On Childless Cat Ladies

 

You start out in 1954 by saying, "N****r, N****r, N****r." By 1968 you can't say "N****r"—that hurts you. Backfires. So you say stuff like forced busing, states' rights and all that stuff. You're getting so abstract now [that] you're talking about cutting taxes, and all these things you're talking about are totally economic things and a byproduct of them is [that] blacks get hurt worse than whites. And subconsciously maybe that is part of it. I'm not saying that. But I'm saying that if it is getting that abstract, and that coded, that we are doing away with the racial problem one way or the other. You follow me—because obviously sitting around saying, "We want to cut this," is much more abstract than even the busing thing, and a hell of a lot more abstract than "N****r, N****r."

- Lee Atwater

For those unfamiliar, this is a quote from Lee Atwater, a Republican political operative from the 1980s and one of the architects of the Southern Strategy. Thanks in part to his work, the once solidly Democratic South became a bastion of the Republican Party. It wasn't all him of course, and this process occurred before and after the 1980s. Nevertheless, this quote feels strangely relevant in light of the recent rise and fall of the phrase "Childless Cat Ladies." 

In the past couple of months, it passed from J D. Vance's tradcath mouth into the memesphere and has largely dissipated. When the phrase still emerges, it is in an almost ironic context (like “deplorables” two elections ago). I have seen men appropriating it for themselves, and so-called CCLs in real life mentioning it for a laugh in bars. Good for them. But it is important to unpack how something like this could gain any kind of currency in the first place. Its present ridiculousness can obscure the potentially serious division the Right seeks to exploit in the future. 

Returning to the Atwater quote, we may be at the N-word stage of the process the deceased operative outlined. The Childless Cat Lady occupies its place with gender swapped in for race. That is not to say the term is anywhere near offensive. Only that it is similarly clumsy, ridiculous, and to the detriment of reactionaries, obvious. It too easily reveals what they are appealing to. In Atwater's case, it was racism. For Childless Cat Ladies it is sexism. This campaign cycle, it has been to the benefit of liberals and others that such terminology was chosen. It gives them a good laugh and allows people like Vance and his ilk to be portrayed as "weird."

Well until the VP debate. Now it seems that "weird" has been put to rest. However, that other term, Childless Cat Ladies (which has its historical antecedents) may have its afterlife (or nine) too. Not in a literal sense. Rather, a sentiment behind it might provide a fertile ground for future reactionary politics to cultivate. That is why the phrase cannot be fully dismissed. Liberals and their coalition need to be vigilant. The sentiment in question is a resentment that could very well rear its head in more coded language. Echoes of “Childless Cat Ladies” reverberating through the campaign trails of the future.

And no, I won’t speculate on what those terms will be. I’m not going to help them. It must be remembered that resentment is the bread and butter of reactionary politicians. They are constantly sizing up society to find what might be bubbling under the surface and can be lanced for their benefit. The whole CCL nonsense is no different. It’s an attempt to explore and exploit tensions between the portion of women in this society who raise children, and those who do not. The distinction isn’t as clear as the phrase makes it out to be, but when has the Right ever allowed subtly, or reality to get in its way?

Obviously, throughout history not all women have had children (or children that survived infancy) but the numbers of women who decide to not pursue some form of motherhood (or guardianship) are higher today than ever before. Meanwhile the cost in terms of money and time for children keeps increasing and is also born more and more by the individual family unit, however it may be constructed. 

(Despite the wide diversity in parenting structures, there’s little chance of the Right trying to appeal to them all. It’s why this essay is discussing things in terms of heterosexual cisgender women. This is in no way meant meant to ignore LGBT heads of households. But they occupy a different place in the discourses of Right-wing politics. In theory, transgender men with children could be celebrated by reactionaries as a way to put down CCLs. In practice they, along with others who do not conform to their supposed ideal, will merely be put down as an aberration who should not be allowed to have children in the first place. It’s another clue, among many, of how the Right isn’t actually interested in the welfare of children as an ends, but rather as a means to assert control and slot people into their “proper” place.)

Now is this particular resentment there? It is hard to imagine any useful polling that might shine a light on its dimensions. How widespread is the feeling, and how deep does it run for those who feel it?  One might have a tinge of resentment for something but it might also not bother them much. But I think it's worth an educated guess to assert there's a strong potential for it. 

In a healthy society that manages to be both empathetic and rational, there would be no conflict from those who have chosen one path over the other. Women who do not want to have children, would feel no pressure to do so, and not have their decisions over their body denigrated. They would have access to contraception, abortion, and the education to know how to use and access these options. Meanwhile, for those who choose to have children, they would have childcare, health care, flexible working situations, and affordable housing. 

But America is far from being an empathetic country and its conception of rationality is stuck in the amber of 18th century metaphysics. In short, it is a country that makes it hard to be a mother, and is trying to make it equally hard to not be one either. In such a situation, it’s only natural for a reservoir of resentment to build up. In particular, those who have taken up the responsibilities of motherhood can begin to feel like they’re providing a valuable service for a society that ultimately turns its back on them.

This feeling is not going to be universal, because motherhood is not experienced the same by everyone. Some people are under more of a strain than others. The kinds of resources available vary widely. In many situations, women with children are directly supported by their relations and friends who don’t have them. Nevertheless, I don’t think it takes much of a stretch of the imagination to see the potential for a growing divide.

As with most cleavages, a politics of solidarity would bridge it. In their absence, the divide only grows. It’s a common enough process across all kinds of social struggles and contradictions. The divide begins in a gap between what people (in this case mothers) need versus what society provides for them. Then this divide moves, switching from a “vertical” focus to a “horizontal” one that strikes out against another group of people perceived to be contributing to the issue of inadequate provisions. In time, and with enough focus and ire, this division deepens until it becomes a trench in a culture war. 

The last stage rarely happens spontaneously. It come about through a process of messaging that is both subtle and overt from reactionary forces. In this case, “Childless Cat Ladies,” is quite overt. It’s hard to think of anything that could be more on the nose. One would have to reach deep into the recess of old misogynistic lore to find it. Harridan? Maybe “Queen of the Harpies.” Yet as with CCL, these terms carry such a ridiculous, over-the-top quality that they easily become coopted into badges of merchandisable pride. 

