What Is the Cost of a Quarantine Bagel? Maybe Dave's Life . . .

On Tuesday at his daily press briefing, New York Governor Andrew Cuomo said that the economy and public health are not an either/or scenario. He's right, of course. An increase in public health is going to help the economy. But he also said something that's patently false. 

“But if you ask the American people to choose between public health and the economy then it’s no contest, no American is going to say accelerate the economy at the cost of human life because no American is going to say how much a life is worth.”

This is logical silliness. We HAVE to put a value on human life. It can't be worth nothing-- then you're Stalin. It can't be sanctified and worth an infinite amount, because then you can't allocate resources. 

Plenty of Americans say how much a life is worth. Americans that work in federal agencies that decide whether a regulation is too costly to enact. Car manufacturers say how much a life is worth when they decide which safety features to add to their vehicles and which to leave out (and how much to charge for them).  Actuarial workers say how much a human life is worth on a daily basis.

Professor W. Kip Viscusi says how much a human life is worth. He gets specific about it.

Often, these federal agencies rely on Viscusi's number. Back in 1982, one statistical human life was worth 300,00 dollars, but Viscusi revised this figure. He used data on dangerous jobs-- he looked at how much more a worker needed to be paid to accept a job that had a higher risk of death. He came up with three million dollars per statistical life-- ten times the old amount. Because of inflation, that number is now estimated by the federal government to be around 10 million dollars. 

Planet Money Episode 991: Lives vs. the Economy give an excellent rundown of this math (along with an interview with Viscusi himself!)

And that's why I was able to go and get bagels yesterday morning. We haven't completely shut the economy down. We are still allowing people to shop at Wal-Mart and get take-out food and go to the grocery store as many times a week as they'd like. We're still delivering and receiving mail. We're still ordering from Amazon. 

Do these things spread the virus? 

Absolutely, but at a lower rate than normal. But not at a rate of zero. If one human life were priceless, we'd have to shut it all down. We'd get one chance every two weeks to go to the grocery store. We'd be eating beans and rice. By leaving some businesses open, we're making a cost/benefit decision and putting a price on the lives that will be lost because social distancing is fairly voluntary. And imperfect, as you will learn at the end of this post, when I describe my journey to buy bagels.

We'll keep making these decisions, balancing public health and the economy, and recognizing that plenty of people WILL be deciding what a statistical human life is worth. That's why the speed limit isn't 15 miles an hour. If it were, we would save many many thousands of lives, but we've decided that those lives are worth time and convenience. How many statistical lives are 50,000 jobs worth? I don't know, offhand, but someone is going to have to make that decision. The same way we know opening bars will lead to some drunk driving deaths and some cirrhosis of the liver. And some spread of Covid-19. At some point, that number will be low enough that we will reopen. But it's never going to get to zero.

Some people are better at minimizing the risk than others. That's baked into the system. I don't seem to be very good at minimizing the risk. 

Yesterday, I went to the La Bagel in Edison. I put on my mask, picked up our order, and carried it back to the car. The place was busy: four customers and four people working. One of them was a uniformed health care worker. Everyone wore masks, but still. The virus is around.

I got my bagel toasted and with cream cheese. I had never gotten my bagel toasted before, but my wife gave me this option. La Bagel is only a four-minute ride from my house (three minutes, really, because there's no traffic) but I decided I needed to eat my toasted everything bagel with cream cheese NOW. In the car on the ride home. I was hungry.

I didn't realize that the cream cheese would be slightly melted from the toasting. I got cream cheese all over my hands. I licked the bulk of it off-- which is probably not proper pandemic hygiene. Then I put the bagel down on the console so I could find some napkins. After getting the napkins out of the bag, I noticed that I put the bagel down on a pair of used gloves. Also probably not proper pandemic hygiene. But I ate it anyway, of course.

In the next few minutes, I got cream cheese on all kinds of surfaces, including my mask. I licked my fingers clean and ate a bagel that had touched my mask and some gloves. 

I'm not a doctor. 

I don't have this protocol down pat. I'm like most people. And we still have a whole mess of people behaving like this, so the virus will spread, slowly. Hopefully, slowly enough. But this is a tough adjustment for me. 

I'm used to teaching in a classroom all day. Kids cough on pieces of paper and then hand them to me. The desks are sticky and gross. There's never enough tissues. I touch my face, pick my nose (you can't teach with a booger) and cough all kinds of droplets into the air. I'm used to seeing one or two sick kids in every class I teach. They slobber on the desks and blow their noses. And I don't even want to get into the bathroom passes . . . yikes. This is business as usual when you do five 45 minute classes a day. There's no way we're going to be able to control the situation inside the schools, but we're eventually going to open the doors anyway. 

Here are a couple of other good podcasts on this topic:

Making Sense with Sam Harris: 198

Freakonomics 413: Who Gets the Ventilator?

Attention Governor Murphy! Try Rollerblading Down My Street Now That the Parks are Closed!

While I empathize and understand that Governor Murphy is dealing with an incredible crisis right now, I don't think closing down all the parks is having the desired effect. Instead of keeping people farther apart, closing the parks is packing them closer together.

My street-- which is adjacent to Donaldson Park-- has now BECOME the park. It's packed (and much narrower than Donaldson Park). I shot some video while I was rollerblading down the hill next to the park. If I was a decent cinematographer, you'd be able to tell how packed my street is-- with walkers, joggers, bikers, and occasional cars.

But due to some lousy camerawork, you might throw up. Fair warning. It's the Blair Witch Project of quarantine rollerblading video.

Despite the unsteady hand of the auteur, I still think this film proves my point. 

Governor Murphy, open the parks (and close Wal-Mart . . . every time I drive by, that place is packed).

Spring Break Coronavirus

It's back to work this week for my wife and me, but our kids are still on Spring Break. Remote teaching is fairly awful-- it pretty much strips all the fun out of teaching and makes it much more transactional. It makes me think of this scene from Office Space.




I've been getting a lot of my news through podcasts, and the news hasn't been very good. The Indicator: The Story So Far gives a quick (nine minute) run down of some economic indicators that run from interesting to grim. Americans aren't traveling-- very little traffic on the ground and in the air, and we aren't consuming as much electricity. Both entrepreneurship and state/local budgets are suffering. So new businesses and jobs aren't being created, and local governments are starting to lay people off. Pretty ugly. And the pandemic is exposing income inequality. White collar jobs are suffering less than service. The poor are dying at a more rapid clip than the rich.

But everyone is dying, from all walks of life. To hear about this in greater detail, you can listen to the new episode of The Daily. "24 Hours Inside a Brooklyn Hospital" gives you a picture of what it's really like in a medical center overwhelmed by Covid-19. It's scary and fast-paced and utilitarian. There aren't really drugs that work. All sorts of people have the potential to go downhill.

I listened to these podcasts this morning while walking through the park. It's officially closed and it was empty. I guess it was early enough (and cold enough) that I was able to avoid detection, but when the weather gets nice and we're all stuck walking up and down the street, I'm sure they will bolster security.

