The Ghost Light Goes Out

I just got back from watching a production of Xanadu at our local community theatre. After this production closes, the theatre itself shutters permanently. It's been around for 79 years. The news came suddenly, a shock to everyone.

I'm not privy to all the tea about what went wrong. A combination of post-COVID malaise, internecine disputes, and money troubles all contributed. They had a new artistic director, now gone. They had a full season planned, now cancelled. Two more weekends of Xanadu, and the stages go dark forever.

It reminds me of the lines from that NPR story I wrote about earlier:

I don't know what comes next. Things fell apart so quickly, but also slowly; as the years passed, cracks started opening up, eventually turning into a chasm. In the end, we didn't make it.

I've seen so many productions at this theatre. I've been in a show there. You can find me in a picture from that production. It hangs on the walls alongside photos from years--decades--past. I saw people I acted with in the audience. I saw people I taught, people I teach with, people from my church, and people from other productions with a rare night off.

The show, based on the featherweight 80s movie, leans into its campy lightheartedness. Clio (they pronounced it kleye-oh), Muse of History, descends to earth to help a young artist realize his dream of a roller disco that also has theatre and dance and sports and magic, etc. 

Much of the plot revolves around revitalizing an old abandoned theatre space. The owner had himself been visited by Clio nearly forty years prior, initially inspired but then backing away from his dream. Many lines concerned what they could do to save this precious space where art happens.

And then they'd shift into one of many lesser-known 80s hits, usually with a self-aware metatheaticality. 

But beneath the silliness and the energetic cast, the lines about abandoned theatres and jokes about artistic inspiration disappearing from earth after 1980 landed differently. 

This theatre had its share of excellent performances as well as many "good try, ya'll!" productions. But its value was never as a source of Great Art. Instead, it really did what the best community theatres do--putting people in touch with Some Art in ways that feel more entertaining than obligatory. Seats fill up for musicals, and standing ovations are the norm. Everyone on stage seems excited to be there. Everyone in the audience seems eager to see and laugh and clap. 

It's a living theatre space. 

I don't know what comes next. So much love and sweat and energy and spirit haunt that place. It feels wrong for a lifetime's worth of of theatre to end so abruptly.

The cast looked like they were having the time of their lives, soaking up the well-earned guffaws at their jokes and the giggles at technical malfunctions (e.g., the projection system crashing) with equal good faith. I laughed, too. 

And I may yet shed a tear. RIP, TBR. Thanks for all the art you produced.

Boring Updates and Perspectives on The Awfulness

 Well, I got done SOME of what I had planned. Nothing read of the many comps for next week, nothing written in terms of rec letters or article reviews. 

But I took the car to the mechanic--replaced a sensor and met another prof from my university. Both of us are stuck at the associate level, too overworked to focus on a book (maybe). Both of us are nervous in that resigned way of institutional veterans: more of the same. Both of us wonder if this time is worse? Because the governor hates us? Hates higher ed? Stacked the Board of Regents with his cronies? 

And I got good news: a call from one of the seminaries I applied to, offering me a full tuition scholarship. Very nice, that personal touch. 

I also figured out midterm grades, loaded them up, sent them out--and then immediately discovered an error in the grades for one class, recalculated, changed the grades, and sent out an explainer email.

And I dipped back into some News. Tariffs seem to be off again. Or delayed? Suspended? Who knows. Some random quote from some anonymous White House staffer basically praised it as a thrilling what-comes-next story line. We'll see how enjoyable markets find chaos. 

Another death from measles, this time an adult. This is more deaths this year than we've had in the past twenty-two years. 

I read two pieces today about The Awfulness--well, two blog posts and a video.

Writing in 3 Quarks Daily, Barry Goldman reflects on the conventional wisdom he has absorbed and transmitted about care and deliberation in the face of seeming emergencies. Goldman recalls a speech by a political science professor he heard once when he was young:

He said all revolutionary movements are essentially utopian. The central idea is that there is a madman at the wheel. If we could just knock out the madman and grab the wheel, we could steer to safety. He said, sadly, this is a juvenile fantasy. The bitter truth, he told us, is there is no madman. And there is no wheel.

The world is much more complicated than the slogans of the revolutionaries would have it. There are no simple solutions. There are not even any simple problems.

Worse, the idea that there are simple solutions leads inevitably to fanaticism. The notion that there is a simple truth, we know it, and that guy over there is preventing us from reaching it, leads us to excuse pushing that guy out of the way.

