Stickin' With It

The downstairs fridge started making a helluva racket a couple three weeks ago, and it only cost me $90 for a service tech to come out and confirm my suspicions: the compressor was shot, and replacing it would cost nearly as much as replacing the refrigerator.

This fridge and the two that preceded it were all either refurbished or hand-me-down jobs, the first coming alongside a stove given to us by a friend of a friend. Three fridges in 12 years seems like an excessive rate of turnover to me, so I thought perhaps it was time to explore getting a new one instead.

Luckily, the day I started looking was the last day of a big sale at venerable furniture and appliance retailer The Brick, and soon enough I had arranged for a shiny new fridge to be delivered in a week's time. Best of all, they would take the old fridge out and see to its disposal as well.

In the interim I set out trying to recover as many of the stickers from the fridge as I could. One of my friends noted that it hadn't been that long since I had undertaken a similar exercise, and suggested that perhaps I would be better off switching to magnets or perhaps mounting some of my favourite decals on a magnetized backing instead.

This is an impeccably reasonable suggestion to make, and yet, I continue to resist it. I thought at first it might be laziness, but on the other hand, I was already willing to spend 1-2 hours peeling stickers off a refrigerator with a razor blade and lightly affixing them to sheets of wax paper.

No, the truth of it is that if I were to magnetize them, then they would stop being stickers. 

You attach a sticker to something knowing it to be a temporary sort of permanence for the most part. Eventually the sticker will fade or wear away or get torn, or the item attached to it will break down or become obsolete in some fashion.

Why fight this transitory nature by painstakingly removing stickers with little to no sentimental value and then reattaching them to a brand new fridge? For no better reason than the fact that you can, really.

And in this case I managed to salvage a high percentage of stickers from the old fridge, probably aided by the pebbly finish. Conversely, the smooth sides of the new fridge helped them to adhere firmly without any additional adhesive.

I also managed to executed a smidgen of planning for the layout this time around, putting smaller stickers (and many magnets, to be fair) or those requiring reading closer to eye-level, and putting larger, more iconic ones on the lower door instead.

I'm not sure what these stickers might suggest about me to a third party, but if they came away thinking it is someone nerdy with a strong interest in breweries and pop culture, in addition to period aviation and space exploration, and who is strongly driven by whimsy, well, I suppose they wouldn't be too far off, would they?

Now I just hope that I am able to have friends over to pull a beer or soda from the new fridge while all the stickers are still intact!

For comparison's sake, here is the old fridge:

Pulpitations: "The Sound of Authority"

My chance to preach again came only three months after our sixth Affirmiversary service back in October. The lectionary reading was "The Man With an UInclean Spirit" from Mark 1:21-28).

The Man with an Unclean Spirit
They went to Capernaum; and when the sabbath came, he entered the synagogue and taught. They were astounded at his teaching, for he taught them as one having authority, and not as the scribes. Just then there was in their synagogue a man with an unclean spirit, and he cried out, “What have you to do with us, Jesus of Nazareth? Have you come to destroy us? I know who you are, the Holy One of God.” But Jesus rebuked him, saying, “Be silent, and come out of him!” And the unclean spirit, convulsing him and crying with a loud voice, came out of him. They were all amazed, and they kept on asking one another, “What is this? A new teaching—with authority! He commands even the unclean spirits, and they obey him.” At once his fame began to spread throughout the surrounding region of Galilee.

As has been mentioned previously (and innumerably), I often struggle to reconcile tales of miracles and magic to the world I live in, and discerning the ancient wisdom that I am sure must be in such lessons is not always easy.

But, strangely enough, thanks to political unrest in a neighbouring country, I felt like I had a clearer path this time around, focusing on dialogue and direct action, and... well, I suppose I could just let you read it for yourself, couldn't I? (You can also watch it on video at the SAUC Vimeo channel here, but fair warning: the mask makes me lisp a little and I was never sure where the camera was, so I look lost most of the time.)

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Today’s gospel lesson deals with authority, and once again I am astonished and humbled by not only the relevance of today’s Gospel reading but also its timeliness and synchronicity.

You see, being an amateur sermonologist, it sometimes takes me a while to tease out the focus of my reflection, so I started outlining this one early in the month, around the sixth of January. You probably haven’t forgotten, but just for clarity I will state for the record that January 6 was the day in the U.S. that a violent mob, at the urging of their own president, overpowered police and stormed their own country’s capitol building hoping to overturn the results of a free and fair election. Or worse.

