newyorker--2020-11-25--We’re Being So Safe

We’re Being So Safe

We ’ re just going to have a small dinner .
Me , your father , and Emily and Jeff from next door—we ’ re like a pod thing .
So small and safe .
Their son might be driving in from Michigan with his new girlfriend as well , but everyone has been strictly quarantining .
Really , I haven ’ t gone anywhere or seen anyone in weeks—months even !
I only ducked out to the grocery store yesterday .
Well , I had to go to four different grocery stores because no one seemed to have xanthan @ @ @ @ @ @ @ gluten-free piecrust I ’ m making in case Emily and Jeff ’ s other son decides to drive up from D.C. to join us .
You ’ ve met him .
He works for that congressman from Ohio , so he ’ s definitely been COVID-tested many times .
And , don ’ t worry , I wore two masks to the store to be extra safe !
One of them was even a fancy KN95 that I got from my friend Carol—you know , she works at that nursing home on Eighty-sixth @ @ @ @ @ @ @ we met for a socially distanced lunch last week at that tapas place downtown that does the squid thing you like .
They ’ ve got this cute little outdoor dining space set up , with plastic tarps and heat lamps , so it almost feels like you ’ re inside , but it ’ s outside , so it ’ s safe !
Listen , there ’ s nothing to worry about .
I ’ m being super careful , and this is the healthiest I ’ ve ever been .
My @ @ @ @ @ @ @ classes for anyone in the building who wants to join , and just look how far I can bend now .
It ’ s all thanks to Paula ’ s guiding hand .
Yeah , we meet in person .
We tried doing the classes over Zoom , but it wasn ’ t the same .
It honestly started to feel more dangerous not to have her in the room to correct my form .
Bad form can cause real damage !
But , don ’ t worry , she only allows , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ per class , and she ’ s in a B-line apartment , so she ’ s got that big living room .
Practically a hundred and eighty square feet .
And she always keeps the windows open when it ’ s not raining or cold .
It ’ s so safe !
I promise I ’ m taking this very seriously .
Unlike your cousin Kevin .
You won ’ t believe what Kevin did .
He went to some kind of crazy sex party or concert or something in a warehouse on @ @ @ @ @ @ @ that he came home covered in glitter—lips and chin , too , so you know he wasn ’ t wearing a mask .
Can you believe how irresponsible that is ?
Behaving like that when he lives with his sixty-five-year-old mother ?
So dangerous !
I said to her , “ You have to tell Kevin to be more careful .
This COVID stuff is serious !
” Yes , I said exactly that when she came over yesterday to watch “ The Crown.
” I ’ m not messing around with this @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , I did take the subway once last week , and also when I went to the dentist on Monday .
But the train car was practically empty , and the twenty or so people in there were being very careful .
There was even an old lady on the train—much , much older than me—so everyone was really diligent .
She was doing that thing where she put a tissue between her hand and the pole to avoid any germs .
And she was meticulous about only pulling down her mask when @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , but then put the tissue right back on the pole , so her hands didn ’ t touch anything .
And , don ’ t worry , I made sure to only lick that subway pole twice , three times max .
So I ’ m being totally safe .
You don ’ t have to worry at all .
Anyway , you ’ re coming for Thanksgiving , right ?
It ’ ll be so safe .

Don’t worry—with this whole new COVID-19 surge, we’ve decided it’s better to play it safe and not do anything for Thanksgiving this year. It isn’t worth the risk.
We’re just going to have a small dinner. Me, your father, and Emily and Jeff from next door—we’re like a pod thing. So small and safe. Their son might be driving in from Michigan with his new girlfriend as well, but everyone has been strictly quarantining.
Really, I haven’t gone anywhere or seen anyone in weeks—months even! I only ducked out to the grocery store yesterday. Well, I had to go to four different grocery stores because no one seemed to have xanthan gum, which I need for the gluten-free piecrust I’m making in case Emily and Jeff’s other son decides to drive up from D.C. to join us. You’ve met him. He works for that congressman from Ohio, so he’s definitely been COVID-tested many times.
And, don’t worry, I wore two masks to the store to be extra safe! One of them was even a fancy KN95 that I got from my friend Carol—you know, she works at that nursing home on Eighty-sixth? She gave it to me when we met for a socially distanced lunch last week at that tapas place downtown that does the squid thing you like. They’ve got this cute little outdoor dining space set up, with plastic tarps and heat lamps, so it almost feels like you’re inside, but it’s outside, so it’s safe!
Listen, there’s nothing to worry about. I’m being super careful, and this is the healthiest I’ve ever been. My neighbor Paula has been teaching these yoga classes for anyone in the building who wants to join, and just look how far I can bend now. It’s all thanks to Paula’s guiding hand. Yeah, we meet in person. We tried doing the classes over Zoom, but it wasn’t the same. It honestly started to feel more dangerous not to have her in the room to correct my form. Bad form can cause real damage! But, don’t worry, she only allows, like, six, sometimes eight people per class, and she’s in a B-line apartment, so she’s got that big living room. Practically a hundred and eighty square feet. And she always keeps the windows open when it’s not raining or cold. It’s so safe!
I promise I’m taking this very seriously. Unlike your cousin Kevin. You won’t believe what Kevin did. He went to some kind of crazy sex party or concert or something in a warehouse on Staten Island. Your Aunt Susan said that he came home covered in glitter—lips and chin, too, so you know he wasn’t wearing a mask. Can you believe how irresponsible that is? Behaving like that when he lives with his sixty-five-year-old mother? So dangerous! I said to her, “You have to tell Kevin to be more careful. This COVID stuff is serious!” Yes, I said exactly that when she came over yesterday to watch “The Crown.” I’m not messing around with this stuff.
Well, O.K., sure, I did take the subway once last week, and also when I went to the dentist on Monday. But the train car was practically empty, and the twenty or so people in there were being very careful. There was even an old lady on the train—much, much older than me—so everyone was really diligent. She was doing that thing where she put a tissue between her hand and the pole to avoid any germs. And she was meticulous about only pulling down her mask when she needed to sneeze into that tissue, but then put the tissue right back on the pole, so her hands didn’t touch anything. And, don’t worry, I made sure to only lick that subway pole twice, three times max. So I’m being totally safe. You don’t have to worry at all.
Anyway, you’re coming for Thanksgiving, right? It’ll be so safe.