Goldman says he has long attested to the truth of this insight. But, quoting e.e. cummings, "There is some shit I will not eat":

There can be no respectful listening to the other side when the other side says children shouldn’t be vaccinated for polio, or January 6^th was a day of love, or Ukraine “got in a war.” Ukraine did not get in a war. Ukraine was attacked by a murderous dictator. RFK Jr. is a dangerous crank. Elon Musk has no business mucking around in the Treasury Department computer system. There is no such thing as the Gulf of America.

So I have changed my mind. I do so with the greatest reluctance. It goes against everything I’ve been saying for nearly 50 years. But the facts have changed. And “When the facts change, I change my mind. What do you do, sir?”

The time for politics as usual has passed. We are in the midst of a coup. The Constitution is in danger. Democracy and the rule of law are at stake. There is a madman at the wheel.

THERE IS A MADMAN AT THE WHEEL!

(I'm reminded of John Mulaney's bit from the first T admin [I paraphrase]: It's like there's a horse loose in the hospital. The surgeries and procedures go on, but now and then you hear galloping, neighing, crashing--and you remember: There's a horse. In the hospital!)

 Timothy Burke (the historian, not the more famous one) offers some advice for those of us convinced that there's a madman at the wheel/a horse in the hospital/a coup in the US:

If you want to do something about it, whatever that it might be, you have a bigger and harder job than just being right. You have to be part of a we. Being part of a we is not just organizing, it is allowing yourself to be organized by others. It means giving up some of your own vanities, you own insistences, your own certainties and urgencies.

Don’t start from the biggest “we” imaginable, and we don’t start with the “we” that is required to win out in a struggle, as if fighting for a better world is a Request For Proposal with an attached list of minimum specs. We start from where we are as individuals, with the people who are most likely to know us. But that is precisely where the lonely purist fails hardest when they mistake their vain righteousness for a truth everyone has to be bullied and cajoled into accepting. If you can’t convince the people most proximate to you, most likely to listen to you, about what you want to make a shared cause or common concern, then that’s what you have to leave behind. If you can’t leave it behind, then embrace being alone, accept that what matters to you is being right as opposed to being effective. Choose the perfect and scorn the merely good. 

And finally,  John Green (one of the vlog brothers) simply gives a sitrep on his own anxiety. His book about tuberculosis gets released in a few weeks, just as (as he notes) we seem as a country dead set on giving a huge boost to "diseases of injustice" like HIV, malaria, and tuberculosis. This boost to disease (by abruptly and cruelly withdrawing aid) will cost lives. He ends by admitting "I'm scared because it's scary." But, he reminds us, we live not at the end of history but in the middle of it. We don't know the ending, which gives us hope and lays out for us work to do.  

The work, it seems, involves not merely raising the alarm about the present but also imagining a "we" who live today and tomorrow with us.

 

Smorgasbord Post

I'm tired of writing about the awfulness, so let's have a break today. Smorgasbord post!

TOPIC: Schoolwork

Finished--finally--the huge (digital) stack of papers from both script analysis sections. I still have a load of work ahead of me in preparation for Monday (and that's with classes resuming Friday). 

I have (counting) four defenses to attend next week: two comp exams, a general exam, and a dissertation defense. I also need to get moving on a letter of recommendation, an article review, and a revised call statement. I will be more than ready for a break after next week. 

TOPIC: Research

And yet my brain thinks of still more things I could be doing. The dearth of summer funding has me eager to find some way to make money and be productive. One such possibility here lies in a book fellowship focused on writing a second book. 

Since my last go at a second book fell through (long story), I've been poking around with the topic since then. Could I, I wonder, produce a first chapter sufficient to qualify for the fellowship--in two weeks? (Laughs maniacally)

But really. Could I? Hm.

TOPIC: Ministry stuff

I have a full-tuition offer from one seminary. I'm waiting on the other. We'll see... 

Before then, I have the Board Of Ordained Ministry (BOOM) in about a week and a half. Follow-up from the District Committee on Ordained Ministry (DCOM) has been . . . minimal, even with a gentle nudge by email from me. Another nudge may be in order, along with the updated Statement of Call. The last one I had is at this point dated. I was discerning then. I'm certaining now. (pause for a quick search.) Huh. Seems like discern comes from the Latin discernere--to separate, set apart, distinguish. That in turn derives from dis (at a distance) and cernere (separate or sift), and before that the Proto-Indo-European root *krei--sieve. I've sifted; now I'm being sifted, ready to be used or set aside as God wills.

