I thought I had a great idea for a sci-fi novel: several generations into an incredibly long interstellar voyage, the younger denizens of the self-sustaining starship rebel against the futility of their role in the mission-- they feel a deep ennui about their rather pragmatic purpose to live, propagate, and die in space . . . allowing some future kin to inhabit a distant world; they recognize that the ship is their entire universe and that their life is simply a part of a much longer trip . . . it's symbolic or metaphorical or something, but then I didn't a little internet research and found out that this book has already been written and it's far better than anything I could imagine; Robert Heinlein's novel Orphans of the Sky skips the symbolism and feelings . . . the mutiny on the interstellar generational ship happened long ago, and now there is a superstitious pre-technological civilization living within the ship-- there are oligarchical "captains" and "scientists," but they don't do much of either-- as they believe the ship IS the entire universe and can't really understand the ancient texts, most of which are labeled heretical, and then there are the mutants and the illiterates and they all come into conflict and create a new order . . . the book is fast-moving and short and I highly recommend it (it's cheap for the Kindle).
The Required Amount at the Prescribed Rate (Handcrafted From the Finest Corinthian Leather)
Dave's Dental Work: Before/After/Obscurity
to this! . . . Dr. K. was very pleased with his work (if he didn't say so himself)
but because of the pandemic, my beautiful new smile will usually look like this:
so the ladies will have to wait for a vaccine.
The Operation Warp Speed Dilemma
You might loathe Donald Trump too.
But how much do you loathe him? Do you loathe him enough to root against the health and economic well-being of your entire nation? That’s a lot of loathing.
I’m talking about the Operation Warp Speed dilemma.
If you loathe Trump, you need to contemplate this dilemma.
Now.
At warp speed.
I recognize that contemplation at warp speed is a paradox, but that’s the situation. Sorry.
First, let’s put the cards on the table. Trump is a morally repugnant bigot who derides people from “shithole countries.” He’s an egotistical narcissist who recommends grabbing women by the private parts. He benefited from (and encouraged) Russian meddling in a democratic election. He has an odd infatuation with Vladimir Putin — a guy who is an autocratic enemy of the free press and a friend to corrupt oligarchs. Trump paid off a stripper with campaign money.
Trump’s toxic tweets undermine the mission of our government, Trump’s lies foment discord, and Trump might very well believe he’s above the rule of law. Our president has struggled to condemn white supremacists and Nazis, he has promoted dangerous conspiracy theories, and he’s dismantling the regulations that protect our air, forests, and water. He separated families at the border. He’s insulted our allies and cozied up with neo-authoritarian strongmen. He’s not loyal to anyone (including U.S. intelligence agencies) yet he demands absolute fealty. Trump’s cabinet appointees (and lack thereof) are laughable.
Trump is actively encouraging voter suppression by defunding the U.S. Postal service (at least that’s what my mailman told me).
And, of course, he’s royally screwed his big chance to redeem himself: the pandemic. He could have united the country in a cooperative response to get back on track, financially, socially, and physically. Instead, his response to COVID has been slow, inconsistent, and polarizing.
At the start, he insisted the virus would disappear, just go away. Wishful thinking.
Then he downplayed the advice of the experts, touted an antimalarial drug that had not been tested in a blind trial, and didn’t push for enough testing. He bullied states and schools into reopening, courting disaster.
He recently said of the enormous death toll, “it is what it is.”
Joe Biden and Kamala Harris are running against Trump. That’s their platform. Trump is not smart enough or fit enough to lead. Trump is not the man to guide us through these troubled times. This platform should be good enough to win.
Unless . . .
Unless Operation Warp Speed works.
Operation Warp Speed is as Trump as it gets. A wild financial wager on a new and possibly faster new method of making a vaccine — using proteins and small pieces from COVID — instead of the tried and tested way (using an entire inactivated virus). For an excellent and informed summary of Moderna’s progress on their innovative mRNA vaccine, check out this Freakonomics episode: Will a Covid-19 Vaccine Change the History of Medical Research?