newyorker--2020-11-25--Trump’s Final Cruelty: Executing Prisoners

Two weeks from now , the Trump Administration plans to execute a forty-year-old man named Brandon Bernard .
His death , by lethal injection , in the federal prison in Terre Haute , Indiana , would be the ninth carried out by the U.S. government since July—the ninth , in fact , since 2003 .
And four more executions , besides Bernard ’ s , are slated to take place before President Donald Trump leaves office .
For seventeen years , no federal prisoners were put to death in the United States , and both public sentiment and Supreme Court @ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
When President Bill Clinton signed the 1994 crime bill , eighty per cent of the public supported the death penalty in cases of murder ; only fifty-five per cent do today .
( Less than half of the states still execute convicted people . )
But , last year , Attorney General William Barr announced that the Justice Department would resume this archaic ritual of violence , with the purpose of “ bringing justice to victims of the most horrific crimes.
” Andrea D. Lyon , an attorney who represents death-row inmates @ @ @ @ @ @ @ was “ one more stunt to distract Americans from the misdeeds of his boss ” and a reckless fulfillment of a promise of law and order .
Bernard has been on death row for half his life .
In his teens , he was rebellious , with a record of petty theft but no violent conduct .
His mother , Thelma , an Army nurse , had raised him and his two younger siblings after she divorced their father , who drank heavily and struggled with homelessness .
In 1999 , Bernard , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ and unemployed .
He joined four other Black teen-agers in what he believed would be the carjacking and robbery of Todd and Stacie Bagley , a white couple , both youth ministers , in Killeen , Texas , near Fort Hood .
The five boys were part of a local gang loosely modelled on the Bloods , and Bernard was a low-ranking member .
The couple were forced into the trunk of their car and driven around to a pawnshop and several A.T.M.s .
At some point , Bernard joined in , and @ @ @ @ @ @ @ nineteen-year-old named Chris Vialva , decided to kill the Bagleys .
Vialva shot them point-blank in the head , killing Todd and rendering Stacie unconscious ; he used a gun that Bernard had procured .
( Bernard maintains that he thought it would be used only to scare someone . )
Afterward , Vialva told the others to burn the car , and Bernard went with another boy to buy lighter fluid .
That boy testified that Bernard lit the fire , causing Stacie to die of smoke inhalation .
Bernard has said @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the vehicle , but he believed that the couple was already dead .
Because the crime occurred on land owned by the military , the U.S. government handled the case .
( Todd Bagley ’ s mother declined to comment for this story but has said that she supports the execution . )
The three minors involved were sentenced to between twenty and thirty-five years in prison .
Two have already been released .
But the government prosecuted Bernard and Vialva as adults , and in the same trial .
( Janet Reno @ @ @ @ @ @ @ President Clinton . )
The jury heard unified evidence , despite the difference in the actions of the defendants , whose contrasting demeanors at trial were striking : one juror recalled that Vialva appeared to show no remorse , but Bernard seemed contrite and frightened .
The presiding judge , a Reagan appointee who resigned in 2016 , while under investigation for sexual misconduct , assigned Bernard a lawyer who had no previous federal death-penalty experience and failed both to call key character witnesses ( including Bernard ’ s juvenile probation officer and @ @ @ @ @ @ @ evidence of childhood trauma ; the attorney logged only a fifth of the hours usually spent to prepare for a federal death-penalty case .
Meanwhile , prosecutors were allowed to call a forensic psychiatrist named Richard Coons , who billed himself as a “ future dangerousness expert.
” ( A Texas court later deemed him unreliable . )
Coons testified that gang members like Vialva and Bernard were likely to join a gang inside prison and would become more violent over time ; thus , they were too dangerous to sentence to life @ @ @ @ @ @ @ young men to death .
Gary McClung , who served on that jury and is now a mechanic in Tennessee , told me that Bernard ’ s sentence is “ something that bothered me off and on all these years.
” Bernard ’ s trial attorney seemed to be “ phoning it in , ” McClung said , in a recent affidavit .
“ In the case of Mr. Vialva , it just seemed like this was a big inconvenience , but Brandon Bernard seemed obviously broken and afraid , ” he told @ @ @ @ @ @ @ have come forward to plead for Bernard ’ s life , as have a former prosecutor on the case and a former warden of the Terre Haute penitentiary , who cited Bernard ’ s “ record of zero disciplinary infractions.
” Since early October , more than eighteen thousand people have written to the White House on Bernard ’ s behalf , the defense investigator Stacey Brownstein told me , and the Congressional Black Caucus and the U.S. Conference of Catholic Bishops have urged Barr and Trump to call off all federal executions @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Americans ever to be sentenced to death by the U.S. government .
His family members live in states spread across the South , and can only afford to visit once a year .
When they do , they can speak to him only by phone , through a thick glass panel .
For the past twenty years , he has not been able to touch his mother , brother , sister , or two daughters , who were born after his arrest .
“ At every visit , we put our palms up @ @ @ @ @ @ @ a poor substitute for an embrace , ” Bernard ’ s mother wrote , in a clemency statement .
Before he was transferred to “ death watch , ” the last stage before execution , he spent twenty-three hours a day alone in his cell .
To pass the time , Brownstein told me , he wrote letters to at-risk youth , prayed—he was raised Seventh-day Adventist , and has become more devout since entering prison—and crocheted intricate blankets .
In 2016 , after losing an appeal arguing that he ’ d been @ @ @ @ @ @ @ submitted a petition to the Office of the Pardon Attorney , an agency within the Department of Justice that makes recommendations to the President .
( Bernard ’ s most realistic hope is to have his sentence reduced to life imprisonment without the possibility of release . )
President Barack Obama did not make a decision on that application before leaving office , though he did commute two other prisoners ’ death sentences days before Trump ’ s Inauguration .
Earlier this month , Bernard withdrew his original petition and filed a new @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , Vialva , was executed , at Terre Haute .
Many criminal-justice advocates were disappointed when Obama , who promised to make generous use of his pardon power , let thousands of applications languish .
( In 2016 , when the backlog reached more than nine thousand , Obama ’ s lead pardon attorney resigned in protest . )
But Trump and Barr ’ s resumption of the federal death penalty and the rapid pace of federal executions has further undermined the process .
The Office of the Pardon Attorney , like so @ @ @ @ @ @ @ a permanent chief and a sense of mission .
Rosalind Sargent-Burns , the interim director , supervises a staff that is reportedly demoralized by the White House ’ s lack of interest—except in pardoning the President ’ s allies , such as Joe Arpaio , Bernard Kerik , and Rod Blagojevich—and by the timeline imposed by Barr .
The Pardon Office ’ s staff attorneys , who are working remotely , have struggled to evaluate filings that are often hundreds of pages long .
( Nicole Navas Oxman , the spokesperson for the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the office ’ s new pandemic protocols and declined to answer questions about the impact on prisoners ’ right to due process . )
Bernard and others scheduled for execution this year may have claims for “ a denial of the Sixth Amendment right to counsel ” owing to the pandemic , Alexis Hoag , a former federal defender and an instructor at Columbia Law School , told me .
On account of travel restrictions , Bernard ’ s defense team has been unable to reach all the relevant witnesses for his clemency @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , Lisa Montgomery , who was originally slated to be executed two days before Bernard , was recently granted a stay when her attorneys tested positive for the coronavirus .
Earlier this year , a man was executed without his lawyer present , owing to a coronavirus outbreak at Terre Haute .
Robert Owen , a death-penalty litigator who began representing Bernard during his first appeal , told me that he has never seen federal executions so tightly scheduled .
In October and November , Owen found himself having to manage both Bernard @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Hall , another Black inmate whom Barr had scheduled for death .
On November 19th , Hall was executed in Terre Haute , after the Supreme Court overturned a temporary stay .
Owen told me that Bernard ’ s case is completely “ unlike all the other federal death-penalty cases ” because of his age and nonviolent history .
“ Brandon ’ s diminished culpability jumps off the page to anyone who looks carefully at our pleadings .
He is really different in kind , ” Owen said .
At the end of @ @ @ @ @ @ @ with the Office of the Pardon Attorney .
In addition to his clemency petition , Bernard has motions pending in federal courts in Indiana and Texas , which claim that prosecutors withheld evidence of his peripheral role in the gang—and that his execution should be delayed .
Given the current leadership of the Department of Justice , Bernard ’ s best chance may be to outlast the Trump Presidency ; Joe Biden , who once supported the death penalty , has stated that he now opposes capital punishment and has pledged to help @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Hoag , the former federal defender , said that Bernard and others on death row have become fodder in a partisan debate .
“ Historically , the death penalty has been used as a political tool , so the Trump Administration , in an election year , looked at resuming federal executions , ” she explained .
Despite the current Administration ’ s lame-duck status and the facts of Bernard ’ s case , Barr is rushing to exercise the government ’ s ultimate power .
The election-year decision to resume and ram @ @ @ @ @ @ @ inhumane .
An Administration spurned by a majority of voters should not have the right to send Bernard or anyone else to their death .

Two weeks from now, the Trump Administration plans to execute a forty-year-old man named Brandon Bernard. His death, by lethal injection, in the federal prison in Terre Haute, Indiana, would be the ninth carried out by the U.S. government since July—the ninth, in fact, since 2003. And four more executions, besides Bernard’s, are slated to take place before President Donald Trump leaves office. For seventeen years, no federal prisoners were put to death in the United States, and both public sentiment and Supreme Court case law have trended against capital punishment. When President Bill Clinton signed the 1994 crime bill, eighty per cent of the public supported the death penalty in cases of murder; only fifty-five per cent do today. (Less than half of the states still execute convicted people.) But, last year, Attorney General William Barr announced that the Justice Department would resume this archaic ritual of violence, with the purpose of “bringing justice to victims of the most horrific crimes.” Andrea D. Lyon, an attorney who represents death-row inmates, wrote that Barr’s decision was “one more stunt to distract Americans from the misdeeds of his boss” and a reckless fulfillment of a promise of law and order.
Bernard has been on death row for half his life. In his teens, he was rebellious, with a record of petty theft but no violent conduct. His mother, Thelma, an Army nurse, had raised him and his two younger siblings after she divorced their father, who drank heavily and struggled with homelessness. In 1999, Bernard, then eighteen, was out of school and unemployed. He joined four other Black teen-agers in what he believed would be the carjacking and robbery of Todd and Stacie Bagley, a white couple, both youth ministers, in Killeen, Texas, near Fort Hood. The five boys were part of a local gang loosely modelled on the Bloods, and Bernard was a low-ranking member. The couple were forced into the trunk of their car and driven around to a pawnshop and several A.T.M.s. At some point, Bernard joined in, and the group’s leader, a nineteen-year-old named Chris Vialva, decided to kill the Bagleys. Vialva shot them point-blank in the head, killing Todd and rendering Stacie unconscious; he used a gun that Bernard had procured. (Bernard maintains that he thought it would be used only to scare someone.) Afterward, Vialva told the others to burn the car, and Bernard went with another boy to buy lighter fluid. That boy testified that Bernard lit the fire, causing Stacie to die of smoke inhalation. Bernard has said in court filings that he helped burn the vehicle, but he believed that the couple was already dead. Because the crime occurred on land owned by the military, the U.S. government handled the case. (Todd Bagley’s mother declined to comment for this story but has said that she supports the execution.)
The three minors involved were sentenced to between twenty and thirty-five years in prison. Two have already been released. But the government prosecuted Bernard and Vialva as adults, and in the same trial. (Janet Reno was then the Attorney General, under President Clinton.) The jury heard unified evidence, despite the difference in the actions of the defendants, whose contrasting demeanors at trial were striking: one juror recalled that Vialva appeared to show no remorse, but Bernard seemed contrite and frightened. The presiding judge, a Reagan appointee who resigned in 2016, while under investigation for sexual misconduct, assigned Bernard a lawyer who had no previous federal death-penalty experience and failed both to call key character witnesses (including Bernard’s juvenile probation officer and a pastor) and to investigate mitigating evidence of childhood trauma; the attorney logged only a fifth of the hours usually spent to prepare for a federal death-penalty case. Meanwhile, prosecutors were allowed to call a forensic psychiatrist named Richard Coons, who billed himself as a “future dangerousness expert.” (A Texas court later deemed him unreliable.) Coons testified that gang members like Vialva and Bernard were likely to join a gang inside prison and would become more violent over time; thus, they were too dangerous to sentence to life in prison. The jury condemned both young men to death.
Gary McClung, who served on that jury and is now a mechanic in Tennessee, told me that Bernard’s sentence is “something that bothered me off and on all these years.” Bernard’s trial attorney seemed to be “phoning it in,” McClung said, in a recent affidavit. “In the case of Mr. Vialva, it just seemed like this was a big inconvenience, but Brandon Bernard seemed obviously broken and afraid,” he told me. McClung and four other jurors have come forward to plead for Bernard’s life, as have a former prosecutor on the case and a former warden of the Terre Haute penitentiary, who cited Bernard’s “record of zero disciplinary infractions.” Since early October, more than eighteen thousand people have written to the White House on Bernard’s behalf, the defense investigator Stacey Brownstein told me, and the Congressional Black Caucus and the U.S. Conference of Catholic Bishops have urged Barr and Trump to call off all federal executions.
Bernard is one of the youngest Americans ever to be sentenced to death by the U.S. government. His family members live in states spread across the South, and can only afford to visit once a year. When they do, they can speak to him only by phone, through a thick glass panel. For the past twenty years, he has not been able to touch his mother, brother, sister, or two daughters, who were born after his arrest. “At every visit, we put our palms up against the glass, but it is a poor substitute for an embrace,” Bernard’s mother wrote, in a clemency statement. Before he was transferred to “death watch,” the last stage before execution, he spent twenty-three hours a day alone in his cell. To pass the time, Brownstein told me, he wrote letters to at-risk youth, prayed—he was raised Seventh-day Adventist, and has become more devout since entering prison—and crocheted intricate blankets.
In 2016, after losing an appeal arguing that he’d been denied adequate representation at trial, Bernard submitted a petition to the Office of the Pardon Attorney, an agency within the Department of Justice that makes recommendations to the President. (Bernard’s most realistic hope is to have his sentence reduced to life imprisonment without the possibility of release.) President Barack Obama did not make a decision on that application before leaving office, though he did commute two other prisoners’ death sentences days before Trump’s Inauguration. Earlier this month, Bernard withdrew his original petition and filed a new one. In September, his co-defendant, Vialva, was executed, at Terre Haute.
Many criminal-justice advocates were disappointed when Obama, who promised to make generous use of his pardon power, let thousands of applications languish. (In 2016, when the backlog reached more than nine thousand, Obama’s lead pardon attorney resigned in protest.) But Trump and Barr’s resumption of the federal death penalty and the rapid pace of federal executions has further undermined the process. The Office of the Pardon Attorney, like so many federal agencies under Trump, lacks a permanent chief and a sense of mission. Rosalind Sargent-Burns, the interim director, supervises a staff that is reportedly demoralized by the White House’s lack of interest—except in pardoning the President’s allies, such as Joe Arpaio, Bernard Kerik, and Rod Blagojevich—and by the timeline imposed by Barr. The Pardon Office’s staff attorneys, who are working remotely, have struggled to evaluate filings that are often hundreds of pages long. (Nicole Navas Oxman, the spokesperson for the Office of the Pardon Attorney, cited the office’s new pandemic protocols and declined to answer questions about the impact on prisoners’ right to due process.)
Bernard and others scheduled for execution this year may have claims for “a denial of the Sixth Amendment right to counsel” owing to the pandemic, Alexis Hoag, a former federal defender and an instructor at Columbia Law School, told me. On account of travel restrictions, Bernard’s defense team has been unable to reach all the relevant witnesses for his clemency application. Another inmate on death row, Lisa Montgomery, who was originally slated to be executed two days before Bernard, was recently granted a stay when her attorneys tested positive for the coronavirus. Earlier this year, a man was executed without his lawyer present, owing to a coronavirus outbreak at Terre Haute.
Robert Owen, a death-penalty litigator who began representing Bernard during his first appeal, told me that he has never seen federal executions so tightly scheduled. In October and November, Owen found himself having to manage both Bernard’s case and that of Orlando Hall, another Black inmate whom Barr had scheduled for death. On November 19th, Hall was executed in Terre Haute, after the Supreme Court overturned a temporary stay.
Owen told me that Bernard’s case is completely “unlike all the other federal death-penalty cases” because of his age and nonviolent history. “Brandon’s diminished culpability jumps off the page to anyone who looks carefully at our pleadings. He is really different in kind,” Owen said. At the end of this month, Owen will meet virtually with the Office of the Pardon Attorney. In addition to his clemency petition, Bernard has motions pending in federal courts in Indiana and Texas, which claim that prosecutors withheld evidence of his peripheral role in the gang—and that his execution should be delayed. Given the current leadership of the Department of Justice, Bernard’s best chance may be to outlast the Trump Presidency; Joe Biden, who once supported the death penalty, has stated that he now opposes capital punishment and has pledged to help eliminate it at the federal level.
Hoag, the former federal defender, said that Bernard and others on death row have become fodder in a partisan debate. “Historically, the death penalty has been used as a political tool, so the Trump Administration, in an election year, looked at resuming federal executions,” she explained. Despite the current Administration’s lame-duck status and the facts of Bernard’s case, Barr is rushing to exercise the government’s ultimate power. The election-year decision to resume and ram through so many executions is cynical and inhumane. An Administration spurned by a majority of voters should not have the right to send Bernard or anyone else to their death.