We could be become a society that supports both groups, along with all kinds of parents and guardians. To embrace a politics of family choice that would challenge the current the system of benefits and the present work-life balance. There’s no reason to raise up one group at the expense of the other, since both experiences overlap. Plenty of women make the decision to have and/or raise children at a later date in their lives. Others with children make the choice not to have any more. This blending and entwining of paths offers proofs that politics of resentment over who is and is not a mother is nowhere near inevitable.

Unfortunately, liberalism is inadequate in creating the politics that can diffuse tensions in society through material improvements. It has a grave-digging inability to grapple with the very concept of resentment, often confusing this feeling on the Right with the rage and revulsion expressed by the Left. Liberalism believes it is above recognizing such things. The ideology treats emotion in politics as a stain on what should be a sober calculation in the minds of the citizenry. 

Which is why, when the champions of liberalism do try to get “emotional,” the attempts feel half-hearted and come off half-baked without about follow through. The “Politics of Joy” is only the latest attempt at trying to do liberalism with a human face. How quickly that seemed to fizzle out. 2024 isn’t 2008. A campaign of “Hope” or “Change,” is only sustainable when people believe actual material improvements are around the corner. When they fail to well, materialize, the collapse is hard. Both heart and mind feel betrayed.

Maybe the child/childless divide will not provide much fodder for the future Right. Reactionary forces might decide this line of attack is not worth pursuing and instead focus on cracking the African-American vote. They have been recently trying to do it by cultivating resentment against immigration. Or perhaps one day a clever operative will come along and they (and it could very well be a lady Atwater) will see the potential to seize on the underlying resentments I’ve previously outlined. The GOP has a problem with female voters and this might bring more of them into the Republican fold. Nothing helpful will be proposed or enacted. Just the cultivation of resentment with a little pandering rhetoric thrown in as a treat. 

It will not lead to the kind of natalist policies the European Right proposes. Their Right was stitched to Capitalism in a shotgun wedding presided over by NATO after World War II. Meanwhile, our Right’s true love is Capitalism. High school sweethearts, who were Homecoming King and Queen. Our Right would hate to see support mostly going to non-White women as well. A story with a familiar refrain in this country. White Antebellum Americans were perfectly fine extolling the virtues of motherhood while selling the children of mothers they enslaved (and sometimes even fathered). 

No, under this manifestation of resentment politics, mothers will be made to feel elite and “seen,” by punishing all the single ladies. Taking away abortion rights, restricting contraceptives, outlawing no-fault divorce, and censoring any information about this (one of the chief uses of obscenity laws in the past). Children will not receive any better healthcare; their mothers will be forced to work longer hours. The cats, more or less, will probably be fine.

You Might Not Be Able to Handle These Poems

They are extremely not politically correct. Read them here.

 

Literature for the Masses

 

Apparently I've written it. A poem about urban development and renewal is up at Class Collective. It was inspired by my times catching the bus near the Javits Center. Good times, I mean, no, not good times. Hence the poem. 

Poems on the Verge of Being NSFW

 

Two poems up at the Dope Fiend Daily. One political, one abusive, figure out which one is which! I'd warn about strong language, but isn't that what all decent poems should have?

Happy Mother's Day

Now that I've got that out of the way, here's two poems for you all to read in the Trouvaille Review. The first is called A Pause After. The second is called Tendency Backstory. A little backstory to this backstory, I originally submitted this poems with the last line missing by mistake. It was accepted nevertheless. So I added the line, and it was accepted. I guess that means, in theory, I had three poems chosen by the review.

Part V: The Final Frontier (So Very, Very Tired)

Wow, I’ve spent so long talking about who I think shouldn’t win and there’s little space to say who should get the nomination. I guess based on what I’ve previously written, you the reader can understand now where I’m coming from and where I hope the party and the country go from here on out. We need a candidate that will deal with the problems we face, rather than seek compromise right after their inaugurated. We need someone who will bring progress rather than a return to Neoliberalism and austerity. America has to end the endless wars abroad, and the War on Drugs at home. There needs to be healthcare for all, education for all, labor rights for all, and reproductive rights for all. The Democratic Party needs to become a working class party in order to remain viable, and a Green New Deal has to be pursued in order for human existence on this planet to be viable too. We need a candidate who will fight and will leave no options off the table. Packing the Court? Declaring a Climate Emergency? Nationalizing industries? They all have to be considered.

We need to make up for lost time folks

We have to be as radical as reality. There are only two candidates in the race who understand this, and have a chance of winning. They have the ability to come down from the Mountain, conquer the Plain, seize the Dais, and crush the gatekeepers along the way. They represent the Only Real Hope Tier, and I wish it was the biggest bench in this contest. But what can you do, other than see them get elected? From a process of deduction, it should be obvious who they are by now:

Elizabeth Warren
Bernie Sanders

Yep. Two. Count them again. It’s a depressing number. I wish there was someone younger, someone of color, and someone more radical who could run, but alas, AOC is too damn young and Ilhan Omar was born abroad. I guess there’s something of a blessing here. The radical vote won’t be split and the it won’t be lost amid a cacophony clamoring for Medicare for All on the debate stage. If Warren or Sanders win, it’ll bring up a whole generation of progressives hopefully into office, and it will drag those in the middle to the Left. Victory leaves a garden in its wake.

