Donald Trump and the End of the World

I realized a few things while I was over at an acquaintance's a couple nights ago, watching BBC and CNN news on her projector (after she'd gotten tired of playing Goat Simulator lol). She and her girlfriend were bristling in indignation at Trump's temporary travel ban, which I merely felt to be yet another foreign policy disaster — par for the course — and an excellent opportunity to test whether or not the decades-long expansion of executive power can withstand a check from the judicial branch of the federal government. So impassioned are both the support for and opposition to our new president, yet I wonder how much of either is rational.

There's certainly much to dislike about the guy: he's a loathesome boor, he was never all that great a businessman, and he's already indicated early on he's grandiose and reckless. And that's not even mentioning his politics: he certainly SEEMS to be racist and misogynistic like most Good Ol' White Boys, his cabinet is a nightmare of inexperience and conflicts of interest (i.e. croneys, or goombas), his immigration and trade sword-rattling are both potentially calamitous, and we less fortunate Americans are fearful of ending up sleeping in shelters and doorways. However, for all that, I emotionally view the guy as the hyperbolic logical conclusion to the American cultural and political trajectory; viewed in that light, it's unlikely he'll get much worse than the likes of Clinton and Bush Jr., or even Nixon.

Does this make me a centrist, cut off by the raging seas of partisan extremism from other like-minded realists like the smaller islands of the Japanaese archipeligo on a bad summer day? As far as immigration goes, I honestly believe that nobody should be allowed into the country who isn't willing to learn English, who won't serve a purpose here, and who would deprive a citizen of a means to make a living. Nor would I mind seeing a trade war against China, as bad as that could get; I'm sick to death of how globalism has reduced blue-collar American workers to pathetic wage slaves. But, as for the travel ban, that's total bullshit: gun-slinging emo American high school kids are more of a threat to our nation's security than are foreigners who underwent months of scrutiny and background checks.

So, yeah, I'm not dogmatically left enough to just hate the guy and want to get all theatrically Thomas Paine on the Establisment because Trump got elected. Besides, I HATE Hillary Clinton! Her husband deregulated more, free-traded more, cut more welfare, and got tougher on crime than most Republicans have within my lifetime — and she's AT LEAST as scary a neo-liberal global elitist as he is. It was a rotten choice to begin with, indicating arrival at the point of critical failure for our campaign and election system. Trump didn't get voted in because most Americans are backwater bozos, but because roughly half of the voting country didn't want another career politician in office.

And, already such a bizarre forty-fifth presidency! I've never seen anything like this scenario spilling out of the White House like metal folding chairs cascading out of a semi hurtling down the freeway, nor can I recall having read anything similar going on during prior presidencies. We the people have grown so stupid, lazy, and selfish ... and, boy howdy, does it show! So much so, that I can only wonder how small-minded or deliberately vapid an American will have to be in 2020 to remain clueless. This could be the wake-up call we political borderland fringe elements have been muttering darkly about forever; but I can just as easily see this being the outside edge of the whirlpool that drags us down into ... Mad Max!

Along the Banks of Cocytus

Winter storm Jupiter* arrived Tuesday afternoon, dumping anywhere between four and fifteen inches of snow on Portland — the most we've had since 1980, which I only very vaguely recall — and still the city is coated in a thick patina of compacted snow and ice. As expected, I lost the first of my newly-acquired Wednesdays (from the other dishwasher); the fourth day this winter has cost me, or about half a paycheck. That's too much money to lose because my city government would rather blow money on useless gimmicky kitsch catered to tourists and monied out-of-staters (e.g. green-demarcated bike lanes and crossings and ugly modern art sculptures at streetcar stops) than invest it in our ailing infrastructure and plan contingently for the future possibility of hotter summers and colder winters.

It hasn't snowed in three days, yet even with a state of emergency declared I'm still watching people struggle to stay upright as they navigate treacherous sidewalks, doggedly insisting on going about their lives. WHY aren't there people sanding and shoveling the sidewalks? It's actually the law for owners of properties to clear adjacent sidewalks — enough of a law that anyone who falls and injures himself can sue the property owner! Unfortunately, the city of Portland doesn't stipulate any time requirements for sidewalks to be cleared, and the bureau of transportation doesn't enforce the law because it “...encourage[s] the public to be ... civic-minded about this.” Which sounds about as useful a statute as one stipulating that rapists be convicted and incarcerated ONLY if they turn themselves in and willingly confess. Considering how this stuff isn't expected to start thawing until Monday night or early Tuesday morning, this means a total of five days will have passed wherein we've all been effectively entombed in ice like hapless Ötzi, all because our city government is inept and in the pockets of ex-pat Californians and Chinese tourists, our local businesses care only for the letter of the law, and locals who unceasingly congratulate themselves on their gentility and sense of community involvement are in fact not even situationally civic-minded.

This is the last straw for me, as far as putting up with this city's bullshit is concerned. I'm waiting for a reply email from city hall, scheduling me for a three minute slot to testify before the city council. I'm going to demand that the law be changed to require sidewalks to be cleared of snow and ice within four hours of first snowfall (like in the neighboring city of Beaverton) AND be vigorously enforced — including an option for citizens to report violations to city hall so that non-compliant property owners may be fined — and suggest that in future such instances the city employ rapid-response emergency work crews drafted from jails and hired from local homeless shelters and day centers to keep the sidewalks clear in parts of the city where significant commerce is conducted and high concentrations of elderly and mobility-impaired residents live.

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* Who names these storms, anyway? Anyone with any sense knows Sailor Mars is the REAL bombshell.

Mountain Climbing

It's not enough to get into housing and return to work, insofar as getting my shit together is concerned. Everything has to change: drinking, sleeping, diet, hygiene, handling money, even how I choose to amuse myself and with whom. It's tantamount to somehow yanking yourself up in the air by your ankles and upending yourself, or at least that's how it feels; impossible and distressing in its beyond-awkwardness. Of course, on paper anything can look pretty understandable and doable — which is why I'm going to keep this self-improvement inventory at home in my spiral notebook — but without a life coach or gut-wrenching resolve the inertia of even flagrantly self-destructive habits can mock and weary like a winter stroll through the Alps.

The reason I say this, is that I seem to have found myself a job that inclines toward nursing dysfunctionality. I wouldn't have too hard a time muddling through half of the rest of my life sauced, not even if I were to eventually become a full-time cook or production baker. Not that all restaurants are wagon circles manned by haggard survivors of a daily bacchanalian Bataan Death March, but many are and this one certainly is. To illustrate: yesterday evening I visited the Maquessa's (the cook I usually work with) apartment and proceeded to stuff my face with spaghetti and a bottle of wine. But, I really shouldn't be doing that; nor is it wise for me to get so cozy with my co-workers, I imagine — another thing that happens a lot in restaurants, usually resulting in petty but nonetheless unnecessary and disruptive calamity.

My guess is I'll be doing my squats and brushing and flossing daily long before I successfully Magellan my way through all the drunks, boors, and freaks to an edifying millieu. As good as I am at amusing myself and being by myself, even I get bored and lonely; and, unfortunately, when you find yourself in the loser class of society only losers are attracted to you and want to spend time with you — in my case it feels like I'm stuck with either drunks or twelve-step cultists, neither of which have much to offer me. Ultimately, though, it's best to remember that no company is better than bad company. A hard cirriculum to stick with, one that many balk at.