newyorker--2020-11-25--What Good Government Looks Like

What Good Government Looks Like

Wiseman is ninety years old .
May he continue to make his movies forever , for there is nothing quite like them .
Still , if we think of “ City Hall ” as a ( temporary ) bookend to Wiseman ’ s career , there is an interesting symmetry—or asymmetry .
Wiseman ’ s first documentary , “ Titicut Follies , ” from 1967 , was banned by Massachusetts ’ s state courts for twenty-four years .
It was shot at Bridgewater State Hospital , a state-run facility for the criminally insane about thirty miles south of Boston .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ , no-interview technique , put on display the inhumane treatment to which inmates were subjected .
From the point of view of the content , the “ Titicut Follies ” lawsuit was a straightforward freedom-of-the-press case .
The legal issue had to do with whether the privacy rights of the inmates had been invaded .
Wiseman , who was born in Boston ( he now lives in Cambridge ) , has a degree from Yale Law School , and worked as a lawyer before becoming a filmmaker , likely saw the state ’ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ conceal its own malfeasance from the public eye .
Considering the manner in which patients at Bridgewater were being treated , their privacy rights would not have been of much concern to state officials .
After an adverse judgment in the highest state court , Wiseman appealed to the United States Supreme Court , which declined to hear the case .
The movie was finally released to the general public in 1992 , and aired on PBS , a longtime supporter of Wiseman ’ s work .
When the state censors your movie @ @ @ @ @ @ @ that documentary filmmakers are searching for .
But the film created expectations for Wiseman ’ s career that he has largely disappointed .
He does not seem to aspire to produce exposés .
What interests him are institutions , and institutions , given flesh and blood by the people who work in and interact with them , are the protagonists of his films .
He does not uncover doings hidden from view because he films what anyone , given access , could see and hear : people going about their jobs .
Sometimes @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ) what you see and hear is disturbing , but most of the time it is unspectacular and even , well , boring .
The art in Wiseman ’ s films—and he insists that it is a mistake to confuse his movies with reality—is the art of making poetry out of the tedious and mundane .
It almost seems that , the shorter the average attention span gets , the longer Wiseman ’ s movies become , but there is usually a single unremarkable image at their heart—the metaphor of the poem .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ 2013 , it is a man mowing grass .
In “ City Hall , ” it is trash collection .
The idea , I think , is that life is , at bottom , anarchic , a perpetual struggle for power and goods , for recognition and respect , for survival .
The baseline function of the institutions that humans have invented , from schools and universities to city governments , public libraries , and arts groups , is to keep the lid on , to dissipate conflict by managing it—or , in @ @ @ @ @ @ @ it .
There are problems ?
We have a process for that .
Or : there is an agency that handles that .
“ City Hall ” opens and closes with scenes of city workers answering calls to 311 .
A tree fell down , an animal is injured—problems individuals can ’ t cope with .
The city responds .
We ’ re here to restore your sense of balance .
We keep the grass trimmed .
We compact the trash and cart it away out of sight .
Government is composed of @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ’ s focus .
He is Irish Catholic—a virtual job requirement in Boston .
Every mayor of Boston since 1930 has been Irish Catholic , with one exception : Walsh ’ s predecessor , Thomas ( Mumbles ) Menino , who served for twenty years and was probably the city ’ s most beloved politician .
Menino was Italian-American .
Walsh , as an Irish Catholic from Dorchester whose parents were immigrants and who started out in construction , evokes Boston ’ s stereotypical reputation for provincialism , and also its reputation for @ @ @ @ @ @ @ of the most multiethnic neighborhoods in the city , and Walsh ( as Wiseman has chosen to show him ) is all about diversity and inclusion .
He is also obviously a gifted retail politician , a shake-every-hand type , even when , as is often portrayed in the film , he is speaking with only a dozen or so people in the room .
Boston today is majority minority ; whites make up only about forty-seven per cent of the city ’ s population .
The tensions inherent in that state of @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ameliorate .
In “ City Hall , ” the point is underscored , with characteristic subtlety , by a sequence shot inside Fenway Park , home of the Red Sox—the last team in Major League Baseball to sign a Black player .
The faces of the fans are overwhelmingly white .
Having spent , to that point , an hour watching and listening to people with diverse complexions , it is a startling image , and a reminder that the Boston of Walsh ’ s youth has not disappeared .
“ City Hall @ @ @ @ @ @ @ The exteriors , always powerful in Wiseman ’ s films , are like picture postcards .
Whatever Wiseman ’ s feelings about his home town after the “ Titicut Follies ” debacle , he does not appear to harbor a grudge .
“ City Hall ” is a tribute to Walsh and the administration that he has put together .
But it is also an anti-Trump movie .
It reminds us that there are genuine public servants , individuals who have dedicated their careers to making life better for large numbers of people @ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
They get little honor today .
Sneering at the notion of public service did not begin with Trump , though Trump has made it a principle of governance .
The denigration of public service really began with Ronald Reagan , who invited Americans to regard government as a threat to their liberty and well-being .
Millions now subscribe to this anti-state ideology , even as they accept their Social Security checks , their veteran ’ s benefits , their Medicare coverage , and their food stamps—all services provided through the efforts of @ @ @ @ @ @ @ in some government office building , doing the boring work of keeping society from falling to pieces .
It is moving to watch a film that gives those people their due .