I whiled away the time on Spring Break playing low-stakes Texas Hold'em on Pokerstars. You can play nickel/dime or even penny/two-penny. It's great practice. I'm going to try to set up a friendly game on there for folks who are interested (though you probably have to live in New Jersey). You can make a club, invite your friends, and play for whatever amount of money you like.

Catherine and I also did some community service-- we are shopping for old people. They like soup and pineapple chunks and Ritz crackers. We have to wear masks! The ones they gave us are very uncomfortable and make our glasses steam up, but now we have more fashionable face wear. The daughter of a friend made us some. Thanks Kaylee!

The kids and I have been playing a lot of darts, ping-pong, and tennis. There are still a few tennis courts open in the vicinity (but if I told you where they were, I'd have to kill you). One set of courts we frequent had a cheesy lock on the gate but it was easy enough to pry open. A maintenance worker came by while Ian and I were playing and asked if we had put the lock on. We said no. Apparently, someone had taken the initiative to try to lock the court privately. The maintenance guy said he was going to cut it off. We went back yesterday and the lock was gone.

The kids have been obsessively watching Adventuretime and they finally finished yesterday. We've been watching The Wire and Better Call Saul as a family. The boys and I watch Letterkenny and The Expanse. Catherine and the boys watch cooking shows. I never watch TV alone (which is a great trait during regular times but not so much during the pandemic). Ian has been playing Magic and D&D with friend online. Alex has a group of friends that go running everyday. We're all sore from working out so much. I miss low-impact weightlifting at the gym.

If anyone wants to join my book club, I'm trying to read three mammoth books: The History of Tom Jones, a Foundling by Henry Fielding, The Anarchy by William Dalrymple, and Bury My Heart at Wounded Knee by Andrew Treuer. I have a feeling I will finish all three by the end of this.

Quarantine has been relatively uneventful for us, and I hope it stays that way. We took down some collapsing ceiling tiles in the basement and found an old ceiling above the newer ceiling. I've sent a sample out for asbestos testing. I really hope it comes back negative-- I don't need asbestos lung damage on top of the possibility of Covid lung damage.

I hope your quarantine is healthy, boring, and uneventful. Hope to see some of you in person soon.

Governor Murphy: Here Are 9 Reasons NOT to Close the NJ Parks

                       

Dear Governor Murphy:

While I'm sure you had the best intentions when you decided to close the NJ state and county parks, let me offer a few reasons why this is a bad move:


1. You are incentivizing the very thing you are trying to prevent. Now instead of taking a walk in the uncrowded county park one hundred yards from my house, I'm driving around to other towns to find open municipal parks and spaces, where I can run, walk my dog, and bike with my wife and kids. So you are causing more movement and forcing people into smaller spaces.

2. You don't want to make it hard for people to exercise. Obesity and heart disease kill FAR more people than Covid-19 ever will. Over 600,00 people a year in the United States die of heart disease. Hundreds of thousands more die from obesity-related diseases. Then there's high blood pressure, depression, etc. And running on the road hurts my knees! The benefits outweigh the costs.

3. Stress and anxiety reduce the effectiveness of the immune system. Nothing combats stress more than exercise (especially in green spaces).

4. You are punishing poor people. People with smaller houses. People that live in apartments. People who don't own large swaths of land. People who live with a large number of people. This is class warfare.

5. With fewer options, people are going to get bored and head to where the virus is actually being spread: Costco, Walmart, convenience stores, and grocery stores. Would you rather have people walking around in parks or convening in those spaces? You're going to cause more people to cough on the soup cans.

6. You are punishing everyone because a few bad apples that congregated in the parks Issue the offenders a steep fine and allow the rest of us-- who are practicing social distancing-- open space in which to walk. These people are going to find other spaces in which to illegally congregate, anyway. At least if they are in parks they can be ticketed and monitored.

7. You are forcing little kids to bike in the streets. You are also encouraging people to drive around more. That's a recipe for disaster. Do you want that on your soul?

8. Without the parks, some people may lapse back into addictive, obsessive, and abusive behaviors. You may see a rise in alcoholism, gambling addiction, spousal abuse, suicide, gun violence, etc.

9. You've seen The Shining, right?

                                        

If you agree, send a message to the Governor . . . and sign this petition.

Quarantine Claustrophobia: The Walls Are Closing In

My wife and I donned dust masks this morning-- but apparently for the wrong purpose. We were down in our basement, tearing down some rotted ceiling tiles. We also wore snowboarding goggles, to protect our eyes form the dust. Here a picture of Catherine getting all her gear on:

We had grand plans to yank all the tiles down, but when we found another (very old) drop ceiling above  the newer ceiling, we decided to just pull down the tiles that were falling apart. I was nervous that the old drop ceiling, which was decayed in spots, might contain asbestos. I ordered a DIY test kit.

We probably should have saved the masks, as Governor Murphy just mandated mask-wearing in grocery stores. And maybe it wasn't such a good idea to expose ourselves to toxic dust when there is a virus going around that compromises the lungs. I wasn't down there all that long-- I got really claustrophobic in the mask and goggles. Catherine was heroic. She cleaned up the entire mess, vacuumed, wiped every surface clean, threw out the plastic drop cloths, etc. I pray for her lungs.

Governor Murphy also closed all the state and county parks, including the one next to my house. I'm hoping they're not going to really enforce this (aside for motor vehicles). I was able to walk the dog in the park this morning, we'll see if I get kicked out tomorrow morning. Either way, I can feel things closing in around me, restrictions getting tighter, and it's making me anxious and stir-crazy. I suppose that's good-- if you're feeling stir-crazy, it means you're not dead/dying/on a ventilator. And the numbers keep growing. Now, 1 in every 200 people in New Jersey has tested positive for the virus.

If You Eat Food (Or Own a Tiger) You Should Probably Read This . . .

If you still go to the grocery store (or eat food) then you need to listen to the new episode of Reveal. It's called "Essential Workers" and it's mainly about the duress farmworkers and grocery store employees are suffering during this pandemic.

Farmworkers-- undocumented and on temporary visas-- are living in tight quarters, without much information. Most of them don't have benefits, and while they have been deemed "essential" they are not being treated as such. They don't have paid sick leave and the stimulus bill largely ignores the actual workers-- the people we really depend on. It's a scary mess that could have grave repercussions for all of us.

Grocery stores are pretty much a Petri dish for Covid-19. Many stores haven't enacted safeguards to insure social distancing. Some stores have paid compensation for employees that test positive for Covid-19, but tests are in short supply so lots of sick employees are working until they collapse. My takeaway from listening to this section of the podcast is this: if you go to the grocery store, you will (or have) come in contact with the virus.

Our federal government needs to show some national leadership. In addition to healthcare workers, the people who produce, deliver, and sell our food need to be given as much support and aid as possible during this pandemic.

In other Covid news, fans of the salacious, species-specific Netflix series Tiger King, will be sad to hear that tigers can contract Covid-19. So can lions. Several big cats at the Bronx Zoo tested positive for the virus. One of the tigers had a "dry cough." So it's probably inevitable that all those tigers kept in close quarters on the show are going to get it.

