culture

Mourning Sickness

Today I feel gutted.

I was already gutted by the mass shooting at the Tops supermarket in Buffalo, and the next day, as though re-gutted, the mass shooting at the elementary school in Uvalde, Texas. As unbearably horrific as that mass shooting was, the cover up is even more grotesque to me. Anyone could understand the fear police might have when encountering a deranged shooter with an automatic weapon. Hesitation might occur. Hyper-caution to avoid children…ok. Then why the lies and covering up the story? I am not sure I have the stomach for the answer.

I felt gutted yesterday watching The January 6th Hearings and listening to members of Trump’s DOJ recount 45’s intense and insane pressure to install Jeffrey Clark in the final weeks of his presidency. This, after hearings in which witness after witness relayed Trump’s efforts to overaturn a legitimate democratic election that he lost. Election workers were abused; their lives endangered. VP Mike Pence’s life was in danger. The sickness of Trump’s pathetic cleaving to power and the sad, angry, delusional devotees who are empowered to serve him leave me distraught. When I am not angry and fearful (of so many angry, fearful people with serious gun power), I am profoundly sad that so many people have succumbed to such a gross excuse for a human being and for perpetuating cruelty and selfishness.

Yesterday, upon hearing the news of the Supreme Court’s ruling allowing open carry–because….you know….individual rights/liberties–I was at once terrified and broken. I believe there is now such a tension between the hyper-individualsts who embrace a particular definition of macho and those who are actually more driven to protect the lives of the already born, that the menacing and threatening that seems empowering will only cause if not a conventional civil war, then a serious threat to everyone.

And this morning, with the news of the Supreme Court overturning Roe v wade, I am actually sick to my stomach. I am in mourning. Democracy, which I certainly took for granted in the once USA, is on life support. I am mourning American life that had promise.

I was briefly uplifted by the seemingly ordinary people who became heroic to me: during Trump’s 2 impeachments; during the worst days (and throughout) the COVID19 pandemic; Zalensky; some Republicans who have been Trump loyalists in his administration; unceremonious election workers; Capitol police officers, all of whom bravely stood up to endure under duress and bear testimony to truth. There is still truth. There is still decency. Perhaps too little too late, but some people have been moved. I have learned of goodness and decency during such trials, when so much crazy and serious danger has been thrust upon us and relentlessly spewing through media over the last 6 years.

But whatever solace I felt was amidst the mourning for the beauty that was the promise of life here in the USA, even in this very dangerous 21st century. I am grieving not so much for the world in which I grew up, but for the willingness that we had to continue to improve; to no longer stand for what was, even if we endured it.

I have had queasiness every day for years now, but hoping it would subside when this period finally settled down. Today’s overturning of Roe v wade was not surprising, but it is nonetheless chilling. It is nauseating. And the waves keep coming.

I am mourning the loss of separation between church (all religion) and state; of the recognition of the dignity of all living beings who have been born; of the danger of guns; of peaceful elections and transitions of power; of a healthy climate–political, social, economic,natural.

But after the mourning one must get on with the business of living and creating a healthy life. I don’t see how the current conditions are sustainable. The sickness that has pervaded too much of the American culture and now American deomcratic institutions and democracy itself, from the base to the Supreme Court, is deadly. But succumbing to mourning is deadly too.

Righters Block

I haven’t said much here in quite some time. It’s not that there isn’t anything left to say. It’s just been a horrendous case of Righters Block.

Righters kvetch about freedom while blocking access. The righters block loves walls and barricades, obstructing processes and others. Righters tear down that wall of Democracy that is the foundation of freedom. It’s a party of destruction that is punishing all that’s left.

Disruption is their right, while blocking safety for the rest. Facts remain on the side of what’s left, exposing truth and lies that righters tell. It’s insanity. Crazy like Fox, anything goes because they have rights, no matter how wrong.

