newyorker--2020-07-11--HAIM Is Talking About Everything It Wasn’t Talking About Before

On March 10th , the three sisters who make up the band HAIM were in New York City to launch what they were calling their “ Deli Tour ” of the country , to promote their new album , “ Women in Music Pt .
III.
” The concept of the tour had sentimental significance .
The sisters—Alana , who is twenty-eight , Danielle , thirty-one , and Este , thirty-four—had performed their first rock show at Canter ’ s deli , in their home town of Los Angeles , in 2000 , back when the trio were in a @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , which specialized mostly in covers of oldies .
In the two decades since , HAIM had released three major-label records , played Glastonbury and Coachella , made music videos with Paul Thomas Anderson , and become icons of walking in a city where people supposedly don ’ t walk .
They ’ d been big for a while ; it was time to get small , if only for a moment—they were due to play Madison Square Garden and the Hollywood Bowl later in 2020 .
I met them in the lobby @ @ @ @ @ @ @ I elbow-bumped instead of shaking hands—laughing as we did it , as if we were only pantomiming our health anxieties—and the band and I tried to sit apart yet together on adjoining red velvet couches , although six feet had not yet become the baseline of social distancing .
Nobody wore a mask , but the lobby was almost empty , eerie .
Everything would change within days .
But at this moment the sisters were barrelling ahead with the deli tour ; that night they would play Sarge ’ s , in @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ( Their father , Moti , was a professional soccer player in Israel before emigrating , in 1980 , to California , where he met their mother , Donna ; the two went into real estate together . )
The sisters constantly overlap and interrupt one another in conversation ; it ’ s like talking to an effervescent hydra .
Talk of Jewish food—the reliability of the Reuben , the insuperable grossness of gefilte fish—transitioned perhaps inevitably to how our bat mitzvahs reflected our respective personalities .
For hers , Este recreated Sugar @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Morning , ” shot for shot , in a roller rink in the San Fernando Valley .
Alana requested a “ Mardi Gras ” theme , without understanding what it meant .
Danielle chose not to have a celebration .
“ I don ’ t really like having parties , ” she said , quietly .
“ I ’ m scared no one ’ s going to show up.
” “ Women in Music Pt .
III ” has moments like this , when the breezy , comfy ambience is suddenly broken by @ @ @ @ @ @ @ loneliness .
The album has a bit more emotional scaffolding beneath it than “ Days Are Gone , ” from 2013 , and “ Something to Tell You , ” from 2017 .
The HAIM project has always been in part a mood and a magnetic aesthetic , captured in their trademark walk—a row of sisters in high-waisted jeans , clomping down the sunbaked streets of Los Angeles , inseparable and in sync .
A large part of HAIM ’ s initial appeal was the aura of entangled sisterhood : they write songs @ @ @ @ @ @ @ is lead on guitar and vocals , Alana plays keyboard and guitar ; all three play percussion ) ; talk on the phone constantly ; and , when restrictions eased in California , they resumed going to each other ’ s houses every day .
( After a recent spike in cases , they ’ ve gone back to quarantining separately . )
They had lifetime memberships to a club that no one else could join , but we could pay a cover charge to hear the music .
With “ Women in @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ’ s a loosening-up , an invitation into darker , more candid terrain .
Much of the record was written in a cramped , windowless studio in Burbank in early 2019 .
The studio once belonged to Danielle ’ s partner , Ariel Rechtshaid—a producer who has worked with Vampire Weekend , Adele , and Kelela , and who co-produced the new album—and the sisters decided to lock themselves in for several weeks to see if songs would tumble out .
It was an ad-hoc form of group therapy : Alana was working @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , Sammi Kane Kraft , who died in a car accident in 2012 ; Este , who has Type 1 diabetes , was exhausted after months of touring ; and Danielle was dealing with depression .
( The bonus track , “ Now I ’ m In It , ” which the sisters wrote with the album ’ s co-producer Rostam Batmanglij , directly addresses Danielle ’ s struggles . )
Perhaps vulnerability was what was missing from HAIM before ; they had nailed goofiness and buoyancy , but the songs could feel @ @ @ @ @ @ @ fresh car wax .
In “ Women in Music Pt .
III , ” they talk about everything that they weren ’ t talking about before : social isolation in the age of the Internet , mental illness , unfinished business with ex-boyfriends , drunk sexts , unrequited yearning , and the ways that male critics have dismissed them in the past .
In “ Man from a Magazine , ” a song that in both its chord progressions and vibrato echoes Joni Mitchell , Danielle confronts a journalist who mocked Este ’ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ bass , asking if she “ makes the same faces in bed.
” “ Hey , man , what kind of question is that ?
” she sings .
“ What do you really want me to say back ?
/ What ’ s going on behind those dark glasses ?
/ Is this what you think making a pass is ?
” There is anger and exasperation all over the record , as if the women have grown tired of the contortions required to perpetuate their own cool-girl mythology .
The resulting @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ; there is no one genre on it , no dominant tone .
It sounds like a band purposefully trying to wriggle free of what came before .
Danielle said that the band had been inspired by Outkast ’ s eclectic album “ Speakerboxxx/The Love Below ” : “ We thought it would be cool to make a body of work that didn ’ t adhere to specific rules or genre , like they did , ” she told me .
The album is , by the band ’ s own admission , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ The Steps ” is a fuzzed-out , shambling rock song in the Sheryl Crow mode ; “ I Know Alone ” is a thrumming electronic-dance track about being addicted to your iPhone ; “ Leaning on You ” is a jaunty friendship anthem that borrows from Lindsey Buckingham ’ s bright guitar riffs ; “ FUBT ” is a soulful , stripped-down lament about lost love that evokes a track Prince might have cut after midnight .
HAIM makes dozens of cheeky musical references on the album , and the cumulative effect of @ @ @ @ @ @ @ can play whatever they want .
After I met HAIM at the Bowery Hotel , in March , they continued to Washington , D.C. , where they played one more deli show before returning to Los Angeles to shelter in place .
Each sister quarantined separately in their houses near one another on the east side of Los Angeles .
About two months passed before they formed a pod ; they had been worried about Este , who is considered to be at high risk for complications from the virus .
“ Danielle @ @ @ @ @ @ @ bubble wrap , ” Este told me on Zoom .
“ I went full ‘ Cast Away.
’ ” Those two months , during which they communicated largely via video chat , was one of the longest periods that the sisters had ever spent apart .
The last time I spoke to them , they had recently released the video for “ I Know Alone , ” which was shot in April in a backyard basketball court , using choreography from another musician , Frances Starlite .
Because each of the sisters learned @ @ @ @ @ @ @ they found that when they finally got together , they were all on the wrong foot .
“ We didn ’ t realize that Zoom had a feature where other people see the mirrored version of you , ” Alana said .
“ But we ’ ve always said that we love a homework assignment.
” In quarantine , Alana has been doing needlepoint , Danielle has been cooking , and Este has been sending her sisters their old GarageBand demos , back from when the three of them first started playing together @ @ @ @ @ @ @ In June , HAIM performed songs from the new album in the empty dining room of Canter ’ s for a YouTube video .
It was the closest that they will get to the full deli tour , for now .
Canter ’ s sent Alana home with a big pink box of chocolate rugelach .
“ I ’ ve been living on that for a couple weeks , ” she said .