And here in Canada, just over a week ago, our nation’s own Governor-General resigned from her position on the heels of a report confirming the accusation of toxicity in the workplace she was responsible for.

Even though the scales between these two examples are vastly different, both of them amply illustrate how devastating the results can be when authority is misused, Mark’s story of the man with an unclean spirit is an example of how authority is meant to be used - not to push down but to lift up.

On the surface, this story appears to be a simple case of Jesus producing his credentials; establishing his bona fides, as it were. There he is, teaching in the synagogue - and when we say teaching, we mean teaching - not just reading, not reciting, like the scribes or an amateur sermonologist might. Not trotting out time-worn lessons and hoping the listeners remember the important bits, but providing real insight as someone with a deep and meaningful connection to the source material.

Where was I? Oh right - so there was Jesus, teaching in the synagogue, and people are really getting it, when out of nowhere this loudmouth rolls up and starts making a ruckus! Yelling and carrying on, calling the rabbi by name, saying he knows him but then asking if Jesus has come to destroy them. Crazy!

But even crazier, to the spectators at least, is Jesus’ response. He only says seven words in this story: “Be silent and come out of him!”

And darned if that doesn’t work.

The unclean spirit doesn’t leave easily, and makes an even bigger scene on the exit than on the entrance, thrashing on the ground and wailing and all like a toddler tantrum in a fancy store. But it leaves, and everyone is astonished. The spectators again draw attention to the authority that Jesus clearly has. They express amazement at how even unclean spirits obey this teacher from Nazareth, this carpenter’s son, and notably, they do not keep it to themselves.

As a result of this, word of Jesus and his feats and, presumably, his authority, spreads “throughout the surrounding region of Galilee.” Unaided by radio, television, or social media, Jesus becomes famous.

Now, in most stories and for most people, defeating an unclean spirit and getting famous for it would rank as a pretty happy ending, right?

So why is it that we have four or five other accounts in Mark’s Gospel where Jesus tells his followers not to reveal who he is? To keep his legitimate identity on the sly? Was Jesus the very first superhero with a secret identity?

There are a few possible explanations as to why Jesus is reluctant to take credit or win fame later in Mark. It may have had to do with timing, as there was much he needed to do before returning to Jerusalem in order to fulfill prophecy and meet his fate. There were a lot of moving parts in play here, and obviously no opportunity for a do-over if things went off the rails. Fame could have meant more opposition from both the Romans and the religious establishment of the day, and even more delays and obstructions.

It could have been that he did not want to be perceived as someone desiring celebrity or fame or even infamy. The holy lands at this time were practically teeming with wanna-be prophets, suspicious saviours and even misguided, malicious messiahs. Who would want to be associated with such cure hucksters or snake oil salesmen?

The most intriguing notion to me is that Jesus came to help and to heal and to set an undying example as a servant of God, and the manner in which that work is accomplished and even the person who does it is not nearly as important.

Is the key message in this story that God wants his children to be happy, and people can help make that happen on his behalf? That the authority here is not so much bestowed but accepted as a responsibility? And as followers of Christ, don’t we have an obligation to continue that work?

“But Stephen,” I hear you say, even though you aren’t here in the sanctuary with me, “how am I, an accountant from St. Albert, a dental hygienist from Edmonton, a restaurant owner from Morinville, supposed to forcibly remove unclean spirits? Does the bible contain any specific instruction as to the best way to cast out demons? Is it true you offer a six-part online symposium on practical exorcism and spiritual combat techniques?”

That last part is not only patently and demonstrably untrue, but also depicts something completely unneeded for the task at hand. Look, the truth of the matter is that it is all about picking your fights.

Let’s consider the situation Jesus was in: accosted by an unquiet, unsettled man, coherent enough to call him by name but disturbed enough to accuse the Son of Man of coming to destroy them. Whether this man was possessed by some infernal entity, or was mentally ill at a time and place where this could not be diagnosed, or if he was simply struggling with the same inner demons that many of us face every day is immaterial.