Of these two candidates, I rank Sanders higher than Warren. In my dream world, Sanders runs, wins, gets a term, then decided not to run again. Instead, it’s his Vice President Warren who follows him into office. Maybe AOC will come after her. Then again, it might be Subcommandante Lee Carter. I understand the desire for a female president and I don’t believe Warren would have that much harder of a time getting elected than Sanders. She’d be just as electable

So why pick Sanders over her? I think Warren has great ideas and solid proposals. It’s good that she leaves other candidates clamoring behind in her wake, looking for policies of their own. Just as Sanders moved the party left in 2016, Warren is crystallizing the commitments of others. They can no longer wear a label like “progressive.” They have to explain their stances. However, I think there are differences between Sanders and Warren, which make me back him over Warren. Needless to say, I would be fine supporting either of them in the general (Tankies, feel free to call me a dirty, dirty lib in the comments)

The first difference is foreign policy. Sanders is much more anti-imperialist in his orientation. He doesn’t just want a “green” army like Warren. He wants to shrink it and bring it home. His whole life he’s opposed intervention and wars abroad and that’s crucial. People forget that the President’s greatest power is as Commander-in-Chief of the armed forces. Congress and the Courts give the Executive the widest latitude here. Warren is nowhere near as bad as Biden, or the rest of the field. I don’t think she’ll get us into a war with Iran. But will she radically change our approach to the country? Or Cuba, North Korea, or Venezuela? Or on the other hand end our blank cheque of support to Egypt, Israel, Pakistan, and Saudi Arabia?

The second different is the relationship to the Democratic Party. Warren wants to take the party as it is and lead it to a more progressive direction. It’s an admirable goal, but without changing the fundamental structure of the Democratic Party, she’ll be constantly blocked by the DNC. The donor class will try and put the kibosh on whatever she proposes. Due to his background running more grassroots campaigns and insurgent candidacies, Sanders has more experience building the mass movements necessary to change the party from within.  The Democrats have to become a party devoted and made up of the working class first and foremost. Otherwise, it’ll never be able to fight directly for the proposals of Sanders, Warren, AOC, or anyone on the Left. The Party needs to speak with one voice and fight as one instead of arguing and fighting amongst itself. Since the rich already have a party, the GOP, they can all go there instead. A Sanders victory will help accelerate that trend. He’ll push the rich out of the party like St. Patrick and the snakes in Ireland.

Lastly, Sanders and Warren have different visions of the economy and what needs to happen with American Capitalism. Warren is a reformist. To be fair, she’s a far greater reformist than anyone since FDR and that should be noted. However, she’ll leave in place the parts of the economy that have brought us back to levels of inequality not seen since the 1920s. What good is to merely reform things so that we may one day have to deal with finance wrecking everything all over again? A stronger approach has to be taken. Warren hints that she might be able to get there eventually. She has proposed putting workers on corporate boards. But Sanders sees the system as fundamentally unequal and unsound. He knows that attempts to regulate it while leaving capital in the hands of an unelected elite is no long-term solution. He understands that the democratic control of the economy is the only way forward. In Sanders’ American it will be for the many, not the few at all levels of society. So as in the ballot box, so as in the boardroom.

I know Warren has more concrete proposals than Sanders, or at least ideas for specific legislation that have managed to percolate to the top of the political discussion. Sanders’ campaign is more about emphasis and stressing values. Both of them have a vision, however it is filtered in different ways that reflect the different personalities running. Remember my old extended metaphor of the Plain and the Mountain? Sanders and Warren are both candidates from the Mountain who are uniquely situates to leave the rafters and seize the Dais. Each of them will do so with their own approach. Warren is coming down from Mount Sinai, with commandments and laws. Meanwhile, Bernie is coming down from Mount Olivet. Either way, they’re coming for your graven images, false idols, golden calves, and fig trees.

Part II: The Lamestream of Backset Democrats

Here is where I begin my analysis of the candidates in the race and try to convince my fellow Americans, why there are only two people worthy of having their name at the top of the ticket. Maybe I don’t have a network behind me, but I think I am just as insightful as Jonathan Chait or Chris Cilliza or Cilia or Cilicia, whatever it is. I’ve examined the field of political ideologies thus far, and I’ve read the Wikipedia articles on every single American president, election, primary, and convention. That must be more than any of the so-called experts have achieved. For instance, despite their myriad analyses, few of them have mentioned the 1924 Klanbake.

The term, “at a crossroads” is often overused. It is often misused too. Sometimes people forget the origin of the phrase goes back to the play Oedipus Rex. Specifically, it describes the scene where Oedipus unknowingly kills his father Laius, at a crossroads. He then sells his soul to the devil in order to play the blues lyre so he can bring his wife back from Hades. The band Cream made a song about it. But the truth is the Democratic Party has to decide what it believes and what it wants to fight for. Opposition to Trump isn’t enough. Although Trump might be at the top of the ballot, there’s so many other races to consider. The Democrats have to get people out to vote for them. This requires a unified vision and platform people can get excited about.

The party can’t assume people will vote for their slate of candidates just because of Trump. Given our polarized state-by-state elections, there’s plenty of people who might not come out to vote for the Democratic candidate for President if they think the state they live in will go out for him or her anyway. But in doing so, they will ignore all the races down-ballot the Democrats need to win. You know, the races the Democrats used to care about winning. I’m talking State Senators. Aldermen. Comptrollers. Clerks of the Court. (and no, not dog catcher. That’s not an office that’s actually up for the ballot anywhere.)

The Democrats can’t win these without someone who gets people excited, even in blue states. The leaders of the DNC will deny it and the pundits will ignore it, but the truth about politics these days is that you don’t win by appealing to some mythical center. You win by getting your base out to vote. The Democrats, ostensibly being the party of “the people” should have more voters in this scenario. You’d think they’d understand that and push for it, but alas that seems to be beneath the current leadership. As we saw in 2016, they were more interested (as in Chuck Schumer’s analysis) to give up blue collar votes in the Rust Belt in favor of mythical Republican moderates in the suburbs of Philadelphia and Cleveland.

In this portion of my ongoing series on the candidates, I’ll look at the candidates who are…well…meh. These are the men and woman running who can’t really articulate what they will do differently in the White House and what makes their approach to the issues and the electorate more than just a repeat of Hillary’s disastrous run in 2016. They can’t even really explain what makes them unique from one another. Why so many of them are running might be the biggest mystery of the 2019-2020 primary. Here are their names, the absolute meh tier:

Seth Moulton
Eric Swalwell
Michael Bennet
Steve Bullock
Amy Klobuchar
Cory Booker
Beto O'Rourke
Wayne Messam

…and sometimes

Pete Buttigieg

Are they being goaded to run by some entity within the party? Is the DNC or some faction thereof responsible? And if so, are they failing to communicate with one another? It’s hard to explain this phenomenon. We have so many people running for such a small piece of electoral real-estate. Sure, the big donors are all there, but the voters? They’ve largely gone over to the more liberal, progressive, or outright leftist wings of the party. Yet here we have several candidates essentially trying to resurrect Clintonian triangulation and the 1990s. The trouble is, Bill could only do what he did thanks to a particular combination of demographic and economic factors three decades ago. Plus, he had charisma. None of these people running in the Neoliberal lane have anything approaching the personality Bill Clinton displayed.