On March 10th, the three sisters who make up the band HAIM were in New York City to launch what they were calling their “Deli Tour” of the country, to promote their new album, “Women in Music Pt. III.” The concept of the tour had sentimental significance. The sisters—Alana, who is twenty-eight, Danielle, thirty-one, and Este, thirty-four—had performed their first rock show at Canter’s deli, in their home town of Los Angeles, in 2000, back when the trio were in a family band with their parents called Rockinhaim, which specialized mostly in covers of oldies. In the two decades since, HAIM had released three major-label records, played Glastonbury and Coachella, made music videos with Paul Thomas Anderson, and become icons of walking in a city where people supposedly don’t walk. They’d been big for a while; it was time to get small, if only for a moment—they were due to play Madison Square Garden and the Hollywood Bowl later in 2020.
I met them in the lobby of the Bowery Hotel. Danielle and I elbow-bumped instead of shaking hands—laughing as we did it, as if we were only pantomiming our health anxieties—and the band and I tried to sit apart yet together on adjoining red velvet couches, although six feet had not yet become the baseline of social distancing. Nobody wore a mask, but the lobby was almost empty, eerie. Everything would change within days. But at this moment the sisters were barrelling ahead with the deli tour; that night they would play Sarge’s, in Midtown East, a family favorite. (Their father, Moti, was a professional soccer player in Israel before emigrating, in 1980, to California, where he met their mother, Donna; the two went into real estate together.) The sisters constantly overlap and interrupt one another in conversation; it’s like talking to an effervescent hydra. Talk of Jewish food—the reliability of the Reuben, the insuperable grossness of gefilte fish—transitioned perhaps inevitably to how our bat mitzvahs reflected our respective personalities. For hers, Este recreated Sugar Ray’s video for “Every Morning,” shot for shot, in a roller rink in the San Fernando Valley. Alana requested a “Mardi Gras” theme, without understanding what it meant. Danielle chose not to have a celebration. “I don’t really like having parties,” she said, quietly. “I’m scared no one’s going to show up.”
“Women in Music Pt. III” has moments like this, when the breezy, comfy ambience is suddenly broken by intimations of anxiety, overthinking, and loneliness. The album has a bit more emotional scaffolding beneath it than “Days Are Gone,” from 2013, and “Something to Tell You,” from 2017. The HAIM project has always been in part a mood and a magnetic aesthetic, captured in their trademark walk—a row of sisters in high-waisted jeans, clomping down the sunbaked streets of Los Angeles, inseparable and in sync. A large part of HAIM’s initial appeal was the aura of entangled sisterhood: they write songs together (Este plays bass, Danielle is lead on guitar and vocals, Alana plays keyboard and guitar; all three play percussion); talk on the phone constantly; and, when restrictions eased in California, they resumed going to each other’s houses every day. (After a recent spike in cases, they’ve gone back to quarantining separately.) They had lifetime memberships to a club that no one else could join, but we could pay a cover charge to hear the music.
With “Women in Music Pt. III,” there’s a loosening-up, an invitation into darker, more candid terrain. Much of the record was written in a cramped, windowless studio in Burbank in early 2019. The studio once belonged to Danielle’s partner, Ariel Rechtshaid—a producer who has worked with Vampire Weekend, Adele, and Kelela, and who co-produced the new album—and the sisters decided to lock themselves in for several weeks to see if songs would tumble out. It was an ad-hoc form of group therapy: Alana was working through unprocessed grief for her best friend, Sammi Kane Kraft, who died in a car accident in 2012; Este, who has Type 1 diabetes, was exhausted after months of touring; and Danielle was dealing with depression. (The bonus track, “Now I’m In It,” which the sisters wrote with the album’s co-producer Rostam Batmanglij, directly addresses Danielle’s struggles.)
Perhaps vulnerability was what was missing from HAIM before; they had nailed goofiness and buoyancy, but the songs could feel almost too shiny and squeaky, like fresh car wax. In “Women in Music Pt. III,” they talk about everything that they weren’t talking about before: social isolation in the age of the Internet, mental illness, unfinished business with ex-boyfriends, drunk sexts, unrequited yearning, and the ways that male critics have dismissed them in the past. In “Man from a Magazine,” a song that in both its chord progressions and vibrato echoes Joni Mitchell, Danielle confronts a journalist who mocked Este’s emphatic facial expressions when she plays bass, asking if she “makes the same faces in bed.” “Hey, man, what kind of question is that?” she sings. “What do you really want me to say back? / What’s going on behind those dark glasses? / Is this what you think making a pass is?” There is anger and exasperation all over the record, as if the women have grown tired of the contortions required to perpetuate their own cool-girl mythology.
The resulting record is coherent and yet pleasantly disjointed; there is no one genre on it, no dominant tone. It sounds like a band purposefully trying to wriggle free of what came before. Danielle said that the band had been inspired by Outkast’s eclectic album “Speakerboxxx/The Love Below”: “We thought it would be cool to make a body of work that didn’t adhere to specific rules or genre, like they did,” she told me. The album is, by the band’s own admission, quite all over the place. “The Steps” is a fuzzed-out, shambling rock song in the Sheryl Crow mode; “I Know Alone” is a thrumming electronic-dance track about being addicted to your iPhone; “Leaning on You” is a jaunty friendship anthem that borrows from Lindsey Buckingham’s bright guitar riffs; “FUBT” is a soulful, stripped-down lament about lost love that evokes a track Prince might have cut after midnight. HAIM makes dozens of cheeky musical references on the album, and the cumulative effect of these footnotes is to prove that they can play whatever they want.
After I met HAIM at the Bowery Hotel, in March, they continued to Washington, D.C., where they played one more deli show before returning to Los Angeles to shelter in place. Each sister quarantined separately in their houses near one another on the east side of Los Angeles. About two months passed before they formed a pod; they had been worried about Este, who is considered to be at high risk for complications from the virus. “Danielle and Alana wanted to wrap me in bubble wrap,” Este told me on Zoom. “I went full ‘Cast Away.’ ” Those two months, during which they communicated largely via video chat, was one of the longest periods that the sisters had ever spent apart.
The last time I spoke to them, they had recently released the video for “I Know Alone,” which was shot in April in a backyard basketball court, using choreography from another musician, Frances Starlite. Because each of the sisters learned their dance moves via video chat, they found that when they finally got together, they were all on the wrong foot. “We didn’t realize that Zoom had a feature where other people see the mirrored version of you,” Alana said. “But we’ve always said that we love a homework assignment.” In quarantine, Alana has been doing needlepoint, Danielle has been cooking, and Este has been sending her sisters their old GarageBand demos, back from when the three of them first started playing together as a band, in 2007. In June, HAIM performed songs from the new album in the empty dining room of Canter’s for a YouTube video. It was the closest that they will get to the full deli tour, for now. Canter’s sent Alana home with a big pink box of chocolate rugelach. “I’ve been living on that for a couple weeks,” she said.


newyorker--2020-07-14--I Am the Fireworks Man

I Am the Fireworks Man

Hello , I am the man who ’ s been setting off fireworks right outside your window for the past two weeks !
Of course I am a man .
I ’ m so glad you popped your head out to say hi .
I heard you asking me to stop at around 3 A.M. and got scared , because 3 A.M. is the witching hour , and I mistook your wails for those of a spooky ghost .
Now that it ’ s almost 5 A.M. , I know you ’ re no ghost .
Because at 4:37 A.M. @ @ @ @ @ @ @ to their ghost jobs .
Yes , I believe in ghosts , and that they operate according to a very specific timetable , and that they have little ghost jobs and drive little ghost cars in their little ghost city .
I guess it ’ s more of a ghost town .
So , yes , I think ghosts are real , but I am also the insane man lighting pyrotechnic devices outside your window at ungodly hours , so this should not surprise you .
I can hear you asking through my @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , “ Is this a protest ?
Is this belatedly for the Fourth of July ?
” I want to assure you that I have no agenda .
I don ’ t believe in anything other than that when I die , my consciousness will be inserted into a Bolivian dachshund named Pepito .
He lives in a house full of animals in downtown La Paz .
Pepito is alive now , and when I take over his body , his original consciousness will move to the cat ’ s body .
The @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the goldfish , the goldfish ’ s to the parakeet , and so on and so forth .
When I am in Pepito ’ s body , I will be one of those influencer dogs who rides skateboards .
I believe this because I am a man purposely setting off explosives in a residential area at four in the morning .
Through the wall of fog that my light extravaganza erects , I hear you asking what am I doing here .
I am the Fireworks Man , and I do fireworks , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ parties , bar mitzvahs , quinceañeras , and divorce .
Fireworks Man is also divorced , man .
But that ’ s O.K.—Helen and I never saw eye to eye , because I accidentally blew one of my eyes out while lighting fireworks at her uncle Chet ’ s funeral .
They all said , “ There ’ s nothing more distracting than fireworks at the end of a eulogy , Lester.
” But I proved them wrong , because there is at least one thing that ’ s more distracting , and @ @ @ @ @ @ @ guests blow his eye out at the end of the eulogy .
And not even an important guest .
The deceased ’ s niece ’ s boyfriend needs an ambulance—how distracting is that ?
Not as distracting as the amazing amount of nonlethal gunpowder I ignite outside your window every night for no reason .
What ’ s that ?
Sorry , I can barely hear you over that big explode-y firework I just set off that goes “ Boom !
” and then a few little ones just sizzle after .
Why @ @ @ @ @ @ @ story short , fireworks were invented in China during the Song dynasty .
Which explains why they go so well with music .
Thank you for reminding me .
I am now going to play the marches of John Philip Sousa , but since I am completely naked and armed with nothing but a matchbox and a satchel full of Roman candles , I am just going to sing them at you intermittently as I tell you my life story .
I believe I was put on this Earth to light up some @ @ @ @ @ @ @ or until I leave this Earth in a magnificent display of light and sound that goes “ BANG !
” and “ BOOM !
” and “ PEW !
, ” and then crescendos into a massive star of purple light with a golden center and small pirouetting green lights around it .
And that goes something like “ BAZOOOOOOOOM !
” And when you ’ re , like , “ Oh wow , that ’ s the last one , ” I ’ ll come out of nowhere with a couple of @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ten more minutes .
I am the Fireworks Man and I live outside your window now .
I ’ ll be here tonight and tomorrow night and every night except next Tuesday , because I have to go to a thing at my sister ’ s .

