Excuse Me While I Wag

A great cartoonist passed away. His name was Richard Thompson, and he drew "Cul de Sac" from 2007 to 2012 until Parkinson's disease ravaged him and he died in 2016.

All joking aside, "Dilbert" creator Scott Adams passed last month. I was a fan of the strip growing up, though it became apparent as time went on that Adams was a difficult, unpleasant man. Circa 1996-97 I had the comic strip collections, a subscription to his quarterly newsletter, even the Dilbert and Dogbert dolls. Entering puberty, I latched on to Adams' --and technically Dogbert's-- cynicism and heavy sarcasm. (The animated series that ran on UPN in 1999-00 is a lost gem, but I'd attribute most of that to Larry Charles.) If nothing else, I am grateful that Adams and his creation gave me an early warning about the drudgery and absurdity of corporate America. Dilbert the milquetoast engineer, however was an avatar for logic in an increasingly illogical world.

Alas, like so many things in pop culture in recent years, there's the matter of separating the art from the artist. I am acquainted with people that met and knew Scott Adams; only "Pearls Before Swine" creator Stephan Pastis had anything kind to say upon his death. Interviews and second-hand interactions suggested a difficult and unpleasant man, this 2015 blog entry suggested that he was steadily going off the deep end, lost his sense of irony, or both. Then Adams started questioning the scope of the Holocaust, made highly misogynist remarks, and most pivotally, a COVID/vaccine skeptic, and finally a casual racist. After his syndicate dropped him post-haste, "Dilbert" moved online (behind a paywall) and Adams hosted a livestream until he randomly decided you can treat terminal cancer with horse dewormer.

Scott Adams was probably the last newspaper cartoonist to ever become a household name. Today's funnies are dominated by decades-old "heritage" strips where the creator is long dead, with little room for young or new talent. Part of that is because of the economics of modern media, but that's another blog for another time. For a few years in the 90s, Adams was a breath of fresh air. He also had a particularly strange, self-inflicted fall from grace.  

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Random Notes, May 2023

 What's happening, friends?

+ The COVID-19 pandemic is over, except it's not. It's under enough control that it's not longer considered a major threat. The wave became an undercurrent, where it's been for several months now. I still see students wearing masks, but I don't judge them. I was one of the fortunate few that never tested positive, but I'm still wary of it, and I fear its aftereffects. 

+ Lori Lightfoot's sole term as Chicago's mayor will be remembered as a mixed bag. Her strict mom energy during COVID (and in general) was annoying but well-intentioned, but her accomplishments over the last four years will be undercut by her fractious relationship with the city council, her limp response to a spike in violence and being too empathetic to the CPD. At best, Mayor Lightfoot was a deeply flawed altruist. I can see why Chicago progressives rallied around Brandon Johnson, a relative political novice, as her successor. He didn't inherit a mess necessarily, but there is ample room for improvement. 

+ Speaking of mixed bags, I can see why Joe Biden decided to run for reelection. Trump just keeps adding baggage, and the DeSantis "campaign" is already losing steam. 

+ Hey, here's the short film I shot in Austin! 

Next time: my annual memory list.

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Dispatches from Arm's Length, Part 21

Around the time the school year ended in late May, I had a bad cold. I tested twice for COVID, both times negative. Even though I recovered, I noticed a very slight, on and off tickle in my throat, and it took awhile to subside. I've also been more sluggish than usual, though I attribute that to inconsistent sleeping habits. There was also a rash of cases in my improv ensemble, though that was after Independence Day. Our group ranges in age from 27 to 62, and the older members took longer to recover than the young'ens.

I guess the experts were right-- at some point, all Americans will get COVID. Whether it becomes a seasonal occurrence like the flu, I'm not as sure about. My protection has been wavering; I'm growing even more inconsistent about mask use. This morning I drove to meet someone for brunch, and in transit I realized I left my mask at home. I ordered new masks to replace a homemade one that was gradually falling apart; they allegedly arrived in late June, but never arrived. I'm blaming my erratic local postal service, not the eBay seller. 

At some point I'll get my second booster, I just don't know when. As I have for 2 1/2 years now, I'll keep sleeping with one eye open. 