In general, it seems that cats can contract the virus, but dogs not so much.

Trainspotting: The Finale

If you're my age and have a certain Gen X hipster sensibility, you probably love Trainspotting. The book AND the movie. The characters are the archetypes of your mates:


Renton: the scheming, slightly ambitious, slightly amoral, easily influenced, cynical mainstay, with the capability too (almost) fit into normal society.

Sick Boy: the lecherous womanizer

Spud: the slightly daft, but always loyal and kind whipping boy. The gang alternately tortures and takes care of him.

Begbie: the psychopath.


The last chapter of this saga is on sale on Amazon Kindle for $1.99.

Dead Men's Trousers by Irvine Welsh.

It's not a great book, but if you're stuck in quarantine and feeling a little nostalgic for wilder times, it's not bad.

The gang is middle-aged, estranged, and scattered about the world. If the book just took a look at the lives of some ex-addicts and how they've managed to fit into our modern society, that would be interesting . . . but it wouldn't be an Irvine Welsh novel.  Instead, we get the gang in their full glory and a plot that is a hodge-podge of weird sex and wanton violence and soccer and venereal diseases and stalkers and murders and art exhibitions and EDM music and the criminal underground and an illegal kidney racket.

It's a farce and a mess.

I still had fun reading it: you get to hear narration from all the members of the gang. There's plenty of action . . . too much really, it gets surreal, and while this worked for a gang of heroin addicts on the scam, in Trainspotting, it doesn't so much for a bunch of middle-aged adults.

But if you want to read about realistic middle-aged adults, you can read a Jonathan Franzen novel. This is something different. And now I think I'm done with Irvine Welsh and the gang, but it's a fitting end to the cynical, misanthropic, nihilistic tone of the '90s.

The youth today are much more compliant and socially aware. And anxious.

For example: for the most part, young people seem to be obeying all the Covid-19 social distancing rules, even though this is mainly to benefit their elders. If the Trainspotting gang were asked to hole up to protect the over 60 population, they'd just laugh and head out to the club to score.

Big Day for Dave in the Quarantine State

Three things of note today . . .

After an unsuccessful attempt yesterday, I completed my first shopping trip and drop-off for the Highland Park Civilian Outreach Program (COPE). The program provides up to $100 dollars of groceries a week for folks that can't do the shopping for themselves during this pandemic. You get paired up with someone, call them, find out what they need, and bring them the groceries. You leave the groceries on their doorstep, to avoid Covid transmission. Catherine does all the phone calls because she can actually talk to old people on the phone and understand what they are saying. Once we got a list worked out, I donned some gloves, went to Stop & Shop, got a weird slip of paper at customer service and bought a bunch of soup, bread, bananas, canned pineapple chunks and such for an older gentleman. Then I brought the groceries to his house and put them on the stoop. He came out and carried them in. The only disappointment was that no hot chicks saw me dropping off the groceries. Next time I'll have to wait until I see a cute jogger, and then hop out and deliver the goods. A good deed doesn't count unless a good-looking woman witnesses it.

In other altruistic news, Planet Fitness has frozen all the memberships during the pandemic-- a nice gesture since I would have never remembered to cancel (and we all know how difficult it is to cancel a gym membership).

Last, but not least: for the first time on my new rollerblades, I went down the big hill by my house that goes into Donaldson Park. I waited until there were no cars, and then let the good times roll. The descent was a little fast and bumpy-- and I definitely had that moment where I thought: Do NOT end up in the hospital right now!-- but then I clattered over the brick crosswalk and onto the smooth flat main road without mishap.

Great Mysteries of Life (Spoilers Ahead)

My body is in an odd battle with itself. Fatness versus fitness. It is a mystery how it will turn out. To begin, I am snacking way too much during this quarantine (Trader Joe's Dark Chocolate Peanut Butter Cups are a particular problem . . . I've told my family to hide them from me, but I always manage to find them. And then I consume them all. I've also been eating cupcakes for breakfast. Covid-19 has claimed Adam Schlesinger from Fountains of Wayne, so if I want a cupcake for breakfast, I'm having it. Same goes for beer (but not for breakfast . . . contract hours are over at 2:15).

On the other hand, I've been working out like a madman. Running, kickboxing, tennis, biking, push-ups, pull-ups, random weight-lifting in the living room, etc. What else is there to do?

Today, after a fifteen-minute warm-up run, I ran a 7:27 mile. Ian and I were out on the canal path, and I didn't kill myself. I kept a smooth, steady pace and felt fine when I was done. This is thirty seconds better than the last time I ran a baseline mile. I think I could do an even better time on the track (where I would have a better idea of my pace).

I ran this faster time despite the fact that I've gained two or three pounds since the quarantine started. So I'm just a shade over 190 pounds instead of just a shade under.

What's going to happen in the end? Who knows?

 I'll be most annoyed if I get into really great shape, and then contract Covid-19 and end up on a ventilator. That's going to kill my fitness level fast (and perhaps me).

The other mystery I'd like to discuss today is Agatha Christie's The Murder of Roger Ackroyd. This is a good one and I highly recommend it-- as does the Crime Writers Association-- but if you're not going to read it, forge ahead to hear why it's brilliant (there will be spoilers . . . but you philistines never read the mystery novels I recommend, so you might as well learn what happens).

The novel starts with a suicide and then a murder. There are lots of characters, alibis, timelines, clues, and sequences-- it's hard to make sense of them all. Then, Hercule Poirot comes out of retirement and sorts it all out.

The narrator of Poirot mysteries is usually Arthur Hastings-- he's Hercule's Watson-- but this book has a different narrator: Dr. James Shepard. Weird, right?

Dr. Shepard has a nosy sister, who is always prying into things, and the good doctor himself seems quite curious about this crime. In fact, he writes everything down. In chapters. Weird.

Late in the book, Poirot discovers this and asks to read them. It's super-meta.

Here's the moment:

Still somewhat doubtful, I rummaged in the drawers of my desk and produced an untidy pile of manuscript which I handed over to him. With an eye on possible publication in the future, I had divided the work into chapters, and the night before I had brought it up to date with an account of Miss Russell’s visit. Poirot had therefore twenty chapters. 

Poirot reads Shepard's "book," which is the same book we've been reading . . . and-- of course-- he solves the mystery. The narrator did it! It's as if Watson committed the crime, and Sherlock Holmes had to catch him. From Watson's own journals. Totally wonderful.

Here are some other moments I enjoyed . . .

Dr. Shepard's description of his sister Caroline:

Caroline can do any amount of finding out by sitting placidly at home. I don’t know how she manages it, but there it is. I suspect that the servants and the tradesmen constitute her Intelligence Corps. When she goes out, it is not to gather in information, but to spread it. At that, too, she is amazingly expert. 

Poirot's purpose in life:

Understand this, I mean to arrive at the truth. The truth, however ugly in itself, is always curious and beautiful to the seeker after it. 

The reason I was fooled by the narrator:

Fortunately, words, ingeniously used, will serve to mask the ugliness of naked facts. 