Hello, I am the man who’s been setting off fireworks right outside your window for the past two weeks! Of course I am a man. I’m so glad you popped your head out to say hi. I heard you asking me to stop at around 3 A.M. and got scared, because 3 A.M. is the witching hour, and I mistook your wails for those of a spooky ghost. Now that it’s almost 5 A.M., I know you’re no ghost. Because at 4:37 A.M., ghosts all have to go back to their ghost jobs. Yes, I believe in ghosts, and that they operate according to a very specific timetable, and that they have little ghost jobs and drive little ghost cars in their little ghost city. I guess it’s more of a ghost town. So, yes, I think ghosts are real, but I am also the insane man lighting pyrotechnic devices outside your window at ungodly hours, so this should not surprise you.
I can hear you asking through my completely unnecessary orgy of light and sound, “Is this a protest? Is this belatedly for the Fourth of July?” I want to assure you that I have no agenda. I don’t believe in anything other than that when I die, my consciousness will be inserted into a Bolivian dachshund named Pepito. He lives in a house full of animals in downtown La Paz. Pepito is alive now, and when I take over his body, his original consciousness will move to the cat’s body. The cat’s consciousness will move to the goldfish, the goldfish’s to the parakeet, and so on and so forth. When I am in Pepito’s body, I will be one of those influencer dogs who rides skateboards. I believe this because I am a man purposely setting off explosives in a residential area at four in the morning.
Through the wall of fog that my light extravaganza erects, I hear you asking what am I doing here. I am the Fireworks Man, and I do fireworks, man. I also do kids’ parties, bar mitzvahs, quinceañeras, and divorce. Fireworks Man is also divorced, man. But that’s O.K.—Helen and I never saw eye to eye, because I accidentally blew one of my eyes out while lighting fireworks at her uncle Chet’s funeral. They all said, “There’s nothing more distracting than fireworks at the end of a eulogy, Lester.” But I proved them wrong, because there is at least one thing that’s more distracting, and that is to have one of your guests blow his eye out at the end of the eulogy. And not even an important guest. The deceased’s niece’s boyfriend needs an ambulance—how distracting is that? Not as distracting as the amazing amount of nonlethal gunpowder I ignite outside your window every night for no reason.
What’s that? Sorry, I can barely hear you over that big explode-y firework I just set off that goes “Boom!” and then a few little ones just sizzle after. Why am I here? Well, long story short, fireworks were invented in China during the Song dynasty. Which explains why they go so well with music. Thank you for reminding me. I am now going to play the marches of John Philip Sousa, but since I am completely naked and armed with nothing but a matchbox and a satchel full of Roman candles, I am just going to sing them at you intermittently as I tell you my life story. I believe I was put on this Earth to light up some black-market bombettes outside your goddam window forever or until I leave this Earth in a magnificent display of light and sound that goes “BANG!” and “BOOM!” and “PEW!,” and then crescendos into a massive star of purple light with a golden center and small pirouetting green lights around it. And that goes something like “BAZOOOOOOOOM!” And when you’re, like, “Oh wow, that’s the last one,” I’ll come out of nowhere with a couple of additional colorful explosions for about five to ten more minutes.
I am the Fireworks Man and I live outside your window now. I’ll be here tonight and tomorrow night and every night except next Tuesday, because I have to go to a thing at my sister’s.
“BOOM!”


newyorker--2020-07-15--“A Time for Burning,” Reviewed

“A Time for Burning,” Reviewed

Movie journalism is drowning in interviews , which crowd out criticism by letting artists explain and justify their work in ways that the work itself may not .
Occasionally , though , an interview is so illuminating that it becomes not a secondary text but another primary one , a creation worthy to stand alongside the work that it discusses .
So it is with a pair of interviews that the documentarian William Jersey gave about his 1966 film “ A Time for Burning , ” which follows the efforts of a Lutheran minister to break the racial barrier .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ the other this month , and both are available on the Web site The King ’ s Necktie .
The film itself is streaming on YouTube . )
Jersey , now in his nineties , is the film ’ s producer and cinematographer ; he and Barbara Connell conceived , directed , and edited it ( she also recorded the sound ) ; they and an assistant cameraman and assistant editor , Justus Taylor , comprised the entire crew .
This is significant , because the movie is one of intimacy , confession @ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
I was surprised , as I watched , by the degree of candor that its subjects allowed themselves , but Jersey ’ s interviews make clear how such candor was achieved .
In the process , he also illuminates the very nature of documentary practice , and how purpose and principle are embodied in technique .
The film , shot in 1965 , is centered on William Youngdahl , the minister of Augustana Lutheran Church , in Omaha , Nebraska , which has an all-white congregation .
Youngdahl seeks to facilitate contact @ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
He invites teen-agers from the nearby , all-black Calvin Memorial Presbyterian Church to join one of his services .
Then , he intends to carry the project further by asking for married couples from his own congregation to volunteer to have dinner at the homes of couples from the Presbyterian church .
His idea was simple : he knew that many , perhaps most of his congregants had literally never spoken at any length to a Black person , and he believed that encouraging them to do so would be a crucial @ @ @ @ @ @ @ racism and white supremacy , which he considered un-Christian .
As the film quickly reveals , though , Youngdahl finds that many members of his own church want nothing to do with those from the other .
At the meeting of a small committee of church members , he faces opposition—not on principle but on practicalities—to the idea of the couples ’ dinners .
One man thinks that the issue of racism is important to address but that the visits will “ split the church ” ; he and the others vote for @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , at a larger gathering of the entire board , Youngdahl again faces opposition—one member asserts that opposition from the congregation is rooted in the fear that the church itself might become integrated , and another deems the planned dinner exchanges “ revolutionary.
” Youngdahl , for his part , considers the measure to be minimal , compared with the drastic changes that he deemed necessary .
From the pulpit , he preaches against the sins of white supremacy ; he expresses shock that professing Christians use the N-word , challenges his parishioners @ @ @ @ @ @ @ about race , and asserts with repressed fury the failure of white churches to act firmly on behalf of racial justice and equality .
For Youngdahl , the scourge of racism isn ’ t only legal and social ; it ’ s a spiritual matter involving the inner life .
Jersey shares Youngdahl ’ s intense concern for the moral core of white Christians .
As he details in the interviews , he grew up in Queens and was raised in a fundamentalist Christian family , and , though he left that church @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Christian .
He tells the interviewer , “ Jesus actually said a lot of good things .
But the Christians I know for the most part don ’ t seem to remember any of them.
” As for the film , he said , “ When I made ‘ A Time for Burning ’ I was still a good Christian church member and that ’ s how I got the job from the Lutherans.
” He explained that the movie was produced by the film division of the Evangelical Lutheran Church—that he was @ @ @ @ @ @ @ to do a film for the Lutherans about racial tension in the church , ” and that the Lutheran official who commissioned it , Robert Lee , persuaded the Augustana congregants that it would be good for the church “ to demonstrate how willing they were to show their own flaws .
This is what you have to do when you go before Jesus ; you have to present yourself in your course.
” The white congregants spoke freely in his presence , because , as he put it , “ they believed—and @ @ @ @ @ @ @ trying to hang them.
” “ A Time for Burning ” also shows Youngdahl meeting with members of Omaha ’ s Black community .
A group of churchgoing teens express their bewilderment that professing Christians can both harbor and defend racist attitudes .
( One young man says that “ a church isn ’ t a showplace for saints , it ’ s a hospital for sinners ” —i.e.
, a place where racism should be confronted . )
At a Black barbershop , a barber cutting a child ’ s hair speaks @ @ @ @ @ @ @ history of racism and the country ’ s betrayal of its own principles .
He says that Youngdahl himself , as a beneficiary of the racist power structure , bears personal responsibility for it , and that the responsibility for doing something about it falls squarely on him—and he predicts that Youngdahl will be fired from his ministry for the mere fact of wanting to listen to Black people .
( Spoiler alert : he ’ s proved right . )
If “ A Time for Burning ” were conceived as a scripted @ @ @ @ @ @ @ what the great Hollywood director Douglas Sirk would call the immovable characters , who pursue their goals single-mindedly despite any obstacles ( mainly Youngdahl and the barber ) .
But it would focus on an Augustana congregant named Ray , who turns out to be Youngdahl ’ s most fervent , uncompromising , and spiritually tormented ally .
At the beginning of the campaign , Ray—though supporting it in principle—considers it impracticable , but in the course of many committee and community meetings he has something like a conversion experience .
( He @ @ @ @ @ @ @ change of heart—a frank discussion with members of Calvin Memorial and other Black citizens . )
From that point on , Ray ’ s very voice changes , becoming tautly energized with righteous , self-challenging passion .
He defends Youngdahl ’ s plan in the strongest terms , invoking the failures of the Lutheran church to take a stand against the persecution of Jews in Nazi Germany .
When a fellow-congregant tells him that the church is at risk of losing much of its congregation on what should be the festive occasion of @ @ @ @ @ @ @ answer is that the church has had a hundred years to confront racism and has , shockingly , done nothing .
Jersey films these debates with a dialectical vigor , putting every utterance into high moral relief , placing every moment in the grave light of history .
His camera seems to be a spiritual X-ray , revealing the hypocrisy of ostensibly devout Christians who treat their church like a sort of exclusionary country club .
When filming Black participants , Jersey—who is white—is a self-aware outsider , no less than Youngdahl is @ @ @ @ @ @ @ to bridge a gap that ’ s rooted in their own awareness of their failings .
At one point , Youngdahl asserts that his program stands to benefit not the Black congregants but the white ones—that it ’ s the Black participants in the couples ’ dinners who would be rendering a service—and Jersey seems to film with the same sense of gratitude .