One name afloat in the ether of speculation surrounding Joe Biden’s future Cabinet is Marty Walsh, the mayor of Boston. The post he is being mentioned for is Secretary of Labor, which happens to be a job that Bernie Sanders wants. Most Americans know who Bernie Sanders is, but not many have heard of Marty Walsh. If they have a free four and a half hours, however, they can learn a lot about him by watching Frederick Wiseman’s latest documentary, “City Hall.” The movie is timely in more ways than one.
Wiseman is ninety years old. May he continue to make his movies forever, for there is nothing quite like them. Still, if we think of “City Hall” as a (temporary) bookend to Wiseman’s career, there is an interesting symmetry—or asymmetry. Wiseman’s first documentary, “Titicut Follies,” from 1967, was banned by Massachusetts’s state courts for twenty-four years. It was shot at Bridgewater State Hospital, a state-run facility for the criminally insane about thirty miles south of Boston. Wiseman, using his now familiar no-voice-over, no-interview technique, put on display the inhumane treatment to which inmates were subjected. From the point of view of the content, the “Titicut Follies” lawsuit was a straightforward freedom-of-the-press case. The legal issue had to do with whether the privacy rights of the inmates had been invaded.
Wiseman, who was born in Boston (he now lives in Cambridge), has a degree from Yale Law School, and worked as a lawyer before becoming a filmmaker, likely saw the state’s lawsuit as a cynical attempt to conceal its own malfeasance from the public eye. Considering the manner in which patients at Bridgewater were being treated, their privacy rights would not have been of much concern to state officials. After an adverse judgment in the highest state court, Wiseman appealed to the United States Supreme Court, which declined to hear the case. The movie was finally released to the general public in 1992, and aired on PBS, a longtime supporter of Wiseman’s work.
When the state censors your movie, you obviously have struck the nerve that documentary filmmakers are searching for. But the film created expectations for Wiseman’s career that he has largely disappointed. He does not seem to aspire to produce exposés. What interests him are institutions, and institutions, given flesh and blood by the people who work in and interact with them, are the protagonists of his films. He does not uncover doings hidden from view because he films what anyone, given access, could see and hear: people going about their jobs. Sometimes (as with “Titicut Follies”) what you see and hear is disturbing, but most of the time it is unspectacular and even, well, boring.
The art in Wiseman’s films—and he insists that it is a mistake to confuse his movies with reality—is the art of making poetry out of the tedious and mundane. It almost seems that, the shorter the average attention span gets, the longer Wiseman’s movies become, but there is usually a single unremarkable image at their heart—the metaphor of the poem. In “At Berkeley,” from 2013, it is a man mowing grass. In “City Hall,” it is trash collection. The idea, I think, is that life is, at bottom, anarchic, a perpetual struggle for power and goods, for recognition and respect, for survival. The baseline function of the institutions that humans have invented, from schools and universities to city governments, public libraries, and arts groups, is to keep the lid on, to dissipate conflict by managing it—or, in the case of governments, by bureaucratizing it. There are problems? We have a process for that. Or: there is an agency that handles that. “City Hall” opens and closes with scenes of city workers answering calls to 311. A tree fell down, an animal is injured—problems individuals can’t cope with. The city responds. We’re here to restore your sense of balance. We keep the grass trimmed. We compact the trash and cart it away out of sight.
Government is composed of people, and Walsh is the movie’s focus. He is Irish Catholic—a virtual job requirement in Boston. Every mayor of Boston since 1930 has been Irish Catholic, with one exception: Walsh’s predecessor, Thomas (Mumbles) Menino, who served for twenty years and was probably the city’s most beloved politician. Menino was Italian-American. Walsh, as an Irish Catholic from Dorchester whose parents were immigrants and who started out in construction, evokes Boston’s stereotypical reputation for provincialism, and also its reputation for racism. But Dorchester today is one of the most multiethnic neighborhoods in the city, and Walsh (as Wiseman has chosen to show him) is all about diversity and inclusion. He is also obviously a gifted retail politician, a shake-every-hand type, even when, as is often portrayed in the film, he is speaking with only a dozen or so people in the room.
Boston today is majority minority; whites make up only about forty-seven per cent of the city’s population. The tensions inherent in that state of affairs are what city government tries to ameliorate. In “City Hall,” the point is underscored, with characteristic subtlety, by a sequence shot inside Fenway Park, home of the Red Sox—the last team in Major League Baseball to sign a Black player. The faces of the fans are overwhelmingly white. Having spent, to that point, an hour watching and listening to people with diverse complexions, it is a startling image, and a reminder that the Boston of Walsh’s youth has not disappeared.
“City Hall” is a valentine to Boston. The exteriors, always powerful in Wiseman’s films, are like picture postcards. Whatever Wiseman’s feelings about his home town after the “Titicut Follies” debacle, he does not appear to harbor a grudge. “City Hall” is a tribute to Walsh and the administration that he has put together. But it is also an anti-Trump movie. It reminds us that there are genuine public servants, individuals who have dedicated their careers to making life better for large numbers of people, and who seek no other reward. They get little honor today. Sneering at the notion of public service did not begin with Trump, though Trump has made it a principle of governance. The denigration of public service really began with Ronald Reagan, who invited Americans to regard government as a threat to their liberty and well-being.
Millions now subscribe to this anti-state ideology, even as they accept their Social Security checks, their veteran’s benefits, their Medicare coverage, and their food stamps—all services provided through the efforts of men and women who sit behind desks in some government office building, doing the boring work of keeping society from falling to pieces. It is moving to watch a film that gives those people their due.


newyorker--2020-11-25--Trump and a Lesson in How Coups Fail

Trump and a Lesson in How Coups Fail

On October 1 , 1988 , Harry Barnes , Ronald Reagan ’ s Ambassador to Chile , sent an alarming cable to Assistant Secretary of State Elliott Abrams .
Chile was four days away from a national referendum that asked whether General Augusto Pinochet , who had seized power in a bloody coup in 1973 , should be given a mandate for another eight years .
What was unclear was how Pinochet , no adherent to democratic norms , would react if he lost .
“ Pinochet ’ s plan is simple , ” Barnes wrote in the cable , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , through the efforts of George Washington University ’ s National Security Archive .
“ A ) if the ‘ Yes ’ is winning , fine : B ) If the race is very close rely on fraud and coercion : C ) If the ‘ No ’ is likely to win clearly then use violence and terror to stop the process.
” The problem , for the Reagan Administration , was that it looked as if “ No ” would indeed “ win clearly , ” which meant that , as Barnes @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the one most likely to be put into effect with probable substantial loss of life.
” The U.S. had helped Pinochet come to power and abetted him for years ; if he had clearly won the referendum , the Administration ’ s reaction would likely also have been Option A : “ fine.
” Perhaps , to its shame , it would also have tolerated Option B .
Option C , though , represented more trouble than it wanted .
Elections are powerful things .
The message they send is not subtle : @ @ @ @ @ @ @ this country , if they are very , very close—close enough for things like “ hanging chads ” to be a factor , as they were in Florida , in the 2000 Presidential race—you can get wrapped up in a Supreme Court case , with prominent lawyers , such as Theodore Olson and David Boies , on opposing sides .
Perhaps , if Donald Trump ’ s reëlection bid had really just come down to a county or two somewhere , he might have been able to generate enough uncertainty to sell his @ @ @ @ @ @ @ maybe even to some swing voters—as a legitimate effort to obtain a recount .
In countries without free elections , fraud and coercion regularly do make a difference .
But that ’ s not the country we have , as Trump is learning , and it ’ s not the election we had .
Joe Biden clearly won .
There is no respectable way to argue otherwise , which is the main reason that Trump ’ s version of Option B looks so clownish .
( Incompetence is also a factor . )
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ as he did in 2000 , there was a Trump-team press conference in which Rudy Giuliani , once the mayor of New York , looked like a wind-up junta member while another lawyer , Sidney Powell , spun conspiracy theories so wild that even the President ’ s campaign has distanced itself from her .
The President ’ s actual lawsuits have failed to gain traction ; a federal judge in Pennsylvania , in dismissing one case , described it as legally sketchy and filled with “ speculative accusations.
” The absurdity should @ @ @ @ @ @ @ s actions have been : when Trump summoned state legislators from Michigan—a state that Biden won by about a hundred and fifty thousand votes—to Washington , he was clearly trying for Option B-style coercion .
On Monday , Michigan certified Biden ’ s win in that state , anyway .
( On Tuesday , Pennsylvania and Nevada did , too . )
On Monday evening , Emily Murphy , the administrator of the General Services Administration , finally put through the paperwork to give the Biden transition team access to government resources .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ that noted , “ The actual winner of the presidential election will be determined by the electoral process detailed in the Constitution.
” Trump said that he ’ d told her to go ahead , and that the acknowledgement didn ’ t mean that he was conceding anything .
On Tuesday morning , he referred , in a tweet , to “ the stench of the 2020 Election Hoax.
” A bumbling , bitter Option B is bad enough for the country , and the acquiescence of most national elected Republican officials is @ @ @ @ @ @ @ have congratulated Biden or criticized Trump , with only a few more—including , on Monday , Senators Rob Portman and Shelley Capito—pushing for Biden to be given transition resources .
( As my colleague John Cassidy noted , many local Republican officials , such as Georgia ’ s secretary state and any number of county clerks , have acted more forthrightly . )
They have encouraged scorn for election results .
The question for those officials is how they can be so sure , in this election or another , that Trump or @ @ @ @ @ @ @ reach for some version of Option C— “ violence and terror to stop the process.
” They might look at what staved off Option C in Chile in 1988 .
A large factor was that people with power were willing to speak out about what they did not regard as acceptable .
That included American and British diplomats and military liaisons , who told their Chilean counterparts how damaging it would be for their relations with Chile and for the country ’ s reputation if the referendum result was not respected .
The @ @ @ @ @ @ @ tried to make a move .
The government suddenly stopped announcing results that localities were releasing—though workers for the No campaign kept track of them—and Pinochet summoned senior military officers to a meeting .
On the way in , Air Force General Fernando Matthei spoke to reporters , who crowded around him with cameras and microphones .
“ It looks like ‘ No ’ won , ” he said .
“ To me , at least , that ’ s already clear.
” Matthei later said that he thought it was important to @ @ @ @ @ @ @ it plain to Pinochet what was and wasn ’ t possible .
( The footage of Matthei ’ s encounter with reporters is included in “ No , ” a movie , from 2012 , about the referendum and the No side ’ s creative advertising campaign . )
The truth can be hustled away , after all .
Another document collected in the National Security Archive gives an account , via the Defense Intelligence Agency , of what happened when Matthei went into the meeting .
Pinochet was angry .
He wanted @ @ @ @ @ @ @ document ready for the officers to sign to give them to him .
He wanted to use the military .
He still thought he could win .
“ At this point Matthei stood up to be counted , ” according to the intelligence report .
“ Matthei told Pinochet he would under no circumstances agree to such a thing .
Pinochet asked again for special powers and again Matthei refused saying he had his chance as the official candidate and lost.
” It still wasn ’ t over ; Pinochet made the same @ @ @ @ @ @ @ room was so high at this moment that .
.
.
Sergio Valenzuela , the secretary general of the government , collapsed from what turned out to be the first stage of a heart attack.
” They turned Pinochet down , too .
This time , in Chile , the vote was the vote .
These men had been part of a junta , not heroes of democracy ; it was the No campaigners and the voters who stood in line that day who had taken the real risk .
It may have @ @ @ @ @ @ @ finally , to accept reality , do their jobs , and tell a delusional , dangerous man that it was time to stop believing in his own lies .
Today , in this country , most Republicans in the U.S. Senate can ’ t even manage that .
We are a long way from Chile .
That country was coming back from years of dictatorship , while we appear , with this election , to have turned away from a hazardous path .
The transition is proceeding .
Our institutions , from courts @ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
And yet Trump is still tweeting about how the election was stolen .
What options are the people around him telling him he has ?
One , reportedly , is that he might want to run for President in 2024 .
Read More About the 2020 Election • William Barr is the one Administration official with the power to stop Donald Trump and his attempted coup .
• Trump has survived impeachment , twenty-six sexual-misconduct accusations , and thousands of lawsuits .
His luck may well end now that Joe Biden has @ @ @ @ @ @ @ With litigation unlikely to change the outcome of the election , Republicans are looking to strategies that might remain even after rebuffs both at the polls and in court .
• We have to talk about what happened under the Trump Presidency and how we can prevent it from happening again .
• If 2020 has demonstrated anything , it is the need to rebalance the economy to benefit the working class—and there are many ways a Biden Administration can start .
• Sign up for our daily newsletter for insight and analysis @ @ @ @ @ @

