We don't need this fascist groove thang
Time for a smarty party, LFG!
The other night I was awake, as I am wont to be between the hours of 3:30 and 4:30, staring into the void. The wind was blowing outside our bedroom, and the husky rattle of the dry leaves skittering along the pavement sounded wonderfully spooky and autumnal. Or was I hearing the death rattle of our democracy?
My brain is overheated. I pinball between giddy excitement and panicky despair at least three times a day. This rollercoaster of emotion is making me throw up in my mouth a little. Or maybe that’s all the Smarties. Smarties should be a schedule C drug.
BYOB (Bring Your Own Brownshirt)
In a few short days we’ll be on the other side of this raging torrent. Who knows what’s beyond it. In case Trump does win, I recommend a few easy-to-read books that really helped me understand the quotidian implications of authoritarianism:
Shah of Shahs by Ryszard Kapuscinski. This slim little classic is about the overthrow of Iran’s last Shah. The way it described life in the Shah’s authoritarian regime, especially how neighbors start reporting on each other, stayed with me. You could read this in a day.
The Tsar of Love and Techno by Anthony Maara. I’ve written about this book before–it’s a magnificent novel-made-of-interconnected-stories, all set in Russia. It opens with a story about a man whose job was to go through photographs and scratch out images of anyone that Stalin had purged or sent to Siberia. At the time I read it, only a few years ago, the notion was absurd. Today, AI can do this sort of thing with such swift elegance you don’t even need to hire a person to do the work for you.
On Tyranny by Timothy Snyder. This is another slim little easy-to-read graphic explainer of how authoritarian dictatorships come to be. I’ve left it on my coffee table all year in the hopes one of my children might pick it up and flip through it. No such luck. Maybe some gorgeous influencer will create a viral dance/explainer of what it means to be a fascist, set to a lively snippet of some 1980s synth pop.
Life Preservers
As for me, I’m rereading The Snow Leopard by Peter Matthiessen. It’s about the author taking an extremely long walk through the Himalayas. He describes the beautiful surroundings, explains Buddhism, contemplates grief. What’s that you ask? Oh yes, yes indeed it is boring. Wonderfully boring.
I’m also relying on Heather Cox Richardson. Her daily Substacks are both a balm and a baffler. Balm: With her powerful intelligence, she puts the shitstorm of political gabble through a filter of historical context that reassures me that “No, you’re not being hysterical–this stuff is radical and stupid.” Baffler: I don't understand how in the hell she gets so much written with such clarity every dang day.
A recent post included this tasty bit:
“Former House speaker Newt Gingrich (R-GA), who famously cheated on both of his first two wives, expressed dismay at the idea that a woman might need to keep her vote secret from her husband. “For them to tell people to lie is just one further example of the depth of their corruption,” he said. “How do you run a country…saying wives should lie to their husbands, husbands should lie to their wives? I mean, what kind of a totally amoral, corrupt, sick system have the Democrats developed?””
And check out today’s post; it is beyond inspiring.
A note to the passionate: As for the people who are choosing to vote for a third-party candidate for president, well, I applaud your ideals but that’s just stupid. Especially if you are a pro-choice woman who is not voting for Kamala because you want to make a statement about Biden’s policies about Gaza. That’s a vote for Trump, who will delight in denying the humanity of the people of Gaza with an alacrity that might alarm even Netanyahu. So you’re not helping the Palestinians. Meanwhile, the women of America need you and you’ll be letting all of us down. May you never find yourself in the wrong state with an unwanted pregnancy or a dangerous miscarriage.
The original pro-lifers
We went to see “Conclave” the other day–a new film with a great cast including Ralph Fiennes1, Stanley Tucci, and Isabella Rossellini. The Pope dies and the cardinals all have to pick who’s next. It’s filled with intrigue, tense dialogue, and meaningful looks, but the real stars of the show are the costumes. I couldn’t get enough of the exquisitely tailored full-length crimson dresses all the guys sashay about in. The nuns are all in drab shapeless blue frocks, of course. (Is there a more “no girls allowed” clubhouse than old religions? Yeesh.)
I’m not alone in adoring the fabulous costumes the official Catholic fellas get to wear. If you haven’t already, please read this hilarious piece by David Sedaris about his own experience visiting the Vatican. Actually read it again if you have because I just did and it’s still funny.
Ok, happy voting everyone. I hope we’re celebrating our first woman president this week. See you on the other side.
How did Ralph get the world to pronounce his name Rafe? He is a wizard.