newyorker--2020-02-18--The Day the Music Became Carbon-Neutral

The Day the Music Became Carbon-Neutral

It ’ s exceptionally difficult to be a modern person without behaving in plainly contradictory ways .
I think about this whenever I find myself digging a sticky metal straw out of my backpack to responsibly sip some locally sourced orange juice before I board an airplane to California that will discharge several metric tons of carbon dioxide into the atmosphere .
It is true that every little gesture matters .
But it is also true that most of us are more likely to make small and showy sacrifices than to fully reorient our lives around inconvenient truths ; even @ @ @ @ @ @ @ eschew single-use plastics don ’ t always interrogate their other habits with the same fervor .
Travel is a particularly tangled indulgence .
It ’ s hard to deliver a convincing speech about the importance of moral action under late capitalism when you ’ ve never seen the Grand Canyon , or your mother is calling again to say that she really wants you home for Christmas dinner .
It ’ s also hard to coolly appraise your carbon footprint when your vocation demands that you spend a sizable portion of the year @ @ @ @ @ @ @ few decades , musicians have come to rely heavily on touring to generate revenue , and that means more travel , more concession stands , and more cars jammed into parking lots .
As glorious and life-affirming as live music can be , the magnitude of the enterprise—how much carbon a tour produces , how much waste a concert generates—can be troubling .
In November , Billie Eilish wore an enormous black T-shirt to the American Music Awards , with the phrase “ NO MUSIC ON A DEAD PLANET ” spelled out in @ @ @ @ @ @ @ an outline of lapping flames .
Earlier in November , Coldplay announced that it would not be touring in support of its most recent album , “ Everyday Life , ” because of environmental concerns .
( In 2016 and 2017 , the band played a hundred and twenty-two shows , on five different continents . )
In a recent piece for the Guardian , Robert Del Naja , the vocalist for Massive Attack , a British trip-hop band , said that he and his band mates had discussed ending touring altogether .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ as usual—regardless of its nature , high profile or popularity—is unacceptable , ” Del Naja wrote .
Refusing to tour is still financially possible for only very well established bands such as Coldplay .
Many younger or smaller artists are instead partnering with environmental organizations to help rethink how they do their jobs .
Last year , Massive Attack asked the Tyndall Centre for Climate Change Research , at the University of Manchester , to study the environmental impact of its typical tour cycle .
Carly McLachlan , the director of the Tyndall @ @ @ @ @ @ @ colleagues will be “ analyzing travel associated with the band , staff , and equipment , energy consumption at the venues , and audience travel ” from Massive Attack ’ s two most recent tour cycles .
“ The idea is to use the understanding we get from that analysis to play around with doing things differently so we can see where we could make the greatest impact , ” she said .
“ It ’ s about sharing ideas and experience and trying to catalyze change.
” In 2004 , Adam Gardner @ @ @ @ @ @ @ band Guster , and Lauren Sullivan , an environmentalist and community organizer , founded Reverb , a nonprofit that supports musicians looking to neutralize or at least lessen the environmental impact of their work .
Guster has been touring since the mid-nineties .
“ I remember talking to bands we were touring with at the time , like John Mayer and the Dave Matthews Band , ” Gardner said .
“ We all lamented the fact that our tours were harming the environment .
When I told Lauren about those conversations , and @ @ @ @ @ @ @ even begin thinking about being more green , she came up with the idea for Reverb.
” The organization helps artists in a variety of ways—including planning and staffing eco-villages where concertgoers can donate money for environmental causes and receive and refill reusable water bottles through a partnership with Nalgene—but its premier service involves embedding a trained Reverb staff member within a band ’ s preëxisting crew , with the exclusive purpose of handling the logistics associated with running an environmentally responsible tour .
“ Ditching disposables backstage and on buses , ” @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , biodiesel in buses and trucks , composting in catering , neutralizing carbon emissions , sourcing catering food from local farms , encouraging fans to carpool and take public transport , proper battery disposal and rechargeables , organic merchandise , encouraging venues to be more green : these are all things we help bands do.