On October 1, 1988, Harry Barnes, Ronald Reagan’s Ambassador to Chile, sent an alarming cable to Assistant Secretary of State Elliott Abrams. Chile was four days away from a national referendum that asked whether General Augusto Pinochet, who had seized power in a bloody coup in 1973, should be given a mandate for another eight years. What was unclear was how Pinochet, no adherent to democratic norms, would react if he lost. “Pinochet’s plan is simple,” Barnes wrote in the cable, which was declassified and published years later, through the efforts of George Washington University’s National Security Archive. “A) if the ‘Yes’ is winning, fine: B) If the race is very close rely on fraud and coercion: C) If the ‘No’ is likely to win clearly then use violence and terror to stop the process.” The problem, for the Reagan Administration, was that it looked as if “No” would indeed “win clearly,” which meant that, as Barnes observed, “the third option is the one most likely to be put into effect with probable substantial loss of life.” The U.S. had helped Pinochet come to power and abetted him for years; if he had clearly won the referendum, the Administration’s reaction would likely also have been Option A: “fine.” Perhaps, to its shame, it would also have tolerated Option B. Option C, though, represented more trouble than it wanted.
Elections are powerful things. The message they send is not subtle: someone won, someone lost. In this country, if they are very, very close—close enough for things like “hanging chads” to be a factor, as they were in Florida, in the 2000 Presidential race—you can get wrapped up in a Supreme Court case, with prominent lawyers, such as Theodore Olson and David Boies, on opposing sides. Perhaps, if Donald Trump’s reëlection bid had really just come down to a county or two somewhere, he might have been able to generate enough uncertainty to sell his version of Option B to his supporters—and maybe even to some swing voters—as a legitimate effort to obtain a recount. In countries without free elections, fraud and coercion regularly do make a difference. But that’s not the country we have, as Trump is learning, and it’s not the election we had. Joe Biden clearly won. There is no respectable way to argue otherwise, which is the main reason that Trump’s version of Option B looks so clownish. (Incompetence is also a factor.) Instead of Olson declaiming on federalism, as he did in 2000, there was a Trump-team press conference in which Rudy Giuliani, once the mayor of New York, looked like a wind-up junta member while another lawyer, Sidney Powell, spun conspiracy theories so wild that even the President’s campaign has distanced itself from her. The President’s actual lawsuits have failed to gain traction; a federal judge in Pennsylvania, in dismissing one case, described it as legally sketchy and filled with “speculative accusations.”
The absurdity should not obscure how extreme the President’s actions have been: when Trump summoned state legislators from Michigan—a state that Biden won by about a hundred and fifty thousand votes—to Washington, he was clearly trying for Option B-style coercion. On Monday, Michigan certified Biden’s win in that state, anyway. (On Tuesday, Pennsylvania and Nevada did, too.) On Monday evening, Emily Murphy, the administrator of the General Services Administration, finally put through the paperwork to give the Biden transition team access to government resources. She notified Biden in a grudging letter that noted, “The actual winner of the presidential election will be determined by the electoral process detailed in the Constitution.” Trump said that he’d told her to go ahead, and that the acknowledgement didn’t mean that he was conceding anything. On Tuesday morning, he referred, in a tweet, to “the stench of the 2020 Election Hoax.”
A bumbling, bitter Option B is bad enough for the country, and the acquiescence of most national elected Republican officials is a disgrace. Still only a handful have congratulated Biden or criticized Trump, with only a few more—including, on Monday, Senators Rob Portman and Shelley Capito—pushing for Biden to be given transition resources. (As my colleague John Cassidy noted, many local Republican officials, such as Georgia’s secretary of state and any number of county clerks, have acted more forthrightly.) They have encouraged scorn for election results. The question for those officials is how they can be so sure, in this election or another, that Trump or one of his successors won’t reach for some version of Option C—“violence and terror to stop the process.”
They might look at what staved off Option C in Chile in 1988. A large factor was that people with power were willing to speak out about what they did not regard as acceptable. That included American and British diplomats and military liaisons, who told their Chilean counterparts how damaging it would be for their relations with Chile and for the country’s reputation if the referendum result was not respected. The night of the election, Pinochet still tried to make a move. The government suddenly stopped announcing results that localities were releasing—though workers for the No campaign kept track of them—and Pinochet summoned senior military officers to a meeting. On the way in, Air Force General Fernando Matthei spoke to reporters, who crowded around him with cameras and microphones. “It looks like ‘No’ won,” he said. “To me, at least, that’s already clear.”
Matthei later said that he thought it was important to speak publicly and quickly, to make it plain to Pinochet what was and wasn’t possible. (The footage of Matthei’s encounter with reporters is included in “No,” a movie, from 2012, about the referendum and the No side’s creative advertising campaign.) The truth can be hustled away, after all. Another document collected in the National Security Archive gives an account, via the Defense Intelligence Agency, of what happened when Matthei went into the meeting. Pinochet was angry. He wanted extraordinary powers, and he had a document ready for the officers to sign to give them to him. He wanted to use the military. He still thought he could win.
“At this point Matthei stood up to be counted,” according to the intelligence report. “Matthei told Pinochet he would under no circumstances agree to such a thing. Pinochet asked again for special powers and again Matthei refused saying he had his chance as the official candidate and lost.” It still wasn’t over; Pinochet made the same demand to others—“tension in the room was so high at this moment that . . . Sergio Valenzuela, the secretary general of the government, collapsed from what turned out to be the first stage of a heart attack.” They turned Pinochet down, too. This time, in Chile, the vote was the vote. These men had been part of a junta, not heroes of democracy; it was the No campaigners and the voters who stood in line that day who had taken the real risk. It may have been sheer pragmatism that caused them, finally, to accept reality, do their jobs, and tell a delusional, dangerous man that it was time to stop believing in his own lies. Today, in this country, most Republicans in the U.S. Senate can’t even manage that.
We are a long way from Chile. That country was coming back from years of dictatorship, while we appear, with this election, to have turned away from a hazardous path. The transition is proceeding. Our institutions, from courts to state authorities, are holding up. And yet Trump is still tweeting about how the election was stolen. What options are the people around him telling him he has? One, reportedly, is that he might want to run for President in 2024.
Read More About the 2020 Election


newyorker--2020-11-25--How Will New York’s Standup Scene Weather the Winter?

These past several months haven ’ t exactly been the greatest time for laughter .
In the presence of widespread illness , death , and despair brought on by the coronavirus pandemic , mirth has been perforce muted , though comedy has been made scarce for more practical reasons , too .
In New York , in March , at the pandemic ’ s onset , comedy clubs were shut down after Governor Andrew Cuomo decreed them , along with many other businesses , nonessential .
Restaurants and bars have since been allowed to reopen , albeit under stringent restrictions @ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
( In late October , a number of them sued city and state officials , arguing that the continuing closure was arbitrary . )
In Gerard Zarra ’ s short film “ Is New York Comedy Dead , ” Rebecca Trent , the owner of the Queens comedy club the Creek & the Cave , says , “ Every club in New York City is fucked.
” And , yet , laughter—or , at least , comics ’ onstage attempts to solicit it—always tries to find a way .
Although many members @ @ @ @ @ @ @ bulk of their activity online—making jokes on Twitter , going live on Instagram , streaming standup sets on Zoom , even hawking personalized videos on the celebrity-shout-out app Cameo—others have continued , against all odds , to hold fast to real-life comedy , with some club owners , as Trent says of herself , “ trying to preserve this business while this madness unfolds.
” The ad-hoc setups sometimes have their own dark humor .
We see Trent keeping a washer-and-dryer unit on the empty stage of her darkened club , while she @ @ @ @ @ @ @ in a parking lot ; there , the comic Shane Torres delivers jokes from the bed of a truck , cracking that he has “ another set at a hot-dog cart in Central Park.
” A show outside the Stand , a Manhattan restaurant and comedy venue with an outdoor area abutting a Citi Bike dock , gains popularity with cyclists who , when returning or picking up their rentals , sit astride the now-stationary bicycles and catch two or three comedy sets at a time .
The situation , in other words @ @ @ @ @ @ @ parts rickety— “ It ’ s outdoor comedy .
There ’ s no fucking logic to it , ” one comic says .
“ It ’ s not supposed to be out here !
” —and the comedians who have found themselves performing under these new conditions feel this precarity keenly .
“ I ’ ve never felt less essential in my life , ” the comedian Maddy Smith says , while a second comic , Ian Fidance , mutters , “ Nothing will make you feel less essential than them rolling out @ @ @ @ @ @ @ work is not even in a phase.
” These words , all lightly articulated , gesture , however , at the serious heart of the matter at hand : the lack of support for businesses that , unable to operate at regular capacity , find themselves forced to survive the pandemic on their wits alone , if they manage to survive it at all .
As the days grow colder , and the possibility of staging performances outdoors wanes , the chance that these businesses and the comedians whose careers depend on them @ @ @ @ @ @ @ “ The little theatres need some sort of government grant in order to survive the winter , ” Trent says .
“ And we wouldn ’ t be asking , you know , if we were able to open .
But we won ’ t be.
” Meanwhile , in one of the performances on his truck , Torres joked , with a hint of bite , “ Seinfeld started certain places , too .
Maybe I ’ ll write an Op-Ed about how New York is great—when I have a billion dollars @ @