For my part, when I hear the words “unclean spirit,” my mind does not immediately reach for a supernatural explanation like a ghost or a demon (which is maybe a bit surprising, given the extraordinary amount of fantasy and horror stories I have been exposed to over the years). Just like the way that the enemies spoken of in the psalms don’t have to be literal soldiers, my focus on stories containing devils or miracles isn’t so much “did this really happen?” but rather, “What does this really mean?”

No, when I hear “unclean spirit” my immediate thought is that what Jesus has encountered in the synagogue is a contaminated soul. And in many ways, this is much more frightening, because I know very few people who would claim to have witnessed a demonic possession, but I know that most of us, perhaps all of us, have probably encountered a contaminated soul.

I wish more of you were here in the sanctuary so I could say “can I get an amen?”

And here at last do we reach what I think is most important: how does Jesus deal with the problem? A reasonable person might call the temple guard - an unreasonable one might encourage the crowd to sort it out for him, maybe by beating him up. But Jesus resolves the issues with words alone, talking directly to the problem, and with authority. Seven words, at least in our language: “Be silent, and come out of him!”

I don’t want to pretend that this is a dialogue, but I really think it is important to note that Jesus confronts the issue, this unclean spirit, directly. In an age where we are free to pick and choose the sources of our information, at a time where truth is not perhaps as universally accepted as we imagine it once was, where national leaders present the world with “alternative facts”, a world where people on both sides of common ideological divides are accused of limiting their discourse to echo chambers and reflective bubbles, Jesus addresses his opposition openly, honestly and personally.

Jesus sees a man who is not only disruptive but unwell, and instead of ignoring him, he confronts the issue that is plaguing him. I believe his authority is derived not only from God, but because he is acting in service of the truth. The unclean spirit has no business corrupting that man, and needs to go.

In Psalm 111 we hear that “the fear of God is the beginning of wisdom.” This is sometimes taken to mean “a wise person should recognize and dread God’s vigilance and punishment,” but once again I hear something different. Not to be afraid but that we should be in awe of the love and truth that God represents. Awe and amazement, just like the spectators in the synagogue felt after Jesus commanded the unclean spirit.

So what did I mean earlier with my talk about accepting responsibility for authority and picking your fights? Let me be very clear here, in saying that we should not jeopardize our own safety or sanity or that of our families or friends by intervening into situations we are clearly not equipped for! If it is a bank robbery, call the police. If it is a monster, I dunno, call Ghostbusters.

But when we encounter the unclean spirits or contaminated souls that are all too prevalent in the time and place we live in, whether it is on a bus, in a crowd, in the workplace or even in our own homes, ask yourself if this is the moment to reach out. And maybe it isn’t! And that is okay.

But don’t ignore it. Don’t do the easy thing and turn away. Don’t pretend you never saw it. Don’t just make believe like it is somebody else’s problem. If you can’t deal with it in the moment, find someone who can. If the police are needed, get them in there. If the situation calls for a social worker, you can get one of them too. If you don’t have food or funds on you for a hungry person, make sure you are giving regularly to the food bank. If a co-worker says something racist or homophobic, call them out on it. When a friend tells you they’re troubled, find a way to reach out to them - it is possible, even during a lockdown. More than possible, it is a necessity. When a family member asks “honestly, why are people so afraid of fascism anyways?” don’t laugh it off or turn your back, but engage them, talk with them -and not at, with - because that is the only way things can truly change - one mind at a time.

Your authority, like that of Jesus, is derived from the very will of God: to help, to heal, to make a better world, all in accordance with God’s wishes for us. It is not an authority of dominance, nor meant to help us hold ourselves above others - no matter what ex-presidents or former Governors-General might say. This authority is not intended to bring us fame or renown. It is an unassailable authority borne out of truth and love.

Jesus presents us with a model of bravery, compassion and humility, and if we follow his example, then, like the psalm says, we will truly be grounded in justice and truth, standing fast forever and ever, in the company of the upright.

Amen.

Doggie Decisions

It was tears before bed at one point last week in our household, when Glory realized she was indeed having an allergic reaction to Canéla.

The pooch had done very well in her first few days with us - no 'accidents' in the house at all, no chewing of shoes or table legs, and reasonable, if sometimes rambunctious behaviour.

We had told Glory to be honest with us, because as hard as it would be to part with Canéla if we had to, we could not endanger hers or anyone else's health for the sake of a pet. And although we told her time and time again that it was not her fault if this unfortunate circumstance came to pass, we knew no matter how many times we reinforced this she would never truly feel that way.