We live in an era of storytelling. Maybe we always did. Now, everyone is a storyteller. It’s even encouraged and platformed. Meanwhile, righters block evidence as having any meaning, and ideate strategies to the contrary.

Righters claim populism and patriotism and nationalism and supremacy, redefining and insinuating with hopes of defeating. Righters block responsibility feeling entitled to anything and accountable for nothing.

There is no contest when suffering righters block. Being left alone to anguish and expose reality, those seeking to conserve Democracy have been flailing. Institutions have been weakened by righters block, but are not yet left for dead.

Too many weapons of mass destruction fired off by boys who are proud and keepers of an oath, automatically arming themselves for….?

I have no idea.

….Other than the notion that power trumps and powers Trump. Left to their own devices, righters block. This is the unbearably sad, scary, true story of our time.

White Lies

Most of my life, upon meeting strangers, I was asked, “What are you?”  Sometimes the question referred to my last name: “Where are you from?” My answer was always honest: “I’m American.”

“No–but where are you FROM?”

I was born here. My parents were born here. My grandparents were born here. My great grandparents….they were from Eastern Europe.”

Already, you might be imagining my hair and facial features. Now you probably assume my complexion. You’re probably pretty close. You also probably have an immediate story in your head about what any and all of that might mean about me. That might be close too, but it’s still a meme that popped into your head. Probably instantaneously. You think you know me because you have already identified me as a certain type. You’re like an instant anthropologist.

We all do these instant assessments, often without thinking. Too often we assume and look for confirmation bias not necessarily because of one’s name or physical features, or even sartorial clues, but because we have assumptions about location, or upbringing, or job, or education, or….

In truth, I have always known what those questions were about, and I was always uncomfortable and a little cheeky in answering. I never thought that the ones who asked me, as an initial greeting, were interested in me as a person. I thought they were interested in whether or not I fit a type, and what that might mean for them. To be fair, upon getting to know people, last names, places of origin etc, may be interesting stories. They can be great connectors. When I was often asked by “others”, I never had the sense that it was an initiation into connecting. I always thought it was to highlight othering. And so, I answered honestly to connect. I’m American. I’m the third generation born here after my great grandparents’ emigration to the U.S., which for many whose families fled or perished in Europe during the World Wars, and in Russia/Soviet Union, that’s quite American. Over a century of American. 

Still,  my complexion didn’t convey a story, and I have always lived with that advantage. As a Caucasian, I was never a threat. I was never perceived as a story first. Maybe I was perceived as a story second, as instant anthropologists do with the clues used to identify and label. But my instantaneous backstory was neutral because my skin is considered neutral—white. 

And here lies the problem that we have all concealed: We can’t be colorblind. In fact, we have been blinded by the White Lie that Civil Rights of the 50s and 60s changed us all for the better. We have progressed. Slavery is so far in the past that it’s as alien to us as the wigs and clothing of the17th, 18th, and 19th centuries. And of course we have progressed in so many ways. But the lagging progress over the last few decades for so many people of color, despite historic breakthroughs including the first Black POTUS, (who happened to be the best POTUS of my lifetime), are still stuck with systemic disparities that have proven over and over again to threaten Black lives.

The White Lies are the ones that tell us that we don’t need to upend the system or disrupt. We have a Disrupter in Chief who seeks to undermine any and every institution and it feels like he is destroying the Democracy and culture of the USA. The White Lies are the ones that say that we are decent and believe everyone deserves opportunity without imagining how our systems have oppressed even with historic changes. 

Our White Lies have told us that the Black Community is separate (and not equal). Our White Lies have told us that White Saviors are not wanted, so support has been less visibly integrated. Our White Lies have told us that we are not racist, yet everyone seems to judge everyone by their complexion. At least we can acknowledge the White Lie that we are not colorblind. 

The White Lie forgets about Red Lining, and Voter Suppression (in 2020!), and health and environmental disparities that disfavor (and endanger) many communities of color.