TOPIC: Transformers

Have I mentioned how much I love Transformers? The toys/expanded universe? One discipline I've adopted in the past few weeks has been to devote some time each day just to playing with my transformers. It's been immensely therapeutic. 

Transformers have always fascinated me; I remember being captivated by the GoBot commercials I first saw. A cool vehicle ("cool" meant "resembled something that could fire a laser beam") turned into a robot (definitely capable of firing a laser beam)? Yes, please! Thankfully, it was Transformers rather than the GoBots that won my parents' money and my attention. Cliffjumper was my first; my sister got Bumblebee at the same time. I have a Cliffjumper and Bumblebee now, both light years more advanced (and fun!) than the old ones. Well, I say that, but I had plenty of fun with them and the others. I remember the birthday I got Optimus Prime (which in my mind had been "Optimistic Pride"--I'm so hopeful and proud of you!). That was a good one.

I confess on this Ash Wednesday: I'm still terribly drawn to having and playing with toys. The fact that I have to make myself carve out time to play--and the fact that doing so helps stabilize me--suggests that perhaps I should look elsewhere for Lenten disciplines of fast. 

 TOPIC: Car

I should get up early tomorrow and take the car to the mechanic. It'll be the last free day I have for a while, and there's some worrisome noises and lights there. Plus the tires are pretty old... Sigh. We'll see.

TOPIC: School again

And I gotta figure out miderm grades! 

I better play, pray, and get to sleep.

 

Feeling the Burn

 A friend showed me the Facebook feed of an old buddy of his, someone who's all in for Trump. On that feed was a cartoon to the effect that Democrats' only plan involves hoping for bad things to happen to the country.

As I write this, we're enduring the first day of Trump II's Mexico and Canada tariffs. Trump has made it plain that he's immovably convinced that such tariffs will make life better for Americans. Dozens of people have--in public, before cameras--attempted to walk him through why this isn't so. 

Jeff Tiedrich quotes one such exchange from Feb 27:

reporter: “tariffs don’t hurt other countries — they’re paid by American businesses and consumers.”

[Trump]: “no, no. China pays. other countries pay. it’s a beautiful thing.”

reporter: “then why did farmers need billions in bailout money when tariffs crushed exports?”

Donny: “we took care of farmers! they love me. the best farmers.”

 Even Trump fan Ben Shapiro is baffled:

 I still am unclear as to what the actual demand is against Mexico or Canada that would get rid of the tariffs. If the idea of the tariffs is that they are inherently a good for the United States, that is not true. The tariffs are in fact a tax on American consumers. They drive up the prices.

And sure enough, markets have taken a dive. Target announces price hikes on food. Gas is likely to go up. Cars will cost thousands more.

All of this pain was predictable--was predicted, loudly, time and time again by Democrats and practically everyone else, even many Republicans. The framing of "Democrats hope for the country to fail" makes as much sense as saying parents "hope" their child gets burned if they touch a hot stove. Murc's Law strikes again: Only Democrats have agency. Here's how it goes:

1.  Trump and the entirely quiescent GOP run on plans that will harm the country. 
2. Democrats point this out. 
3. Trump and GOP initiate those plans. 
4. Country is harmed. 
5. Democrats: "We warned you!" 
6. GOP: "Those sadistic Democrats, hoping for the worst!"

 For what it's worth--no, I don't want the country harmed. I don't want people to lose jobs and healthcare. I don't want people to suffer and die here or abroad from preventable diseases. I don't want us to lose standing with the international community. I don't want billionaires to further enrich themselves at the expense of the rest of us. I don't want democratic norms further eroded by a reckless autocrat wannabe. 

I want none of these things. Does that mean I hope for bad results from Trump's policies? Of course not! It's not up to me, is it? The bad results aren't punishments I'm inflicting. They're natural--predictable--consequences of bad choices. If a kid chooses to touch a hot stove despite all warnings, the best the parent can hope for is that the burn isn't too bad--and that the kid learns not to touch hot stoves. 

Unfortunately, we're all in this together. We're all gonna feel the burn. I hope it's not too bad, and I hope we (meaning they) learn. 

Scales of Awful

 With the constant firehose of gobsmacking awfulness from Trump II so far, it can be tough to keep perspective. Relative to the vast sweep of Trump's activities, his renaming the Gulf of Mexico to the Gulf of America is "irritating awful." Banning the Associate Press for refusing to use that name is a notch more awful than that. DOGE's indiscriminate firing of thousands of federal workers and machete-slashing of vital departments and programs perhaps qualifies as the next order of magnitude up--not just irritating but actively harmful both to the workers affected and to the workings of government.