These past several months haven’t exactly been the greatest time for laughter. In the presence of widespread illness, death, and despair brought on by the coronavirus pandemic, mirth has been perforce muted, though comedy has been made scarce for more practical reasons, too. In New York, in March, at the pandemic’s onset, comedy clubs were shut down after Governor Andrew Cuomo decreed them, along with many other businesses, nonessential. Restaurants and bars have since been allowed to reopen, albeit under stringent restrictions, but comedy clubs have remained closed. (In late October, a number of them sued city and state officials, arguing that the continuing closure was arbitrary.) In Gerard Zarra’s short film “Is New York Comedy Dead,” Rebecca Trent, the owner of the Queens comedy club the Creek & the Cave, says, “Every club in New York City is fucked.”
And, yet, laughter—or, at least, comics’ onstage attempts to solicit it—always tries to find a way. Although many members of the comedy community have moved the bulk of their activity online—making jokes on Twitter, going live on Instagram, streaming standup sets on Zoom, even hawking personalized videos on the celebrity-shout-out app Cameo—others have continued, against all odds, to hold fast to real-life comedy, with some club owners, as Trent says of herself, “trying to preserve this business while this madness unfolds.” The ad-hoc setups sometimes have their own dark humor. We see Trent keeping a washer-and-dryer unit on the empty stage of her darkened club, while she tries to keep shows going outside, in a parking lot; there, the comic Shane Torres delivers jokes from the bed of a truck, cracking that he has “another set at a hot-dog cart in Central Park.” A show outside the Stand, a Manhattan restaurant and comedy venue with an outdoor area abutting a Citi Bike dock, gains popularity with cyclists who, when returning or picking up their rentals, sit astride the now-stationary bicycles and catch two or three comedy sets at a time.
The situation, in other words, is one part absurd and two parts rickety—“It’s outdoor comedy. There’s no fucking logic to it,” one comic says. “It’s not supposed to be out here!”—and the comedians who have found themselves performing under these new conditions feel this precarity keenly. “I’ve never felt less essential in my life,” the comedian Maddy Smith says, while a second comic, Ian Fidance, mutters, “Nothing will make you feel less essential than them rolling out the different phases and your line of work is not even in a phase.” These words, all lightly articulated, gesture, however, at the serious heart of the matter at hand: the lack of support for businesses that, unable to operate at regular capacity, find themselves forced to survive the pandemic on their wits alone, if they manage to survive it at all. As the days grow colder, and the possibility of staging performances outdoors wanes, the chance that these businesses and the comedians whose careers depend on them continue to endure grows ever slimmer. “The little theatres need some sort of government grant in order to survive the winter,” Trent says. “And we wouldn’t be asking, you know, if we were able to open. But we won’t be.” Meanwhile, in one of the performances on his truck, Torres joked, with a hint of bite, “Seinfeld started certain places, too. Maybe I’ll write an Op-Ed about how New York is great—when I have a billion dollars.”


newyorker--2020-11-24--A Victory for Democracy: Trump Allows the Transition to Begin

Trump ’ s legal options were shrinking away , his political support was crumbling , and even some of his senior aides in the White House were telling him that it was time for a formal transition to a Biden Presidency .
Finally , Trump gave in .
In a letter to Biden that was leaked to CNN and other media outlets , Emily Murphy , a Trump appointee who heads the General Services Administration , an independent federal agency that , among other duties , provides financing and other forms of support to Presidential transitions , said that she @ @ @ @ @ @ @ resources and services available.
” Immediately after Murphy ’ s letter emerged , Trump sent two tweets , in which he thanked her for “ steadfast dedication ” and said , “ Our case “ STRONGLY continues , we will keep up the good ... fight , and I believe we will prevail !
” But then Trump went on , “ Nevertheless , in the best interest of our Country , I am recommending that Emily and her team do what needs to be done with regard to initial protocols , and @ @ @ @ @ @ @ same.
” Given Trump ’ s chronic aversion to being labelled a loser , and his clear intention to use the myth of a stolen election as a rallying cry for his supporters going forward , this pair of tweets may well be the closest he ever comes to issuing a formal concession .
Indeed , later on Monday night , he said , in another tweet , “ Will never concede to fake ballots & ‘ Dominion ’ .
” ( “ Dominion ” refers to Dominion Voting Systems , a company @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Trumpian conspiracy theories about the election . )
But in an administrative sense , the deed has been done .
Trump ’ s tweets , together with Murphy ’ s letter , marked an official acknowledgement that Biden is now the President-elect and , as such , is entitled to all the perquisites that go with that status .
The flip side of this recognition went unacknowledged by the White House , but it can no longer be denied : Trump is officially a lame duck .
Trump ’ s anti-democratic assault—it was @ @ @ @ @ @ @ such plain language—isn ’ t over .
In the days and weeks ahead , Rudy Giuliani and his colleagues will go on with their madcap legal efforts .
And Trump will surely continue to insist that he won the election , probably to his dying day .
But the official start of the transition has turned all that into a sideshow .
For now , at least , the future belongs to the next President , who is already busy rolling out his Cabinet appointments .
No matter how you regard the specific @ @ @ @ @ @ @ developments are excellent news for American democracy .
Four years ago , I wrote a column about the threat that Trump ’ s victory over Hillary Clinton presented .
While distancing myself from some historians and political scientists who were then comparing the President-elect to Hitler or Mussolini , I noted some of the serious dangers that lay ahead : “ If anything , the isolation and pressures of the Oval Office might further warp his ego and exaggerate his dictatorial tendencies .
Surrounded by yes-men , he could well be tempted to @ @ @ @ @ @ @ when things go wrong , as they inevitably do at some point in any Presidency.
” I was perhaps too optimistic .
Faced with the prospect of losing office , Trump has , for months , been waging a systematic campaign against the most basic institution of democracy : the election .
When protests erupted across the nation following the police killing of George Floyd , Trump whipped up racial divisions , incited his supporters to violence , and sought to deploy active-duty troops on the streets of Washington , D.C. As the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ it would be rigged against him , and refused to commit to a peaceful transfer of power .
And , after Americans turned out to vote in record numbers , he launched a desperate effort to overturn the election result .
One can argue about whether this effort amounted to a full-fledged attempt to stage a self-coup , or autogolpe , or whether it was too botched and legalistic to merit such a description .
In any case , it was a disgraceful display of political vandalism that has done considerable and lasting @ @ @ @ @ @ @ be believed—and one of the lessons of the election is that they should never be entirely believed—a majority of Republicans support Trump ’ s claim that the 2020 vote was crooked .
And why wouldn ’ t they ?
“ Republican senators and representatives , in their silence , are allowing the idea to take hold that the whole system is rigged , ” Peggy Noonan , Ronald Reagan ’ s speechwriter , noted last Thursday , in the Wall Street Journal .
The fact that , this week , some elected Republicans @ @ @ @ @ @ @ and called on Trump to allow the transition to begin doesn ’ t negate the abject servility that they have displayed since the election—and , indeed , since the 2016 election .
The American system of governance will take a long time to recover from Trump and Trumpism , if it ever does .
But this is a day to celebrate the good news .
In the past month , some of the key permanent institutions of U.S. democracy have proved up to the task of resisting a series of grave challenges .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ , which is now largely an appendage of Trump . )
In the midst of a terrible pandemic , the much-maligned U.S. voting system was adaptable enough , and robust enough , to handle a record turnout of more than a hundred and fifty-six million people .
When Trump challenged the election results , the localized and patchwork nature of the voting system proved to be an advantage .
With even Republican-run states , such as Georgia , zealously guarding their authority to conduct the election and the vote count , Trump and @ @ @ @ @ @ @ many different fronts—and practically everywhere they ran into resistance from local election officials and the courts .
The Trump legal team endured many setbacks , but none was so humiliating as the ruling issued , on Saturday , by Matthew Brann , a judge of the Middle District of Pennsylvania , who rejected the Trump campaign ’ s last-ditch effort to block the certification of that state ’ s results .
The Trump complaint “ like Frankenstein ’ s monster , has been haphazardly stitched together , ” Brann noted .
It contained @ @ @ @ @ @ @ unsupported by evidence.
” Brann is no leftist : Senator Pat Toomey , Republican of Pennsylvania , subsequently described him as a “ longtime conservative Republican whom I know to be a fair and unbiased jurist.
” Brann was a jurist who , in this case , went on to say , “ In the United States of America , this can not justify the disenfranchisement of a single voter , let alone all the voters of its sixth most populated state .
Our people , laws and institutions demand more.
” As @ @ @ @ @ @ @ and decisive , Trump and Giuliani can ’ t supply more , of course .
From the start , they have been recklessly promoting a farrago of lies , irrelevancies , and half-truths .
So far , at least , the people , laws , and institutions that Brann referred to have proved strong enough to prevail over this malign project .
In this holiday week , the country still faces a lot of grave challenges .
But its resilience is something to give thanks for .
Read More About the 2020 Election @ @ @ @ @ @ @ official with the power to stop Donald Trump and his attempted coup .
• Trump has survived impeachment , twenty-six sexual-misconduct accusations , and thousands of lawsuits .
His luck may well end now that Joe Biden has been elected the next President .
• With litigation unlikely to change the outcome of the election , Republicans are looking to strategies that might remain even after rebuffs both at the polls and in court .
• We have to talk about what happened under the Trump Presidency and how we can prevent it @ @ @ @ @ @ @ has demonstrated anything , it is the need to rebalance the economy to benefit the working class—and there are many ways a Biden Administration can start .
• Sign up for our daily newsletter for insight and analysis from our reporters and columnists .