The White Lie is that what seems like a life of doing what one should and being decent is enough. It ignores the privilege of being on the path at the start. Even from less than optimal circumstances, and for those who have overcome great challenges, the White Lie tells us that there’s no difference between challenges to overcome. 

The great shock of this moment is twofold: One is the heinousness with which police brutality has killed black men and women and kids across this country because they were black, especially in the 21st century when the White Lie was that we were so far beyond this barbaric behavior. The second shock is that so many of the people with whom I went to high school and college have posted of their own experiences of driving while black; walking while black; raising black children to be safe. I was floored. I had no idea that people who lived in my world—in a late 20th Century/21st century comfortable, progressive world—were subjected to not just such indignities, but life threatening situations.

The White Lie of the middle and upper middle class (and beyond) is that everyone is safe if they just do the right thing. My heart aches at this White Lie that we are confronting now. 

Like the Women’s Movement that #MeToo alerted everyone to say “ENOUGH!”, and shocked everyone that in this day and age, we are not as far along the path of progress as we hoped or thought, #BLM has touched us to stand together to say “ENOUGH!” 

We understand that trolls are a fact of life, not an old tale. They lurk in the shadows and feed off baiting others. We also have learned that Zombies exist. They linger among us with dead ideas feeding off of us. Monsters exist. The White Lies have told us that they have been beaten forever. We see with our own eyes that monsters are tolerated until we stand together to squash them. 

We have changed our culture from time to time. We have overcome horrible pandemics, and endured horrific losses along the way.  I often think about how the culture of smoking has changed so radically in my lifetime. And Gay Marriage! That was unthinkable, until it wasn’t. Despite the very real fears and dangers of the dual pandemics of COVID19 and Racism in 2020, I also see the creativity and strength that are emerging. We can acknowledge the White Lies and monsters among us, and reimagine how we want to protect and serve our communities—all our selves. 

The Future

The future was open, busy, individual, 24/7. The future was scheduled, patterned, abundant, better. The future was crowded, but moving. The future was fresh and free, hectic and hopeful. 

The future was vacations, concerts, sports, movies, meetings, appointments, graduations, weddings, funerals. 

The future was predictable, mathematical, scientific, masterful. It was logical, creative, rich, and user-friendly. The future was applicable, identifiable, improvable, and personal.

The future was about each one, but really no one. It included fear and anger, histories of oppression and resentment, inequalities, and bigotries. But in the future, each person could be rich. Or on a path. Or connected. 

The future was bifurcated. The future was media driven. The future was about social influencers and fake news. The future was artificial intelligence and egos. The future was angry, manipulative, power-hungry, and lazy.

The future paid the least to people who teach kids and nurse the ailing; those whotake care of our youngest, oldest, and neediest; police and firefighters, EMTs—those who respond first; those who work diligently not for profit; and the artists who enrich our culture and inner lives. The future ignored those who pick our food; process our food; serve our food; deliver our food; allow us to buy our food and whatever stuff we want whenever we want. 

The future decided that guns are essential rights and that the market is the most essential. The future was a struggle for affordable healthcare that was too big to handle. The future forgot the basics, because everyone had a megaphone and a platform to distort.

The future was distorted, but was constant opportunity. The future was streaming what we wanted whenever we wanted, and we could ignore the junk. But there was an abundance of junk in the future. 

The future was an increasing environmental disaster resulting from climate change. The future was not a moment, a specific crisis, so we ignored what was not seemingly imminent. The future was more building, and much more stuff. 

The future was for each person to breathe and be anywhere. We didn’t think about separation in the future. Or distance. The future was possessive. The future was. 

Litmus Test

 

 A guy shoots up a newsroom, killing 5 journalists. President says nothing in response to event or to reporters’ questions following the incident. That night, the video of  the President silently walking past reporters, ignoring their questions about the mass shooting at the Capital Gazette newsroom, was aired on tv and social media. A long day later, he stated that “journalists shouldn’t have to be fearful of being attacked while doing their jobs”. But  to Trump, journalists are “the enemy of the people”.  