Several vacccines are now in Phase 3, clinical trials. This can last for years, especially if the drug is tested against placebos and other treatments in gold-standard randomized double blind experiments. But ain’t nobody got time for that. Companies are manufacturing millions of doses before the drug is fully tested and approved. On the taxpayer’s dime. Trump has been doling out billions of dollars to corporations, and the process hasn’t been particularly transparent.
If you’re still reading this, you’re probably rooting for the Democrats in November. But how hard are you rooting for them? Are you rooting against Operation Warp Speed?
Because here’s the thing. Operation Warp Speed might work. It might work fast. Maybe even before November 3rd (or whenever we finish counting the mail-in ballots . . . my mailman is not optimistic).
Or — the more likely scenario — Operation Warp Speed might end up a corrupt stew of insider trading, untested science, cronyism, corporate giveaways, and obscene conflicts of interest.
The watchdogs have their eyes on you, Dr. Slaoui.
Operation Warp Speed will probably be remembered as another Trumpian blunder: a half-baked plan with a puerile name.
These two outcomes set up a rather dark game of would you rather . . .
Would you rather that Operation Warp Speed fail and we suffer another year (or two) in the grip of this pandemic?
Due to Trump’s utter inability to curb COVID, Biden and Harris get elected.
Or do you prefer door number two . . . would you prefer that Operation Warp Speed succeeds?
Trump gloats, Trump says I told you so, Trump parades and preens. Trump tweets gloriously untrue propaganda. Trump takes full credit.
Trump convinces the anti-vaxxers to get vaccinated. Trump convinces the country to reopen. Completely. The pandemic, the lockdown, the economic crisis, unemployment . . . they all disappear. Just like he said. The stock market soars even higher.
In this version of the future, Trump gets reelected.
When Trump was asked if a working vaccine delivered before November 3rd would help his reelection chances, he said, “it wouldn’t hurt. But I’m doing it not for the election . . . I want it fast because I want to save a lot of lives.”
Anti-Trumpers might dispute this claim, but I think it’s silly to even parse this. Of course, Trump wants a vaccine for both reasons — he wants to get re-elected, but I’m also assuming he’s sincere about saving lives.
He’s not a sociopath, right?
It doesn’t matter. If Operation Warp Speed works, lives will be saved. Trump’s rationale will become irrelevant. More recently, he accused the “deep state” over at the FDA for slowing down approval of therapeutics, including convalescent plasma. The FDA wants to hold treatments to the double blind gold standard. Trump wants to forge ahead, and see a cure before the election.
So you have to decide: which scenario you are rooting for?
Philosopher Jeremy Bentham called this weird utilitarian math the “hedonistic calculus.”
How much pain would four more years of Trump cause our nation? Would the damage his administration inflicts on the environment and international affairs be more detrimental than the lengthening of the COVID crisis? How much havoc could his appointees wreak? How much more polarization can our citizenry withstand?
These questions are hard to answer.
This one is easier: how much pleasure would the end of COVID bring our nation?
If Operation Warp Speed works, there will be jobs and gyms and weddings and school. Regular school. People will go on cruises. People will go to bars and movies and mega-churches.
But there will be four more years of Trump.
For some, all the anxiety will fade away. For others, it will increase. Tweet by ludicrous tweet.
I can’t look into your soul. I don’t know how hard it would be for you to stomach another four years of Trump in the White House. I don’t know how much you loathe him. I also don’t know what other crises Trump might botch, or how much irreversible damage one man can perpetrate.
Only you can decide where you stand. Only you can do this math. The calculations aren’t pretty. But you might want to start adding up the figures now, so you’re prepared. Whether you like it or not, November is coming.
At warp speed.
Bamboo Part Two
One of the primary functions of this blog (besides allowing you to generate witty comments) is to act as my memory . . . I know how a fairly accurate timeline of my life stretching back over a decade, including the many landscaping projects I've done along my back fence line . . . for posterity, here's a quick history and an update of my newest endeavor:
1) back in 2011, I tore down a rotted wooden fence that was engulfed by our neighbor's out of control ivy and weeds and planted some arborvitae along our the back property line . . . I also diplomatically mollified some neighborly conflict, despite having feelings of violence;
2) in 2013, the arborvitae turned brown so I transplanted them and gave a few to my friend Dom . . . they all rebounded, but obviously, my back property line was not conducive to growing arborvitae;
3) later that summer, we had a fence put in and I planted some clumping bamboo: fargesia rufa . . . it's done quite well, as you can see in the photo;
and here's the other . . .