This was especially hard on Glory since she has been the one spending the most time with the terrier - Audrey and I both had work, and Fenya's classes and study time left her behind the door of her room on most weekdays.  Glory had taught Canéla to sit very early on and was very good about not letting her jump up on her. She spent much of the day sitting with her on the kitchen floor so the pooch wouldn't feel lonely or abandoned.

The symptoms were fairly mild, and she felt much better the next day. Later on, when Audrey and I grimly asked how she was feeling, she replied, "I was a lot better after spending the night away from her, and it is mostly just sniffles anyhow."

"Is it the kind of thing you might need to take medication for?" I asked cautiously.

"Maybe?" she said. "The important thing though, is that she is not leaving this house."

And that is how we found out we are keeping our new dog.

Friends of ours who are pet owners despite having allergies themselves have chimed in with messages of support and advice, and half a week later, it seems like only intermittent medication is needed at this point. Once Glory finds a job and is spending a little more time outside the home (which will be good for her both income as well as combatting cabin fever), the impacts should be mitigated even further.

In the meantime, acclimatization to our new family member continues. It is astonishing to think that a dog so close in weight to Nitti could be so much taller, and almost all of that height is in the legs. This can create some interesting tableaux, like when Canéla stands up with her feet on an armrest in the living room and make eye contact with someone next to the kitchen sink.

My argument for an off-kilter spelling of her name never made it out of committee, and that is fine; my next goal is to standardize the spelling of Canéla with an accented e (Alt+0233), like when you see "olé!" written outside of Mexico.

She is getting walked regularly, which is good for her and even better for us. She has largely adapted to the cold weather, although she still has a tendency to keep her back left foot off the ground, so we will need a vet to look at that before too long. 

The temptation to get a DNA test done in order to know what breed she might be is hard to resist. Our best guess is maybe a mix of border terrier and Wheaten terrier, but Canéla's colouring, leg length and body language make me wonder if she maybe has some coyote in her. A lot of this is probably just my association with some of her expressions, which remind me a little of Wile E. holding up a sign asking, "In heaven's name, what have I DONE?"

Last night we brought her to the basement for the very first time, and the extra space gave her an opportunity to cut loose a little bit, playfighting, tossing her toys about and racing around frantically in what we used to call "puppy rodeo" but is known to many dog owners as "the zoomies."

We think she is around a year-and-a-half old, which means there is a lot of puppy in her still. She can get overexcited pretty easily and sounds absolutely ferocious with her growls and snarls, but her tail never stops wagging either, and she is quick enough to stop when you let her know she's overstepped.

It's still too early to determine how much trouble we may have gotten ourselves into with all this, but at least it promises to be entertaining! And in the meantime, Canéla seems to feel secure and at home with us.

Gone to the Dog?

And so it came to pass, perhaps surprisingly, that the Fitzpatricks welcomed another dog into their home early in 2021. But would they be able to keep her? What will be outcome of this blog's first cliffhanger entry?

If you read my overwrought farewell to our beloved canine companion Nitti back in October, you will not be surprised to learn that the whole experience was pretty exhausting on us as a family. So much so, in fact, that Audrey and I were unsure if we even wanted to get another dog. "Every puppy is a countdown to tragedy," as they say, and we were none too keen on repeating that experience.

But the worst thing about not having Nitti around was seeing all the places he could have been - looking out the window, lapping up a drink at his water dish, or sitting on the recliner next to me while I worked from home. We found ourselves longing for the sound of his nails on the linoleum overhead and hated the fact that there was no reason not to lock the back door after dinner, since he would not need to be let out one last time before bed. For a dog that weighed less than thirty pounds, he left a hole in our lives that a beluga could have swum through, so we started actively looking for another dog to adopt before the end of October.

And while we are not fussy people in terms of breed, breeding or colour, there were a number of criteria any new dog would need to meet: not a puppy, but not too old either; not a purse dog, but small enough to feel comfortable in our house and yard; and no specific breed, but definitely non-shedding as Glory and I both have allergy issues.