The truth about men, according to Caroline:

“Never worry about what you say to a man. They’re so conceited that they never believe you mean it if it’s unflattering.” 

The one thing I will say with conviction about this quarantine is this: thank the good Lord (and Edgar Allan Poe) for the detective story.

Random Thoughts While Walking the Dog (During a Pandemic)

I took the dog for a walk today at the Rutgers Ecological Preserve. Here are a few of my thoughts:

1) If you're hiking in the preserve and you suddenly get a fever and a cough, you're conveniently located just a half-mile away from the Middlesex County Covid-19 Drive-Through Testing Center. It's at the Kilmer Road DMV (and I would expect the same level of customer service as any DMV endeavor).

2) Even though it was brisk weather, I had to pull a couple of ticks off the dog. We had a really weak winter, which means tick season is going to be awful. Combine this with all the extra people walking around outside-- because the malls and bars and restaurants are closed-- and we're looking at a gigantic spike in Lyme Disease. Corona with a splash of Lyme (thanks Whit!)

Is there any way to parlay this idea this into a stock investment?

3) Next year in Philosophy class, I'm going to have a lot of good examples during our utilitarianism unit.

4) I listened to two positive podcasts on Covid-19. I highly recommend them, especially if you're tired of being inundated with grim numbers.

They both share the same theme: globally, we are engaged in a weird, semi-cooperative race. People want to win the race-- and make some money-- but they also realize the humanitarian role they are playing by engaging in this scientific and capitalistic race, and so there is a greater level of cooperation amidst the competition.

The Daily: The Race for a Vaccine

Planet Money: Episode 987: The Race To Make Ventilators
I actually got choked up during the Planet Money episode (which is about the race to make more ventilators) when the Michigan die-casting guy said he could make the steel two-ton piston mold "a lot faster than you think" because he realized it was a life or death piston mold. Supply and demand at it's finest!

The Strangelovian Calculus

When I see headlines like this:

US could see millions of coronavirus cases and 100,000 or more deaths, Fauci says

And learn those numbers are a best-case scenario-- if we do everything perfectly-- I can't help but think of Buck Turgidson's tactical assessment of implementing an unprovoked preemptive nuclear strike in Dr Strangelove . . .

All over the world, government officials, medical practitioners, aid workers, and everyone else involved in making decisions around this pandemic are doing some sort of Strangelovian utilitarian calculus. The results are ominous, even if we get a few "breaks."

If the numbers are too much for you, the new episode of This American Life examines the virus at a more granular level. It's called "The Test" and it tells the stories of individuals being challenged in extreme ways by Covid-19.

I'm warning you, it's not for the faint of heart. After listening to it, you might want to go back to the numbers (although there is some hope at the end of the episode).

For some (slightly) upbeat coronavirus anecdotes from around the world, check out Reply All: The Attic and Closet Show Part II.

Paint the Coronavirus by Numbers (Local Edition)

Radiolab has a new episode addressing all the numbers we are confronted with during this Covid-19 crisis, and how hard it is to interpolate them.

We all have different numbers we care about.

I like to think about how many people in New Jersey have tested positive for Covid-19, but I like to think of it in smaller numbers than are presented in the news.

How many people-- on average-- out of a hundred have tested positive?

How many out of every thousand?

I can imagine a hundred people. That's about how many students I have each year (divided among five classes).

I can imagine a thousand people. When we have a pep rally at our school, there are two thousand students in the bleachers. So divide that in half.

There are 14,000 people in my town, and my town is only 1.8 square miles-- so I can imagine that sort of density. It's seven pep rally bleachers of people, scattered about town.

There are 9 million people in New Jersey. So if ten percent of the population gets Covid-19, that's nearly a million people.

If that happens, you will certainly know a LOT of people that tested positive. Sadly, you'll probably know someone who gets hospitalized (or worse).

Even if 1 out of 100 people test positive, chances are you'll know a bunch of them. This would happen if we hit the 90,000 mark. This will probably happen. Hopefully not too soon.

New Jersey has over 13,000 cases now.

That's 1 person in every 700. I have 542 friends on Facebook. I certainly know a lot more people than that. If you live in New Jersey, there's a good chance you know someone who has tested positive. And--unless you have very few social connections--you definitely know someone who knows someone with the virus.

Once I start thinking about the entire country, it all falls apart. There's too much space in America, too many regions, too many cities and towns and rural areas and vast wilderness. I don't think anyone can predict exactly how this thing is going to ripple across the country. But I hope there are some smart people trying.

Dave Interviews Covid-19

I recently connected with a receptive Covid-19 coronavirus named Rebecca. She's living on a public restroom door handle in central New Jersey, hoping for the best. I'm pleased to report that she was willing to answer a few of my questions.


Dave: So why the big move?

Rebecca: Have you been inside a bat den? SO much guano. And no WiFi.

Dave: What about shacking up with the pangolins? They're cuter than bats.

Rebecca: Pangolin burrows are dark and wet and damp. And a pangolin-dude will sit in a hole for YEARS before he gets motivated to talk to some ladies and attempt to mate. YEARS! Which is why it's quite ironic that they're valued as an aphrodisiac. Those things have the sex drive of moss.

Dave: Are you happy with the way things turned out?

Rebecca: Not at all. I'd really like to apologize for what happened. We were shooting for a common cold scenario-- we just wanted to sit inside a nice host, at home, watching TV, maybe head out to a bar or restaurant and infect a few other folks. This was not what we intended at all.

Dave: How do you feel about the flu?

Rebecca: The flu is a filthy slut. Absolute swine.

Dave: OK. Great stuff, I really appreciate it. Now, unfortunately, I'm going to have to wipe down this door handle with bleach and hand sanitizer. Sorry.

Rebecca: I figured as much. I wish you wouldn't, but I get it.

Remember Going to the Movies in 1999?

The year is 1999.

The competition for moviegoers' attention is fierce; this is making M. Night Shyamalan extremely anxious. He's confident he has something special with The Sixth Sense, but he's nervous that the film will be overshadowed by the super-hyped Blair Witch Project.

Then, in one of the many compelling anecdotes in Brian Rafferty's Best Movie Year Ever: How 1999 Blew Up the Big Screen, there is the moment when Shymalan knew his film was going to be huge. The writer/director said he was watching a pick-up basketball game and a player threw a wildly inaccurate pass that flew out of bounds. A pass intended for no one. Another player, unaware that Shymalan was watching, said to the guy who threw the lousy pass: "You see dead people or something?"

The Sixth Sense exceeded expectations, had a 9-month run and made a boatload of money. The phrase "I see dead people" went viral.

For people who came of age in the 1990s, Best Movie Year Ever: How 1999 Blew Up the Big Screen is a reminder of just how important film was back then. People worshipped Quentin Tarantino and Kevin Smith and Paul Thomas Anderson. Movies tackled big ideas. Indie films battled studio giants. Stars did it all. People went to the movies to be disturbed and challenged.

This book was a walk down memory lane for me, and it's a great resource for younger cinemaphiles.