6) before I could get them in the ground, I had to move a bunch of rocks-- my past self screwed me on that one-- and dig a couple large holes; it took 19 bags of topsoil to fill these holes, plus I threw down some back mulch . . . I am very very sore from doing this labor in the humidity, it always astounds me how much harder yardwork is than organized exercise . . . I still have to move all the rocks between the two plants, put down a bunch more topsoil and plant one more bamboo clump . . . but there's obviously no rush, as I'll be working on this fence line until I move or die, whichever comes first.
PPE Paradox
This is what I've learned from coaching with a mask on: when I project my voice while wearing a mask, I get a sore throat . . . and when I get a sore throat, I'm not supposed to go to school-- as this is a symptom of COVID . . . but I'm required to wear a mask while I'm teaching/coaching . . . it's a PPE paradox!
I've Had It With All You Damned Liberals (Conservatives)
Stop consuming NPR podcasts (conspiracy theories) and seek out some unbiased information. If you keep listening to Ira Glass (Alex Jones) then you’re going to end up a hot yoga enthusiast (right-wing militia-member) or worse.
The New York Times (FOX News) will convince you that Donald Trump (Nancy Pelosi) is Hitler (Satan). How can you be empathetic (patriotic) towards other Americans in that frame of mind?
The liberal media (right-wing talk radio empire) always accentuates the downside. It’s not healthy (bacon). Try to see the silver lining. Politicians like Bernie Sanders (Mitch McConnell) just want to free you from the burden of personal responsibility (financial and environmental regulations).
If you truly cared about American Exceptionalism (This Tract of Land We Stole From the Native Americans) then you would understand that we now tragically live in a system that privileges a culture of victimhood (wealthy white people).
You should want this to change (stay the same).
It would be nice to discuss these things with folks on the opposite end of the political spectrum, but unfortunately the vast majority of our citizens no longer value the First Amendment (civilized discourse) and so we can’t hold a reasonable debate without resorting to microaggressions (censorship).
Since we can’t hold a cooperative dialogue, people resort to extreme measures. This will never work. You can’t desecrate The American Flag (Gwyneth Paltrow’s modern lifestyle brand Goop) just to own (pwn) the rednecks and NASCAR fans (snowflakes and libtards).
Remember, your economic choices also feed into this. We can’t keep eating this much meat. It’s not sustainable. You need to go vegan (hunting). And we have to be realistic. You can’t buy all your produce from Wal-Mart (local farm markets). There’s got to be a balance.
Most importantly, we’ve got to live-and-let-live (contact trace). How can we be so concerned with Civil War statues (transgender bathroom issues) when the rest of the world is in dire need of mosquito netting (World Bank free-market policy incentives). These countries are stealing our precious intellectual property (dying from river blindness).
The horror.
You sit at home, anxious over the Honduran migrant caravan (Russian meddling in the election) and nothing comes of it. It all fades away. Like Charlton Heston (Robert Redford).
The same goes for COVID. Stop worrying! Soon enough, we’ll have herd immunity (a death count over a million). If we could all just work together and wear masks (open bars and gyms) then we’d be able to move on to the next challenge . . .
Developing a plan to combat global warming (illegal immigrants).
The important thing is that we use the tenets of science (Christian morality) to make our decisions.
There are some things beyond our control. The proliferation of guns (gay marriage) isn’t going away. The genie is out of the bottle. You just have to hope your children don’t end up massacred in a school shooting (LGBTTQQIAAP).
We can’t reproduce (dwell on) the past. What’s done is done. This nation was once great (built by slaves) and we need to make it great again (reduce income inequality). Until that wonderful (rapturous) day comes, the best thing to do is chillax (go on a journey of self-reflection). Loosen up (check your privilege).
Throw your coonhound (Golden-doodle) into the back of your Dodge Ram pick-up (Subaru Outback) and head to the nearest BLM land (dog park). Stop on the way and grab some Chick-fil-A (Mamoun’s falafel). Don’t forget the extra mayo (tahini sauce).
