[An Ohio anti-mask protest this summer.]
When the shoe finally drops, removing Trump from government will feel great. I hope he is rigorously prosecuted, and Trump losing was an absolutely necessary step. I hope you had a nice time celebrating, breathing a sigh of relief, and toasting the end of an era on that that one Saturday afternoon.
And yet, this election was a gut punch to the future. The resulting social outlook is bleak, particularly for cities. The election dashed hopes that our country might make strides in the next few years toward fixing racial inequality, achieving economic justice, or doing anything meaningful about climate change.
Here are five things I was thinking about this month:
|[A nurse breaks down in New York City.]|
So much for the vaunted politics of persuasion.
We've always been a country of religious self-deceiving whackos, but today's delusions are far more harmful than old fashioned faith. Even a half-unhinged population is more than enough to destabilize the social compact.
And yet, Trump’s loss was so narrow and superficial, it’s a pyrrhic victory. As case counts climb off the charts, people remain on Summit Avenue demonstrating against being prevented from killing each other. As the death rate in South Dakota goes off the charts and their sadistic governor pours fuel on the fire, dying people in hospitals rage against the very nurses that attempt to save them. Q-Anon is normal now, and what could be more disturbing?
A Broken Country
|[Just the latest.]|
The election reveals how the deep grip of America’s self-delusional, “reality” show, pyramid scheme narcissism is stronger than our media or government institutions. If COVID-19 does not pull the rural right to its senses, what will?
In other words, there will be no clearer case of reality confronting ideology than the current plague. There will not be a situation where nature, facts, and science smack people so firmly the face with their own fantasies than the fall of 2020. And yet...
There are deep roots to our collective plight — most succinctly, ruthless capitalism — but there’s no denying that we are in the middle of an epic plagueFAIL. It is likely twice as many people will die in the end, and perhaps many more than that. We are clearly a country that cannot perform even basic gestures of self-preservation. Apart from a brief moment of congressional action, fleeting as a Minnesota spring, there's been little hope for using our massive fiscal resources to offer basic social insurance and protections. Many parts of the country still don't have reliable PPE, let alone real solutions.
All things considered, effective COVID policy — coordinated health care, broad support for wearing masks, and fiscal lifelines for workers and businesses — represents a simple political problem. And yet, once Republican partisan vandalism took over, chances of government action waned. The constant Machiavellian logic of sabotage ensures that any semblance of social consensus will fall victim to zero-sum political bloodsport.
Covid is the Canary in the Carbon Coal Mine
|[Golfing through a forest fire in Oregon.]|
For example, decarbonizing the economy is a collective action problem far more challenging than the direct cause-and-effect relationship of today's plague. While COVID requires us to recognize the presence of an invisible virus, the atmosphere is a nonhuman actor more vague and difficult to comprehend. The accumulating forest fires, floods, derecho winds, hurricanes, heat waves, and melting permafrost are obvious enough if you want to see them, but easy to ignore if you do not. Everything clear about COVID becomes murky.
Compared to climate change, the short-term sacrifices for coping with COVID are small. If people cannot wear a mask in public, how will they be convinced to stop driving an SUV or flying in airplanes?
Compared to climate change, COVID's impacts on vulnerable people — hospital workers and the elderly — are direct and immediate. If people cannot see how their actions affect health care workers in their own town, how will they be convinced to care about people in Bangladesh or Guatemala?
Compared to climate change, the need for government intervention is marginal. If we cannot get Congress to fund restaurant closures, how will be be able to get it to support a Green New Deal?
People often talk about the silver linings of a crisis moment, how in a natural disaster, people come together and care about each other in surprising ways. Well, it does not always turn out that way. If Americans cannot act collectively in a sudden pandemic, there is little chance that we can do so in a far larger, slow-moving existential crisis.
Cities Remain Screwed
|[The two economies in America.]|
In Minnesota, urban areas are overwhelmingly and almost uniformly Democratic while exurban and rural areas are the opposite. (The exceptions, college towns, prove the rule.) The same is true state-by-state across the country: anywhere with large dominant metro areas is a blue state, with the exception of Texas and Florida, both long-time bastions of right-wing attention and political logic. With the recent election in San Diego, the largest Republican mayors in the country are now located in Indianapolis and Jacksonville. Every other city is a Democratic bastion, and everywhere, the urban-rural divide reigns supreme.
This split has deep roots in globalization and neoliberal economic policy, which is a whole big can of worms. But the result is that rural economies are now almost entirely composed of agriculture, resource extraction, and health care, all of which entail heavy subsidies and/or external costs. Even there, the economic foundations for grievance have been eclipsed by supposedly cultural bullshit and racism, leaving little common ground or overlapping geography.
The split has bleak consequences for the country’s future thanks to anti-urban political structures. (See below.) In order for the United States to make meaningful solutions on our largest problems — most especially racial inequality and climate change — we need large-scale investment in urban infrastructure, like transit, rail, and housing. (This is not to mention necessary social infrastructure like universal public health care and UBI.) None of this will happen on the current political landscape, and policy dreams that would begin to get American cities into the same conversation with the rest of the Global North remain on hold.