By Monday evening, it must have been clear, even to Donald Trump, that the jig was up. During the previous forty-eight hours, the President’s campaign to overturn the 2020 election result and entrench himself in the White House for another four years had suffered a series of heavy blows. This past weekend, in yet another setback for his legal team, a conservative federal judge in Pennsylvania mockingly dismissed a voter-fraud case that had been filed days earlier. On Monday morning, more than a hundred Republican national-security officials published a public letter calling on Trump to “cease his anti-democratic assault on the integrity of the presidential election.” And, on Monday afternoon, Michigan’s Board of State Canvassers certified that Joe Biden had won the state by more than a hundred and fifty thousand votes.
Trump’s legal options were shrinking away, his political support was crumbling, and even some of his senior aides in the White House were telling him that it was time for a formal transition to a Biden Presidency. Finally, Trump gave in. In a letter to Biden that was leaked to CNN and other media outlets, Emily Murphy, a Trump appointee who heads the General Services Administration, an independent federal agency that, among other duties, provides financing and other forms of support to Presidential transitions, said that she was now ready “to make those resources and services available.” Immediately after Murphy’s letter emerged, Trump sent two tweets, in which he thanked her for “steadfast dedication” and said, “Our case “STRONGLY continues, we will keep up the good ... fight, and I believe we will prevail!” But then Trump went on, “Nevertheless, in the best interest of our Country, I am recommending that Emily and her team do what needs to be done with regard to initial protocols, and have told my team to do the same.”
Given Trump’s chronic aversion to being labelled a loser, and his clear intention to use the myth of a stolen election as a rallying cry for his supporters going forward, this pair of tweets may well be the closest he ever comes to issuing a formal concession. Indeed, later on Monday night, he said, in another tweet, “Will never concede to fake ballots & ‘Dominion’.” (“Dominion” refers to Dominion Voting Systems, a company that figures prominently in one of the Trumpian conspiracy theories about the election.) But in an administrative sense, the deed has been done. Trump’s tweets, together with Murphy’s letter, marked an official acknowledgement that Biden is now the President-elect and, as such, is entitled to all the perquisites that go with that status. The flip side of this recognition went unacknowledged by the White House, but it can no longer be denied: Trump is officially a lame duck.
Trump’s anti-democratic assault—it was refreshing to see even some Republicans using such plain language—isn’t over. In the days and weeks ahead, Rudy Giuliani and his colleagues will go on with their madcap legal efforts. And Trump will surely continue to insist that he won the election, probably to his dying day. But the official start of the transition has turned all that into a sideshow. For now, at least, the future belongs to the next President, who is already busy rolling out his Cabinet appointments.
No matter how you regard the specific prospect of a Biden Presidency, these developments are excellent news for American democracy. Four years ago, I wrote a column about the threat that Trump’s victory over Hillary Clinton presented. While distancing myself from some historians and political scientists who were then comparing the President-elect to Hitler or Mussolini, I noted some of the serious dangers that lay ahead: “If anything, the isolation and pressures of the Oval Office might further warp his ego and exaggerate his dictatorial tendencies. Surrounded by yes-men, he could well be tempted to try to expand his powers, especially when things go wrong, as they inevitably do at some point in any Presidency.”
I was perhaps too optimistic. Faced with the prospect of losing office, Trump has, for months, been waging a systematic campaign against the most basic institution of democracy: the election. When protests erupted across the nation following the police killing of George Floyd, Trump whipped up racial divisions, incited his supporters to violence, and sought to deploy active-duty troops on the streets of Washington, D.C. As the election approached, he repeatedly claimed that it would be rigged against him, and refused to commit to a peaceful transfer of power. And, after Americans turned out to vote in record numbers, he launched a desperate effort to overturn the election result.
One can argue about whether this effort amounted to a full-fledged attempt to stage a self-coup, or autogolpe, or whether it was too botched and legalistic to merit such a description. In any case, it was a disgraceful display of political vandalism that has done considerable and lasting damage. If the polls are to be believed—and one of the lessons of the election is that they should never be entirely believed—a majority of Republicans support Trump’s claim that the 2020 vote was crooked. And why wouldn’t they? “Republican senators and representatives, in their silence, are allowing the idea to take hold that the whole system is rigged,” Peggy Noonan, Ronald Reagan’s speechwriter, noted last Thursday, in the Wall Street Journal. The fact that, this week, some elected Republicans at the national level belatedly came forward and called on Trump to allow the transition to begin doesn’t negate the abject servility that they have displayed since the election—and, indeed, since the 2016 election.
The American system of governance will take a long time to recover from Trump and Trumpism, if it ever does. But this is a day to celebrate the good news. In the past month, some of the key permanent institutions of U.S. democracy have proved up to the task of resisting a series of grave challenges. (Set aside the national Republican Party, which is now largely an appendage of Trump.) In the midst of a terrible pandemic, the much-maligned U.S. voting system was adaptable enough, and robust enough, to handle a record turnout of more than a hundred and fifty-six million people. When Trump challenged the election results, the localized and patchwork nature of the voting system proved to be an advantage. With even Republican-run states, such as Georgia, zealously guarding their authority to conduct the election and the vote count, Trump and his lawyers were forced to fight on many different fronts—and practically everywhere they ran into resistance from local election officials and the courts.
The Trump legal team endured many setbacks, but none was so humiliating as the ruling issued, on Saturday, by Matthew Brann, a judge of the Middle District of Pennsylvania, who rejected the Trump campaign’s last-ditch effort to block the certification of that state’s results. The Trump complaint “like Frankenstein’s monster, has been haphazardly stitched together,” Brann noted. It contained “speculative accusations” that were “unsupported by evidence.” Brann is no leftist: Senator Pat Toomey, Republican of Pennsylvania, subsequently described him as a “longtime conservative Republican whom I know to be a fair and unbiased jurist.” Brann was a jurist who, in this case, went on to say, “In the United States of America, this cannot justify the disenfranchisement of a single voter, let alone all the voters of its sixth most populated state. Our people, laws and institutions demand more.”
As the election was free, fair, and decisive, Trump and Giuliani can’t supply more, of course. From the start, they have been recklessly promoting a farrago of lies, irrelevancies, and half-truths. So far, at least, the people, laws, and institutions that Brann referred to have proved strong enough to prevail over this malign project. In this holiday week, the country still faces a lot of grave challenges. But its resilience is something to give thanks for.
Read More About the 2020 Election


newyorker--2020-11-24--Trump Blasts Biden Cabinet’s Lack of Reality-Show Experience

WASHINGTON ( The Borowitz Report ) —In a series of blistering tweets , Donald J. Trump ripped President-elect Joe Biden for choosing Cabinet members woefully lacking in reality-show experience .
Calling the Cabinet picks a “ bunch of losers who have spent their lives working at desks , ” Trump questioned the team ’ s preparedness to take on the challenges presented by today ’ s complex reality-show landscape .
“ These people have never earned an immunity idol , presided over a rose ceremony , or danced with a star , ” Trump said .
“ This is the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ He saved his most withering criticism for Janet Yellen , Biden ’ s pick for Treasury Secretary .
“ If Joe really wanted a woman for this position , why didn ’ t he choose one of the Real Housewives of Beverly Hills ?
” Trump asked .
“ They know a lot more about money than this clown.
” Leaving aside Biden ’ s failure to pack his Cabinet with experienced reality-show participants , Trump was baffled by his successor ’ s decision to bypass other highly talented candidates .
“ Ivanka @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , Jr. , are all looking for jobs , ” he said .

WASHINGTON (The Borowitz Report)—In a series of blistering tweets, Donald J. Trump ripped President-elect Joe Biden for choosing Cabinet members woefully lacking in reality-show experience.
Calling the Cabinet picks a “bunch of losers who have spent their lives working at desks,” Trump questioned the team’s preparedness to take on the challenges presented by today’s complex reality-show landscape.
“These people have never earned an immunity idol, presided over a rose ceremony, or danced with a star,” Trump said. “This is the best Sleepy Joe could do?”
He saved his most withering criticism for Janet Yellen, Biden’s pick for Treasury Secretary. “If Joe really wanted a woman for this position, why didn’t he choose one of the Real Housewives of Beverly Hills?” Trump asked. “They know a lot more about money than this clown.”
Leaving aside Biden’s failure to pack his Cabinet with experienced reality-show participants, Trump was baffled by his successor’s decision to bypass other highly talented candidates. “Ivanka, Jared, Eric, and Don, Jr., are all looking for jobs,” he said.


newyorker--2020-11-24--Introducing The New Yorker Store

Introducing The New Yorker Store

In a December , 1947 , issue of The New Yorker , The Talk of the Town reported that an unlikely item had recently gone on sale at Gimbel ’ s department store in Manhattan : for two hundred and forty-nine dollars , readers could buy themselves a pony .
It wasn ’ t clear that most “ metropolitan purchasers ” could legally keep the animal at home , but Gimbel ’ s would throw in a prefabricated stable and other products for just a hundred dollars more .
“ This is a major merchandising operation , ” a Gimbel @ @ @ @ @ @ @ years later , The New Yorker is pleased to announce its own merchandising operation—one whose products skew a bit more practical , and require considerably less grooming and hay .
Readers can now purchase a range of products that celebrate the magazine and its history , all in time for the holidays .
The New Yorker Store includes our signature baseball cap , worn each summer by the staff ’ s softball team , the Small Fry ; a sustainably produced classic tee with our iconic logo , drawn by the magazine ’ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ; and limited-edition socks featuring a riff on Eustace Tilley , the magazine ’ s original cover dandy , designed by the illustrator Luci Gutiérrez .
New Yorker Store items are available to everyone at newyorker.com/store , and subscribers receive a ten-per-cent discount during the Store ’ s first week .
( Non-subscribers need not miss out on the deal , since the Store also sells subscriptions—which , as always , come with a complimentary tote bag . )
Readers can also purchase limited-edition products featuring drawings by frequent New Yorker contributors , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ s loyal hound dog , familiar from farm porches and messy living rooms in countless issues of the magazine , and playing cards with fifty-two unique illustrations by Edward Steed .
Looking to do a little drawing of your own ?
Pick up a pack of ten Musgrave-crafted No .
2 pencils , each sporting a famous New Yorker rubric .
Thousands of classic covers , cartoons , and more are also on sale .
Though The New Yorker Store is making its début for the holidays , its offerings will be replenished @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the months ahead to discover new items—and , if you have requests or suggestions , let us know by e-mailing themail @ newyorker.com .
To insure that domestic deliveries arrive before December 24th , please place orders by December 7th ; shipping is expected to take a little longer this year .
As we approach the end of a challenging 2020 , we wish you a healthy , joyful Thanksgiving .
Happy holidays , and happy shopping .

In a December, 1947, issue of The New Yorker, The Talk of the Town reported that an unlikely item had recently gone on sale at Gimbel’s department store in Manhattan: for two hundred and forty-nine dollars, readers could buy themselves a pony. It wasn’t clear that most “metropolitan purchasers” could legally keep the animal at home, but Gimbel’s would throw in a prefabricated stable and other products for just a hundred dollars more. “This is a major merchandising operation,” a Gimbel’s employee said.
Nearly seventy-five years later, The New Yorker is pleased to announce its own merchandising operation—one whose products skew a bit more practical, and require considerably less grooming and hay. Readers can now purchase a range of products that celebrate the magazine and its history, all in time for the holidays. The New Yorker Store includes our signature baseball cap, worn each summer by the staff’s softball team, the Small Fry; a sustainably produced classic tee with our iconic logo, drawn by the magazine’s first art editor, Rea Irvin; and limited-edition socks featuring a riff on Eustace Tilley, the magazine’s original cover dandy, designed by the illustrator Luci Gutiérrez. New Yorker Store items are available to everyone at newyorker.com/store, and subscribers receive a ten-per-cent discount during the Store’s first week. (Non-subscribers need not miss out on the deal, since the Store also sells subscriptions—which, as always, come with a complimentary tote bag.)
Readers can also purchase limited-edition products featuring drawings by frequent New Yorker contributors, including a hoodie featuring George Booth’s loyal hound dog, familiar from farm porches and messy living rooms in countless issues of the magazine, and playing cards with fifty-two unique illustrations by Edward Steed. Looking to do a little drawing of your own? Pick up a pack of ten Musgrave-crafted No. 2 pencils, each sporting a famous New Yorker rubric. Thousands of classic covers, cartoons, and more are also on sale.
Though The New Yorker Store is making its début for the holidays, its offerings will be replenished and updated year-round. Check back in the months ahead to discover new items—and, if you have requests or suggestions, let us know by e-mailing themail@newyorker.com. To insure that domestic deliveries arrive before December 24th, please place orders by December 7th; shipping is expected to take a little longer this year.
As we approach the end of a challenging 2020, we wish you a healthy, joyful Thanksgiving. Happy holidays, and happy shopping.