When you finish drinking your Coke (bottled water) go ahead and toss it out the window (recycle it). Not that it matters anyway.
Once you arrive at your nearest city park (loosely regulated state land) enjoy the calls of the starlings (drone of the ATVs). Find a bench (deer blind) and pull out your NYT Sunday crossword (recurve compound crossbow). Grab a bolt (pen) from your quiver (manpurse) and kill it.
Breath in the fresh air. Forget about all the unborn children (elephant tusks) being aborted (poached) at this very moment. Think happy thoughts. This polarization can’t continue. We’re all God’s creatures (common ancestors of apelike hominids).
We need to learn to get along, as we’re going to share the same space for a long time — unless gerrymandering (the boogaloo) separates us permanently. Until then, enough of this. It’s counter-productive (essential to obstructing interlopers into our corrupt two-party system).
Full disclosure, I’m an A.I. bot developed by Russian meddlers (an agent of the deep state).
If You Don't See It, You Might Like It
When I make tacos, I use beer as the liquid to absorb the seasonings-- but when my wife is around while I'm cooking, she won't allow me to do this . . . even though she always loves my tacos-- because she claims she doesn't like things cooked with beer (she obviously does) and when I'm around, my wife can't cook anything with milk in it, because I don't like things with milk as an ingredient (even though my wife makes plenty of recipes that contain milk . . . it's reciprocal, if I don't see the milk go into the food, I'm fine with, but if I see it happen, then I don't want to eat it).
My Two Brilliant Plans
1) My Brilliant Plan: How to Reopen High School During the Pandemic . . . Safely
2) I am editing and post some pieces on Medium and hoping one gets "curated" and I can actually make some money for my writing . . . if you're up for it, click the link, give my brilliant plan a read, and get me some views on the site . . . thanks!
Fleetwood Mac is Getting Back Together! Even Lindsey Buckingham
Rumors are more contagious than coronavirus
(my friend learned this the hard way: he was running high school soccer practice-- seventy kids, all in socially distanced pods-- when a mom showed up and grabbed her kid, who was wearing a mask . . . she then informed my friend that her son had just tested positive for COVID . . . she sent her kid to practice with the possibility that he had COVID! . . . so that kid's pod is sidelined for two weeks but otherwise, my friend never came within twenty feet of this kid . . . soon enough though, the moms in HIS town knew the story of the player removed from practice because he has COVID-- my friend does not coach in the same town in which he lives-- and so because this rumor spread that my friend might be infected, my friend's kid was not allowed to go to soccer camp in HIS town because my friend was in the general vicinity of a high school kid with COVID . . . I am certain there will be plenty more of this to come when school starts).
If You Have Young Children, Maybe Don't Read This?
I know the complexity of the upcoming school year has many people are seeking childcare . . . so here's a reverse-recommendation:
if you have young children and you are about to entrust them in the hands of a stranger, you should NOT read Leila Slimani's novel The Perfect Nanny . . . it's inspired by a true story and Lauren Collins of the New Yorker dubbed it "the killer-nanny story that conquered France" . . .
but if you don't have young kids, go for it!
Refrigeration and Sanitation are Winners
When Are You Too Old For This Sort of Thing? When You're Too Hungover to Do the Mini?
This Thursday evening at the Park Pub was exponentially more pleasant than last Thursday evening at the Park Pub. Last Thursday, it was so hot that I couldn't stop sweating for the entirety of my pub visit. I had played tennis just before pub night and my shower didn't take. We played some cornhole in a very hot parking lot, and I left early.
This Thursday the weather was balmy. Paul and I ruled the cornhole board for so long the guys actually kicked us off because we were too good. Pathetic. Pete-- the owner-- agreed with us and said, "That's what's wrong with America today."
I lost track of time and how much beer I drank. The pitchers were endless. Pete stayed open later than usual-- there was quite a crowd. He kept serving us and we kept playing cornhole. As Connell, Paul, and I imbibed more and more, Tom got better and better. Weird.
After midnight, we finished our last pitcher and did some late-night breaking and entering that I won't divulge. Then I stumbled towards home. On the way, I walked into a cop. He told me to watch out for the downed-powerline ahead. We chatted, and he was very pleasant, especially considering the state I was in.