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Dispatches from Arm's Length, Part 18

 If 2020 was a upper right hook, then 2021 was a lower left cross. My optimism for 2022 is more guarded than ever before; things are not going to turn around immediately. The dread is vague yet palpable. 

I remain inconsistent about blogging if only because I'm still busy. I've barely commented on the Omicron variant, which eclipsed Delta in late November or early December. While not as brutal as Delta, it has noticeable symptoms and is far more contagious. I received my booster in mid-December, and even though I've been exposed on two occasions (mercifully, during winter break) I've tested negative twice since Christmas. The variant is subsiding somewhat, but I fear that it's a matter of time, though. 

It's astounding that this has now dragged on almost two years. We truly are a divided society, and a stubborn one at that. It opens up the possibility of an endless cycle of new variants and additional boosters, mostly because of misinformation and a distrust of science. The cracks are showing, and there's little any of us can do about it.

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Thanks/No Thanks, 2021 Edition

 2021 so far hasn't been much better than 2020. The struggles and challenges are the same, but they've evolved and in some ways mutated. It's becoming apparent that COVID-19 is something we might have to just live with, like the flu. Variants keep emerging, and it's likely contributed to the ongoing labor shortage. In times like these, we have to remember our blessings. 

For my 17th annual "thanks/no thanks" list, I say thank you to my Amazon Echo Dot for introducing me to radio stations all across the world. On the other hand, I say no thanks to... well, everything else Amazon. I am thankful for being able to see friends in person again. I am not as thankful to people who won't get the damn vaccine or still think this is all blown out of proportion. I am grateful for consistant work. I am not as grateful to businesses that keep underpaying or marginalizing their employees, then cry poor when they do raise salaries.

Happy belated Thanksgiving, everyone. 

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Dispatches from Arm's Length, Part 17

 I have been so caught up in personal stuff this first half of 2021 that I've barely commented on the still-nascent Biden administration. Make no bones about it: Joe Biden is running the country from the center-left. Compare him all you want to his pal Barack Obama, but a better comparison would be Bill Clinton. Biden hasn't been perfect --he's been slow to tackle immigration, or at least differentiate himself from his predecessor-- but right now I'll take mere competence. Give him time; it's only been six months.

Like the increasingly unhinged and uninformed far-right, progressives tend to be extremely vocal on social media, yet don't represent a majority of votes within their political party. Their notoriously bleeding hearts are in the right place, but the self-rightousness is palpable. This is why rattling off names of progressive presidential candidates --Dennis Kucinich, Howard Dean, Bernie Sanders-- almost reads like a graveyard. (I am randomly reminded of the prison camp situation on the US-Mexico border.) I hate to say it, but a democratic socialist would've handed Trump re-election.

I mention Biden because when I lost blogged, COVID as we knew it seemed to have its back against the wall. Now we have the Delta variant, a spike in deaths among the non-vaccinated, and the gradual return of mask mandates. Like last summer, we tried to move back into the "old normal" too quick, but now we have a flawed honors system that's hospitalizing the unvaccinated left and right. Unlike 2020 when a weak, deluded president deferred constantly to state governments, we have someone like Biden who can take some accountability and listens to the experts. For all his flaws, Biden is still better than the alternative. 

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Random Notes, August 2020

 Hot takes from the guy that was writing hot takes before people started using the phrase "hot takes":

+ I'm a little confused about something. Can someone explain how a 17-year-old boy that illegally possessed a firearm, was driven from Antioch, IL to Kenosha, WI and back, walked past cops without any issue, fired multiple rounds into a crowd, killed two unarmed protestors and wounded a third, is a hero?

+ Just to clarify: you have to be 21 to own a firearm in Illinois, and 18 in Wisconsin. This boy is an incoming high school senior.

+ JB Pritzker is probably Illinois' best governor since Jim Edgar. Considering the four governors between them were George Ryan, Rod Blagojevich, Pat Quinn, and Bruce Rauner, I'll let you determine the level of praise. Regardless, he's done a good job of handing COVID-19, in spite of how much people downstate grumble. It hasn't been perfect, but given how the governors of Florida, Georgia, and California (among others) have bungled things, I'll take it. Let's see how the Illinois GOP tries to paint a weak "violation of liberty" picture in 2022.