Movie journalism is drowning in interviews, which crowd out criticism by letting artists explain and justify their work in ways that the work itself may not. Occasionally, though, an interview is so illuminating that it becomes not a secondary text but another primary one, a creation worthy to stand alongside the work that it discusses. So it is with a pair of interviews that the documentarian William Jersey gave about his 1966 film “A Time for Burning,” which follows the efforts of a Lutheran minister to break the racial barrier. (One took place in 2018, the other this month, and both are available on the Web site The King’s Necktie. The film itself is streaming on YouTube.)
Jersey, now in his nineties, is the film’s producer and cinematographer; he and Barbara Connell conceived, directed, and edited it (she also recorded the sound); they and an assistant cameraman and assistant editor, Justus Taylor, comprised the entire crew. This is significant, because the movie is one of intimacy, confession, risky self-exposure, and forthright confrontation. I was surprised, as I watched, by the degree of candor that its subjects allowed themselves, but Jersey’s interviews make clear how such candor was achieved. In the process, he also illuminates the very nature of documentary practice, and how purpose and principle are embodied in technique.
The film, shot in 1965, is centered on William Youngdahl, the minister of Augustana Lutheran Church, in Omaha, Nebraska, which has an all-white congregation. Youngdahl seeks to facilitate contact between his congregation and local Black churchgoers. He invites teen-agers from the nearby, all-black Calvin Memorial Presbyterian Church to join one of his services. Then, he intends to carry the project further by asking for married couples from his own congregation to volunteer to have dinner at the homes of couples from the Presbyterian church. His idea was simple: he knew that many, perhaps most of his congregants had literally never spoken at any length to a Black person, and he believed that encouraging them to do so would be a crucial first step in confront the evils of racism and white supremacy, which he considered un-Christian.
As the film quickly reveals, though, Youngdahl finds that many members of his own church want nothing to do with those from the other. At the meeting of a small committee of church members, he faces opposition—not on principle but on practicalities—to the idea of the couples’ dinners. One man thinks that the issue of racism is important to address but that the visits will “split the church”; he and the others vote for the measure nonetheless. The next night, at a larger gathering of the entire board, Youngdahl again faces opposition—one member asserts that opposition from the congregation is rooted in the fear that the church itself might become integrated, and another deems the planned dinner exchanges “revolutionary.” Youngdahl, for his part, considers the measure to be minimal, compared with the drastic changes that he deemed necessary. From the pulpit, he preaches against the sins of white supremacy; he expresses shock that professing Christians use the N-word, challenges his parishioners to consider what they teach their children about race, and asserts with repressed fury the failure of white churches to act firmly on behalf of racial justice and equality. For Youngdahl, the scourge of racism isn’t only legal and social; it’s a spiritual matter involving the inner life.
Jersey shares Youngdahl’s intense concern for the moral core of white Christians. As he details in the interviews, he grew up in Queens and was raised in a fundamentalist Christian family, and, though he left that church as an adult, he remains a Christian. He tells the interviewer, “Jesus actually said a lot of good things. But the Christians I know for the most part don’t seem to remember any of them.” As for the film, he said, “When I made ‘A Time for Burning’ I was still a good Christian church member and that’s how I got the job from the Lutherans.” He explained that the movie was produced by the film division of the Evangelical Lutheran Church—that he was specifically hired by the Lutheran group “to do a film for the Lutherans about racial tension in the church,” and that the Lutheran official who commissioned it, Robert Lee, persuaded the Augustana congregants that it would be good for the church “to demonstrate how willing they were to show their own flaws. This is what you have to do when you go before Jesus; you have to present yourself in your course.” The white congregants spoke freely in his presence, because, as he put it, “they believed—and it was true—that I wasn’t trying to hang them.”
“A Time for Burning” also shows Youngdahl meeting with members of Omaha’s Black community. A group of churchgoing teens express their bewilderment that professing Christians can both harbor and defend racist attitudes. (One young man says that “a church isn’t a showplace for saints, it’s a hospital for sinners”—i.e., a place where racism should be confronted.) At a Black barbershop, a barber cutting a child’s hair speaks bluntly to Youngdahl of America’s history of racism and the country’s betrayal of its own principles. He says that Youngdahl himself, as a beneficiary of the racist power structure, bears personal responsibility for it, and that the responsibility for doing something about it falls squarely on him—and he predicts that Youngdahl will be fired from his ministry for the mere fact of wanting to listen to Black people. (Spoiler alert: he’s proved right.)
If “A Time for Burning” were conceived as a scripted drama, it would be anchored by what the great Hollywood director Douglas Sirk would call the immovable characters, who pursue their goals single-mindedly despite any obstacles (mainly Youngdahl and the barber). But it would focus on an Augustana congregant named Ray, who turns out to be Youngdahl’s most fervent, uncompromising, and spiritually tormented ally. At the beginning of the campaign, Ray—though supporting it in principle—considers it impracticable, but in the course of many committee and community meetings he has something like a conversion experience. (He even spotlights the very moment of his change of heart—a frank discussion with members of Calvin Memorial and other Black citizens.) From that point on, Ray’s very voice changes, becoming tautly energized with righteous, self-challenging passion. He defends Youngdahl’s plan in the strongest terms, invoking the failures of the Lutheran church to take a stand against the persecution of Jews in Nazi Germany. When a fellow-congregant tells him that the church is at risk of losing much of its congregation on what should be the festive occasion of its impending centenary, Ray’s answer is that the church has had a hundred years to confront racism and has, shockingly, done nothing.
Jersey films these debates with a dialectical vigor, putting every utterance into high moral relief, placing every moment in the grave light of history. His camera seems to be a spiritual X-ray, revealing the hypocrisy of ostensibly devout Christians who treat their church like a sort of exclusionary country club. When filming Black participants, Jersey—who is white—is a self-aware outsider, no less than Youngdahl is; both are there to listen and to bridge a gap that’s rooted in their own awareness of their failings. At one point, Youngdahl asserts that his program stands to benefit not the Black congregants but the white ones—that it’s the Black participants in the couples’ dinners who would be rendering a service—and Jersey seems to film with the same sense of gratitude.
In the 2020 interview, Jersey says that the experience of making the film changed him, by making him “willing to look for truth outside of my comfort zone.” (He also cites his personal relationship with Connell, which developed during the filming, while both were married to other partners.) Jersey explains that he was considering “the possibility that truth exists almost everywhere in almost everybody at almost every time. But you have to have a good filter.” For Jersey, it was his camera, probing and exposing the motives of a wide range of people, that provided that necessary filter. Jersey discusses, in detail, his filmmaking practice, which rigorously avoids reënactments in favor of what he calls “intervention.” He, for instance, orchestrated the encounter between Youngdahl and the barber. (The barber, he reveals in the interviews, is Ernie Chambers, a law-school graduate who was later elected to Nebraska’s state legislature, where he still serves.) Jersey discusses how he and Connell edited that scene to emphasize Chambers’s comments rather than Youndahl’s supportive replies: “I just keep Bill silent and let Ernie do all the talking, because that got the capital ‘T’ Truth across better than the literal truth.” Another crucial scene, of when Youngdahl is forced out of the congregation, is also the work of editing-room interventions—and it’s an exalted one; its impressionistic fusion of image and sound is also a passionate evocation of faith and its trials that’s rare in any cinema.


