Taking a stand
a stupid and futile gesture
On Friday nights, Christina and I go to The Stand, a local restaurant chain that serves burgers and salads, without infringing on Stephen King’s post-apocalyptic novel of the same name. Or, so I thought. Because while I was waiting in line for the soda fountain, I witnessed the collapse of civilization. OK, maybe that’s a bit hyperbolic. But after waiting in an unusually long line, I was all set to pour myself a Diet Cherry Dr. Pepper — if you know, you know — when a teenage girl cut in front of me.
“Yo kid, there’s a line here.”
The girl turned around to look at me, shrugged, then went back to making whatever lame soda concoction kids drink these days.
“Do you believe this shit?”
I wasn’t speaking to anyone in particular, but the woman behind me in line answered anyway.
“Kids don’t do manners anymore,” she said. “Society is screwed.”
How could I argue with that? I couldn’t. But after the girl finished, I took another shot at common decency, mostly for shits and giggles, but also because, as George Costanza famously said, “we live in a society.”
“Didn’t you see the line?” I asked.
“No.”
“OK, well a half-dozen people standing in a row, waiting to use the soda fountain is what a line looks like.”
She didn’t respond, just gave me that blank dead-inside stare all the kids have because TikTok has fried their brains and sucked the marrow from their souls.
“Maybe you should apologize for cutting in line,” I suggested.
The girl didn’t apologize.
“Or, you can go through life fucking around, until one day, you find out.”
She walked away without saying another word, which is to say she’ll continue to fuck around, and if there’s any justice in this world, she’ll eventually find out.
Speaking of fucking around and finding out, it’s almost time to vote in California. If you hate democracy, this is an exciting time, because these days every election brings us one step closer to the gangsta’s paradise of authoritarianism. I love democracy, which means it’s time to panic, because the options, as any political scientist will tell you, blow ass. I’m not kidding. There are 61 candidates running to be the next governor of California. To simplify things, CNN let only seven candidates on the debate stage. In no particular order, the debaters were:
Steve Hilton, a Fox News host and former David Cameron aide who loved the idea of Brexit so much that he became a Californian.
Tom Steyer, a billionaire who will spare no expense to lose an election.
Antonio Villaraigosa, the former mayor of Los Angeles who was widely believed to be deceased.
Xavier Becerra, the frontrunner for reasons nobody, including the Becerra campaign, can explain.
Chad Bianco, the Riverside County Sheriff and a real reactionary. Also, a proud member of the Oath Keepers, which means that after he loses, a mob of armed dipshits and low-information freedom fighters will likely attack Sacramento on inauguration day.
Matt Mahan, the San Jose mayor who was just happy to be there.
Katie Porter, a minivan owner and white board poet.
I’m voting for Porter, because accountability is my kink (see the soda fountain episode above). She’s going to lose, according to Kalshi, one of the leading gambling platforms where you can bet on all kinds of real life events — wars, sports, the crazy shit reality TV stars will say next, and elections. The smart money is on Becerra, though I wouldn’t call him the smart choice. Some gamblers believe Steyer is viable, but hopefully none of them are betting Steyer-level money on Steyer to win. Finally, Hilton (no relation to Paris) is the long shot, which is the preferred shot for dumb money, degenerate gamblers, and inside traders.
If you’re guessing that the debate was a shit show, you should open a Kalshi account, as you might already be a winner. I’m kidding. Everyone on Kalshi is a loser. Except the inside traders. And the house. The house always wins. Unless the house is owned by Donald Trump, in which case it declares bankruptcy.
Nobody is going to win this election, however. It’s a jungle primary, meaning the top two candidates advance. Sort of like Survivor, only the stakes are the state of California.
The weird thing about California politics is that a lot people, on both sides, are obsessed with national politics, but have zero clue about state or local politics. I know this because people I love, on both sides, text me when they get their ballot to ask who I’m voting for and what my take is on all these ballot measures and propositions. When I ask them why they trust me, they say things like, “you’re a guy who knows stuff, you follow the local news.” Which is true. I do know stuff. And I love local news. I listen to LAist with breakfast, check the LA Times at work, and try to catch the local news at 10pm. (Semi-pro tip: The best life slices are found on local news.)