So, another mass shooting that couldn’t be prevented, because how could we possibly stop the outlier? Each time? Beforehand?  We could arm teachers! Where are those good guys with guns? 

This is a reflection of our culture and politics. We live in danger of being shot anywhere because we won’t regulate lethal weaponry and have poor mental healthcare. Guns are considered masculine, even when women use them. They are the ultimate symbol of American individualism and self sufficiency. They are said to be for protection, but they are for killing (or injuring) full human  (and other) beings. They are meant to cause suffering and fear.

Even those who want to see loopholes closed, better screening , and better mental healthcare across the country, understand that there is a cultural affinity for guns, legitimized by the Second Amendment. 

Why, then, has abortion become the litmus test of our culture and politics? Why has Roe v Wade, which legalized abortion, always seemed dispensable ? The “Right to Life” is only valid as a potential life, but not once born—an actual life? Many like to mock the Clintons’ stance that abortions should be “safe, legal, and rare”, because, well, Hilary said that. The circumstance of pregnancy is unique. But it does include women’s health, and I do think abortions should be safe, legal, and rare.

 Abortion is not some newfangled cultural phenomena that began with The Feminine Mystique. Abortions have always existed, and have been dangerous (and criminal) until I was 10. But the cultural zeal and singular voting issue that has overridden everything in my lifetime has been the issue of abortion. 

Physicians have been shot (and killed) over the idea of getting rid of Roe v Wade, thereby criminalizing abortions (and OBGYNs who might perform the procedure). Right to life?

The President of Trumpistan understands that putting an anti-abortion judge on The Supreme Court will keep his base applauding, and his congressional lackeys collecting contributions. The ridiculous argument that gets put forward that it should be a states’ rights issue, not a federal one, sticks because it is an effective political move to limit access in Red states. Culturally and politically, the so-called “Right to Lifers” have all but eradicated the legality of early termination of a pregnancy, while opening up the floodgates for more semiautomatic weaponry without restrictions on use. 

Sure, there are several issues that delineate the views of the Supreme Court, but none are as contentious as Roe v Wade. Not even guns. We have deluded ourselves across our culture and politics into accepting certain rights as necessary for freedom and, ironically, life, and others as oppressive. Moreover, we have been so divided and hateful over this issue. We have so little room for accepting differing concepts, or compromising. 

Abortion is the issue that most are concerned about now that Kennedy is stepping down from the high court. Shouldn’t we be talking more about the mass murder at a newsroom? 

Dismissal

Hasn’t it all been said already? The Valentine’s Day massacre at Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School in Parkland, Florida yesterday killing 17, shot another round through the heart of America.

While I was getting ready for my Valentine’s Day dinner, a celebration of love and romance, the news was on with interviews with a teacher, students, the superintendent, doctors, and police. I had to leave the room. I had heard the initial reports and interviews a bit earlier, and the rehashing and inevitable platitudes and explanations were nauseating.

I heard the police chief urge, “If you see something, say something.” The heat of anger began to pulse through my arteries. If only people had said something? That was it?

I thought about the timing of this unspeakable act of terror in a school not far from where I lived until a couple months ago. The shooting rampage began near the end of the school day. I thought about the shooter’s’ plan: As kids would be getting ready for dismissal, on an especially social day, Valentine’s Day, the shooter could exact revenge for his own misery.

We have a gun problem in America. But that gets dismissed. We have a violence problem in America. But that gets dismissed. We have a mental health problem in America. But that gets dismissed. We have an education problem in America. But that gets dismissed. We have an economic disparity problem in America. But that gets dismissed. We have a Culture problem in America. But that gets dismissed. And we have a grave political problem in America that too many try to dismiss.

If your heart is heavy, as is mine, don’t dismiss the love you feel. Don’t dismiss the possibility you can envision. And don’t dismiss the reality of misery, violence, access to weapons, political cowardice, and the consequences—intended or otherwise—of dismissal.