newyorker--2020-07-14--How Texas Republicans Politicized the Coronavirus Pandemic

By the time that Sylvester Turner , the mayor of Houston , shut down the Republican Party of Texas Convention—the enormous biennial meeting of Texas Republicans , which was scheduled to take place this week—the event had been delayed once before .
The convention had originally been planned for May , but COVID-19 had arrived in the United States , and the Republican Party moved quickly to do the right thing .
“ We are going to make sure that we flatten the curve , ” James Dickey , the chairman of the R.P.T.
, said .
“ It is @ @ @ @ @ @ @ deliberate action to prevent the spread of coronavirus.
” When the Party announced that the convention would have to wait until July , no one cried politics .
It was early March , and no one had yet uttered the words “ Wuhan Virus.
” Donald Trump had yet to embark on a campaign characterizing the national response to the pandemic in terms of toughness rather than preparedness , in which rallies and conventions serve as a show of strength and defiance .
At the start of the pandemic in the U.S. , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ to be spared the worst .
There were outbreaks in rural areas of the state , mostly centered around meat-packing plants and prisons , but those populations were isolated .
Once Trump prioritized getting back to work , posting tweets that urged governors to “ liberate ” their constituents , Texas ’ s governor , Greg Abbott , started reopening the state ’ s economy .
Just a month had passed since it had first shut down .
When municipalities asked for the ability to require masks in their cities , or to @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Abbott refused .
When an owner of a hair salon disobeyed orders to shut down , the state ’ s lieutenant governor , Dan Patrick , paid her seven-thousand-dollar bail .
During an interview with Fox News ’ s Tucker Carlson , Patrick said that the state should continue opening , while people over the age of seventy should take care of themselves .
“ Don ’ t sacrifice the country , ” he said .
“ Don ’ t ruin this great American dream.
” As part of the reopening process , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ planned .
The George R. Brown Convention Center , a huge glass-and-steel building in downtown Houston , was still available .
The July date , the R.P.T .
would later note , was well within the C.D.C .
window that had been established back in March .
A smattering of events started to show up on the Party ’ s Web site .
Delegates could attend “ lunch and learns ” and hear speeches from , among others , Abbott , Patrick , and the Texas land commissioner , George P. Bush ( @ @ @ @ @ @ @ would also be a gala banquet and a breakfast to celebrate grassroots activists .
And then , as Texas moved into the last phase of its reopening , and unmasked people packed into restaurants and bars over the Memorial Day weekend , COVID-19 came back .
The first indisputable sign of trouble for Republicans might have been the Kaufman County district meeting .
When the state convention had been delayed , Dickey had encouraged district meetings to be rescheduled as well , in the name of safety .
Kaufman County , which is @ @ @ @ @ @ @ a date in early June and convened their meeting in a church .
Masks were recommended but “ NOT required.
” The church was allowed to fill only to fifty-per-cent capacity , and there was ample hand sanitizer available .
Jimmy Weaver , a mustachioed district-level delegate , opened the meeting with a joke about the pandemic .
“ In one way , the Democrats did us a favor , ” he said .
“ They cured the coronavirus !
” A few days later , one of the attendees , a seventy-five-year-old @ @ @ @ @ @ @ By the end of the month—on June 25th—he died of COVID-19 .
This time , however , the R.P.T .
did not reschedule its convention .
Even as the state Democratic Party took its convention online , the Republicans forged ahead .
The day after Baker ’ s death , the executive director of the Party , Kyle Whatley , told an online town-hall meeting , “ All systems are go , folks .
This is happening.
” Outside of the Republican Party ’ s leadership , however , concerns about the convention @ @ @ @ @ @ @ six-thousand-person indoor meeting—an event that would fill hotels and restaurants around the venue—and was scheduled to take place at the current epicenter of the outbreak .
By the end of June , there were more than thirty thousand documented cases of COVID-19 in Harris County , which contains Houston .
A mandatory mask order had been in place in the city since June 19th , requiring businesses to enforce mask-wearing , but not requiring them for individuals .
The Republican Party , because it was not a business , would not have to @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , Abbott issued an order limiting the size of outdoor gatherings but put no limits on those held indoors .
A week later , the Texas Medical Association called for the G.O.P .
to cancel the convention .
On the same day , Turner , the Houston mayor , rejected calls that he cancel the gathering .
He would leave it up to the Republican organizers , he said , to make “ wise decisions.
” On July 2nd , Dickey called an emergency meeting on Zoom to discuss the convention .
“ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ we face unprecedented challenges , ” he said , while commenters on the live stream joked about technical difficulties .
( “ Who that hacking up a lung ?
” someone asked , while one of the delegates coughed .
“ Please mute when you ’ re not talking , ” someone else wrote . )
A few delegates advocated holding the convention online .
Most , however , urged the Party to press forward .
“ I think the biggest optic we need is within our own party , ” Randall Dunning @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Executive Committee , said .
“ What we need is to demonstrate courage… .
We are being perceived as pushed around by the media .
We need to stand up for these things.
” The coronavirus , he added , was “ one of the most feeble epidemics ever.
” Dunning , who has been known to brag about wearing body armor , is an outspoken party member , but his position was widely supported .
The controversy over the convention was not about safety , he said , it was about politics @ @ @ @ @ @ @ inherent in taking risks during a pandemic—an attitude that has been on display nationally every time Trump plans ( or attempts to plan ) a rally—which is particularly potent in a state like Texas , where the appeal of strongman politics mixes easily with the come-and-take-it troublemaking of gun-rights circles .
The Web site for the R.P.T .
notes that “ early Texans lived , loved and died entirely by their own efforts without relying on government to fulfill their needs .
Just like modern Texans , early settlers believed in families , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
That sense of self-respect and self-reliance is still the envy of the world.
” Texas , which has not elected a Democrat to statewide office since 1994 , refused to implement the Affordable Care Act and has repeatedly cut the budget for Medicaid and education funding .
( There is also no state income tax . )
Leaders speak the language of individual freedoms and emphasize strength over social compacts .
Protesters here will decry a mask-wearing requirement as nearly Communist , and yet their beloved sense of self-reliance has landed the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ comedy that echoes the situations in authoritarian-led nations like Brazil ( where the President , Jair Bolsonaro , used a gay slur to describe mask-wearing , before contracting COVID-19 himself ) .
Fierce independence , when valued above all else , it seems , is almost as potent as the density of New York when it comes to spreading a virus .