Here are a few of the movies discussed in the book, vaguely in order of how much I like them:

1. Being John Malkovich
2. The Matrix
3. Fight Club
4. Rushmore
5. Election
6. Three Kings
7. The Limey
8. The Sixth Sense
9. Office Space
10. Run Lola Run
11. The Blair Witch Project
12. Magnolia
13. American Movie
14. eXistenZ
15. Boys Don't Cry
16. The Insider
17. American Beauty
18. The Virgin Suicides
19. Galaxy Quest
20. The Iron Giant
21. Cruel Intentions
22. American Pie
23. 10 Things I Hate About You
24. Eyes Wide Shut
25. The Phantom Menace

Many more films are mentioned (not all from 1999). The book really captures the mood as we prepared to head into a new millennium.

There a few good movies I saw back then that are NOT mentioned in the book. 1999 was a bountiful year in film. The Straight Story and Bringing Out The Dead and Princess Mononoke and The Talented Mr. Ripley.

It's absurd that one year could produce so many significant moments in an art form. Soon after, movies went into decline, and we entered the age of Platinum TV, but maybe someday soon things will change. Maybe once this quarantine is over, we'll want to go to the movies to think again. We'll tire of the same big-budget superhero retreads and gross-out comedies, and want meatier fare.

Until then, while you are stuck at home, there are worse things you could do then return to a few of these films. Happy viewing.

Wyoming: Where the Coronavirus Barely Roams . . .

The first book I've finished during the Covid-19 Crisis has an apt title: Death Without Company. 

Death without company is the unfortunate demise for a number of people around the world, especially in Italy. It's tragic.

But Craig Johnson's second Longmire mystery is a perfect escape from the news in more densely populated places. The book is set in Wyoming, the least populated state in the U.S. Less than 600,000 people. And declining. Twenty-six cases of Covid 19. You've got a better chance of getting eaten by a grizzly.

Death Without Company is full of sassy, autonomous old people. No quarantining here. The novel begins with a suspected murder at the Durant Home for Assisted Living. I won't get into the plot-- it's too complicated-- but there are snowstorms and icy rivers and cold nights on the rez, as well as murder and mayhem and methane aplenty. And, as usual, Sheriff Longmire takes the brunt of the punishment (along with his buddy Henry Standing Bear).

I will definitely be distracting myself with mystery novels during the quarantine. There's nothing like a procedural crime fiction to take you away to a different place. The setting is actually significant-- it's not window-dressing. The details are important to solving the crime. You can go to New Mexico with Tony Hillerman, you can go to Northern Ireland with Adrian McKinty, you can journey to Scotland with Ian Rankin, you can roam Los Angeles with Harry Bosch . . . and it's better than a travelogue (because at any moment the narrator might get shot or stabbed).

I can barely follow the plot of most mystery novels I read-- I'm too thick-headed-- but I love observing a new place through the eyes of a detective.

Miracles Amidst the Looming Pandemic

While I'm not enjoying the lack of pick-up soccer during the pandemic preparation, I am getting out and running more. Yesterday, I went for my longest run in quite a while-- six miles on the D&R Canal Trail.

As I ran, I was listening to the newest episode of Reply All, entitled the "The Attic and Closet Show."

PJ Vogt and Alex Goldman opened the phone lines and were checking in with people around the world. PJ did this from a little studio in his NYC closet and Alex Goldman from his attic in Jersey. First, they talked to a guy in Paris, who described the empty streets and total lockdown (for everyone but dog walkers).

Then, they took a call from a young woman named Amanda.  She said she was from New Jersey . . . New Brunswick, New Jersey. Then she revised that location and mumbled, "Highland Park, really." If you need verification, it's a little past ten minutes into the podcast.

I was ecstatic. A Highland Park resident on my favorite podcast! And just as she said it, a bald eagle soared across the canal. Seriously. It was miraculous timing.

As an added bonus, I felt great on the run, perhaps because of the improvement in air quality. We'll see if my lungs keep on keepin' on. If not, I hope there's a ventilator with my name on it. Preferably on a college campus . . . it will be the Covid 19 version of Back to School . . . which probably doesn't end so well for Rodney Dangerfield.

All Downhill From Here?

I just finished re-rerecording and re-mixing a song I wrote about a year ago. The lyrics are now ominously prophetic-- although not in the way I thought.

The song is called "All Downhill From Here," a title based on the ambiguity of the phrase. I often use "all downhill from here" positively-- like my life is a bike ride, and now I'm coasting. But there is also, obviously, the negative, spiraling out-of-control connotation (which my wife prefers).

I'm fairly happy with the mix on this one. You can hear everything-- it's not as muddy as the first version-- and I had a lot of fun with my wah pedal.

Here are the lyrics . . .

This is as good as it gets . . .

Big TV, no regrets

Fine woman in your bed,

Kids sleeping like the dead.

No famine, plague or war;

Dog splayed on the floor.

Your interest rate at an all time low,

And free trade with Mexico.

It’s all downhill from here.

When you go down

You don’t need to steer.

It’s all downhill from here,

So drop it in neutral and crack your beer.

I wrote it when I was concerned about Trump, tariffs, and NAFTA. Turn out, that should have been the least of my concerns. We've got a plague-like situation-- although not nearly as deadly as the bubonic version-- and let's hope the economic decline doesn't result in famine for those hit hardest. 

We are certainly enjoying our family dog, our family TV, and uninterrupted sleep. The question is: what sort of downhill are we headed for?

Literacy Through Bananagrams

If you're worried about keeping your kids literate through the coronavirus crisis, try playing some Bananagrams with them.

If you're worried that I lost to my fourteen-year-old son because he spelled "xenophobia," don't fret. I came back and beat him (he pulled a "z" and a "q" and another "x" down the stretch). 

My last move was most elegant: I had to place an "L" and I found a little nook and turned "it" and "gave" into "lit" and "gavel." Brilliant.

To make the coronavirus quarantine interesting, I've already made our typical "pound of Birnn chocolate bet" over darts and ping-pong . . . perhaps I'll add Bananagrams to the list.

Two days ago, he beat my wife (although he did have to look up the spelling of a word). But still, the shame. 

Creeping Death Phlegm: Coronavirus Notes #2

Since my last Coronavirus update, some things have changed. And some haven't.

I still haven't been able to purchase toilet paper. Or eggs or chicken. But ground beef is back!

New Jersey has 269 cases of Covid-19 now. We may be headed for a situation like in Italy; if you're not sure what that means, listen to this episode of The Daily.

It's grim.

Adult get-togethers have petered out, but my kids are still going out into the world some. They've gotten together with other kids to play Magic, and Alex has been over to Rutgers a few times with his rocket-club. The leader of the club has a key card, and they've been getting into some building they call "The Cage" in order to use the 3-D printer, aeronautic software, and other technology to build their rockets. But, sadly, this seems to be coming to an end. And the big launch has been canceled.

We've started virtual school, and our district is really on top of things. Some teachers -- including my wife-- are using live-streaming video to do lessons. The students seem happy to do the work, as many of them are locked down in the house. I had my Creative Writing kids just write down some observations of the new normal. One girl saw kids playing basketball while wearing masks and gloves.