XYs: Ex-Wise

We are now in a moment of creating exes. Ex-media guys; ex-congressmen; ex- Hollywood guys; and soon to be many more exes across domains.

Why? (or Y you ask?)

The X factor has wizened up and spoken up! What should be apolitical—appropriate behavior and not making others uncomfortable (i.e. basic decency)—has become political as well as cultural. The tectonic shift that we feel is cultural. The fight (and the hanging on) feels political.

I think many men are confused and are asserting misunderstanding. The old “game” is played by different rules depending on the player. And many women (and girls and boys) were never playing the same game. They were parallel playing—smiling back and/or staying quiet not enjoying what was happening, just to get through it.

Many men are now astonished that there has always been so much sexual misconduct. There has always been sexual harassment (which became codified in the workplace in the 1980s), sexual abuse, sexual assault, and rape, which most people understand as aggressive behaviors and criminal. But a kiss? A pat on the tush? An “accidental” touch? A little flirtation?

Many (men) are actually confused. Well, a lot of women are not confused. Remember when the term “date rape” was coined? The definition of rape was not really changed; it was no longer contextualized to be limited to some sick/violent stranger. Women (and girls and boys) who had had sex forced upon them were finally being acknowledged as being victims of rape. And then we learned that such behavior was actually rather common. Such knowledge actually enabled us to be wiser.

Perhaps some of the confusion exists because men are thinking that sexual attention is always wanted. Well it isn’t. Not that kiss. Nor that pat on the tush. Nor that accidental brush up. And certainly not that exposure!

It is important to distinguish among the types of behaviors that fall under the sexual misconduct rubric, and it is important to delve seriously into serious accusations. False accusations have always occurred and will always occur . Bad behavior will always exist. But we are wiser and no longer tolerate what for many was barely tolerable.

So as the culture shifts toward a less limited understanding of sexual misconduct, and we wise up by standing up for decency, the politics will follow. I know it doesn’t feel like that at this moment that our culture is in flux, but all great social/civil rights movements began with cultural shifts that brought wisdom and political change. (Besides, power issues are often played out through sexual behavior.)

As for defending politicians who might have been icky rather than outrageously gross but “champions” of women’s rights or civil rights……I think it is wise to make them exes. It feels politically risky, but we see the costs of rationalizing indecent, irrational, insecure, stupid,  behavior. It has real political costs, and they are HUUUUUGE.

 

Dis Appearance

“I just don’t think she has a presidential look and you need a presidential look.”

 
One way or (and) another, Donald Trump dissed Hillary Clinton’s appearance. Of course he’s not the first or last to dis HRC’s appearance, but he used it as a disqualifier for the presidency of the United States.

Whether he was being sexist (he was), or just a jerk (he was), we often talk about looking presidential, as opposed to a presidential look. “Looking presidential” implies that a person exhibits certain qualities with a demeanor of distinction: authoritative (not authoritarian); intelligent (not ignorant); well informed (by reputable resources and critical thinking); diplomatic (not wheeling and dealing); cordial; articulate…

Other qualities such as charisma may be highly regarded, but ultimately seriousness is preferable for a job that demands gravitas and clear thinking. Strength is another quality that is difficult to define, but purposeful beyond self would be respected. Oh, and then there’s respectable…. I guess there are varying definitions of looking respectable, but presenting (not exclaiming) oneself as decent, reasonable, of substance…these seem to comprise an expression of respectability.

It’s amazing how much we disregard, disqualify, disrespect, distrust, dishonor, and even just dis people based on appearance. We assume a tremendous amount based on appearance. Even those who prefer to minimize an appearance of effort in their appearance, are conveying something through their appearance, namely: I’m not shallow; I’m interested in more than my appearance. Likewise, we often assume that those who have sartorial interests or accessorize are making a different sort of statement, and that those interested in presenting themselves more materially are therefore shallow and/or materialistic. Beware— sometimes appearances can be deceiving!