And with the Edmonton Humane Society closed to adoptions, it was up to Audrey to sort out the various animal rescue organizations, starting locally but soon ranging all across the province. We made it to the interview stage of a society here in Edmonton, but there were no matching dogs. Luckily, Audrey made a connection with a volunteer at the Cochrane Humane Society. When she asked about our previous dog-owning experience, Audrey offered to send her a link to my blog. The next day she wrote back to say,  "okay, my eyes are all red, I have used up all my tissues and I can barely swallow. We are gonna get you guys a dog."

Nothing panned out for her, but she put us in contact with someone at Rocky Mountain Animal Rescue near Canmore who had some rescues coming in from Mexico, of all places. After completing their adoption application and following up with two emails full of photographs of our home and yard, we were approved to adopt Canéla, a year-and-a-half old terrier mix who had been found in a vacant lot in Cozumel. It is probable that her owners had to move out of the area after losing their jobs due to Covid and could not afford to bring her along.

With excitement and trepidation in equal measure, Audrey, Glory and I loaded up the kennel and blankets into the Flex this morning so we could pick up Canéla from Canmore. 

It was bitterly cold in Edmonton when we left, but as we approached the mountains, we saw the temperature rise from -20 to -2.

Soon enough, we found ourselves outside an acreage just west of Canmore, where we went in to meet our prospective new pooch (if, heaven forbid, we are unable to keep her due to allergies or such, we are able to return her).

The poor animal hasn't been in the country for a full week yet, and although she was understandably shy around us newcomers, she obviously had a lot of trust and affection for the volunteers looking after her. They gave Audrey some treats to entice her over, and she greeted each of us in turn. 

They asked if we wanted to take her for a short walk, the longest time she has been on a leash in months. While still visibly apprehensive, with her tail tucked between her legs, she was also very curious and happy to be outside, despite what has to be a shocking change in ambient temperature from what she is used to in Cozumel.

We returned to the house, Audrey completed the needed paperwork and we carried Canéla out to the Flex, and prompted her into the kennel on the back seat for the ride to her new home.

Canéla is about the same weight as Nitti (who was 26 lbs at his last regular vet visit) but is oriented in a completely different fashion. As Glory put it, Nitti didn't really have any discernible knees, while this terrier is a leggy beastie to be sure, with sizable feet to match. This made it a snugger fit inside the kennel, but she seemed content to let her head hang out the door and visit with Glory in the back seat.

Glory took Canéla out for a walk when we stopped for gas at Cross Iron, but after a few minutes in a noisy parking lot at -13, she quickly displayed her preference for the car. Since she had been getting warm though, we put the kennel in the back and let her stretch out on the blankets covering the seat.

She alternated getting scratches from Glory and curling up with her toy dog Douglas that the volunteers had given her.

We left the house at twenty to nine in the morning and got back about a quarter past seven at night, greeted by an ecstatic Fenya. All four of us spent a little time on the floor together while Canéla explored the kitchen (blocked off by a recently acquired baby gate until she is housetrained) and accepted scratches and pets from each of us.

She is obviously a little underfed ("You need to chuck a couple of cheeseburgers into that dog" my brother-in-law suggested) but is doing very well for a dog that spent at least half a year in an animal shelter in Cozumel (that's like, what - four human years at a medium-security correctional facility I figure? Brr!). She is also no fan of going outside to do her business, but hey, who would be in this weather.

We are still trying to sort out her name, but the temporary one given to her by the workers as the shelter in Cozumel is starting to grow on us. If we end up going with Canéla, I have suggested perhaps spelling it K'Nayla, as it looks even more exotic and is closer to the Spanish pronunciation of her name than can-NELL-uh, which comes pretty naturally when you read it.

And should anyone snort disdainfully and ask why we gave our dog a Klingon name, I look forward to telling them, "oh no, her name is just Spanish for cinnamon."

In the meantime though, we are keeping a wary eye out for potential behavioral issues and of course, allergic reactions from Glory and I. Glory actually was a little sniffly tonight, but she was around quite a few dogs (and a cat) at the Rescue Society this afternoon as well. Audrey is bathing the dog right now so we can have a good baseline for evaluating tomorrow, so we should know in the next few days whether we can keep her, or face a different kind of canine heartbreak next weekend when we have to return her.

Stay tuned!

B&W & Huh? All Over - WandaVision Reviewed (eps 1-2)

The term "Marvel Zombie" was originally coined by fans of other comics companies (such as the one Stan Lee referred to as "the Distinguished Competition"). It was meant to disparage their blind or exclusive loyalty to a comics publisher, but the apellation eventually became perverse source of pride for anyone who read primarily Marvel Comics.