I've gone on a few adventures with the kids. We went to the liquor store and stocked up on wine, beer, and good tequila. No problem there. Then we went to Costco in North Brunswick. Supposed to be less crowded than Edison. The parking lot was full but not overwhelming, and when we entered the store, we thought we might be okay. But the kids scouted out the lines and they were endless. They stretched to the back of the store. And there were a lot of old people there, waiting in close quarters. We beat a hasty retreat.

A random upside to this crisis: more people in Donaldson Park than ever before: running, biking, walking, playing tennis. Everyone keeping a six-foot distance. All this hanging around, not going to bars and restaurants and malls, may spark a fitness revolution. People are so bored they are taking walks. More importantly, I think this influx of active people has scared the damned geese away.

The virus is starting to get politicized, and rightly so. Trump did an absolutely horrible job preparing the country for this. He's trying to revise things now, as he does, but read over his timeline of tweets and comments. It's absurd. In February, Trump said "it's fine" and "it's a hoax" and the stock market is great and the virus is going to disappear. He was worried about numbers and optics, he didn't get ahead of the curve on tests, his payroll tax cut proposal targets the wrong people (and is more of a stimulus measure for AFTER the crisis, not during it) and countries like South Korea and Vietnam are doing a far better job testing and tracking possible cases.

Trump: you make America suck.

But that's what the people wanted. So be it. I hope he gets it together and devises some kind of package specific for people who have been hurt financially. Frankly, I don't need a payroll tax cut, but there are people out there who are really hurting because of this.

Last week, I sold all my stocks and ETFs. Just in time. This week, I've been day trading some stocks on terrible, uneducated hunches. I bought Merck because they might have something to do with reagents. I bought Skechers because I've seen a lot of people walking and running. I've got some other dumb ideas I might try-- contact me privately and I'll let you know . . . but I charge Warren Buffet-like financial advisor fees.

I'm trying to exercise as much as possible, but I'm also eating out of boredom. I'm trying to limit drinking to a few days a week, but that's hard as well. We've been killing time with tennis, ping-pong,  Bananagrams, Better Call Saul, Letterkenny, and Kim's Convenience.

And RISK. We bought RISK for ten dollars on the Nintendo Switch. Ian crushed us. I had some trouble navigating the controls but got better as the game went on. I had a bit of a headache from all the 3-D map graphics, but the game is much faster than the board version.

It's Easy to Get In, But It Ain't Easy to Get Out

Walter Mosley's White Butterfly is the third novel in his Easy Rawlins trilogy. It's less of a period piece than the first two: Devil in a Blue Dress captures the post-WWII vibe of the 1940s in LA and The Red Death relies on the Red Scare of the 1950s to propel the plot.

This one is a classic case; a serial killer-- who had already killed a number of black women-- murders a white girl, a stripper from a good family. Now that there is a white victim, the police are suddenly interested, but their only conduit into the streets of Watts is Ezekiel "Easy" Rawlins (and his various associates). So they lean on Easy for information, knowing full well that he is going to see that there was little investigation into this case when black prostitutes were being murdered.

The problem is that Easy is married now. He's got a lovely wife-- she's a healthcare worker and a wonderful mom-- and he's got a young daughter, and he's pretty much adopted the mute boy Jesus from the first novel. He's settled down, making his money off his rental properties. And he hasn't told his way bubkis about his checkered past (but she suspects). So he's a reluctant sort-of-detective. He's annoyed by the task, sick of the racism, and happy to spend time with his family and his financial projects.

But he's got to hit the streets of Watts again-- the brothels, the seedy apartments, the down-and-out jazz bars, the strip clubs-- in search of names and leads. Or the police will put his psychotic buddy Mouse away for good. His wife isn't happy about this change in demeanor, and Easy starts drinking hard and making wild decisions. He's a black man in a white world and the police and politicians are using him for all he's worth.

This book relies on my favorite criminal plot. The archetype. If you get involved in illicit activities, this is what you have to look forward to:

Or you might prefer this meta-impression. 

                                     

And then there's this silliness . . .

                                    

Anyway, I really liked this novel. Again, with Mosely the plot is secondary. It's the view into the black man's world-- and not through an Uncle Tom like detective Quinten Naylor . . . a guy Easy despises because he walks and talks and politicizes like a white man-- but the ambiguous world that any hustling black man from this time period had to endure. 

The novel doesn't end perfectly for Easy . . . if the series is to continue, you can't have a wife dragging you towards domestic life . . . and the series does continue. Movies as various as Trainspotting and Goodfellas (and The Godfather, of course) have taught me the big lesson:

Just when you think you've gotten out, they pull you back in. 

Happens every time.

Waiting for the Inevitable: The Coronavirus Crisis (So Far) in Central Jersey

Here's some quick notes on my experiences (or lack thereof) of the coronavirus in central New Jersey. I hope I'll be able to look back at this post in a year or so, with some measured nostalgia. I also hope I'll be vaccinated against this thing by then. 

But I'm aware that this may be a journal of the beginning of the end, to be discovered long after humanity has perished, by whatever creature survives and evolves enough intelligence to read this third rate blog (my bet is on the raccoons).

Here we go . . .

First of all, I was on top of this shit. In late January I wrote this piece:

The Straight Dope on Fake-Handwashing: You Can't Fake-out a Coronavirus

I hope my friends have changed their tune.

My school, East Brunswick High School, has been closed since last Thursday. We all thought there was a case in town, but this turned out not to be the story.

My had a crazy day of school on Friday-- a half day where they had to give all the elementary students Chromebooks and prepare them for on-line school. My kids are off as well. We'll see how it goes with everyone in the house-- Alex, Ian and I nearly got into a full out brawl because the two of them were bickering about various flavors of ramen. 

I start virtual teaching tomorrow. We'll see if our learning platform has enough bandwidth.

I tried to go to Costco on Thursday, but I got inside and the lines were enormous. I ran away. Too many people. They did give me a tiny Clorox wipe when I entered, which I found very silly.

Planet Fitness was fairly empty. I'm not sure if I'll keep going to the gym, but it is important to stay strong, buff, and healthy (both to fight the virus and looters).

Friday morning, I went to the big ShopRite in Edison. It was 7 AM and raining. When I got to the store, it wasn't crowded. They were out of all cuts of chicken and beef. No ground meat either (except the lowest grade beef). Plenty of bacon and organic chicken sausages. I stocked up on the latter. No toilet paper or black beans. The store got more and more crowded as I shopped. I may have sent some panicky texts to my wife.

Everyone is sad and angry about the Rutgers basketball team. They were playing great, certain to make the tournament, and had potential to beat anyone. They haven't been in since 1991. Awful luck for those guys.

My kids and I have been playing epic amounts of tennis, to prepare for the season that might not happen. The rest of the team has been getting together as well. Yesterday, Ian played twice. Alex pulled a bicep serving, and might be out for a couple of days.

