Tag Archives: Trumpocalypse

Updates on the End

While I was on vacation, my Mazel Together post on wedding registries (!?!?! I know!!!) went live. Then, lest I feel too cozy in such lighthearted reflections on bourgious comforts, I read a terrifying and plausible reported tweet chain about how literal my “Trumpocalypse” language is w.r.t climate change and the high likelihood that my grandchildren will live on a planet that is too hot for organized human society. So I’m postponing reading this on same and instead reading this on post-apocalyptic religious terror. And dwelling on the possibility that my grandchildren will be living in isolated, iron-age multifamily settlements far, far north. Or underground. Cuz, realistically, Earth hollows are more likely than Mars.

So, you know, happy summer.

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AHCAWUUUUUT Part 4

I keep thinking of this article by Jill Lepore, about the ways in which the health and safety of children have been politicized and destroyed by decades of government budget-slashers.

State child welfare programs are block-granted. I dare you to read Lepore’s article about the consequences of limiting the resources available to pay for essential human services. I dare you to come away from that article believing that capping funding for the medical care of vulnerable people is anything but cruelty.

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AHCAWUUUUUUT?! Part 3

The Senate version of the AHCA has some stupid-ass name I refuse to engage. I will, however, engage with any so-and-so who dares come at me with any argument about anything good about this bill. No one likes it. Except the people that pay GOPpers to destroy our civil society.  Continue reading

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Streetfight: Trumpocalypse Vs Gilead

I read The Handmaid’s Tale this week and anxiously calculated the chances of Atwood’s theocratic/woman-hating coup manifesting in the Donald Duck era.

Atwood’s dystopia sorts women into four classes: Wives (duh), Marthas (domestic servants), Handmaids (pregnancy surrogates for infertile Wives), and Unwomen (“gender traitors” and dissidents). But as Foucault taught us, exceptions to the (gender) rules better enforce the (gender) rules. Though she fears for her life under the brutal regime and is coerced into breaking more and more of its codes, Offred (“Of Fred”) finds herself wresting what pleasure she can out of a system that denies her autonomy, sociality, love. The book is about how much we will give up to stay human.

Thus follows a catalog of qualities our current government may or may not share with Atwood’s Gilead. Which totalitarian, repressive regime wins?

Continue reading

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I Hate to Critize Gawande, But

His recent analysis of the latest way that the GOP has screwed itself and their voters by worshipping a fantasy of a “free” market and a white, straight, born-here manvoter who can act unencumbered (swing around his big ol’ wallet, rub it on anything) within that “free” market presupposes its own falsehood: that this administration and its Congress respond to rational argument, evidence, and voters’ needs to see a fucking doctor without going broke. (Or breathe clean air. Or use a bathroom without getting clobbered. Or not die in nuclear holocaust. Or conventional holocaust. Or smoking rubble of a formerly greenish planet.)

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Dystopia and American Individualism

Today I learned the word “centi-millionaire.” I did not want to know this word. I did not require a vocabulary for gradations of unimaginable wealth. I did not want to imagine billionaires benevolently sharing social theories, real estate tips, and 60-year-old wine with their scrappy li’l neighbors in the soundless, glinting moneyscape of the topmost fraction of a percent. But now I know, and I cannot un-know.

Continue reading

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