I read comics from all sorts of publishers, so I never really considered myself a Marvel Zombie until the Marvel Cinematic Universe established itself. With 23 cinematically released features in just over 12 years, I find myself eagerly anticipating each new release, even from characters whose stories I rarely read on paper. Now, thanks to the global pandemic and the delayed release of the Black Widow, Shang-Chi and Eternals films, I have found myself without a new Marvel Studios offering for the longest time since Iron Man came out in 2008 - until Friday.

Friday afternoon I finally subscribed to the Disney+ streaming service (it was an inevitability, really) so we could all watch the first Marvel Studios series on that platform - WandaVision. It was also one of those rare experiences where the whole family was available to watch, which made it even more enjoyable.

WandaVision is a wild ride, to be sure; a delirious take on pop culture and television history wrapped in both humour and pathos, with absolutely nothing in the way of traditional tights-and-fights superheroics in the first two episodes. It is entertaining, both funny and ominous, and with seven episodes to go, absolutely none of us have any real sense of what is going on.

As outlined by the trailer, we know WandaVision starts out in a traditional, b&w tv sitcom format, complete with title sequences and commercials. Styles and mores from the period abound - not just the clothes and hairstyles but for instance, the idea of a housewife cooking a meal for her husband's boss in hopes of better consideration for a promotion. Full marks for the historic looks achieved in hair, wardrobe, production design and even cinematography.

And here is the weirdest thing - the characters actually work really well in this format. The idea of a telekinetic wife and robotic husband trying to fit in and pass themselves off as normal people has been established via classic sitcoms like Bewitched and My Favourite Martian, to name but two. Elizabeth Olsen and Paul Bettany have good comic timing and very decent chemistry together, so as a one-off vanity project and period pastiche, WandaVision has potential all on its own.

But things are not quite right, are they? The last time we saw Vision, he was being destroyed by Thanos in 2018's Infinity War before Wanda helped to (ahem) avenge him in Endgame a year later (or five years later for some folk in the MCU). Right off the hop, you can ask "how is Vision back?" as well as "why are they on tv in the 50s (then 60s)?" and finally "where are they and what the hell is actually going on?"

Thankfully there are clues: odd moments of meta-awareness by Wanda within the "show." Bits of spot colour like a red light on an ominously beeping Stark Industries toaster or a toy helicopter found in a bush. A mysterious message heard over the radio. Out of place interrogations from Vision's boss Mr. Hart or their nosy neighbour Agnes. A clear progression from the 50s to the 60s even in the first two episodes. And most tellingly, the depiction of person or persons unknown having watched the same show we have in a modern-day, high-tech setup, with a SWORD logo displayed on a nearby monitor.

Lots of teases and possible clues for us comics fans too, from an ominous bone and helmet shown in the animated opening sequence of episode 2 and tiny, crypto references like ads for Bova milk (the name of the cow-human hybrid midwife who delivered Wanda (and her brother Pietro/Quicksilver) in the comics). Just how much of an influence was Tom King's brilliant 2016 Vision miniseries?

(Picture supplied by The Rare Hipster)

But is there more? Does Vision's opening quip about 'flying saucers' reference actual extraterrestrials? After all, SWORD could stand for Sentient Worlds Observation and Response Department like it does in the comics. Or could the innocuous chewing gum Big Red be a reference to Mephisto, the Marvel Universe's analogue to Satan? Wanda has had her own run-ins with the same fiend who undid Spider-Man's marriage. Wanda is also rumoured to future prominently in the next Doctor Strange movie, The Multiverse of Madness, so mystical implications could be at play here as well. Hmm, in the comics, Wanda is taught in the arcane arts by the witch Agatha Harkness...Ag...nes? Hmm...

Well, speculation is futile (and fun!), but with the control Wanda seems capable of exerting within her televised environment, the biggest question seems to be whether this whole situation is being done to her, or by her. And either way, who is watching?

Lots of people, I bet - and the four of us, for certain. 

Kudos to Marvel for a bold entry into the streaming content wars with a show that feels like superhero movies by way of the original Twilight Zone and surreally peppered with bits of Twin Peaks for good measure. This Marvel Zombie will be coming back for more.