After morning tennis, we went to Shanghai Dumpling-- a small, bustling place where there is always a line. The place was busy, but no line for Saturday at lunch. Unprecedented. We sat right down (and got up-sold some shrimp dumplings by a guy who barely spoke English . . . kudos to him).

I went over to Paul's place Thursday night, we had people on our back deck Friday night, and we sat outside at a friend's house last night. People seem to be getting together in groups of six, and not hugging or shaking hands. The people we were with last night are expecting things to get pretty bad. If I continue drinking every night, my liver might fail before my lungs. 

The doomsday scenarios described by our friends last night almost convinced Catherine not to go to Zumba, but not quite. She got up this morning and went. She's also been going to kick-boxing and she just got her hair done. You've got to look cute for the apocalypse. 

My kids have been out and about (Alex has been on Rutgers campus building rockets with his club for the past few nights, despite the campus being closed) and there's been plenty of kids in our house and basement over the last few days.

So my feeling is that our family is not going to be able to avoid it. I may have already had it a few weeks ago-- I was sick with a weird respiratory thing that was not flu. I think at this point, we're prolonging the inevitable (which is a good thing . .  maybe they will have some anti-viral meds soon). But we are two teachers and we have two athletic, social teenage boys living in the house, so this thing is probably going to find a way in. 

On a lighter note: our dog Lola is tired and happy that everyone is home:)

Mixing Music: The Perfect (and Impossible) Hobby for Home Quarantine

I like to screw around recording weird music. Laying down the tracks is a blast. You loop a beat, play some guitar and bass, layer in some synths, perhaps sing a bit. Then you've got to really harness the power of your DAW software. Add effects. Play with the tempo. And finally, mix everything together into a coherent whole. That's the hard part and professional sound engineers get paid the big bucks to mix and master songs so they sound good everywhere: headphones, your car, a stereo system, in da club, on your computer. It's a real skill.

I recently switched DAW software from Cakewalk Sonar-- which is now freeware called Cakewalk by Bandcamp-- to Logic Pro X. My old PC died, so I decided to buy a used iMac and switch things up. Change is good. It prevents dementia.

I should point out that the debate about which DAW is the best for recording music is an endless infinite rabbit hole. This dude Admiral Bumblebee has a comprehensive and extensive blog dedicated solely to this question. It's an amazing website, but daunting. He makes videos to accompany the madness.

My school is shut down so I've got plenty of free time to screw around with the new software. It's extremely powerful, especially because of the Flex Time and AI drummer features. If you're stuck at home too, perhaps you have time to listen to a bit of my first attempt to record this song-- which is on Cakewalk Sonar-- and then what I did with Logic Pro.

The rhythm in the Cakewalk demo version is fairly static. I may have drawn in some tempo changes, but mainly I am playing guitar to the looped drums. Pretty dull (and the mix is shit). You won't need to listen long to get the picture. Twenty seconds or so . . .



Then check out my new mix. If you use the Adapt time feature on Logic Pro, you can play the guitar-- with all your natural rhythm changes-- and the software figures out the various tempo shifts. Then, you can choose an AI drummer to follow your playing. You can then adjust the Flex Time of either track. It's nuts.

So you should be able to hear more rhythmic variety in the following version. I still don't love the mix, but I'm done with it. I've got to move on with my life (or maybe I don't . . . I'm hearing that my school is going to shut down for a while).

Easy Does the Hedonistic Calculus

Walter Mosley's second Easy Rawlins novel, A Red Death, spells out the utilitarian ethics that a black man living in the 1950s had to employ to survive. The novel reminds you that right and wrong are the provinces of the privileged.

Rawlins has been evading taxes on a rental property he owns-- mainly because he bought the property with illicit money from the escapades detailed in Devil in a Blue Dress.

He has to play everyone against each other in just the right manner to survive. The taxman, the FBI, a Communist instigator, white cops, Uncle Tom cops, his seedy property manager-- who I imagine as a black version of Danny DeVito-- and a number of gritty black folks from the neighborhood. His alliances shift as necessary, and though he detests the white world-- as he should-- he's also willing to look after himself and utilize those connections.

And the white world wants to utilize Easy, as he's a valuable source of information . . . a resource . . . a conduit into a world that even black police can't enter. Easy is generally savvy to all this, but he's also hot-blooded enough to start up with the police and sleep with his psychotic friend's ex-wife. He's a compelling mix of stupid and clever.

I also like the fact that Easy Rawlins does some serious drinking, and makes some serious mistakes while drunk. He's a man's man.

The plot of the novel is tangled to the point where at times I felt stupid (though it makes sense in the end) but the best part of the book is the portrait of 1950s California . . . it's LA Confidential from an African-American perspective.

I'm going to finish out the trilogy as a fitting end to my extended BHM Book Club. Anyone want to join?

Dave Conquers Daylight Savings Time?

This year-- instead of my usual ranting and raving--  I buckled down and prepared for Daylight Saving Time. I normally wake up at 5:40 AM, but last Monday, I set my alarm for 5:30 AM. I then preceded to set the alarm ten minutes earlier each day. A rigorous training schedule.

I gave myself a break the morning after pub night (Friday morning) but then I went back into training on Saturday. I got up at 5 AM. On the weekend. That's dedication.

Here is a training video from Saturday morning. I hope you find it inspirational.

I drank a fair amount of beer on Saturday, watching the wild Rutgers/Purdue game (Rutgers won in OT!) and so I broke training on Sunday and slept in.

This morning, when my alarm went off, I was sleeping soundly, but my training paid off. I was able to rise and shine (to some extent). And I didn't have a heart attack or get into a car accident (both of which are more common right after Daylight Saving).

The transition was still a little abrupt, and so next year I am starting 60 DAYS in advance. I put a reminder on my Google calendar. I'm going to set my alarm one minute earlier each day for two months, an when the big day comes, the "springing ahead" will be totally smooth. The annoying thing, is that we could use computers to do this for us. We don't need to change the clocks a full hour on one particular day. We could use quantum easing over a span of many months and we wouldn't have this awful jarring Monday.

Until then, I will have to do it myself. I suggest you stop complaining and do the same.

The Beginning of the End?

Tragic news on my front. On Thursday afternoon, March 5, 2020 . . .  just three days after my fiftieth birthday, my fourteen-year-old son Ian beat me in a set of tennis. 6 - 4. First time ever.

By the end of last summer, we were close. We played an epic set on the Har-Tru clay down at the beach. It was competitive enough that spectators accumulated, to see if the little kid could beat the old man. But I pulled it out and won, 6-4.

A few weeks later I hurt my shoulder, and I didn't play competitively for a while.

My older son, who is 16 and played quite a bit of varsity tennis last year for a state championship team, has never beaten me in a set (and he never will. Never!)

My shoulder is now better. I have a new arm friendly Yonex racket. It's awesome. I'm hitting the ball really well. But Ian still beat me. I did nothing wrong. I didn't double fault or hit the ball poorly. I had been working with Ian on hitting the ball deep to the backhand side and approaching the net, and playing his net shots with proper footwork, moving forward in a split step.

He used his training to defeat me.