Lately, I’ve been watching the local news on YouTube, because the actual broadcast has been degraded to the point that it’s mostly just teasers for the weather report, followed by the weather report, followed by a teaser about a potentially alarming weather event that they’ll cover in the next weather report, right after the commercial break. It’s a weather report doom loop, similar to the movie Groundhog Day, but with 100% fewer jokes and 50% more cleavage. If you like thirst traps, the current iteration of the local news is your jam, but if you love local news, the decline in quality is depressing, though not in the tropical sense.
The upside to catching the local news on YouTube is that I can skip the boring stories. The downside is the algorithm. After watching a report about how the Los Angeles mayoral race is a three-way fight between a mayor nobody likes, a former reality television star nobody believes is capable of doing the job, and a progressive city councilwoman who thinks the other two candidates are colluding to keep her out of the general election, I felt nauseous. When I got back from the bathroom, the YouTube algorithm had autoplayed another story about the LA mayoral race, but this one was produced by The Free Press — a media outfit that isn’t free, but is part of the press, because in the age of social media, everyone is press.
The reporter began his story with a hypothesis: Voters in low-income areas are more concerned with economic issues that impact their quality of life, while voters in wealthy areas care more about “luxury” political beliefs, which he defined as “transgender issues.” I braced for impact.
The reporter spoke to a dozen people in Boyle Heights and another dozen people in Brentwood. To the reporter’s surprise, poor Angelenos had the same concerns as wealthy Angelenos. The city, everyone agreed, is in terrible condition. The roads are covered in potholes. Copper wire theft has rendered street lights inoperable, and repairs have been too slow. Also, crime is a problem.
The weird thing about The Free Press report, other than the failed attempt to make the LA mayoral race about trans people, is that the reporter wasn’t surprised that wealthy people and poor people had no idea who they were going to vote for, but were nevertheless leaning in the direction of the status quo, despite deep misgivings about … the status quo.
“I don’t know why anyone would even want the job,” an elderly woman from Brentwood told The Free Press. “As my husband says, it’s like choosing who’s next at the gangbang.”
To be fair, that kind of quote would never make the local news. They produce a family show, except for the weather report, which is basically porn with a chance of precipitation. But what was unfair, in this viewer’s eyes, was that the reporter didn’t have any follow up questions, not one. I would’ve asked:
Does your husband have a lot of experience with gangbangs?
Aren’t all gangbangs the product of bad choices?
How do you (or your husband) choose who’s next?
Is it like a deli counter where everyone takes a number, or is it more like a baseball team’s batting order?
Is your husband a leadoff hitter, or does he bat cleanup?
Are you speaking in literal terms, or is the gangbang a metaphor for the multitude of ways so many Angelenos are about to be fucked?
If so, doesn’t that mean the voters are next and the politicians are doing the fucking?
Explain!
Everything, lady. Seriously. Explain everything.
Needless to say, I had more questions than answers. But as the saying goes, all politics is loco.
Which brings me back to that teenager who cut the line at The Stand. Seeing that girl navigate society — and society acquiesce to her disregard for norms and other people — made me feel like Walter Sobchak.
Which isn’t a good feeling. Because I am not Walter. I like to think of myself as The Dude, or El Duderino, if you’re not into that whole brevity thing. But in a world that’s gone crazy, where parents can’t / won’t hold their kids accountable, where voters can’t / won’t hold elected officials accountable, where elected officials can’t / won’t hold anyone accountable, and where everyone is a member the press, but too busy manufacturing wedge issues or doing the weather to hold power accountable, the only sane response is …
Great. Now I wanna read a hilarious gangbang scene.
I got you. Not Safe for Work has that and a whole lot more. It’s available at Amazon and all the other book places.
And if you’re looking for more vulgarity wrapped inside a comedic crime story, Murder and Other Distractions is available here.
No, dude, I just like slice of life humor.
No problemo, amigo. Ride/ Share will make you smile, and according to science, people who smile live better lives. Pick up your copy here.
IAYA: I ask, you answer
Should Stephen King sue The Stand? Explain.
In a world that’s gone crazy, are you the line-cutter, Walter Sobchak, or a bystander? Tell your story.
Are you one of the 61 people running to be the next governor of California? Unhinged answers strongly encouraged!
Are gangbangs the right metaphor for politics, or is politics a metaphor for gangbangs? Go deep (but make sure you get consent).
Bowling anyone?
Plot twist: Steven King should *buy* The Stand.
I grew up with Dwight Eisenhower’s picture on the wall in my classroom.
Kids today have Donald Trump’s picture.
Kids don’t miss much, especially the messages we send them.