I made it home and found myself locked out. It was 1 AM. Someone had locked the glass sliding door on the back porch, which was supposed to be open. I had no keys. I didn't want to wake everyone, so I texted Catherine that I was locked out and then lay down on the wooden recliner on the porch. I was out like a light. I woke up at 3 AM. It was raining. I wandered around to the front door, thinking I might ring the bell or call, and our dog Lola heard me. She shook her collar, waking Catherine who noticed I wasn't in bed. She came down and let me in.
I felt pretty hazy on Friday but still put in a fine effort on the NYT mini crossword.
G is for Grunge?
Sue Grafton's mystery novel "H" is for Homicide is the second book I've read this summer that was published in 1991
I had never read a Kinsey Millhone story before . . . I always assumed Grafton's books were kind of cutesy, but that was a sexist assumption. Millhone is a gritty and clever master prevaricator-- she normally investigates insurance fraud (and it takes on to know one) and it seems that she always gets involved in the seedy underworld that she often investigates. There's a Millhone book for every letter of the alphabet except Z (a sad fact that Whitney pointed out to me . . . Grafton lost her battle with cancer before she could write number twenty-six).
Grafton's description of The Meat Locker and the other bars in the book really brought me back to the early '90s. It was a gross and grimy time to come of age.
The Darkest Educational Race of All
Frustrating Stuff
If Your Friends Jumped Off a Bridge, You Would Too (3x)
We were sort of annoyed that he didn't check with us before he took off on this adventure-- and we added a new rule to the parenting handbook: if you can't contact us, you are not allowed to leave town on a dangerous adventure!
Dave Does the Work of THREE Journalists
The Risk That Students Could Arrive at School With the Coronavirus
The Funhole is No Fun
High School + COVID + Math = Hot-Zone Mess
There may be ten times as many people with the virus as the testing indicates, but I can't even get into those numbers . . . they would be nuts.
Teachers had six times more germs in their workspace than accountants, the second-place finisher, with slightly cleaner desks but five-and-a-half times more germs on their phones, nearly twice as many germs on their computer mice and nearly 27 times more germs on their computer keyboards than the other professions studied.
The reason for all the germs is, of course, the reason why the teachers are there in the first place.
"Kids' desktops are really bad, too," Gerba said. "Probably the dirtiest object in a classroom is a kid's desktop."
Conclusions and Relevance: Excess deaths provide an estimate of the full COVID-19 burden and indicate that official tallies likely undercount deaths due to the virus.
I know people don't want to hear this. I'm not happy with my math. It's inconvenient and awful. But that's the story, right now. If we want schools to open, we're going to have to get the case count way, way down.
The Biggest Game in the Wildest Town
The mix of cards and golf and high-stakes gambling reminds me a bit of the Jordan documentary, "The Last Dance."
This is the attitude you need to be a great gambler:
This is how you keep score:
The book is full of adages like this:
“The way I feel about those pieces of green paper is, you can’t take them with you and they may not have much value in five years’ time, but right now I can take them and trade them in for pleasure, or to bring pleasure to other people. If they had wanted you to hold on to money, they’d have made it with handles on.”
Sorry that I'm not attributing quotations, but you get the idea. The old-time poker guys like Alvarez, who is a British poet-- something foreign and innocuous. They love bending his ear about poker strategy and philosophy.
It’s the downside of a gambler that ruins him, not his upside. When you’re playing well, you can be as good as anybody, but how you handle yourself under pressure when you’re playing badly is the character test that separates the men from the boys.
Funny and true.
Perhaps the Freudians are right, after all, when they talk of gambling as sublimation. In the words of another addict, “Sex is good, but poker lasts longer.”
As to why I enjoy poker, Alvarez nails it on the head. I'm playing for small amounts of money, but I love the competition.
My knees are only going to last so long, but hopefully, my mind and my nerves will last a bit longer.
This accords with Jack Binion’s theory that the top poker players are not only “mental athletes” but also former athletes, who turn to gambling when they no longer have the physical ability or the inclination for sport. “It’s a question of excitement,” Binion said. “Gambling is a manufactured thrill—you intensify the anticipation of an event by putting money on it.