” Reverb has worked on more than two hundred and fifty tours , for clients including Eilish , Shawn Mendes , Maroon 5 , Phish , the 1975 , Harry Styles , Pink , Fleetwood Mac , and @ @ @ @ @ @ @ length of the tour and the particulars of the approach , but Gardner said that it ’ s possible for the price to be entirely covered by fund-raising , partnerships with like-minded sponsors , foundational grants , or charity auctions .
It ’ s also possible for musicians to share the financial burden of environmental responsibility with their fans .
Dan Snaith , a composer and producer who records as Caribou , has partnered with PLUS1.org , a nonprofit founded by the indie-rock band Arcade Fire , which adds one dollar to every @ @ @ @ @ @ @ on how best to donate the money .
“ Over the past four years , our artists were mainly interested in supporting mental health , gender equality , and civil rights , with climate change much lower down the list , ” Marika Anthony-Shaw , a co-founder and the C.E.O .
of PLUS1 , said .
“ Now that list is looking much different , with climate justice right at the top .
There is obviously no easy or single solution or path forward for touring .
It ’ s going to require @ @ @ @ @ @ @ energy management , tour routings , travel requirements—as well as cultural and policy practice.
” Snaith said that he keeps running into the same problem : constant travel .
“ We ’ re still very much learning and researching , but I am not convinced that a compelling solution will be available , other than drastically reducing the amount of travel that we do , ” he said .
“ It seems to me that the only solution commensurate with the scale of the problem is fundamentally changing the way musicians work .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ reasonable that we ’ d play in Barcelona one day , London the next , and New York two days later .
And stop seeing it as reasonable that , at a big festival in Barcelona , fifty thousand out of the hundred thousand people there have flown from the U.K. to attend.
” The Canadian singer and songwriter Tamara Lindeman , who records as the Weather Station , admitted that she often feels helpless while trying to square the requirements of her job with its impact on the planet .
“ There @ @ @ @ @ @ @ to make touring sustainable or environmentally responsible , ” she told me recently .
“ Touring happens in vans and planes.
” She already has a no-plastic stipulation on her rider and invests in carbon offsets , and she plans to give up short-haul flights , but Lindeman nonetheless recognizes that those gestures are small .
“ To me , the situation of the touring musician—where , at best , you can shave something off your emissions , try and offset the rest , and still feel shitty about it—is very illustrative of @ @ @ @ @ @ @ she said .
“ The changes most people can make are limited by access and affordability .
We want to make big changes , and we ’ re often stuck with small ones .
”

It’s exceptionally difficult to be a modern person without behaving in plainly contradictory ways. I think about this whenever I find myself digging a sticky metal straw out of my backpack to responsibly sip some locally sourced orange juice before I board an airplane to California that will discharge several metric tons of carbon dioxide into the atmosphere. It is true that every little gesture matters. But it is also true that most of us are more likely to make small and showy sacrifices than to fully reorient our lives around inconvenient truths; even people who compost with zeal or devotedly eschew single-use plastics don’t always interrogate their other habits with the same fervor. Travel is a particularly tangled indulgence. It’s hard to deliver a convincing speech about the importance of moral action under late capitalism when you’ve never seen the Grand Canyon, or your mother is calling again to say that she really wants you home for Christmas dinner.
It’s also hard to coolly appraise your carbon footprint when your vocation demands that you spend a sizable portion of the year travelling the world. In the last few decades, musicians have come to rely heavily on touring to generate revenue, and that means more travel, more concession stands, and more cars jammed into parking lots. As glorious and life-affirming as live music can be, the magnitude of the enterprise—how much carbon a tour produces, how much waste a concert generates—can be troubling. In November, Billie Eilish wore an enormous black T-shirt to the American Music Awards, with the phrase “NO MUSIC ON A DEAD PLANET” spelled out in red rhinestones. Below the text was an outline of lapping flames.
Earlier in November, Coldplay announced that it would not be touring in support of its most recent album, “Everyday Life,” because of environmental concerns. (In 2016 and 2017, the band played a hundred and twenty-two shows, on five different continents.) In a recent piece for the Guardian, Robert Del Naja, the vocalist for Massive Attack, a British trip-hop band, said that he and his band mates had discussed ending touring altogether. “In an emergency context, business as usual—regardless of its nature, high profile or popularity—is unacceptable,” Del Naja wrote.