As we are all always concerned about looking good (whatever that may mean)—of a certain type or status—even if that means modest—we are always aware of when others look bad. Looking good or bad goes way beyond our physical appearance. It’s what we do and how we are. We use external appearances too often as assessments of character—that which really defines whether or not we look good.

And yet, everyone has a look. We can change our look through hair, clothing, glasses, etc., and we tend to think of this as expressing our selves and/or our position. Some of us, however, only know how to look one way. Our look hasn’t changed, but have we?

So what about that presidential look? What does that even mean? Looking presidential is more significant than a presidential look, although a presidential look should reflect the qualities that have one look presidential. A presidential look (or any look) is one’s superficial (external) appearance. Looking presidential is one’s demeanor.

Trump does not look presidential; nor does he have a presidential (modest and distinguished) look. Why would he dis appearance? Because it’s the lowest common denominator. It’s broad enough to include the most base of his base, who have difficulty with race and gender (as they are understood first by appearance). Because if anyone is shallow, it’s Trump. And those Trumpeters want simplistic, caustic, anti-, because they regard their blowhard as strong.

Why dis appearance? Because it immediately attracts the disgruntled.

To me, that doesn’t look very good.

Outthink Disruption

I recently saw a Facebook ad for IBM Analytics with the slogan “Outthink Disruption”. What a perfect tagline for our current culture of politics, and our culture and our politics. Forget distractions; we live in the age of disruptions, as though that’s a good thing.

Those who seek to disrupt feel that they are not served by the status quo. Disruption may be effective and even appropriate. Altering or even destroying the structure of something may be important to contributing to or saving lives. Or, such a disturbance may merely interrupt or cause more problems.

When I saw the tagline “Outthink Disruption”, Donald Trump had just become the presumptive nominee of the GOP (a nostalgic name for what is not very related to the modern Republican Party). Certainly Trump has been a Disruption, and he encourages his Trumpeters to Disrupt.
One could say that Bernie Sanders is also advocating Disruption, although without the mishugas, obnoxiousness,low brow-ness, narcissism, insults, hate, misogyny, racism, jingoism, xenophobia, or winking at violence.

The momentum for Disruption is palpable, but we have been living through 8 years of thoughtless disruption that has yielded frustration left and right. Disruption can’t be the goal. We have to Outthink Disruption. Progress occurs incrementally, and often through compromise—something that our culture  (or politics) doesn’t embrace. We expect instantaneous results—disruption—and we tout our way of life as the ultimate because we can do whatever we want in an instant.

Except we can’t. Not without ramifications.

As a culture, we have become hateful—not only of those we fear might seek to destroy us, but hateful of ourselves, and we are destroying ourselves. The vitriol that occurs during Primary season, and through the general election, seems to heighten each cycle. I’m not sure if we are really more hateful than ever, or that hate has a YUUUUUUUGE platform. Everyone yells and posts and overexposes and then stays within one’s own social and anti-social media bubble, condensing the ire and agreement.

I’ve heard all sorts of statistics, (which I take with a grain of salt), about how much hate there is for Trump and for Hillary. HATE. Hate is very powerful. It envelops and distorts. It is irrational. It is toxic. I hate hate. I have certainly felt hate. The fire of hate fuels the ego’s sense of what is right. But I don’t want to hate people. It’s actually too easy. I hate intolerance. I hate plenty of ideas and ways of being. Hate can lead to dangerous disruption—not merely shaking things up or tweaking the status quo.

We have to Outthink Disruption, which means examining our love of hate (and our uncomfortableness with thinking outside our comfort zones).

When I saw the tagline “Outthink Disruption” for IBM analytics, I thought it was a clever, albeit almost 20 year late, response to Apple’s “Think Different” campaign. “Think Different” was actually a response to IBM’s motto “Think”. And here we are in 2016….

Can we Outthink Disruption?