They also seem to collectively forget how much of a disaster Bill was for the long-term health of the party. Sure, they won the presidency. Then they lost Congress. That consolation prize seemed to be worth it, until they lost the presidency under Al Gore anyway. As a result, America ended up with an emboldened right-wing Republican Party in control of this government, and the ones in Iraq and Afghanistan. There was a brief window of opportunity to realign the country again under Obama’s first term, but what happened? More triangulation, more surrender to Wall Street, and more foreign entanglements. Instead of breaking with Clinton’s Neoliberalism, Obama sought to reinforce it with a kinder face. Now we’re reaping the proceeds of this continued failed strategy. Trump is in the White House. The Conservatives have hijacked the Supreme Court. The GOP controls the preponderance of state houses and governorships across the country.

It is true that once more, the Democrats have Congress to try and stand athwart the Republicans and yell “stop!” But the victory in the 2018 midterms had more to do with disgust and frustration over Trump and the Republicans, than any genuine enthusiasm for the Democrats or their policy.  It can’t be used as a barometer for the voters, or would-be voters in 2020. It certainly shouldn’t be seen as a desire to return to the triangulations of the 1990s and the compromises of the aughts. However this first batch of candidates are clamoring for the presidency under the assumption that what Americas want are grand bargains, entitlement cuts, endless “smart” wars, and the last full half-measure of devotion to the New Deal.

Now I’m being generous. I’m assuming they’re running because they believe in all that and believe that’s what’s best for the country. Maybe they really all want to Vice President. Maybe they are hoping to get a book deal out of their runs. Maybe it’s just pure ambition, which most politicians have, and it only seems like so many mediocre people are running because the Democratic Party has a surplus of mediocre people. It could be that an army of overpaid consultants see them as easy marks, and have goaded them to run in order to line their own pockets.

Sure they will argue they have certain advantages and offer up diversity to the field. In some cases, like Cory Booker, it’s true. Buttigieg too, we can’t forget him (because the media won’t let us). In others, they do represent regions of the country outside the usual “Blue States,” though how that will translate to victories in other states (or even just their own) is unclear. Then there are candidates running on their youth, despite not believing in anything young people want. There’s a veteran or two in there as well. They want to be John Kerry 2.0 it seems.

Collectively their problem is a lack of substance, that points to new ideas, a clear vision, and how to restructure and rebuilt America. At best, what they have are piecemeal reforms. At worse, they will put a happy face on privatization and austerity. This might be the solution to the mystery I mentioned earlier. Maybe so many of them are being encouraged to run by the party so they can put a damper on the whole race. That would explain the strangely high number of them throwing their lanyards in the ring. They are here to crowd out the debate stage and tell us we can’t have nice things. If things get too rowdy in the primary, their role is to remove the punchbowl.

To give any of them the presidency would be a disaster for the party, for the progressive movement, and for the country at large. Given the looming ramifications of Climate Change, they are also a disaster for the world. Why? Because they are the apotheosis of the two trends that have been ruining the Democrats since 1992. The first is ideological. They are proud defenders of Neoliberalism, although their version is just a rehash of an already dated revival. They want laissez faire at home and intervention abroad, open boarders to capital and gated communities for labor. The market over all, yes, and that means you. The Democratic Party not only gave free reign to “free” markets in the 1990s, it did so back in the 1890s as well. That was the heyday of the Bourbon Democrats. But these Democrats are worse than Bourbons, at least the Bourbon Democrats opposed imperialism and interventions. These are Backset Democrats.

The second tend they embody is functional. This pertains to what the role of the Democratic Party should be in our system, regardless of its ideology. Instead of being a vehicle and a catalyst for change, these Backset Democrats want a party that acts a gatekeeper to activist groups. Within the party, they want to defend the leadership up at the Dais from challenges coming up the aisles. Whether these movements are for labor, civil rights, peace, or the environment doesn’t matter. It’s a familiar story that’s happened since the 1960s. Activists and movements reach out to the party and in the end get co-opted by it. Seeking power to effect change, they find themselves blocked by the Democrats who now demand votes from them in exchange for progress. In the end, the Democrats capture these movements and hold them hostage. The threat of a Republican victory is used to keep them in line.

The Backset Democrats want to maintain this version of the Party. To a lesser extent almost all the Democrats except Sanders and Warren want to too. But the Backset types, along with Biden and his clones believe this is the only way the party can function. It is the Divine Right of the DNC. They want a party that is muddled, confused, and watered-down. They want a party constantly compromised by itself. While they may think this makes the Democrats seem reasonable, or that this will make their proposals look better, in effect, it just leaves things open for a further compromise with the Republicans to drag everything farther right. What the Backset Democrats fail to realize is that no one is impressed by how much debate occurs within the Democrats to produce a policy. It certainly has no bearing on the further dialectic with the Republicans.

In a way, it is a good thing so many of this type of Democrat are running. It might deprive Biden of some support, especially in regards with endorsements. However as I mentioned above, so many Backset Democrats on the Debate stage might just add more opportunities to prevent an actual discussion of the issues. If there has to be constant debate within the party, it should occur without their hand in it. It is true that the only serious discussion of politics in this country is happening within the Democratic Party. It’s an unfortunate situation. I’d rather have a Republican Party where all the Neoliberals could dwell, leaving a Progressive Democratic Party behind for good. But that doesn’t mean the Democratic Party should support a failed consensus in the meantime or weaken its commitments.

Some of these men and women running have tried to be dream candidates by checking off what they assume to be a list of boxes in the minds of voters. Mayor Pete is probably the most egregious example of this. It’s an unproductive exercise for candidates and the voter. What is needed are not dream candidates, but candidates who dare the voters to dream of a better world. The Backset Democrats don’t want that and we shouldn’t want them because of it.