Democracy Inaction

It would be funny if it weren't so tragic.

On Wednesday this past week, the unrest being fomented by the soon-to-be-former U.S. President came to a head. Following nine weeks of lies by Donald Trump about election fraud, he urged his followers to come to Washington on January 6, the day the electoral votes were being certified, a largely ceremonial function, and protest the results and a free and fair election. 

And let's be clear here - while there are obviously cases of rightfully rejected ballots here and there and reports of spurious ones getting through, there is no evidence whatsoever suggesting the kind of widespread and institutional shenanigans being alleged, despite dozens of cases brought to court by P45 and his legal team, every single one of which to date has been rejected by judges (many of which were appointed by Trump).

At the protest, Trump riled up his most dedicated supporters and directed them to march on the Capitol in order to convey 'strength' to the Senators and Representatives voting there, including the one presiding over the matter, Trump's own VP, Mike Pence.

Trump told his acolytes he would be joining them, adding to their fervour, but then beetled off back to the White House to watch things unfold.

And what unfolded was a travesty. 

Undersupported Capitol police were unable to staunch the surging crowds who physically broke into the building and wreaked havoc. The chambers were evacuated and staff and politicians moved to secure locations (and thankfully, quick-thinking staff were able to grab the actual physical elector ballots as well, or they would certainly have been destroyed, muddying the waters even further).

In addition to the uproar, disruption, vandalism and terror one might expect from such a debacle, five lives ended up being lost, including two Capitol Police officers. But as more reports and videos emerge from Wednesday's fracas, it is apparent that things could have been much much, much worse.

• A gallows was erected on the Capitol grounds, among other ominous, code-laden symbols
• A police officer was almost crushed by a door while the mob yelled "heave ho, heave ho" and trying to push their way past.
• Groups of insurrectionists roamed the Capitol building chanting "hang Pence, hang Pence."
• Multiple invaders were spotted carrying bundles of zip-tie handcuffs and tasers, suggesting there was a plan, or at least an effort, to take prisoners or hostages.

Tales are also emerging of how little time there was between the perimeter breach and the chambers themselves being invaded, and how at least one officer (a black man, facing an almost exclusively white mob, by the way), led one group of invaders away from the senate chambers, buying them valuable moments to continue their evacuation.

And although it is tempting to write the whole affair off as a farce, remember that large swathes of the ultra-right try to cloak themselves as satirical or ironic clowns in order to avoid consequences for their heinous actions under the time-honoured but only sporadically effective "just kidding, lol" defence. 

Thankfully, law-enforcement agencies seem to be taking it seriously, treating the incident as an attempted insurrection and prosecuting the individuals they can find (many of whom either made little or no efforts at disguise or willingly identified themselves.

But this is small potatoes. These people are largely idiots, whipped into a frenzy and exploited by a power-hungry demagogue. What about the instigators?

Well, Trump has been banned from Twitter (a mixed bag, since now we can only guess at what he is thinking instead of having him broadcast it nearly constantly) as well as Reddit, Twitch, Facebook, Instagram, Snapchat, and even Stripe, the e-commerce company that enables a lot of his online political fundraising.  He is also facing a potential second impeachment and there is even a slight chance of the 25th Amendment being used to remove him due to his being incapacitated.

But whatever. In all honesty, I have given up hope in Trump ever being held truly accountable, and I don't think he will be able to mount an effective re-election campaign in 2024 at this point, so it is almost enough for me not to hear as much about him due to his being so effectively de-platformed, at least for the moment.

No, I reserve my deepest ire for Trump's enablers.

Trump is, and always has been a maniacal, narcissistic and selfish opportunist - everything he has done, including inciting insurrection, was clearly within his capabilities. He is the scorpion riding the back of a frog called America.

But other people, particularly elected officials, should know better. When the riot ended and the chambers resumed their business, working through the night to certify the electoral votes and bring the horrors of this election to a final end, some of them chose to continue following the President's wishes and object to certification.

This is not because they honestly believe that there was widespread fraud in the states in question. Most of them will admit to this if asked, claiming instead that their objections are principled criticisms of election security and investigation. But in truth, it is to curry favour with a bullying leader and a populist movement that still has a stranglehold on the Party of Lincoln.