The Man Who Sold the World

Michael Stipe:https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hF2ed7ouU3o

Nirvana: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fregObNcHC8

Lulu: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RV8ywV7KwSI

David Bowie:https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HSH–SJKVQQ

 

 
Over the last 24 hours, I have been inundated with videos of Trump and Stipe, with headlines about the most incredible audio from these men.

Trump managed to suggest that women who get abortions should be punished, and when the backlash was immediate and fierce, he backtracked and suggested that doctors who perform abortions should be punished, not the women who undergo the procedure.

Even abortion foes reacted strongly against Trump’s comment. John Kasich tweeted: “Of course women shouldn’t be punished for having an abortion.” This from a staunch opponent of abortions. Really? Since when have women who are pro-choice, much less suffered through an abortion, not been punished? Granted, the punishment is not prison or a fine, but the endless shaming and aggression against those who are pro-choice has always trumped (pun intended) compassion or concern or even curiosity about alternatives.

Whether Trump’s latest belch will affect his polling remains to be seen. After all, he’s the man who sold the world. He says what some think. He’s a zillionaire, so he must be the most capable and smartest in the world. He wrote The Art of the Deal. He’s bought and sold so much, you won’t believe how much. He’s the man who sold the world.
As all the media, social and anti-social, were broadcasting and posting Trump’s comments—about punishing women or physicians, the media was also sharing a rebroadcast (you-tube) of Michael Stipe, former frontman for R.E.M., singing a haunting cover of “The Man Who Sold the World”, by David Bowie. He performed it on The Tonight Show the other night, in advance of his “Music of David Bowie” tribute concert. His haunting rendition hardly conjures The Donald, but captures the personal searching for ourselves that Bowie’s version, and Nirvana’s unplugged version, also evoke. Yet, Stipe puts his own stamp on it, as did Bowie and Nirvana (Kurt Cobain, especially).

Art speaks truth to the human experience, and individuals find their specific identifications with a work of art. The style of Bowie’s 1970 song, and Nirvana’s 1995 Unplugged cover, and Michael Stipe’s 2016 rendition are each artist specific, yet the song seems timeless.

Demagoguery and hate are also timeless. There are always those who would sell the world for power. I couldn’t help but consider this song that was being posted everywhere yesterday in the context of the events of the day—namely, Donald Trump’s latest. The interesting thing about “The Man Who Sold the World” is that it is both the demagogue and us.

If the original intent of the song was to meet and “shake hands” with our “other” (lesser) selves, its meaning extends to a societal level. We not only have tremendous economical, social, religious, educational, cultural differences among us in the U.S., but we somehow have to shake hands and meet. We can’t merely sell the world and think we will continue to be successful.

I know that the man who sells the world, i.e. Donald Trump, is far from the guy Michael Stipe, Kurt Cobain, or David Bowie were evoking, but there is something quite amazing about The Man Who Sold the World. It is fitting that Stipe’s affecting rendition was being played everywhere the same day that Trump’s “punishing” comments were everywhere.

We passed upon the stair,
We spoke of was and when,
Although I wasn’t there,
He said I was his friend,
Which came as some surprise.
I spoke into his eyes,
“I thought you died alone
A long long time ago.”

“Oh no, not me,
I never lost control
You’re face to face
With the man who sold the world.”

I laughed and shook his hand
And made my way back home,
I searched for form and land,
For years and years I roamed.
I gazed a gazley stare
At all the millions here:
“We must have died alone,
A long long time ago.”

“Who knows? Not me,
We never lost control.
You’re face to face
With the man who sold the world.”

“Who knows? Not me,
We never lost control.
You’re face to face
With the man who sold the world. —David Bowie, first released in the US, Nov.1970

 

 
I just discovered Lulu (To Sir With Love)’s version of the song from 1974. Perhaps this version, albeit 1974 pop, is the most appropriate version. Women still feel face to face with The Man Who Sold the World. Of course, the more versions, the more we each recognize The Man Who Sold the World. We’re face to face with him.