Brooklyn Is Berning, Bernie Sanders’ First Campaign Rally: A Review

He's above the blue hoodie

Of course it had to snow. As Bernie Sanders would put it, we got Vermont weather in honor of his visit to Brooklyn. Of course, it’s not that strange to get snow in March. Oregon Trail taught me that, which is why it’s better to leave Independence, Missouri in April. We think somehow because there’s been a change in the page of the calendar, spring is suddenly supposed to be here. March is as good as May, just as early September should be exactly like late November. Nevertheless, I went to the rally this Saturday at Brooklyn College.

Authentic Brooklyn snow

I couldn’t trust the sidewalks. Otherwise I would’ve walked there. Many of them were slushy and icy, while every intersection seemed to have the kind of puddles made famous by Groundhog Day. That meant using the buses or trains to get to the rally. I opted for the train since taking buses involved transfers, and I would be above ground, dealing with the cold and snow all over again. But using a train wasn’t’ a quick fix either. Thanks to the legacy of Manhattan’s imperialism over Brooklyn, there wasn’t a direct way to get there. All lines lead into the city, instead of crisscrossing the borough. I had to take the Q north, then get on the 2, and using Atlantic Avenue as a slingshot to get down to the campus.

The weather gave me mixed feelings. I’m not sure if there’s a name for it. The snow was a disappointment on one hand, and a blessing for me on the other. I wanted there to be a big turnout so the event would be a success and get coverage. On the other hand, I wanted fewer people there so I could get a good view. It’s like how you want everyone in the world to use public transportation, just not when you want to get on the train or the bus. When I reached the end of the 2 line and got off, I saw lots of people moving with me. That was the first time I got a sense of how many people were going to the rally. It was a lot.

Of course, none of us knew exactly where to go or how to get in. As I left the Flatbush Avenue Station, I headed into the part of Brooklyn I call Little America. Traffic was coming in all directions and Berniecrats stumbled around looking for the college. Eventually, I got my bearings and found a side street that took me to the entrance. That was not enough though, there was a line to get in, and it snaked around the block and then some. I’d never seen anything like it before. It just went on and on with no end in sight. At one point I thought maybe I would end up all the way in Canarsie, or Dead Horse Bay, freezing and hardly feeling the Bern.

I didn’t have to travel that far, but it was still a good distance. Good for Bernie, I thought, good for America, bad for me, but then again, I too am America or something like that. It was hard not to be in a Whitmanesque mood. Everyone was upbeat, including the campaign volunteers. Even the people selling buttons stuck to umbrellas seemed happier than normal, as well as the cranks shoving newspapers and poorly xeroxed manifestos in our faces. Sure it was cold and wet, with snow clinging to the branches. Nevertheless there was a sense of excitement and anticipation.

It only grew as the line inched closer to the East Quad, the site of the rally. The path to the event was lined with campaign volunteers who thanked us all for coming, then high-fived us. I admit I was a little restrained at first. What was I getting myself into here? So many genuine people, what was the catch? As a Millennial, I’m not used to such displays without a catch. I remember plenty of occasions of forced fun throughout my years in school, college, work retreats, and summer camp bondings. Energy and enthusiasm for the lamest of things like new regulation coasters, corporate sponsored trust falls, and cheers about how one particular student government association was going to kick the ass of another particular student government association.

In my head I went through the possibilities. Was I being led into a cult? I know a thing or two about them and I couldn’t say this was one. There were no matching uniforms or rhetoric. I heard no code words and twisted forms of grammar. I had a clear example of a cult outside of the event too. In addition to the members of other Leftwing groups, there were LaRouche supporters. I saw them while I was waiting in line to get in. One of them had a sign that read: THE GREEN NEW DEAL IS SUICIDE. Another had a shirt that asked WHO IS LYNDON H. LAROUCHE? “A dead man!” I wanted to yell at him, but I didn’t. (Don’t engage with LaRouche supporters folks, just blast music at a non-scientific pitch at them).

The other possibility? My mind went to Disney. That’s the only other example I had to go with. All these smiling people, excited, and welcoming me forward, they were leading me to Bernieland. Or maybe Sandersworld. On the other side of the gate would be rides and games. I could play whack-a-Bezos and go on the equality-coaster, which would just go in a circle on a level track. Of course, this idea was nonsense. As soon as I reached the East Quad, I saw nothing but signs, bleachers, flags, and a crowd of people nervously waiting for Bernie to take the stage. This is what faith in democracy looks like, I guess.

It was a diverse group, though it was younger and Whiter than Brooklyn as a whole. It was still a far cry from the stereotypes from 2016. College-aged Berniebros were there for sure but their voices didn’t dominate or drown out anyone else during the event. I saw people from all walks of life from the borough, including people too young to vote. There was also a snowman covered in merchandise for the campaign. Bernie Snowmanders, if you will.

The Whitest Berniebro 

The event opened with the Star-Spangled Banner. It reminded me how much I hate the Star-Spangled Banner. It’s a terrible tune about a mostly forgotten war that expresses nothing of value about America. We fought, the flag was still there, we’re great. Don’t ask any questions about the people in chains living in the shacks next to the home of the brave. Plus it just leads to people showing off when they can manage to sing it. I wasn’t sure why Bernie needed to open with it or who would be convinced by it. I mean, who is on the fence thinking he’s the incarnation of Lenin but would support him now because of that song? From now on it’s going to be This Land Is Your Land (including the verse about private property), and nothing else.

A series of speakers went before Bernie. I understand why they were there and they all said good things. However, it was cold and I wish the introductions were a little bit shorter. I’m sure everybody prepared their remarks for warmer weather. Jane Sanders went on and talked about Bernie’s roots in Brooklyn. I learned about Bernie’s support for a strike in Pennsylvania from a union official, and received pep talks from Nina Turner and Terry Alexander. Shaun King spoke about Bernie’s history in the Civil Rights movement in the 1960s. I learned about his protests against the Willis Wagons, which were substandard trailers used to house Black students in overcrowded redlined schools in Chicago.