By the time that Sylvester Turner, the mayor of Houston, shut down the Republican Party of Texas Convention—the enormous biennial meeting of Texas Republicans, which was scheduled to take place this week—the event had been delayed once before. The convention had originally been planned for May, but COVID-19 had arrived in the United States, and the Republican Party moved quickly to do the right thing. “We are going to make sure that we flatten the curve,” James Dickey, the chairman of the R.P.T., said. “It is the duty of all Texans to take deliberate action to prevent the spread of coronavirus.” When the Party announced that the convention would have to wait until July, no one cried politics. It was early March, and no one had yet uttered the words “Wuhan Virus.” Donald Trump had yet to embark on a campaign characterizing the national response to the pandemic in terms of toughness rather than preparedness, in which rallies and conventions serve as a show of strength and defiance.
At the start of the pandemic in the U.S., it seemed as if Texas was going to be spared the worst. There were outbreaks in rural areas of the state, mostly centered on meat-packing plants and prisons, but those populations were isolated. Once Trump prioritized getting back to work, posting tweets that urged governors to “liberate” their constituents, Texas’s governor, Greg Abbott, started reopening the state’s economy. Just a month had passed since it had first shut down. When municipalities asked for the ability to require masks in their cities, or to follow their own schedules for reopening, Abbott refused. When an owner of a hair salon disobeyed orders to shut down, the state’s lieutenant governor, Dan Patrick, paid her seven-thousand-dollar bail. During an interview with Fox News’s Tucker Carlson, Patrick said that the state should continue opening, while people over the age of seventy should take care of themselves. “Don’t sacrifice the country,” he said. “Don’t ruin this great American dream.”
As part of the reopening process, the rescheduled Republican convention would proceed as planned. The George R. Brown Convention Center, a huge glass-and-steel building in downtown Houston, was still available. The July date, the R.P.T. would later note, was well within the C.D.C. window that had been established back in March. A smattering of events started to show up on the Party’s Web site. Delegates could attend “lunch and learns” and hear speeches from, among others, Abbott, Patrick, and the Texas land commissioner, George P. Bush (the son of Jeb). There would also be a gala banquet and a breakfast to celebrate grassroots activists. And then, as Texas moved into the last phase of its reopening, and unmasked people packed into restaurants and bars over the Memorial Day weekend, COVID-19 came back.
The first indisputable sign of trouble for Republicans might have been the Kaufman County district meeting. When the state convention had been delayed, Dickey had encouraged district meetings to be rescheduled as well, in the name of safety. Kaufman County, which is just outside of Dallas, had selected a date in early June and convened its meeting in a church. Masks were recommended but “NOT required.” The church was allowed to fill only to fifty-per-cent capacity, and there was ample hand sanitizer available. Jimmy Weaver, a mustachioed district-level delegate, opened the meeting with a joke about the pandemic. “In one way, the Democrats did us a favor,” he said. “They cured the coronavirus!” A few days later, one of the attendees, a seventy-five-year-old man named Bill Baker, fell ill. By the end of the month—on June 25th—he died of COVID-19.
This time, however, the R.P.T. did not reschedule its convention. Even as the state Democratic Party took its convention online, the Republicans forged ahead. The day after Baker’s death, the executive director of the Party, Kyle Whatley, told an online town-hall meeting, “All systems are go, folks. This is happening.”
Outside of the Republican Party’s leadership, however, concerns about the convention were growing. It would be a six-thousand-person indoor meeting—an event that would fill hotels and restaurants around the venue—and was scheduled to take place at the current epicenter of the outbreak. By the end of June, there were more than thirty thousand documented cases of COVID-19 in Harris County, which contains Houston. A mandatory mask order had been in place in the city since June 19th, requiring businesses to enforce mask-wearing, but not requiring them for individuals. The Republican Party, because it was not a business, would not have to enforce the rule.
On June 23rd, Abbott issued an order limiting the size of outdoor gatherings but put no limits on those held indoors. A week later, the Texas Medical Association called for the G.O.P. to cancel the convention. On the same day, Turner, the Houston mayor, rejected calls that he cancel the gathering. He would leave it up to the Republican organizers, he said, to make “wise decisions.”
On July 2nd, Dickey called an emergency meeting on Zoom to discuss the convention. “This is an unprecedented time, and we face unprecedented challenges,” he said, while commenters on the live stream joked about technical difficulties. (“Who that hacking up a lung?” someone asked, while one of the delegates coughed. “Please mute when you’re not talking,” someone else wrote.) A few delegates advocated holding the convention online. Most, however, urged the Party to press forward. “I think the biggest optic we need is within our own party,” Randall Dunning, a member of the State Republican Executive Committee, said. “What we need is to demonstrate courage. . . . We are being perceived as pushed around by the media. We need to stand up for these things.” The coronavirus, he added, was “one of the most feeble epidemics ever.” Dunning, who has been known to brag about wearing body armor, is an outspoken party member, but his position was widely supported. The controversy over the convention was not about safety, he said. It was about politics.
There is a kind of machismo inherent in taking risks during a pandemic—an attitude that has been on display nationally every time Trump plans (or attempts to plan) a rally—which is particularly potent in a state like Texas, where the appeal of strongman politics mixes easily with the come-and-take-it troublemaking of gun-rights circles. The Web site for the R.P.T. notes that “early Texans lived, loved and died entirely by their own efforts without relying on government to fulfill their needs. Just like modern Texans, early settlers believed in families, churches and neighbors, not in bureaucracy. That sense of self-respect and self-reliance is still the envy of the world.”
Texas, which has not elected a Democrat to statewide office since 1994, refused to implement the Affordable Care Act and has repeatedly cut the budget for Medicaid and education funding. (There is also no state income tax.) Leaders speak the language of individual freedoms and emphasize strength over social compacts. Protesters will decry a mask-wearing requirement as nearly Communist, and yet their beloved sense of self-reliance has landed the state in the middle of a dark comedy that echoes the situations in authoritarian-led nations like Brazil (where the President, Jair Bolsonaro, used a gay slur to describe mask-wearing, before contracting COVID-19 himself). Fierce independence, when valued above all else, it seems, is almost as potent as the density of New York when it comes to spreading a virus.
Turner, a Democrat, did not, he said, want to politicize the virus. When an article in the Houston Chronicle noted his refusal to shut down the convention, Turner tweeted in response, “Easier for the reporter to criticize me than the Governor who is the political head of the Republican Party.” And then, during the July 2nd Zoom meeting, the R.P.T. took a vote and decided, by a count of 40–20, to go ahead with the event. The next day, Turner said that he was reviewing his options. “Now that the Executive Committee has made the decision to move forward, the City will decide what steps must be taken to protect the health and safety of employees, visitors, and the general public,” he noted in a press release. Three days later, he sent a letter to Dickey and the R.P.T., formally asking the G.O.P. to cancel. “The world is experiencing a once-in-a century biologic event,” he wrote. More than forty-four per cent of the I.C.U. patients in Harris County hospitals were positive for COVID-19. “While these statistics are quite worrisome, let us not forget they represent people who are suffering,” Turner added.
In response, Dickey insisted that “Mayor Turner must not have had the information about the measures being voluntarily implemented.” The following day, Turner received a letter from the Public Health Authority, which called the convention “a clear and present danger to the health of convention attendees, workers, local hotel and restaurant owners and Houstonians because of the surging pandemic.” The Republican Party made an announcement: the convention would go on, but all the speeches would be made virtually. Rank-and-file Party members would be allowed inside the building; the featured speakers, including Abbott, Patrick, and Bush, would call in from the safety of their homes. “They’re doing that for us in order to focus all the attention on the business of the meeting,” Whatley, the Party’s executive director, said.
And so, on the morning of July 8th, Turner announced that he was looking for a way to cancel the event himself. “We closed down the Houston Livestock Show and Rodeo, and this convention is no greater or better,” he said. His mother had worked as a hotel maid, he added, and he wouldn’t have wanted her working during a convention like this. Dickey, who no longer seemed so interested in flattening the curve, had a press release ready: “After allowing tens of thousands of protestors to peaceably assemble in the same city, in the same area, without any of the safety precautions and measures we have taken, he is seeking to deny a political Party’s critical electoral function that should be equally protected under the constitution.”
The comparison to protests over the killing of George Floyd, a Houston native, Turner said, was irrelevant. “When people are marching or demonstrating, they are walking, they are moving,” he tweeted. “Nobody is making their breakfast or serving them.” Turner contacted Houston First, the public nonprofit that runs the convention center, which soon found a way to cancel the Republicans’ contract. What was happening in Houston amounted to a “force majeure,” the group explained, as the city had nearly forty thousand confirmed coronavirus cases, overwhelmed hospitals, and a documented continuing spread of the virus. The next day, the R.P.T. attempted to obtain an injunction that would let the convention go on. “It should go without saying that a political viewpoint cannot be the basis for unequal treatment,” Dickey said, again alluding to the Black Lives Matter protests that had filled Houston’s streets in June. “Mayor Turner publicly stated his intention to interrupt the convention process and disenfranchise Republicans around the state, and yesterday he put his scheme into action.”


newyorker--2020-07-14--Florida Governor Orders All Children to Work at Walmart and Home Depot This Fall

TALLAHASSEE ( The Borowitz Report ) —Calling his decision a “ game changer , ” Florida ’ s governor announced on Tuesday that he was ordering all of the state ’ s children to work at Walmart and Home Depot in the fall .
“ If we can do Walmart and we can do Home Depot , we can definitely do your children working at Walmart and Home Depot , ” Governor Ron DeSantis declared .
Explaining the rationale behind his order , DeSantis said that sending children to work at the two big-box stores would have the “ exact @ @ @ @ @ @ @ school—namely “ getting them out of the house.
” “ To the parents of Florida , let me say , ‘ You ’ re welcome , ’ ” he said .
Touting other benefits of his plan , DeSantis claimed , “ I think this is going to be a great educational experience for our kids.
” “ I think it should be a goal of this state to teach every first grader how to do inventory , ” he said .
“ Inventory is just a fancy word for math.
” Additionally @ @ @ @ @ @ @ of lumber at Home Depot would be “ an excellent substitute for phys .
ed.
” “ I wish I had thought of this sooner , ” DeSantis said .
“ These kids are going to be so good with hammers , nails , and wood that they could have built the stage at the Republican National Convention.
” The governor was dismissive of a reporter who asked whether forcing children to work at Walmart and Home Depot would be a violation of child-labor laws .
“ As our great President has shown @ @ @ @ @ @ @ not a time for laws , ” DeSantis said .

