You Can’t Spell Toxic without X

Right there in the middle of the word “toxic” is X, the everything app.

Headlines last night were about how people have stopped buying Teslas because Elon has become too toxic.

I think that’s probably true. And there’s been a retraction in the EV space in general. I’m not completely sure why. But I do know, anecdotally, about a lot of self-styled experts who say the cars are no good, wherever they’re from.

A lot of it is fear. A lot of it is certain demographics holding on to the internal combustion engine because they feel like they’ve lost everything else.

As for Things Elon Does. I’m completely off Twitter/X. Not necessarily because of him, bu that’s part of it.

I have this theory, not particularly well-developed, that Michael Jackson was a gestalt figure at the crux of celebrity, race, exploitation, and child endangerment. He personified the symptoms of our disordered relationship with art, commerce, and the end product: superstar. Elvis had some of that, too. Whatever else he is, Donald Trump is a gestalt célèbre, a self-identified symptom of what’s sick about our political system in general. He has said so himself (“the system is rigged, she knows it, and that’s why she won’t fix it. It benefits her and her donors.” Chappelle makes a very good point about that). In the same way, Elon Musk is social media personified. He needs to unplug. He needs to touch grass (the real kind). We all do.

Headlines this morning were about how 40% of adults go three days without in-person interactions. That’s part of why keeping us polarized has become so damn easy. Shares of Truth Social may have plummeted, Musk may have all but destroyed Twitter, but people are still making money keeping us so hell-bent on hating each other. If you’re sucked into this matrix, if you think these billionaires want to save you, maybe turn your phone off. If you’re one of these 40%, left, right, or middle, go talk to a neighbor. Volunteer somewhere. Take someone soup. Do something in person. Remember that people are complicated, we all work from faulty assumptions, we’re all prone to fooling ourselves. Play pickleball (if you must). Find a way to connect, flesh and blood, Vitamin D, birds chirping. The good stuff.

St Paul put it this way: “Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things.”

Henri Nouwen said this:

“If you know you are the Beloved, you can live with an enormous amount of success and an enormous amount of failure without losing your identity. Because your identity is that you are the Beloved… The question becomes ‘Can I live a life of faith in the world and trust that it will bear fruit?’”

Nouwen’s not so-secret secret? We’re all the Beloved. If you struggle to see the image of God in others, congratulations, you’re human. But part of that burden is trusting that putting your faith into work will, indeed, bear fruit.

In November, we’ll elect a president. We are not crowning a Messiah. Celebrities have agendas like the rest of us, and it turns out that not even the technocrats will save us.

“Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that.” MLK said that, paraphrasing Jesus.

This post is a work in progress. More to come as I have it. But please, stop worshiping political figures, celebrities, and internet clout.

Heroes and Villains: Brian Wilson, Donald Trump

I just watched the 2008 Kennedy Center Honors for Brian Wilson. For reasons that are easy to guess — his life story, his genius, his music — I am sobbing.  For other things, too: for him, for us; in gratitude, in fear.

A decade later, neither the country nor the world look anything like they did even in the nadir of the Bush administration. 

Honoring Brian, Art Garfunkel said: “I love rock and roll.  It’s just so joyous and life affirming.  And this is a great moment for me to honor my colleague, a fountainhead of that joy, Brian Wilson. To me, rock and roll is our great American invention.  And the fact that you, Brian, are one of its architects makes me proud of who we are as a country.”  Garfunkel talked about Brian’s “California roots, which to me, always represented the kindness and sweetness of America.”  He called Brian Wilson “rock music’s gentlest revolutionary.”

A few days ago, I read a brilliant piece by writer Gerald Weaver about Donald Trump and the failure of language.

Our innocence, our sweetness, the basic goodness of the premise for this country is the promise of a nation held together not by blood or iron but by consensus on revolutionary claims about the dignity of all people.

I’m not stupid.  I know we have never actually lived up to those ideals.  For centuries, we have systemically disenfranchised our own people.  For decades, we have instigated proxy wars.  For decades, we have have encouraged every kind of inequality.

But we’ve also held onto hope.  We’ve also given a damn about what America is supposed to be and mean. 

Condemning the tear gassing of assylum-seaking migrants at the southern border this week, Beto O’Rourke said, “It should tell us something about her home country that a mother is willing to travel 2,000 miles with her 4-month-old son to come here. It should tell us something about our country that we only respond to this desperate need once she is at our border. So far, in this administration, that response has included taking kids from their parents, locking them up in cages, and now tear gassing them at the border.”

Now the news that Donald Trump is authorizing lethal force.

I think I was four when Geraldo Rivera opened Al Capone’s vault.  He opened something else on Fox News’ The Five (I do not watch it). 

“This tear gas choked me. We treat these people — these economic refugees — as if they’re zombies from ‘The Walking Dead.’ We arrested 42 people; eight of them were women with children. We have to deal with this problem humanely and with compassion. These are not invaders. Stop using these military analogies. This is absolutely painful to watch…We are a nation of immigrants. These are desperate people. They walked 2,000 miles. Why? Because they want to rape your daughter or steal your lunch? No. Because they want a job! . . . We suspend our humanity when it comes to this issue. And I fear that it is because they look different than the mainstream.”

Of course Greg Gutfeld cut him off when he pointed out that economic refugees are in many cases fleeing situations our own policies have helped create.  Of course Jesse Waters, Fox’s Chief of Smarm, looked exasperated.

Of course, tonight, I’m crying over Art Garfunkel and Brian Wilson and America.