Waiting for Bernie

Throughout the whole time, any mention of Brooklyn led to massive cheers from everyone, because it’s the law that when somebody says Brooklyn, people from there have to make noise. None of the other boroughs do this, I think. Anyway, this habit backfired at least for one person in the crowd. Shaun said that Bernie was “born in Brooklyn, the year the Holocaust started.” He paused after saying Brooklyn, and somebody cheered right after, which made it sound they were happy about the Holocaust. Who knows if that will be used for fodder to claim Sanders or his supporters are anti-Semites?

Then it was finally time for Bernie. I was losing feeling in my fingers, but I soldiered on. I had a rolled-up copy of the Independent and used it to make noise by rapping against my hands. That kept the frostbite at bay. I didn’t have a sign and I don’t know where they came from. They were everywhere though, and they came out to welcome the candidate. I was fortunate to have a good view of Bernie and saw him embrace his wife while surrounded by a sea of signs. They were white or blue, and the blue was either, sky, navy, or Dodger. It was a nice image. Sometimes you come across them in real life and wonder if you’re in a movie.

Bernie looked energetic, although I could see the pink in his face all the way from the back of the East Quad. At one point we began chanting his name and he shushed us. It was not about him, he said, it was about us and what we were going to do together. He pulled no punches and went after Trump directly. However, he didn’t just go on and on about norms and how the Orange man was bad. He made his attacks and then pivoted to the kind of campaign he wanted to run and what he was running for. He mentioned Medicare for All, college for everyone, a reduction in American intervention abroad, criminal justice reform, a $15 minimum wage, ending the Drug War,  and making it easier for workers to join a union.

We were all enthused, cheering, shouting, clapping, and pumping fists. I never thought I would ever get to hear a major party candidate say these things, and use this kind of rhetoric. Of course, he did in 2016 as well, but here I was in public, hearing it directly from Bernie Sanders. Talking about labor rights, and the struggle against the oligarchy in particular. Plus the military industrial complex. Who was the last to sue that phrase? Kucinich in 2008?  No vague platitudes and bromides about “opportunity” and the “American Dream.” A real vision and a road map to getting us to the kind of hope we need and real change we can use. Did he whip out charts and crunch the numbers in front of us? Certainly not.

This was no TED Talk. This was no corporate presentation. This was something more. It was a rally, in the sense that it gathered us together and boosted our beleaguered spirits. But it also needs to be pointed out that it was all about the ideas. Sanders had no slick production behind him (there were no Bernie Babe Dancers). He wasn’t young and bouncing around the stage, his hair was white, thin, and disheveled in the wind. There were no pithy or memorable turns of phrase. Just as in 2016, we were for Bernie because of the vision, not the man. It’s something a lot of pundits and commentators still fail to understand. He has charisma through his ideas, not apart from them.

After Sanders left the stage, we shuffled out through the campus. The Doobie Brothers’ “Takin It to the Streets” played overhead. Perhaps it was a nod to Sanders call for decriminalization of marijuana. It was followed by Jon Lennon’s “Power to the People” and Neil Young’s “Rockin’ in the Free World.” All of these superior to the Star-Spangled Banner. It was jarring to leave the collective warmth of the Brooklyn College campus for the hustle and bustle of Little America (i.e. Flatbush Junction). I watched as people carried their Sanders signs through the neighborhood and did their best to disburse. Some people waved the signs at the cars and buses, others held them close.

Since all the places to eat were packed by Berniecrats, I started walking back to Ditmas Park. The snow had started to melt, and I thought I could make it smoothly along the sidewalks. But it hadn’t melted enough. There were plenty of patches that remained, along with piles blocking the intersections. People hadn’t shoveled and it left glistening hazards behind. I guess it was evidence against the twin pillars of today’s Left. The snow was proof Global Warming is a hoax, and the fact nobody wanted to remove it showed Bernie Sanders’ socialism can’t work. Checkmate liberals...

...nevertheless the specter of Communism still haunts us

Nardo Goes West, Part Four

After my first night on the train I woke up to North Dakota in all its broad splendor.  Sure, there were plenty of cereal crops across the horizon, but all lots of small ponds, perhaps left by the retreat of glaciers many thousands of years ago. They were all in use by various birds. I don't think I've ever seen so many ducklings. I'm just used to pigeons in New York City. They're never old or young. they're always middle-aged adults, just like the people in the sitcoms that take place there.

I looked over the instructions and the metal pieces sticking out of the furniture. I figured out how to put the bed back and turn it into seats, how to turn the seats into a bed, and how to lower the bunk. I used the last trick in case I needed something that could serve as a shelf. I decided to leave the bed down. That way I could sit up or lay down to work or read. I preferred to lie down. Why? Because I could feel the motions of the train sliding under me. When I looked to the side, I could see the world flying on by and it was easy to imagine I was flying too, like some kind of Amtrak superman.

Most of what I saw involved agriculture of one kind or another. It was interesting to be so close to the food supply, at least as grain, dairy, and meat are concerned. I didn't see much in the way of fruit or vegetable production until we reached Washington. Not only did I see the crops, I saw how the crops get to market. There were silos everywhere and occasionally I saw train cars getting filed with the bounty they stored inside.

Where last night's steak came from

This is where last night's dinner may have gotten its lunch from.
It could be anywhere from Fargo to Missoula 

For breakfast, I had a quesadilla with eggs and green tomatillo sauce. It was the only thing on the menu that looked like it had any kick to it. My suspicions were confirmed when the two gentleman I sat with ordered eggs and then ordered salsa to put on them after they saw my dish in all its glory.

This dish is called the Battle of Puebla, because the Mexican
quesadilla is displacing the occupying French Croissant

There is plenty of salsa to go around (I had an extra container of red salsa in addition to what was on my plate) so don't be afraid to ask! During breakfast I sat with two older gentlemen. One was from North Dakota, near Rugby, the other was from Juneau, Alaska. The man from North Dakota was a doctor for an Indian Reservation and talked about the health challenges facing the local tribes because of sugary foods, in addition to alcohol. He also told us the various legends and stories (and I assume jokes) behind how Devils Lake got its name. He also pointed out the different kinds of birds and mentioned the area was popular with hunters. The traveler from Juneau asked the man from North Dakota what he liked about living there. He laughed and said it was because there were no people.