+ I've been writing this blog for over 15 years. (The anniversary was in June, but given everything going on, it just came and went.) Even though my politics have veered from the center left to solid liberal, I've consistently tried to understand the rationale of modern conservative politics. As many regular readers know, I spent two years working at a right-wing news/talk radio station, feeling like Jane Goodall observing the apes. Not only do I fail to comprehend today's conservative moment anymore, it's almost devoid of critical thinking and independent thought. Today's Republicans are brainwashed boot-lickers. This year's election will come down to the wire again, and if Biden loses, pray for us. 

Next Week: my 2020 NFL preview.

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Dispatches from Arm's Length, Part 9

 A new school year dawns.

Two weeks ago, I sat though a 35-minute "orientation" for substitutes on COVID protocols and how things will be done differently this year. This past Friday, I witnessed the protocols executed first-hand. This particular district is doing hybrid learning; that is to say, they are attempting distance learning and in-person classes simultaneously, using Microsoft Teams. The students that are in the school are kept in consorts no larger than 14 or 15, and they stay in the same room almost all day while the teachers circulate around the building. (I was just a floater.) It was wonky in the execution, but if I sub there again this year I'm curious to see how the system evolves. Otherwise, I begrudgingly attest without personal benefit that remote learning is probably the best way to go.

It agonizes me that people are fighting over masks. I was blocked by one Facebook friend because she won't wear because she doesn't believe COVID-19 really exists. (Good riddance.) Another friend, a woman I met when we were 10 years old, went on the latest in a series of tyranny/liberty rant about wearing masks, which are mandatory in public in Illinois. Her posts laid bare her greatest character flaw: she has no concern for anyone but herself. She was called out by others for being self-centered and short-sighted, and all it did was make her double down. I didn't unfriend or block, but for now she's unfollowed. You can't fight crazy.

On the flip side of the debate, remember that gender non-binary person that was kicked out of a charity improv organization? They told someone who admitted to being inconsistent about wearing a mask that he should go commit suicide. Not only that, other people in the Chicago improv community took the person's side. A sociopath with anger issues was being validated. It was not a pretty sight. 

Finally, I've only watched highlights of the the national conventions. Where the Democrats balanced inclusion and critical thinking, the GOP has opted for a weird mix of bombast and face value. I've been trying to write jokes about it, but the late night talk shows are running laps around my ideas. The election is 10 weeks away, but it's going to feel like an eternity. 

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Dispatches from Arm's Length, Part 6

Public opinion is starting to sway toward reopening. That's not to say we're ready by any means; the United States is collectively fatigued after 10 weeks at home. The threat of COVID-19 hasn't gone away --I'm going to keep repeating that-- and states that have reopened have all seen spikes in cases and deaths. People are fighting on social media and in real life over wearing masks. These bold and brazen folks are calling us fraidy-cats. We're only thinking about ourselves, not others, and especially not the immuno-compromised. Illinois still has stay in place, but the governor is buckling.

Admittedly, I'm getting rather bold myself. At first, I was limiting driving for Lyft and Postmates to two, maybe three nights a week. With my unemployment benefits lapsing in two weeks, I'm hesitant to keep dipping into rainy day money. I'm waking up a little earlier, trying to get more stuff done around the apartment in daylight, then go out driving just in time for rush hour. Unless businesses completely reopen (that is to say, are safe to reopen) this is pretty much my life for the next three months.

My latest concern is whether I can afford to stay in my apartment. I'm 6 1/2 months into a one-year lease. Unemployment benefits from the state would help somewhat, but I don't want to face that ordeal again. My roommate is a furloughed cook; he leaves the apartment maybe once a week, and he's practically paying rent as a loan shark. (More on that later.) My sister's best friend and tenant is mostly back at her parents' house; her father died suddenly in early May, and her mother is immuno-compromised. Whether she stays at my sister's house remains to be seen. I still drive out once a week to pick up mail, see the dogs, and soldier on with our never-ending cleaning project. I feel guilty, as if making the 40-minute drive is a wasteful luxury.