In an evening that saw these eight Senators cowering in a secure space while other people fought and in some cases died to maintain security and order, they came back into session and had the unmitigated temerity to continue their objections and to prop up Donal Trump's monumental lie that the election was stolen.

Senators Ted Cruz and Josh Hawley try to base their objections on the fact that 39% of Americans don't have faith in the results of the election. They are unwilling to accept any correlation between this figure and the fact that the President has abused his office and spread lie after lie and wasted legal argument after legal argument squawking about the supposed unfairness and statistical impossibility of his loss, all while providing zero evidence to back up his scurrilous assertions. He, and just importantly, they, have undermined faith not only in their own country's government but in democracy itself.

Thankfully, there is the potential for consequences here as well. Cruz and Hawley are now facing calls to resign, some of which come from within their own party. A petition by alumni of their law schools to have both of them disbarred gathered 500 signatures in less than 48 hours.

Hawley, a freshman Senator, appears to be getting the worst of it, accused by a former senator and sponsor of having "blood on his hands," a sentiment echoed by the Kansas City Star, among others. His pending book deal has also been cancelled by his publisher, removing a significant leg from the platform he hoped might make him a presidential hopeful in 2024. 

Meanwhile though, toadies and lickspittles who would rather have a strongman in the Oval Office than someone actually elected to the office continue to defend the actions of those contesting an election that has been settled for weeks.

Division continues, cynicism grows, and another rough beast slouches off towards Bethlehem to be born in the next election cycle. But if we can have even a smidgen of comeuppance for people like Ted Cruz and Josh Hawley, I will content myself with that, as well as with the silence once filled with Trump's tweeting.

As Much Nothing As Possible

The liquor cabinet is significantly lighter, most of the additional cheeses brought in for the season have been eaten, and now the inevitable return to normalcy slouches out of our Bethlehem holiday mindset and drags us kicking and screaming back to a painfully mundane (but in fariness, far more sustainable) existence.

Well, many of us, anyways. Audrey will be working remotely for the first week of the new school year, and Fenya's classes don't resume until Jan. 11, but it is business as usual for me tomorrow morning at 8:00 a.m.

It was weird not seeing family members or friends in person for Christmas, and especially troubling  with my sister testing positive for Covid from her job in Texas. But there were net positives as well, if I am being honest.

For instance, in between Roll20 and getting the tabletop set up at home for the first time in over half a year, I got in 23 hours of D&D between Dec. 20 and today. Rolling some dice, having some laughs and sharing some snacks (where safe) felt grand, even if the majority of contact was over a Google Meeting. And playing from noon until 11 pm on the 27th with the family was a real trip down memory lane for me. 

Being confined to quarters and having both girls at home gave me a chance to share a bunch of old school Star Trek, and they managed to watch all eight Harry Potter movies over the break, with Glory even making some butterbeer inspired by the stories at one point.

We finally got the whole family to sit down for a game of Wingspan, a wonderful board game that is sometimes tricky to understand, but easy to play once you wrap your head around it, and which also may be the most beautful board game I own. I also finished building all the pieces for the Aliens: Another Glorious Day in the Corps board game I had pre-ordered in the summer but which only arrived the Sunday before Christmas. Still not sure how the game is supposed to work as a solo experience, but hope to rope in the girls for a game next week and can perhaps post a review after that. At least it looks good though!

We ate plates of sausages and cheese, leftover ham, grilled vegetables, pizza, egg nog french toast and today, Soul in a Bowl from OEB, to both commemorate and mourn the end of a wonderful time together. 

On New Year's Eve, we ate fondue, then turned down the lights, turned up the volume and enjoyed the Muse: Simulation Theory concert film - what a spectacle! Sadly, it is only 90 minutes long, but that gave us plenty of time to swtich over to Rick Mercer for the countdown at midnight.

Not a lot of projects got done (unless you count the collective Christmas puzzle we worked on) but this was to be expected. This year the Christmas break was precisely that: a respite.

John Lennon has been quoted as saying that "Time you enjoyed wasting was not wasted" which I think is true, and perhaps more applicable to this Christmas than those that have gone before. But I also think of a quote from the Tao of Pooh that has stuck with me for years: "When I do nothing, nothing gets not done." 

There is a comforting sort of zen contained there I think, which I hope will comfort me as I head back to a familiar routine tomorrow, already looking forward to the next break, whenever and wherever it might be.