After breakfast, I went to the observation car, to well, observe. The sky was clear above me and the land was fertile in all directions. With nothing else to distract me, or even tempt me, I saw and looked out at the country rolling on by.

The upper windows

North Dakota, not to be confused with South Dakota

Rugby, North Dakota. It's the geographical center of North America

We passed through several small cities and large towns such as Rugby and Minot. It was probably the farthest I've ever been from the ocean. I live right near Ruby Road in Brooklyn and I guess I can sum up my summer as going from Rugby Road to Rugby town. When I think about it, more people probably live on that street than live in Rugby, North Dakota. Okay, that's enough talking about Rugby or rugby.

We continued moving through North Dakota and into Montana. I saw Fort Union, which straddles the boundary between the two states.

Fort Union, preserving the uneasy peace between
Montana and North Dakota

We reached Wolf Point by lunchtime. Next to it was the Fort Peck Indian Reservation. I had lunch with an Australian couple from Brisbane. They were on a trip around the world. Like me, they were yearning to see the mountains, especially any with snow on them. They told me they don't get to see much of either in Australia. I had a tortilla dish with chorizo while the couple had the mussels. Despite our distance from the sea, they said the shellfish was good. According to our waitress, the mussels are the secret dish that nobody orders but those who do always enjoy. I didn't mind my meal. It seems the most interesting options for eating on the train involve Mexican cooking. Well, at least until they bring back the gnocchi. I had the caramel parfait for dessert.

I hung around my roomette car after lunch. Working, taking pictures, and reading as we went through the great expanse of Montana. People forget how big the state is (number four). Near Malta, the train had to go through a "duck and tuck" in order to let a freight train get by. We often had to manuever around them on the trip. Pretty soon, Carlo was coming around to take dinner reservations. He continued to promote it with the phrase "real meals with real people." I put in a reservation for dinner with him for a later time 6:45. I had trouble getting power for my laptop, and with no signal for my phone, I decided to go to the observation car and have a drink.

Having wine on the train

More Montana. The state's name is a lie.

The new state capitol of Montana

Switching into Mountain Time

Sitting Bull

By this point I had enough with amber waves. I wanted purple mountains majesty!

But there were penguins

Maybe not the but certainly an Overlook Hotel

I had dinner with a couple from outside Fargo, ND and a woman originally from Minot, but who now lived outside Seattle. I had the risotto because there was no gnocchi, again. We all had wine with dinner. Some of it was corked, others had a screw-on (or off) cap. The risotto was decent. I had the fruit and cheese plate for dessert. I got a sense of how small a world North Dakota is because my dinner companions realized they had mutual acquaintances. I must say I've learned more about life in the Flickertail State on this trip than ever before. 

By the end of dinner we started to see the mountains. The real mountains. Not the lumpy hills of central Montana, but the real peaks of Glacier National Park. I spent the rest of the evening looking at the mountains and the tall trees that grow around them. At least until we lost all daylight. I admit I felt nervous around the evergreens growing by the rails. I wondered if they knew what we had done to their shorter cousins back East during Christmas time. Were they ready to lay their branches on us? I realized then I'd had too much wine.

More mountains

Unfortunately, I had to sleep through large parts of the trip through the mountains. When I woke up, I was on the other side of Glacier National Park. There were still plenty of visual glories awaiting me in the Cascades. I also had a phone signal for the first time in a day. At this point in the trip, the most of the sleeping cars had emptied out, at least on my level. I guess a number of people got off at Whitefish or Spokane. On my way to the shower, Carl, the sleeping car attendant, said I looked like a young John Hodgeman. This was the highlight of the trip, until we reached the next mountain range.

I had breakfast with a father and son from Janesville, Wisconsin. I saw orchards filled with pear and apple trees, as well as homesteads scattered around the shade of the mountain. I thought it looked like the end of the Oregon Trail and tried to see if I could find a tombstone with "pepperoni and cheese" on it. I wasn't in Oregon but the geography is similar.

We stopped in Leavenworth, which is supposed to look like a Bavarian village. I couldn't see it from the tracks. I did see Bigfoot though. I can't wait for my check from the National Enquirer.

The lounge car was closed, which was lame. I wonder if it was because it was no longer part of the train. In Spokane, the Empire Builder splits in half, just like Rome and Constantinople. My part of the train goes onto Seattle. The other half heads on to Portland. We get to keep the dining car, while the folks heading to Portland have to deal with a pre-made breakfast box. I stayed in my roomette for the rest of the trip. The views were good, except when we went into the Cascade Tunnel, the longest train tunnel in North America. It's 7.89 miles of darkness all the way through.

Okanogan-Wenatchee National Forest

We began to make our descent towards the coast. My ears actually popped because of the change in air pressure. We went along rives and streams. I saw some of the bluest moving waters I've ever seen. 

The water out here makes Poland Spring look like backwash from
a spittoon used by an Antebellum Senator

Now it was time for the trip to come to an end. The Empire Builder reached Puget sound and traveled south along the shoreline. There were forest fires going on, so visibility was reduced. Even in the city you could see it. Everything seemed hazy and people wore masks over their mouths.

Puget Sound, it's foggy because of the wildfires going on

Finally, we came to Seattle and I saw several landmarks as the train snaked its way into the King Street Station.

The people of Seattle loved Frasier so much they built
a miniature version of the logo

I wonder if I could sell this picture to Getty images?

We pulled in with a slight delay. I went into the station and enjoyed its splendor, a far cry from the Pittsburgh station. I didn't check my bags, so I was able to pick up my things and head right out into the Emerald City.

Hello Seattle!