Next Week: my annual mindset list.

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Dispatches from Arm's Length, Part 5

I had a particularly strange Lyft ride last Friday night. I picked up this passenger less than half a mile from my apartment; he wasn't wearing a mask, and almost immediately after he got into the car, he asked about "Plandemic." For the unfamiliar, "Plandemic" was a documentary uploaded to YouTube that reinforced several unfounded conspiracy theories about COVID-19. It's been removed and uploaded back to YouTube multiple times in the last week, citing misinformation rules. I saw the video, I know it's nonsense, but he thought it "made you think." I asked politely if he could change the subject, but he persisted. I hate that I had to snap at him, but I did what I could to avoid a more heated argument.

People are getting restless, but there's little we can do. That notorious curve isn't flattening. The death totals aren't tapering off, either.  The health experts aren't giving any indicators that the US as a whole is making progress in the COVID-19 fight. Misinformation is spreading as fast as the virus. The federal government's response has been (to put it mildly) slow, feckless, and unhelpful. Other countries have recovered while the U.S. population bickers over haircuts. Theaters of any kind likely won't open until late in 2020, which puts my weekend job on the kibosh.  Wisconsin reopened, probably too soon. There's no timetable for anything else.

There's a sliver of hope, though: baseball will be back. Two-plus months without this sort of diversion has been rough. I'm acclimated to going to a bunch of games during the spring and summer, but I can handle only watching baseball on TV. (I've haven't bothered to stay up to watch Korean ball, an ESPN "exclusive.") Otherwise, it looks like the rest of our summer has been cancelled. Fatigue has undoubtedly kicked in, but there's little we can do. We just have to persist.

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Dispatches from Arm's Length, Part 4

The quarantine was supposed to last a couple of weeks. Two weeks became three, then a month, then seven weeks, and now likely about three months. Each one of my optimistic predictions has come and gone, and my most recent prognostication --my aforementioned loosening of stay in place around May 22nd-- is likely to be for naught. Whatever plans I had for May, including the now postponed Omaha Comedy Festival, have been scuttled.

The rest of the 2019-20 school year in Illinois has been officially left to E-learning, which leaves me out of steady work until the third week in August. I've applied for temp jobs but haven't heard back. I had been depending on Lyft and Postmates, but the hacking of Instacart, an apparent Google Maps glitch, and an ensuing domino effect has thwarted any real source of income for the moment.

Also during week six, I accidentally stumbled into an argument with a conservative college acquaintance and a friend of his on Facebook. (Rest assured, on the rare occasion I get into a Facebook argument, you will hear about it here.) I believed that the extended stay in place order was hardly desired but necessary; we can't ease ourselves into anything remotely normal until COVID-19 is eradicated. My friend of a friend lived in a rural area in central Illinois, and was frustrated that she and her family can't go fishing. Both made a valid point about how this is destroying small businesses, though that has been a problem everywhere.  I kind of wanted to know more about she was getting by in a less densely populated part of the state, but her condescending attitude about Chicago turned me off. I failed to articulate that everyone is struggling right now. At least neither of them spit out any Trump rhetoric.

Besides unexpected petty squabbles on social media, how am I entertaining myself? I'm catching up on magazines and the Sunday papers. I downloaded a Sudoku app on my phone, something I haven't done in maybe four years. I've struck up conversations on OkCupid and participated in an online (Zoom) dating event. My barprov show is doing one hour remote (again, Zoom) shows twice a week. It may seem like a lot, but it's barely enough. I treated the first round of the NFL Draft like appointment television; otherwise, I feel too distracted to binge on any TV shows. Obviously, I'm still writing.

In the meantime, I will continue to update this blog as things progress and regress. We've all seen a lot of crazy together, and like a certain curve that has barely flattened, it's probably going to get worse. I've never had much interaction through my blog --well, not since the TV.com days-- but if you're reading this, don't be afraid to comment or drop a line. I want to make sure you're okay, too.