Probably around the same scale of bad but of a different species would be Trump's rank cronyism and graft, extending or withholding favors (DOJ prosecutions, for example) based on whether someone flatters and/or enriches him. Also in that bag are his $5 million citizenship ticket or the payout to billionaires he's promised. The Muskification of government functions (e.g., Starlink promising to take over the FAA) augers a world where vital aspects of civic order turn into privately own subscription services by enshittified for-profit companies. 

The war against all things DEI also ranks here. It looks more and more like a flat-out desire to roll the society back to cishet white patriarchy at the expense of people of color, women, and queer/trans folk. It will cost lives. It damages our country's very soul (never especially healthy or clean to begin with). 

On the world stage, the US suddenly becoming an adversary to former friends and a friend to former (and current!) adversaries may just be the next level up. The Trump-Vance-Zelenskyy meltdown and its aftermath--withdrawal of support from Ukraine until Trump gets an "abject apology" (what does that even mean?) exemplifies how horrific we've become. Add this to increased military and economic aggression toward our northern and southern neighbors and you get a new Empire in need of defeating. And as much as I hear many of the pundits I attend to insisting that Trump isn't in fact a Putin stooge--well, if he were, what would look different than what he's doing already? 

But a degree of awful above even this sullying of our international reputation, even beyond the infiltration by malign (Russian) forces we're inviting (e.g., Hegseth closing down DoD research into Russian cyber-warfare)--is the USAID withdrawal. 

Today, news agencies reported on a series of memos circulated by USAID's Nicholas Enrich, acting assistant administrator for global health. These memos detailed the cost in lives that cutting of USAID funding internationally will take. The breakdown of consequences includes some shocking figures:

• up to 18 million additional cases of malaria per year, and as many as 166,000 additional deaths;

• 200,000 children paralyzed with polio annually, and hundreds of millions of infections;

• one million children not treated for severe acute malnutrition, which is often fatal, each year;

• more than 28,000 new cases of such infectious diseases as Ebola and Marburg every year.

Enrich was fired Sunday. 

Atul Gawande skeets a longer list of aid programs terminated by Trump II.

I don't want to discount the deaths in this country due to Trump's maneuvers (e.g., queer/trans suicides; violence against people of color, queer folk, women; deaths due to unemployment and insurance hikes; deaths due to curtailing reproductive care). But the scale of human death and suffering worldwide because of Elon/Trump's conspiracy theories about USAID--and Congress's quiescence in the face of Trump's actions--is hard do imagine.

HIV and tuberculosis will surge, likely with new and drug-resistant strains. Diseases we thought vanquished may make a comeback. Widespread health disparities will further destabilize impoverished regions. We'll of course start feeling this in the RFK era of vaccine skepticism (though he has about-faced on measles somewhat). 

There's no contest for which of Trump's acts so far will prove to be most destructive. There's no award. But if there were, I think ending USAID may win that grisly prize. It's an awful trespass against the whole world.

short Post

 Loads of fear all about--I think? Or perhaps I'm just stuck in an echo chamber of doomscrolling.

In any case, weariness overtakes me this evening, so short posting.

Let's see what tomorrow brings.

So quickly.

 I've never seen as many people close to me as scared as they are now--not during COVID, not after 9-11. My DnD buddies all work for the FAA. They keep getting ominous notes that huge cuts are coming. No one knows who's safe and who's not. No one has any notion of who's making these decisions, or what criteria they're using.

It baffles me to hear of people acting as if all this suffering constituted victory. "I never knew people hated government so much," one of my buddies marveled.

The short- and long-term suffering is going to be terrible. 

I keep thinking of books I've read (Max Brooks's Devolution most recently) in which a disaster happens and various characters have to adjust to the abrupt change from first-world safety to wartime all-against-all survival mode. 

How close are we to that stage? 

How much military or armed forces support does the billionaires-and-bullies-first accelerationis agenda have? Hegseth seems bound and determined to start a border war with Mexico. I fear what happens if there's any loss of life on the American side--or, just as likely historically, a fake story about American loss of life--from some random Mexican or drug gang or whatever. Nothing galvanizes like a war--We're the wounded ones now! 

I don't know. 

Things fell apart so quickly. 

Things fell apart so quickly.

Things fell apart so quickly.