What’s worse, the stubborn stalemate in the US Senate means that aid to local governments -- counties, cities, and states -- is unlikely to amount to much. The future is full of budget cuts and further disinvestment in basic infrastructure. For example, consider the fate of the already-underfunded transit systems in Boston, New York, Chicago, Philadelphia, and of course Metro Transit in the Twin Cities. As 2020 proves, undermining cities lies at the core of the Republican playbook.
|[Redistricting only happens once a decade.]|
Despite large majorities at scales both large and small, left-leaning urban America cannot win a mandate. Racking up larger and large margins in urban areas and urban states will accomplish very little given the geographic calculus of our democracy.
Dreaming on a slate of electoral reforms only reveals our dim prospects. If the country had the national popular vote, got rid of the US Senate, had a congress free from partisan redistricting, and made it easy to vote, there would be healthy majorities in favor of gun control, climate action, police reform, Medicare for All, and dozens of other policies that lay far out of reach today. As a census year, this election offered the best chance to achieve some of those democratic reforms. Instead, it was a down-ballot failure that locked in minority rule for another decade.
In Sum, a Bleak Prospect
This election was ripe for change, and yet accomplished almost nothing. When faced with a life-and-death crisis and a clear abdication of responsibility by Trump, over 70 million voters chose madness, denial, and self-immolation. I don’t see much change or hope coming in the form of President Biden, nor is there much possibility of shifting our media conversations, which remain under control by an ever-more-nihilistic corporate capitalism.
Republicans are going to gerrymander the hell out of the US House, and if Democrats cannot win Senate elections in states like Maine, Montana, or Kansas, there’s little hope for large Congressional action in my lifetime. With packed courts, elections will continue to be strangled by money and voter suppression, and Biden is hardly the kind of president that can use a bully pulpit to great effect.
Meanwhile, millions of workers and most small business owners have been wrenched into making terrible choices. Meanwhile health care workers have sacrificed their health and well being for eight months, and a quarter million Americans have died anyway.
A high-turnout election during a horrible pandemic should have ensured a mandate for change, both locally and nationally. Instead, Trump gained support and the political picture has gotten worse. Even with a new president, it's hard to see hope for a different future. There are almost no political consequences for fomenting a national plague, and our country has lost generational chance for change.
As I said, it's bleak.
[Phil Cuzzi sucks at his job.]
The Twins lost again and I am sad again. I attended my first Twins game as a six-month-old baby at the Met. I was at Game 7 if the 91 World Series as twelve-year-old. I have watched every Twins playoff game since. Since that night, rooting for the Twins in the playoffs has meant nothing but disappointment. (I also like the Oakland A's, so even that '02 victory was a bit dubious.)
On the other hand, I lived in Massachusetts from 1997 to 2001 and remember watching Red Sox games with actual die-hard Red Sox fans, before they had won in the playoffs. I recall the dead look in their eyes, the suffocating atmosphere of defeat. Though I'm sick of it now, I admired the dogged determination of the Rex Sox flock, downtrodden and clinging to even the slightest glimmer of hope in spite of generations of history teaching you lessons to the contrary.
(By the way: can you imagine what Boston sports fans would be like after a 0-18 stretch? It must have been similar to whatever hell world Boston was like after the ’86 World Series.)
In Minnesota, we’re generally too modest to get worked up about feeling sorry for ourselves. People here half expect to lose, and many have come to terms with it. But there's losing in general, and then there's the specific zero-for-eighteen stretch that the Twins are on, which is an epic marvel of defeat. By one calculation, the odds of it happening are something like 1 in 28,000.
So what's going on? Why are the Twins so damned as to have broken the record for most consecutive playoff losses in any major pro sport in the history of the United States? What kind of forlorn curse can explain it?
Here are some prevailing theories, ranked in order of how much I, a die-hard Twins fan, believe in them:
#8. The Pepsi Curse
Theory: Switching the soft drink vendor from Coke to Pepsi cursed the Twins in the plaoyffos.
Believability: Low. They only switched in 2010.
Remedy: Drink Pepsi, I guess.
#7. Curse of Wally the Beer Man
Theory: The Twins cursed themselves when they fired the famous beer vendor, Wally the Beer Man, for undisclosed reasons.
Believability: Dunno. I like this one simply because it reminds me of the Billy Goat Curse. That said, they only fired Wally in 2011.
Remedy: Free beer night?
#6. Curse of the Center Field Pines
Theory: After they cut down the pine trees above center field, the Twins cursed themselves with the fierce maleficent wrath of the confier gods.
Believability: Low. The curse must date back to the Metrodome era, no?
Remedy: Bring back the trees.
#5. The M-hat Curse
Theory: The Twins’ winning years were when they wore their ‘M’ hat logo, not the ‘TC’ logo. Until they bring back the ‘M’ hat for the playoffs, they are cursed.