newyorker--2020-11-26--Everyone, Go Around the Table and Say What You’re Thankful for—Something, Anything, Please

Someone , say something .
Anything .
O.K.
, I ’ ll kick us off !
I ’ m thankful that we ’ re gathered together , even if most of us are here virtually—hi , Grandma Ellie !
Grandma , we can only see your forehead .
Move the screen down or move your head up !
Ah , you did both , and now I only see your chin .
You know what ?
Never mind .
It ’ s fine .
Who else is thankful for something ?
Anyone ?
Seriously ?
Uncle Steve , didn ’ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ?
Oh , right , and then the whole company went under because of the global pandemic .
Because your job was at a kissing booth at the state fair .
Gosh , that ’ s horrible .
What about you , Chloe ?
You ’ re probably thankful to have all this time to read now , right ?
Oh—you watched too much TikTok and now you can ’ t pay attention to anything for more than fifteen seconds ?
You stopped listening to me and you ’ re getting up and @ @ @ @ @ @ @ you at Christmas , if it ’ s safe to gather in groups then !
What about little Baby Damon ?
He must be loving all this time with his parents !
Sorry ?
You guys haven ’ t slept in seven months ?
He ’ s never seen another baby and thinks the entire world is populated by humans larger than him so he ’ s scared always ?
I .
.
.
I would be scared , too !
Well , isn ’ t it so nice to have all this @ @ @ @ @ @ @ at least be thankful for that .
Granted , when I went to the grocery store , my mask made my glasses fog up , and , instead of a can of cranberry sauce , I bought a jar of pickled herring .
Apologies .
Let ’ s keep going .
.
.
.
Kate !
Didn ’ t you book a big standup gig ?
That ’ s something to be thankful for , tell us about that .
Oh , it was on a cruise ship ?
It was on the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ us from ?
The doctor ’ s ?
You haven ’ t been able to taste or smell food since March ?
Well , at least you can be thankful that you don ’ t have to taste this herring .
David , didn ’ t you work at a haunted house this year ?
That must ’ ve been fun and safe , since everyone had to wear a mask anyway !
What ’ s that ?
Nobody ’ s scared of anything anymore because they ’ ve all been confronted with @ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
Well , let ’ s cut into this bird , then !
I say “ bird ” because the grocery store ’ s turkey-supply chain was hindered by the pandemic .
So everything was just labelled “ bird.
” This is .
.
.
some kind of bird !
Thank you , some kind of bird , for feeding us tonight .
Oh , my God , it ’ s still frozen in the center .
All right , forget it .
Let ’ s try again next year .

I know that this year was not what we expected it to be, but, before we carve this magnificent turkey, I think that we should go around the table and say what we’re thankful for.
Someone, say something. Anything.
Please.
O.K., I’ll kick us off! I’m thankful that we’re gathered together, even if most of us are here virtually—hi, Grandma Ellie! Grandma, we can only see your forehead. Move the screen down or move your head up! Ah, you did both, and now I only see your chin. You know what? Never mind. It’s fine. Who else is thankful for something? Anyone? Seriously?
Uncle Steve, didn’t you get a promotion this year? Oh, right, and then the whole company went under because of the global pandemic. Because your job was at a kissing booth at the state fair. Gosh, that’s horrible.
What about you, Chloe? You’re probably thankful to have all this time to read now, right? Oh—you watched too much TikTok and now you can’t pay attention to anything for more than fifteen seconds? You stopped listening to me and you’re getting up and leaving. O.K., well, see you at Christmas, if it’s safe to gather in groups then!
What about little Baby Damon? He must be loving all this time with his parents! Sorry? You guys haven’t slept in seven months? He’s never seen another baby and thinks the entire world is populated by humans larger than him so he’s scared always? I . . . I would be scared, too!
Well, isn’t it so nice to have all this food on the table? We can at least be thankful for that. Granted, when I went to the grocery store, my mask made my glasses fog up, and, instead of a can of cranberry sauce, I bought a jar of pickled herring. Apologies.
Let’s keep going. . . . Kate! Didn’t you book a big standup gig? That’s something to be thankful for, tell us about that. Oh, it was on a cruise ship? It was on the cruise ship? Where are you calling us from? The doctor’s? You haven’t been able to taste or smell food since March? Well, at least you can be thankful that you don’t have to taste this herring.
David, didn’t you work at a haunted house this year? That must’ve been fun and safe, since everyone had to wear a mask anyway! What’s that? Nobody’s scared of anything anymore because they’ve all been confronted with their inevitable mortality? That makes sense.
Hmmm.
Well, let’s cut into this bird, then! I say “bird” because the grocery store’s turkey-supply chain was hindered by the pandemic. So everything was just labelled “bird.” This is . . . some kind of bird! Thank you, some kind of bird, for feeding us tonight.
Oh, my God, it’s still frozen in the center. All right, forget it. Let’s try again next year.


newyorker--2020-11-26--Thanksgiving Classics from the Archive

Thanksgiving Classics from the Archive

In November of 1943 , the writer and editor Wolcott Gibbs published a Comment in The New Yorker recounting how the magazine and its editors were holding up during wartime .
“ The ink in our well is often mud and dust , ” he wrote , “ and the ersatz paper clips crumble away in our hands.
” Yet , all in all , he observed , the staff maintained its resolve to continue the work of publishing—an act that , amid the tumult of the Second World War , constituted in and of itself , as he called @ @ @ @ @ @ @ miracle.
” In March of this year , nearly eight decades after the publication of Gibbs ’ s piece , The New Yorker , like so many businesses , schools , and other institutions , temporarily shut its physical doors and embarked on a new chapter , working remotely in an effort to slow the spread of the COVID-19 pandemic .
Nine months after the outbreak began , we , like our readers , find ourselves faced with unprecedented circumstances—and , as we continue to report on the changing lives of millions of @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ’ s words in mind .
As he once put it , in an earlier era of collective purpose and resolve , we are thoughtfully counting our blessings on this Thanksgiving .
Today , we ’ re bringing you two new pieces , by Robin Wright and Louis Menand , plus a selection of some of our favorite holiday stories from the archives .
In “ Wonton Lust , ” Calvin Trillin writes about his family ’ s tradition of dining in Chinatown on Thanksgiving Day .
In “ Pilgrim ’ s Progress @ @ @ @ @ @ @ holiday dinners that she has prepared while working as a reporter in Europe .
In the poem “ Gravy , ” Raymond Carver offers gratitude for his good fortune .
In “ Magical Dinners , ” Chang-rae Lee reminisces about his mother ’ s cooking and his family ’ s elaborate immigrant meals .
In “ Talking Turkey , ” Bill Buford visits a wild-turkey expert and chronicles the history of turkeys in North America .
In “ Friendsgiving Will Set You Free , ” Bryan Washington examines how friends and family are @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the holidays .
Finally , Helen Rosner offers the recipe for the perfect cocktail to serve with your Thanksgiving meal .
We hope you enjoy these stories and that they serve as an apt reminder of the small , everyday miracles of this holiday season .
Consider these pieces our thanks to you .
Happy Thanksgiving .
The country has been damaged , but it still has a soul .
A pandemic , compounded by simultaneous political , civil , and environmental crises , is overwhelming human evolution ’ s greatest innovation .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ much to be thankful for .
Contrary to popular conception , Thanksgiving is a holiday not of turkey and side dishes and pie but of lubrication .
The man who communicates with gobblers .
For some of us , Friendsgiving is as close to Thanksgiving as we ’ ve conjured for some time .

In November of 1943, the writer and editor Wolcott Gibbs published a Comment in The New Yorker recounting how the magazine and its editors were holding up during wartime. “The ink in our well is often mud and dust,” he wrote, “and the ersatz paper clips crumble away in our hands.” Yet, all in all, he observed, the staff maintained its resolve to continue the work of publishing—an act that, amid the tumult of the Second World War, constituted in and of itself, as he called it, “a small, impertinent miracle.” In March of this year, nearly eight decades after the publication of Gibbs’s piece, The New Yorker, like so many businesses, schools, and other institutions, temporarily shut its physical doors and embarked on a new chapter, working remotely in an effort to slow the spread of the COVID-19 pandemic. Nine months after the outbreak began, we, like our readers, find ourselves faced with unprecedented circumstances—and, as we continue to report on the changing lives of millions of Americans, we’ve kept Gibbs’s words in mind. As he once put it, in an earlier era of collective purpose and resolve, we are thoughtfully counting our blessings on this Thanksgiving.
Today, we’re bringing you two new pieces, by Robin Wright and Louis Menand, plus a selection of some of our favorite holiday stories from the archives. In “Wonton Lust,” Calvin Trillin writes about his family’s tradition of dining in Chinatown on Thanksgiving Day. In “Pilgrim’s Progress,” Jane Kramer recalls the many holiday dinners that she has prepared while working as a reporter in Europe. In the poem “Gravy,” Raymond Carver offers gratitude for his good fortune. In “Magical Dinners,” Chang-rae Lee reminisces about his mother’s cooking and his family’s elaborate immigrant meals. In “Talking Turkey,” Bill Buford visits a wild-turkey expert and chronicles the history of turkeys in North America. In “Friendsgiving Will Set You Free,” Bryan Washington examines how friends and family are crafting new ways in which to celebrate the holidays. Finally, Helen Rosner offers the recipe for the perfect cocktail to serve with your Thanksgiving meal. We hope you enjoy these stories and that they serve as an apt reminder of the small, everyday miracles of this holiday season. Consider these pieces our thanks to you. Happy Thanksgiving.
The country has been damaged, but it still has a soul.
A pandemic, compounded by simultaneous political, civil, and environmental crises, is overwhelming human evolution’s greatest innovation.
Photograph from Getty
There is, in fact, so much to be thankful for.
Cooking Thanksgiving dinner abroad.
Photograph by Patrick Guedj / Getty
A Thanksgiving tradition in Chinatown.
Gravy ,” by Raymond Carver
Pure gravy. And don’t forget it.
Photograph by Brent Hofacker / Alamy
Contrary to popular conception, Thanksgiving is a holiday not of turkey and side dishes and pie but of lubrication.
Illustration by Adrian Tomine
An immigrant Thanksgiving.
The man who communicates with gobblers.
Photograph from Alamy
For some of us, Friendsgiving is as close to Thanksgiving as we’ve conjured for some time.