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Dispatches from Arm's Length, Part 3

Warren G. Harding is largely considered one of our worst presidents. His legacy, beyond being corrupt and a philanderer, was the word he unintentionally invented while campaigning in 1920. In the wake of the Great War and popular support for American isolationism, he promised a "return to normalcy."

Normalcy, whether or not you think its a real word, has lingered all over the news and on social media as the quarantine ends week five. Even when businesses and public places re-open, things won't go to normal immediately. There's no timetable yet, and the most educated guesses aren't optimistic. (Incidentally, I told a friend that I was hoping for May 22nd, and she winced. So much for hoping against hope.) As optimistic as some people are, you can't force the machine to run normally in a matter of seconds.

The executive branch knew about a potential pandemic in January, then swept it under the rug. I'm just as furious and frustrated as anyone else, but luckily the late night talk shows are still around to make articulate, witty commentaries about the Trump administration's epic blunder. COVID-19 news may be exhausting for some, but I find satire to be a welcome distraction.

When (and if) everything reopens, everything will have to be eased in. Events of no more than two people will give way to groups of five, then ten, perhaps fifty. Social distancing will be "normalcy" for a while yet. Rushing ourselves out into the open (like what President Trump implied in his "LIBERATE" tweets) will only make things worse.

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Dispatches from Arm's Length, Part 2

Since Saturday, March 21st Chicago has been under a "shelter in place" order. Not enough Chicagoans were taking this seriously, so on the 26th, Mayor Lightfoot ordered all the beaches and parks closed. The weather was gorgeous on the 25th, but necessity took priority over everything else. There's a pandemic, and this mayor is not here for populist pandering.

The most optimistic projections are getting crushed. President Trump ignored advisers and medical experts alike, and projected everything reopening by April 12th. In spite of the Christian conservatives that Trump pandered to in 2015-16 (and still does) businesses aren't resuming normal operations by Easter. The new projection, if all goes well, is closer to April 30th.

As I mentioned before, I am predominantly a substitute teacher. When the four districts I work for all shuttered their schools on March 13th, I had to accept the reality that I would be mostly out of work until their projected date, April 6th. It was a domino effect, each local district one by one making an announcement, until Governor Pritzker more or less forced an extended shutdown, all in a matter of hours. I added the Postmates app on top of driving for Lyft, my summer job. Alas, ride-sharing and food delivery have both gone bone dry, and I wonder if sitting on my car waiting for nothing is worth risking my health.

I see people on social media lose track of the day of the week, as whatever signifies their routine (school, church, etc.) goes on the wayside. I have no problem distinguishing Tuesday from Wednesday, but time is different matter. I'm having a hard time getting out of bed; I've been up until 2 most nights and walking up between 11 and noon. My normal idea of "sleeping in" is more like 9:45, maybe 10 o'clock. There's always things to do. Now I can't find the motivation...

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Dispatches from Arm's Length, Part 1

I am an ambivert. For the unfamiliar, an ambivert is someone who shares traits with introverts and extroverts but doesn't really qualify as either. I find balance in alone time and human interaction, but do neither in excess. On Tuesday the 17th, I only interacted with my roommate and a six-month-old kitten. I did something similar on Thursday the 19th. With all due respect to them, this is gonna suck.

The government has to take most of the blame for failing to address COVID-19 until it was too late. As a society, we also have to take some accountability for not taking this seriously. Shutting down society as we know it is straight out of some young adult novel about a farmgirl who's also an above-average archer. Desperation moves are already happening.

I am mainly a substitute teacher, which have been mostly furloughed as regular educators are forced to teach online. I'm a Lyft driver over the summer, so my backup plan has faltered because no one is traveling or commuting. (Hooray for bailout money?) That's not to say I've been doing the best job at quarantining, either. During the first full week of staying at home, I made three trips back to the west suburbs to get mail, buy supplies, and see the dogs.

The experts say the United States needs to quarantine for at least another month. President Trump, someone who has repeatedly demonstrated a lack of empathy, wants businesses to reopen around Easter (April 12th, for the heathens). People are still getting sick, and efforts to "flatten the curve" are right now in a losing fight. In the meantime, I'm going to try and update everyone on my well-being on this blog three, maybe four times a month until things settle. Wash your hands, and take care.

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