TALLAHASSEE (The Borowitz Report)—Calling his decision a “game changer,” Florida’s governor announced on Tuesday that he was ordering all of the state’s children to work at Walmart and Home Depot in the fall.
“If we can do Walmart and we can do Home Depot, we can definitely do your children working at Walmart and Home Depot,” Governor Ron DeSantis declared.
Explaining the rationale behind his order, DeSantis said that sending children to work at the two big-box stores would have the “exact same result” as sending them to school—namely “getting them out of the house.”
“To the parents of Florida, let me say, ‘You’re welcome,’ ” he said.
Touting other benefits of his plan, DeSantis claimed, “I think this is going to be a great educational experience for our kids.”
“I think it should be a goal of this state to teach every first grader how to do inventory,” he said. “Inventory is just a fancy word for math.”
Additionally, he said that hauling large planks of lumber at Home Depot would be “an excellent substitute for phys. ed.”
“I wish I had thought of this sooner,” DeSantis said. “These kids are going to be so good with hammers, nails, and wood that they could have built the stage at the Republican National Convention.”
The governor was dismissive of a reporter who asked whether forcing children to work at Walmart and Home Depot would be a violation of child-labor laws. “As our great President has shown time and time again, this is not a time for laws,” DeSantis said.


newyorker--2020-07-14--Anthony Fauci Is a Better Economist Than Donald Trump or Jared Kushner

Back on April 29th , Jared Kushner , Donald Trump ’ s son-in-law and senior adviser , gave an interview to Fox News in which he dismissed concerns that the coronavirus pandemic would have a lasting negative impact on the American economy .
“ I always find that we see the leading indicators , and often the media sees the lagging indicators , ” Kushner said .
“ I think you ’ ll see by June a lot of the country should be back to normal , and the hope is that by July the country ’ s really rocking @ @ @ @ @ @ @ encapsulated the Trump Administration ’ s economic theory of COVID-19 : it would be a sharp but short shock .
As states , particularly some that are governed by Republicans , rushed to reopen their economies in May and June , economic activity did rebound .
The Labor Department ’ s jobs report for June , which was released on July 2nd , showed that employers added 4.8 million jobs , and the official unemployment rate fell from 13.3 per cent to 11.1 per cent .
Trump hailed this as “ spectacular news.
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ the employment survey , which was carried out in the second week of June , may well have marked an inflection point for the economy rather than a breakout .
As last month proceeded , the rate of new infections picked up in a number of states , including Arizona , California , Florida , and Texas .
Americans took notice and changed their behavior .
Some real-time indicators of discretionary consumer spending , including restaurant reservations and credit-card activity , took a dip .
Given the threat that the virus presents in @ @ @ @ @ @ @ that the restaurant and bar businesses are special cases .
However , there is also evidence from other industries , such as retail and transportation , that the initial hit from the virus may be turning into a long-lasting one .
Last week , the clothing company Brooks Brothers filed for bankruptcy , and United Airlines warned that it may furlough nearly half of its U.S. employees in October—some thirty-six thousand people .
On Thursday , the Labor Department reported that , during the previous week , another 2.3 million Americans had filed @ @ @ @ @ @ @ “ We are beginning to see the impact of the recession spreading to companies that were not directly impacted by the virus , ” Andrew Challenger , a senior vice-president at the firm Challenger , Gray & Christmas , which monitors hiring and firing closely , told Reuters .
“ At the same time , companies that attempted to reopen but were only able to attract a fraction of their pre-COVID customers are closing down again.
” In an online appearance with the National Press Club on Monday , Robert Kaplan , the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Dallas , said that the surge in infections and hospitalizations was having a “ chilling effect ” on the economy .
Citing high-frequency data that his institution monitors , as well as conversations with businesspeople , Kaplan said , “ Unfortunately , with this resurgence of disease , it is muting that rebound .
It is muting that growth.
” Other analysts agree .
Economists at the investment bank Jefferies & Co. said on Monday that their index of economic activity “ suggests the recovery is running out of steam .
.
.
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ now below their mid/late June peaks.
” In his remarks , Kaplan emphasized the connection between faster economic growth and following public-safety protocols .
He appealed to all Americans to wear masks and social-distance .
“ If we don ’ t do these things , it will be more likely that we have to slow the rate of reopening , ” he said .
In some places , that is already happening .
On Monday , Gavin Newsom , the governor of California , ordered restaurants , bars , wineries , movie theatres @ @ @ @ @ @ @ their indoor operations statewide .
In a number of counties where the virus is spreading the fastest , including Los Angeles , Orange , and Riverside , Newsom added additional businesses to the list , including gyms , hair salons , and nonessential offices .
Other states , including Arizona and Texas , have taken some more modest steps to roll back or slow the pace of reopening .
What is lacking , and has been lacking all along , is effective national leadership which recognizes that repairing the economy and extinguishing the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ low level—are complementary policies rather than contradictory ones .
From China to South Korea to Ireland , other governments have exhibited this type of leadership and resolve .
We have a President who reportedly hasn ’ t attended a meeting of his coronavirus task force for more than a month , and who donned a mask in public for the first time on Saturday—nearly five months after the first U.S. case of the virus was confirmed .
On Monday , a number of media outlets reported that the Trump White House is trying @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the task force—who has expressed concerns over reopening the economy as the number of cases surges .
Appearing on NBC ’ s “ Meet the Press ” on Sunday , Admiral Brett Giroir , another member of the task force , said that Fauci “ looks at it from a very narrow public-health point of view.
” That may be true ; Fauci doesn ’ t pretend to be an economist .
And yet , by emphasizing the need to arrest the renewed spread of the virus , he is dispensing advice that @ @ @ @ @ @ @ policymakers , including Jerome Powell , the chairman of the Federal Reserve , have been saying .
( “ The path forward for the economy is extraordinarily uncertain and will depend in large part on our success in containing the virus , ” Powell told Congress a couple of weeks ago . )
Even as the United States is reporting record numbers of new cases , Trump seems unable or unwilling to accept reality .
Until the start of this month , the daily death toll for the country as a whole had @ @ @ @ @ @ @ declines in New York , New Jersey , and other states in the Northeast , which endured lengthy lockdowns and moved cautiously to reopen .
Over the past week , though , the national mortality trend line has ticked up a bit , a Washington Post graphic shows .
And , on Friday , Deborah Birx , the coördinator of the White House task force , publicly acknowledged that a rise in the over-all number of deaths “ is expected as the disease continues to spread in some of our large metro areas @ @ @ @ @ @ @ reported .
Ultimately , this is a human tragedy .
To protect the lives of vulnerable Americans , and also to protect the economy , Trump and Kushner should listen to Fauci rather than try to trash him .

