung nations around the globe.  Here,  we told them,  here in America is where you too can taste a freedom that grows nowhere else on Earth.  This myth suggests a unity of purpose that utterly belies basic human nature. We are a savage species; distrusting, selfish, greedy, wasteful, often barbaric. Our " better angels " are almost exclusively reserved for people who belong to our same tribe, whether that tribe be religious, political, or ethnic in nature—more often than not some combina

  I grit my teeth all the time now. Don’t you? I didn’t always, but when everything about existence that I used to reliably count on got flipped on its head, what’s a guy to do?   Don’t get me wrong, I have never been an unwavering, Love it or Leave it "patriot" about the United States of America. Far from it. As a lifelong student of its history, I can find all of its warts, scabs, and cancers with a critical eye. Kind of sucks, actually. You see, we’re a two-steps forward, one-step back kind of nation. We always have been. Broadly shared gains seem to always be followed by bitter, aggrieved setbacks. Emancipation leads to Jim Crow, Civil Rights spawns White Citizens’ Councils, Barack Obama is succeeded by Donald Trump. Our “better angels” have been taken to the woodshed time and time and time again. All pessimism aside, I still believe what Dr. King espoused, that “ the arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends towards justice .” The ongoing struggle he spelled ou

I love American history. As a child I couldn't get enough of it, specifically mass movements that were ultimately about American Progress —stories of men and women who fearlessly advanced noble causes that inspired and empowered their fellow citizens for generations to come. You know who they are, the ones we've named schools and streets after. I don't mean to be glib; I'm just deeply discouraged. It comes with adulthood I suppose, along with the realization that American Progress has never been a steady march forward—that for every legal and moral stride this nation has taken, some noxious legislative obstruction and petty grievance has stood in the way, the overarching goal (crafted by some frightened, shrinking base of power) being to maintain a status quo that is deeply rooted in racial inequality, be it in housing, employment, education, criminal justice or treatment in police custody. You know, those pursuit of happiness things that the armed (and un-arrested) Mi

     A global pandemic gives an introvert more time to think than is good for him. Thoughts, ideas, and grand plans zip in and out of my mind long before my cat ever receives her first feeding. Soon after, coffee soothes whatever "pressing" tasks were on my mental to-do list and I settle on an insignificant few each new day.       We're sort of wired for these times. Introverts, I mean. Observers by nature, we have always mentally exhaled after long days at work or at play. Don't get us wrong, we love humanity, but in order to do it all over again tomorrow, we need to re-charge in the company of only a few, or none. Trust me, the introvert in you (or in your life) is nodding.      The one consistent thought that hasn't left me however, is, "I am one of the lucky ones." I suppose that's why I've kept my head down since the lockdown began. Keep your mouth shut, I remind myself from the comfort of home.  No one wants to hear your thoughts on