Overall, I would rate the experience highly, especially for a city-slicker such as myself. I got to see a lot of the country I've never seen before, met different kinds of people, and learned to adjust a different kind of lifestyle. Riding the train let me appreciate the countryside and the way that we as Americans use it. I wish the train did have WiFi on board. Not that I would've spent the whole time just watching old episodes of the Simpsons. It would've been nice to listen to some music while the country went by. I also wish there had been communication ahead of time about the lack of a sundries pack. Nevertheless, it was fun and (here it the survey answer) I would recommend the trip to my family and/or friends. Now it's time to try out the southern route from LA to New Orleans, or maybe head through the middle of the country through Denver.

Nardo Goes West, Part Three

The next leg of my trip was the longest (not counting my flight back from Seattle). The Empire Builder left Chicago and Carlo, one of the attendants, came around to take my dinner reservation. I had the option of dining at 5:00, 5:30, 6:45, and 7:15 PM. I picked 5:30. While they do try to make people stick to the schedule, space often open up. They tell you if this is the case. There are also announcements for the last call.

I chose the 5:30 option for my first dinner on Amtrak.  It was still daylight while I made my way to the dining car. My roomette was on the ground level, so to speak. In order to get most places I had to take the stairs up and cross over the train cars. My bathroom and shower were on the same floor as me, so I didn't have to go to far to get to them. But in order to eat, drink, or use the observation car, I needed to climb up and down the stairs and sneak my way around people and corners. It's like being in a ship while still being on land.

The stairs I took every day, they also offer a decent view,
when nobody's trying to use them

At the top of the stairs was complimentary coffee and orange juice.
This cup was filled by me, it wasn't just standing there
waiting for someone to come pick it up.

Dinner, along with other meals, is taken in the dining car. It's cramped but Amtrak does its best to make the experience like a restaurant. There's silverware, wine, and napkins folded into little florets.

The menu is limited. They have salmon, chicken, steak, seafood cakes, and a vegan pasta dish. There was a butternut risotto as well. I wanted to try the chef's special, which was a kind of gnocchi with kale. However they were out of it the whole time I was on the train. Soft drinks are complimentary, along with the food itself if you're in a sleeper car. You have to pay for alcohol. People bring their own food on board. It's a popular option in the coach car. I saw families eating snacks and dishes they brought in Tupperware. There's also the cafe area under the lounge car. You can't really buy food at the stations we pass through. The Empire Builder either gets in too late, stays too short, or stays too long at towns with too few places to shop.  

For my first meal, I had the land and sea. I guess it's Amtrak's answer to the surf and turf. You get a steak and a seafood cake that blends together several different creatures from the briny deep. I believe it mixed in crab and shrimp, with some kind of fish. I preferred it to the steak, which I found a little chewy. I had iced tea to drink, which is also complimentary. For dessert I had a flourless chocolate cake. It was good and dense. They also have a caramel parfait, a fruit and cheese plate, cheesecake, and vanilla pudding with no sugar added. I mention that last detail because our waitress brought it up every time when telling us about our options.

In all likelihood, you'll be eating with other people at your table. It doesn't matter how much seating is available. Every time I got to the car, I was put into the nearest opening where people were already sitting. I must've been one of the few Easterners on the train. I was probably the only person who came all the way from New York. It was a common question, not just where I was from originally, but where I got on board. Chicago was the main answer for most people, but a fair number got on the Empire Builder in St. Paul and Fargo. Several people came on at Milwaukee too, including my first mealtime companions. 

They were from Michigan's Upper Peninsula and older than me. Nearly everyone on the train was, or they were much, much younger. That's fine. You meet people you normally wouldn't otherwise this way. Especially people from the Midwest. We talked about our respective communities and trips we've taken around the country. They were Packers fans and I told them about how my father was a fan too (he's also a shareholder). We noticed people taking pictures and video of the train along the way, which I didn't expect. I know there's all kinds of people in this world, and some of them are Railfans. Normally they tend to be into either freight trains or older locomotives. It was surprised some of them also like to take pictures of Amtrak trains. They're nice, but they all look alike with no interesting livery. Now the Burlington Northern & Santa Fe on the other hand...

It was my first experience with Wisconsin, which was all I really saw that day. We didn't hit Minnesota until the sun set, so it was either too dark to see, or I slept through the sights. I never realized how big, green, and wet Wisconsin is. I guess I thought it would look like Illinois, much drier and flatter. Maybe that has less to do with the natural geography and more to do with how human have used the land. Either way, I saw lots of hills, waterways, trees, bushes, and waterlilies. We passed through the Wisconsin Dells, and it reminded me of Missouri's Lake of the Ozarks. 

Columbus, WI, which is basically the stop for Madison

Socialism in Wisconsin! Eugene Debs lives!

Where we paused on the Wisconsin/Minnesota border for a smoking break

With no internet, people interacted more. Not just at dinner, but through the cars, including in the coach class and in the observation areas. Men in mullets laughed together while Mennonites sat together and watched the world going by. I saw a man with a tricorn hat and a big feather sticking out of it. Below them all, families played card and board games.  Other people just talked. Everybody's got a story. In the lounge car there was a woman from LA who was a waitress but aspiring to be a trainer, which is a variation I hadn't heard before. Usually it's an actor or screenwriter (in NY it's an actor or a novelist). One drunk woman came down into the lounge and hammed it up, lamenting she missed her stop in Toomah and had to figure out a way home from La Crosse. 

With no internet, I had no need for my headphones. Note the efficient use of a coat hanger.

A lot of pundits and thinkpiece writers like to lament the bubbles we've sorted ourselves into, and yet none of them seem to have any idea of what to do about it. They love to point and wag their fingers at the people living on the coasts for refusing to interact with people in Middle America. Of course, they love to live in those same bubbles and never get out of them, unless they're writing about Iowa state fairs before the Presidential caucuses. Even when they do that, they just take the bubble with them, putting people under the microscope wherever they go. On the train you have to sit down with people, look at them, share space with them, and listen to what they have to say on their terms. There's no interrogation, only conversation between the bread rolls and the dessert. If you really want to get people in this country talking, you don't have to bring back the draft as some have suggested, just get people to take long train rides together. If they can't afford it, subsidize it.

Then again, the bubble is probably overstated. Outside of La Crosse I saw "Go Gay or Go Home" sprayed on an overpass. The only thing that stays the same are the differences between people I guess.