Back on April 29th, Jared Kushner, Donald Trump’s son-in-law and senior adviser, gave an interview to Fox News in which he dismissed concerns that the coronavirus pandemic would have a lasting negative impact on the American economy. “I always find that we see the leading indicators, and often the media sees the lagging indicators,” Kushner said. “I think you’ll see by June a lot of the country should be back to normal, and the hope is that by July the country’s really rocking again.”
Kushner’s statements neatly encapsulated the Trump Administration’s economic theory of COVID-19: it would be a sharp but short shock. As states, particularly some that are governed by Republicans, rushed to reopen their economies in May and June, economic activity did rebound. The Labor Department’s jobs report for June, which was released on July 2nd, showed that employers added 4.8 million jobs, and the official unemployment rate fell from 13.3 per cent to 11.1 per cent. Trump hailed this as “spectacular news.” But now it looks as though the employment survey, which was carried out in the second week of June, may well have marked an inflection point for the economy rather than a breakout.
As last month proceeded, the rate of new infections picked up in a number of states, including Arizona, California, Florida, and Texas. Americans took notice and changed their behavior. Some real-time indicators of discretionary consumer spending, including restaurant reservations and credit-card activity, took a dip. Given the threat that the virus presents in confined spaces, it could be argued that the restaurant and bar businesses are special cases. However, there is also evidence from other industries, such as retail and transportation, that the initial hit from the virus may be turning into a long-lasting one.
Last week, the clothing company Brooks Brothers filed for bankruptcy, and United Airlines warned that it may furlough nearly half of its U.S. employees in October—some thirty-six thousand people. On Thursday, the Labor Department reported that, during the previous week, another 2.3 million Americans had filed for state or federal unemployment benefits. “We are beginning to see the impact of the recession spreading to companies that were not directly impacted by the virus,” Andrew Challenger, a senior vice-president at the firm Challenger, Gray & Christmas, which monitors hiring and firing closely, told Reuters. “At the same time, companies that attempted to reopen but were only able to attract a fraction of their pre-COVID customers are closing down again.”
In an online appearance with the National Press Club on Monday, Robert Kaplan, the president of the Federal Reserve Bank of Dallas, said that the surge in infections and hospitalizations was having a “chilling effect” on the economy. Citing high-frequency data that his institution monitors, as well as conversations with businesspeople, Kaplan said, “Unfortunately, with this resurgence of disease, it is muting that rebound. It is muting that growth.” Other analysts agree. Economists at the investment bank Jefferies & Co. said on Monday that their index of economic activity “suggests the recovery is running out of steam. . . . Most components of our index are now below their mid/late June peaks.”
In his remarks, Kaplan emphasized the connection between faster economic growth and following public-safety protocols. He appealed to all Americans to wear masks and social-distance. “If we don’t do these things, it will be more likely that we have to slow the rate of reopening,” he said. In some places, that is already happening. On Monday, Gavin Newsom, the governor of California, ordered restaurants, bars, wineries, movie theatres, museums, and zoos to close their indoor operations statewide. In a number of counties where the virus is spreading the fastest, including Los Angeles, Orange, and Riverside, Newsom added additional businesses to the list, including gyms, hair salons, and nonessential offices.
Other states, including Arizona and Texas, have taken some more modest steps to roll back or slow the pace of reopening. What is lacking, and has been lacking all along, is effective national leadership which recognizes that repairing the economy and extinguishing the virus—or knocking it down to a very low level—are complementary policies rather than contradictory ones. From China to South Korea to Ireland, other governments have exhibited this type of leadership and resolve. We have a President who reportedly hasn’t attended a meeting of his coronavirus task force for more than a month, and who donned a mask in public for the first time on Saturday—nearly five months after the first U.S. case of the virus was confirmed.
On Monday, a number of media outlets reported that the Trump White House is trying to discredit Anthony Fauci—the best-known member of the task force—who has expressed concerns over reopening the economy as the number of cases surges. Appearing on NBC’s “Meet the Press” on Sunday, Admiral Brett Giroir, another member of the task force, said that Fauci “looks at it from a very narrow public-health point of view.” That may be true; Fauci doesn’t pretend to be an economist. And yet, by emphasizing the need to arrest the renewed spread of the virus, he is dispensing advice that jibes with what Kaplan and other economic policymakers, including Jerome Powell, the chairman of the Federal Reserve, have been saying. (“The path forward for the economy is extraordinarily uncertain and will depend in large part on our success in containing the virus,” Powell told Congress a couple of weeks ago.)
Even as the United States is reporting record numbers of new cases, Trump seems unable or unwilling to accept reality. Until the start of this month, the daily death toll for the country as a whole had been falling, largely due to dramatic declines in New York, New Jersey, and other states in the Northeast, which endured lengthy lockdowns and moved cautiously to reopen. Over the past week, though, the national mortality trend line has ticked up a bit, a Washington Post graphic shows. And, on Friday, Deborah Birx, the coördinator of the White House task force, publicly acknowledged that a rise in the over-all number of deaths “is expected as the disease continues to spread in some of our large metro areas where comorbidities exist,” the Times reported.
Ultimately, this is a human tragedy. To protect the lives of vulnerable Americans, and also to protect the economy, Trump and Kushner should listen to Fauci rather than try to trash him.


newyorker--2020-07-15--Valuable Lessons I Learned from Statues

Valuable Lessons I Learned from Statues

Amid the national debate over whether to remove various problematic monuments , I thought it would be helpful to share some of the important lessons that , were it not for statues , I would never have learned .
Without Mount Rushmore , I would totally have forgotten about that crazy time we had a four-headed man as our U.S. President .
It ’ s because of this statue that I refuse to rest until this backward country elects a woman with six necks , twelve feet , and three rows of razor-sharp fangs .
This statue , which depicts @ @ @ @ @ @ @ fist , deep in thought , but with his mouth suspiciously closed , taught me that it ’ s possible to think about stuff without simultaneously saying that stuff out loud .
I ’ m still practicing , and it hurts like hell .
Were it not for this statue , I would not have realized that the wingspan of a man can extend up to ninety-two feet .
This structure taught me about the relativity of words like “ great.
” For instance , some people see a statue of a creature @ @ @ @ @ @ @ a human head and think , That ’ s great .
Rational people , like me , see a statue the size of a football field depicting a Frankenstein beast with the body of a goddam lion , the head of something that appears human but most certainly is not human , and claws the size of pickup trucks , and think , If that thing came to life , we ’ d be fucked .
I believe that a much better name for this statue would be “ The Sphinx of Giza @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Kill Us All in Two Hours Flat.
” This statue taught me exactly what the progressive French intended—that , even in 2020 , millions of people from around the world will travel by the boatload to gawk at some broad .
Christ of the Abyss , we are told , sits sixty feet deep in the Mediterranean Sea , and was built in honor of the Italian scuba diver Duilio Marcante .
This statue has revolutionized my approach to wedding gifts , as there are no fewer than six couples whom I ’ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ of something from their registry , statues honoring their marriages stand tall in the Gulf of Mexico .
Like the Statue of Liberty , this taught me that millions will travel the globe to leer at a woman whose hair style is a little sloppy , on account of her having teeny tiny arms that can only be seen with a microscope .
Before seeing this statue , I ’ d never seen a bull .
I gleaned all I could from it .
I observed people patting the bull ’ s head @ @ @ @ @ @ @ its testicles .
For anyone reading this who has also never seen a bull , THIS IS NOT HOW YOU SHOULD INTERACT WITH AN ACTUAL BULL .
The colostomy bag taped to my side reminds me of this every three hours or so , depending on what I ’ ve eaten that day .
I ’ d never heard of Robert E. Lee when I came across his statue , so I Googled him .
I was exposed to a ton of Robert E. Lee ’ s quotes , which reflected his sentiments @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Were it not for this statue , I wouldn ’ t have learned that the Confederacy actually won the Civil War , that most Americans want a White History Month , and that the earth isn ’ t flat—it ’ s a digital simulation .
If this doesn ’ t serve as an example of what statues can teach Americans , I don ’ t know what will .

Amid the national debate over whether to remove various problematic monuments, I thought it would be helpful to share some of the important lessons that, were it not for statues, I would never have learned.
Mount Rushmore
Without Mount Rushmore, I would totally have forgotten about that crazy time we had a four-headed man as our U.S. President. It’s because of this statue that I refuse to rest until this backward country elects a woman with six necks, twelve feet, and three rows of razor-sharp fangs.
Rodin’s “The Thinker”
This statue, which depicts a man resting his chin on his fist, deep in thought, but with his mouth suspiciously closed, taught me that it’s possible to think about stuff without simultaneously saying that stuff out loud. I’m still practicing, and it hurts like hell.
Christ the Redeemer
Were it not for this statue, I would not have realized that the wingspan of a man can extend up to ninety-two feet.
The Great Sphinx at Giza
This structure taught me about the relativity of words like “great.” For instance, some people see a statue of a creature with a lion’s body and a human head and think, That’s great. Rational people, like me, see a statue the size of a football field depicting a Frankenstein beast with the body of a goddam lion, the head of something that appears human but most certainly is not human, and claws the size of pickup trucks, and think, If that thing came to life, we’d be fucked. I believe that a much better name for this statue would be “The Sphinx of Giza That, Were It Alive, Would Kill Us All in Two Hours Flat.”
Statue of Liberty
This statue taught me exactly what the progressive French intended—that, even in 2020, millions of people from around the world will travel by the boatload to gawk at some broad.
Christ of the Abyss
Christ of the Abyss, we are told, sits sixty feet deep in the Mediterranean Sea, and was built in honor of the Italian scuba diver Duilio Marcante. This statue has revolutionized my approach to wedding gifts, as there are no fewer than six couples whom I’ve now told that, in lieu of something from their registry, statues honoring their marriages stand tall in the Gulf of Mexico.
The Venus de Milo
Like the Statue of Liberty, this taught me that millions will travel the globe to leer at a woman whose hair style is a little sloppy, on account of her having teeny tiny arms that can only be seen with a microscope.
“Charging Bull,” near Wall Street
Before seeing this statue, I’d never seen a bull. I gleaned all I could from it. I observed people patting the bull’s head, hopping astride its back, grabbing its testicles. For anyone reading this who has also never seen a bull, THIS IS NOT HOW YOU SHOULD INTERACT WITH AN ACTUAL BULL. The colostomy bag taped to my side reminds me of this every three hours or so, depending on what I’ve eaten that day.
Robert E. Lee
I’d never heard of Robert E. Lee when I came across his statue, so I Googled him. I was exposed to a ton of Robert E. Lee’s quotes, which reflected his sentiments and those of his present-day supporters. Were it not for this statue, I wouldn’t have learned that the Confederacy actually won the Civil War, that most Americans want a White History Month, and that the earth isn’t flat—it’s a digital simulation. If this doesn’t serve as an example of what statues can teach Americans, I don’t know what will.