Believability: Has been debunked, as the ‘M’ hat was won in '04 and at other times. That said, still could be a minor curse.
Remedy: Wear the ‘M’ hats in the playoffs again? It can’t hurt.
#4. Curse of the ’91 Halloween Blizzard
Theory: The famous 1991 Halloween Blizzard happened only four days after the Twins won the World Series. It was like the moment in Ghostbusters when the clouds start revolving around The Dakota before Gozer the Gozerian makes their appearance, only it happened afterwards. The blizzard was the meteorological incarnation of the Twins good fortune. Only, because Minnesotans are so fixated on being special, they keep talking about the Halloween Blizzard ad infinitum, keeping the time-space continuum firmly locked in 1991 mode, not allowing for the ontological evolution of Twins baseball beyond the scrappy carpet Metrodome era.
Believability: Not too bad.
Remedy: Minnesotans have to stop talking about the Halloween Blizzard. Continuing to do so only perpetuates the curse.
#3. The Guildenstern Curse
Theory: Losing 18 baseball games in a row is so improbable that it can only be like the beginning of the play Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead.
Believability: You could convince me of this with a little effort. Hard to really understand it otherwise.
Remedy: Unclear. If the Twins players are minor characters in Hamlet, perhaps this traces back to the Pohlads. Do they live in a castle? It’s possible. They need to decide what to do about Carl’s ghost.
#2. Curse of Big Papi
Theory: This is the most popular explanation, and it makes a lot of sense. This is sort of a variation on the Curse of the Bambino (see further notes below), that the Twins’ lost their playoff magic when they released oft-injured David Ortiz back in 2002. Ortiz would of course go on to become the Red Sox’ playoff talisman and is a lock for the Hall of Fame.
Believability: High. Ortiz was magical.
Remedy: Pick up someone from the Red Sox waiver wire? Make a trade with the Red Sox (which the Twins almost did in the Graterol deal)?
#1. Big Papi / Babe Ruth Curse Transfer
Theory: Similar to the previous curse, except in this case, it involves the transfer of team playoff karma. In 1919, the trade of Babe Ruth somehow transferred all the playoff karma from the Red Sox to the Yankees. Then, in 2004, the Red Sox stole the Twins’ World Series mojo in the form of David Ortiz. It proves that playoff mojo is at any given point found in one specific mercurial or talismanic player, and teams must keep these players at all costs or risk losing everything.
Believability: This one is my favorite.
Remedy: The Twins need to trade for some other team’s magical mojo player. It could be anyone. They should be consulting a psychic.
Speaking of which, I am devastated by the thought that there will be no further Federal relief for bars and restaurants because of Congressional Republicans and Trump. This fall and winter will surely be an apocalypse for Twin Cities bars, especially the wonderfully marginal ones. Let's hope something changes!
The last few years have not been kind to downtown Saint Paul dive bars, and COVID-19 and the absence of sports has made everything worse. I was downtown last week and once again struck by the lack of people, which is saying something for a downtown that is typically lacking in signs of human life in the first place.
Well, it seems inevitable that bars will go out of business during the COVID pandemic, and that goes double for places located downtown that are dealing with a huge drop in population. You would expect the most marginal places to be the first to disappear, and there was no more marginal dive bar in downtown Saint Paul than the Hat Trick.
The Hat Trick -- formerly the Top Hat, but the named was changed when the Xcel Energy Center opened up -- was in a historic one-story building in the middle of one the city’s last old blocks in the downtown core. It shares a wall with the the decrepit Empire Building, smushed between the Pioneer-Endicott alley and a large parking ramp, in what was once the heart of old downtown. 5th and Robert should be one of Saint Paul’s prime locations, but today, with the skyway buildings sucking all the life off the street, somehow it always seemed desolate. Even finding the place was like walking into an alley you didn’t know existed.
Each time I went into the place, I was struck again by its slapdash character. It was the kind of dive that was made from patchwork, where you could see each and every repair, remodel, or new piece of furniture in the place. Walking through the Hat Trick was like visiting a museum, various things on the wall dating back sometimes decades. The curiosities on the wall were unparalleled; I was especially fond of the weird carpet shamrock. The bar itself was a split-level and U-shaped, and festooned with historic-looking 70s lampposts.
They had big darts tournaments and a good pool table elevated somehow onto a balcony overlooking the main bar room. Typically the TV was tuned to local news unless there was Minnesota sports happening somewhere. There was often a newspaper sitting on the plush bar railing, probably opened to the comics or the sports page. This was one fo the last places in downtown where you could be absolutely sure to find the marginal folks of Saint Paul, people passing the time and drinking the day away. At night, local cover bands would play in the big side room. There was a vending machine (!) and one of the city’s dingiest bathrooms down a long beige hallway.
The building is for sale and the interior gutted. Almost nobody will miss it, but downtown is surely less diverse without the Hat Trick Lounge, made all the poorer without this weird refuge. RIP Hat Trick Lounge!