well ... fuck

a few thoughts on resilience after a bad election result

The election results weren’t what I hoped for sucked rancid elephant ass. America passed on the chicken and instead ordered the platter of shit with bits of broken glass in it.

A few readers told me that one person’s chicken is another person’s platter of shit with bits of broken glass in it. I disagree; subjective valuation flew the coop after the attempted coup. But I won’t waste words on people who think shit tastes like chicken. This piece isn’t about them, it’s about the rest of us.

The day after the election, I was so upset I smoked a cigarette, drank some booze, swallowed a handful of amphetamines, and sniffed glue. I’m kidding. That was Lloyd Bridges in Airplane!, after the shit (literally) hit the fan.

Here’s what I actually did. I turned on the news, found out who won, then turned off the news. I took Mortimer out to poop and pee, then I gave him a treat. I had my coffee. I made breakfast for me and Christina. I took my anti-depressants. I emptied the dishwasher. I showered. I went to work. Later, I went to yoga, then showered again. I called my mom, my sister, Allison, and her partner Craig. I also checked in with several friends, and set-up a Zoom call with my brother-in-law Zach and his husband, Dylan. If this sounds mundane, that’s the point. Everything may be falling apart, but you still have to make the donuts.

Making the donuts won’t change what happened and it’s not a playbook for what to do next, but the donuts do have to be made. They’re donuts, yes, but they’re also a metaphor for showing up every damn day and grinding. It’s a matter of resilience. If you don’t have resilience, you don’t have shit.

You have resilience. I know this because humans are resilient. Resilience is in our DNA. If you’re walking the Earth, it’s because a very distant ancestor found the strength to hunt wildebeests the day after burying their lover. If you’re an American, there’s a very good chance you’re here because a more recent ancestor, or maybe even a relative, made a harrowing journey, quite possibly alone, and quite possibly against their will, after some really bad shit went down in the old country. Whoever you are, you’ve been through some stuff and lived to tell the story. That is resilience.

Some things that have taught me that I’m more resilient than I think: dating, warrior pose, travel, baseball (I led the league in hit by pitches), long walks up steep hills, broken bones, and grief. I recommend 4.5 of these resilience-builders; skip the broken bones and getting hit by the pitch, if you can. But the last one, I’m afraid, is mandatory.

Grief is a normal response to loss, whether the loss is a loved one, a job, a dream, or an election. Some advice for grieving:

1. Grieve how you grieve. Seriously, do you.

2. Please cut other grievers some slack.

3. If you choose to grieve on social media, please keep in mind that the platform and many people on it are working to turn your anger against you and your allies.

But let’s get back to resilience. Sometimes we forget we’re resilient. In January, I couldn’t get out of bed. Depression, which had always been a fog that rolled in and out of my life, turned into a thicker, heavier, stickier substance that paralyzed me. At the time, I kept returning to the same thought over and over again: I can’t do this. Without a sense of my own resilience, I was literally figuratively stuck.

Which brings me to the election. Most of us experience election night by looking at a map of the United States of America. Before the polls close, people who are paid far too much money to play with a gigantic iPad run through scenario after scenario. The night ends when every single state is either red or blue. That is the map. That picture, we are told, is America. We are stuck with that picture.

Which is total fucking bullshit.

Maps are static. Nations and people are constantly in motion. We aren’t stuck with anything because we aren’t stuck. That’s just a trick being played on you to make you forget that you are resilient.

Fuck that.

You. Are. Resilient.

Yes, the Congressional map is set for the next two years, the White House is set for the next four years, and a good chunk of the Senate is set for the next six years. But the federal government doesn’t have nearly as much impact on American life as state and local governments. Also our society is orders of magnitude bigger than the political sphere. What happens in Washington matters a lot, but what happens outside of Washington matters a lot more.

Am I worried about America?

Fuck yes, I’m worried.

Do I think we would’ve been better off having the chicken?

Yes, of course, I do.

But I’m also highly skeptical that the chicken would’ve saved us, or that the platter of shit with bits of broken glass in it will ruin us. My skepticism on those points isn’t informed by the hot takes rocketing around the internet, or some half-assed analysis of an incomplete data set. In my experience, the winning party in an American election over-reaches and underperforms, while reports of the losing party’s demise are greatly exaggerated. Change — good and bad — happens all the time in America, but the parties and our politics are lagging indicators of change. In other words, it’s really about what flows into America’s capital, not from it. That it’s up to you, and you, no matter how fucking lost and hurt you feel in this moment, are resilient.

We’re Halfway to Unlocking Burrito Journalism

My Note about a man who ate his burrito from the middle still haunts me. The man in question is likely a monster, but he may be a genius. It’s a fine line. To get to the truth of this burrito-eating mystery, I’ll need to eat a burrito from the middle out, then write about it. There are no other options.

I need your help, situation normies. A burrito, a drink, tax, and tip costs $20. A situation normie named J Bowen Bres sent $10 via PayPal, bringing us halfway to our goal of unlocking burrito journalism. As soon as we hit our goal, we’ll learn the truth about burritos. It’s a win-win. Send any amount via PayPal, or smash the shit out of that subscribe button.

Stick around and chat?

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3. Are you resilient? Explain.

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