He was a good sport about it. He didn't gloat. He was probably a little sad. This is how it ends, no fireworks or parade, just some well-executed drop shots, and some cross-court winners. Yesterday, we went over to Birnn and he collected his winnings for beating me: a pound of high-quality chocolate ( which he graciously shared with everyone).

We went out this morning and played, and the first set I beat him 6-4. Then, for the first time ever we played a second set. He's got to build up stamina for the high school season. He beat me 6-2 in the second set. Crushed me. I was tired. So I can hang with him, as long as I'm going full bore and doing everything right. But we all know how this story ends (unless I start doing steroids).

Or I could start playing 8-year-olds.

Caucasian Quiz

Now that Black History month is over (although my BHM book club carries on-- I'm in the middle of Walter Mosley's The Red Death) I'll switch gears and offer up something for the Caucasians. A Caucasian quiz.

This quiz will determine just how white you are. It's two questions:


1) Have you heard of the Far Hills Steeplechase?

2) Have you attended the Far Hills Steeplechase?

If you answered yes to question number one, you are probably white. If you answered yes to question number two, then you are most definitely white.

Apparently, I am not quite white.

When we were driving home from Vermont, my high school buddy Neil-- who now lives in Warren and is as white as they come-- pointed out the grounds for the Far Hills Steeplechase.

"I get out of town during that mess," he said. "So many drunk people."

"Far Hills Steeplechase? What's that?'

"You've never heard of the Far Hills Steeplechase?"

"Nope."

"Really? That's crazy."

I turned to my buddy Mose, who grew up with me in North Brunswick and now lives in the thriving metropolis of Milltown, New Jersey. He's an IT guy with GAS (Gear Acquisition Syndrome). He's a total nerd. He had just spent the last twenty minutes explaining to me the difference between cardioid and condenser microphones.

"Mose, have YOU ever heard of the Far Hills Steeplechase?"

"Oh yeah, I've been the last five or six years. A vendor brings me."

What the fuck?

I've been missing out on the wildest drunkest hedonistic festival of rich white folks for my entire adult life. And it's right up the road. Twenty miles from Highland Park. Thirty-five minutes.

Why hasn't anyone invited ME to the Far Hills Steeplechase?

I did some research, and pretty much nobody at my school-- students and teachers alike-- had ever heard of the Far Hills Steeplechase. Only one woman, who is very blonde and white and grew up in Princeton and attended private boarding school, had any knowledge of the event. She attended it regularly in her 20s.

I also checked with the pub crowd. My friend Paul had heard of it. Some white people told him about it (but he's Spanish and hails from Bayonne, so he's not allowed to attend).  My friend Connell was clueless and downright angry. he loves any kind of wild party. He's determined to go. My takeaway is that Middlesex County is NOT invited to this event..

                         

The descriptions of the event are epic and hysterical. You should check them out. There is  massive alcohol consumption, ranging from keg stands to champagne chugging to ice luges. I missed it all. And now I'm too old for that shit.

Oh well. I had some great times at Ag Field Day.

Wilmington's Lie: If You're White, Read at Your Own Risk

Holy shit. The culmination of my Black History Month Book Club (with one member) is a wild one. Wilmington's Lie: The Murderous Coup of 1898 and the Rise of White Supremacy is a great read, but it's brutal. Downright humiliating American history. The worst behavior.

And the book explains a lot about present-day America. The reason progressives just can't fathom why poor white folks would vote for policies that harm them.

David Zucchino tells the story of Wilmington, North Carolina in 1898. At the start of the book, the city is a prosperous port. Blacks and whites live in the same neighborhoods. Blacks occupied positions in business, the middle class, and politics. In many regards, black freedmen were just as affluent and successful as whites. It was truly a functioning mixed-race city.

                                                      

Then the Democratic politicians and the white newspapers joined forces to oppress and terrorize blacks, disenfranchise them from voting, and essentially run them out of town. The story takes a violent turn when the paramilitary Redshirts, emboldened by a "white Declaration of Independence" run amok. They are heavily armed-- unlike the black folks in town (because munitions dealers would only sell to whites). They burn down the office of the black newspaper, The Record. They terrorize women and children. They kill at least sixty black men. The government coup is successful, Democrats illegally remove the Republicans and Fusionists. Crazy racist coup. The Wilmington government is now all white.

And then comes the whitewashing.

The first person to take the blame was a black newspaper owner, Alexander L. many. He had the gall to print an editorial debunking a fundamental white myth: the inviolate purity of the white woman. Manly suggested that many of the black men charged with "raping" white women did not do so. Instead, he speculated that they were often consensual lovers. He urged white men to protect their women, and not blame and lynch black men for taking part in willing trysts. Sacrilege! So they burned down his building, threatened him and his family, and sent him into hiding.

White papers and politicians knew how to manipulate this editorial and enrage white folks. It's the same political tactics of race and xenophobia as today, but you've got to replace the Republican party with the Democrats. They were the abominable racists involved with voter suppression and white supremacy in 1898. This is weird at first, but you get used to the flip-flop on racial politics. The Democrats hate the other, the Democrats blame the other, the Democrats gerrymander and suppress the other. It's a tactic, and an effective one. During the Reconstruction, the Republicans used the black vote, the Democrats destroyed it. The opposite of today's politics.

After the violence, Coup leader Col Alfred Waddell proclaimed a “White Declaration of Independence” and installed himself as mayor. He proudly instituted law and order and called the massacre a "race riot" started by blacks. Meanwhile, black families were mourning the dead, hiding out in swamps, taking trains North, and still being terrorized by white supremacists. They could not walk through the city without being stopped at Redshirt checkpoints, where they were searched, harassed, and often killed.

In the 1940s, Southern textbooks still portrayed the local (white) version of events. The Carpetbaggers and Scalawags were at fault for the violence, for inciting racial tension. The city was saved from chaos and disorder by a "sort of club which they named the Ku Klux Klan." The KKK performed the charitable task of "scaring lawless men into acting decently." They dressed as "ghosts" and "frightened Negroes into leading better lives." Yikes. That's what they were teaching the kids.

by the 1950s, the truth about the event was slowly uncovered. It still causes unrest and ill-will today. 2100 blacks fled the city, and many blacks and whites were banished for political reasons. It's the stuff of banana republics. The "success" in Wilmington emboldened white supremacists throughout the South to enact Jim Crow Laws and various means of black voter suppression.

The white supremacist newspaper editor, Josephus Daniels, moved on to Louisiana and campaigned for white supremacy there. He created a voter-suppression law that, in New Orleans, “helped reduce the number of black voters from 14,117 to 1,493.” Attempts to undo these wrongs were met by indifference by Republican President William McKinley (who was involved with other ordeals, including the Spanish-American War).

This book details a downright embarrassing period of American History. It's an important reminder that the end of the Civil War did not in any way mean civil rights for freedmen. The Reconstruction was a war unto itself; the history of the Reconstruction is historiography worth investigating-- though if you're a white dude (like me) you might find yourself reflecting on just how many obstacles were thrown in the way of blacks in America and wonder about the consequences. How long will they last? Will race be an issue in America for the rest of our days as a nation?