Refusing to tour is still financially possible for only very well established bands such as Coldplay. Many younger or smaller artists are instead partnering with environmental organizations to help rethink how they do their jobs. Last year, Massive Attack asked the Tyndall Centre for Climate Change Research, at the University of Manchester, to study the environmental impact of its typical tour cycle. Carly McLachlan, the director of the Tyndall Centre, said that she and her colleagues will be “analyzing travel associated with the band, staff, and equipment, energy consumption at the venues, and audience travel” from Massive Attack’s two most recent tour cycles. “The idea is to use the understanding we get from that analysis to play around with doing things differently so we can see where we could make the greatest impact,” she said. “It’s about sharing ideas and experience and trying to catalyze change.”
In 2004, Adam Gardner, a guitarist and vocalist in the band Guster, and Lauren Sullivan, an environmentalist and community organizer, founded Reverb, a nonprofit that supports musicians looking to neutralize or at least lessen the environmental impact of their work. Guster has been touring since the mid-nineties. “I remember talking to bands we were touring with at the time, like John Mayer and the Dave Matthews Band,” Gardner said. “We all lamented the fact that our tours were harming the environment. When I told Lauren about those conversations, and how hard it was for tours to even begin thinking about being more green, she came up with the idea for Reverb.”
The organization helps artists in a variety of ways—including planning and staffing eco-villages where concertgoers can donate money for environmental causes and receive and refill reusable water bottles through a partnership with Nalgene—but its premier service involves embedding a trained Reverb staff member within a band’s preëxisting crew, with the exclusive purpose of handling the logistics associated with running an environmentally responsible tour. “Ditching disposables backstage and on buses,” Gardner said, “greening hospitality riders, biodiesel in buses and trucks, composting in catering, neutralizing carbon emissions, sourcing catering food from local farms, encouraging fans to carpool and take public transport, proper battery disposal and rechargeables, organic merchandise, encouraging venues to be more green: these are all things we help bands do.” Reverb has worked on more than two hundred and fifty tours, for clients including Eilish, Shawn Mendes, Maroon 5, Phish, the 1975, Harry Styles, Pink, Fleetwood Mac, and others. The cost varies with the length of the tour and the particulars of the approach, but Gardner said that it’s possible for the price to be entirely covered by fund-raising, partnerships with like-minded sponsors, foundational grants, or charity auctions.
It’s also possible for musicians to share the financial burden of environmental responsibility with their fans. Dan Snaith, a composer and producer who records as Caribou, has partnered with PLUS1.org, a nonprofit founded by the indie-rock band Arcade Fire, which adds one dollar to every ticket sold and then consults with artists on how best to donate the money. “Over the past four years, our artists were mainly interested in supporting mental health, gender equality, and civil rights, with climate change much lower down the list,” Marika Anthony-Shaw, a co-founder and the C.E.O. of PLUS1, said. “Now that list is looking much different, with climate justice right at the top. There is obviously no easy or single solution or path forward for touring. It’s going to require a big shift in industry practice—production, energy management, tour routings, travel requirements—as well as cultural and policy practice.”
Snaith said that he keeps running into the same problem: constant travel. “We’re still very much learning and researching, but I am not convinced that a compelling solution will be available, other than drastically reducing the amount of travel that we do,” he said. “It seems to me that the only solution commensurate with the scale of the problem is fundamentally changing the way musicians work. We have to stop seeing it as reasonable that we’d play in Barcelona one day, London the next, and New York two days later. And stop seeing it as reasonable that, at a big festival in Barcelona, fifty thousand out of the hundred thousand people there have flown from the U.K. to attend.”
The Canadian singer and songwriter Tamara Lindeman, who records as the Weather Station, admitted that she often feels helpless while trying to square the requirements of her job with its impact on the planet. “There’s no way I can see to make touring sustainable or environmentally responsible,” she told me recently. “Touring happens in vans and planes.” She already has a no-plastic stipulation on her rider and invests in carbon offsets, and she plans to give up short-haul flights, but Lindeman nonetheless recognizes that those gestures are small. “To me, the situation of the touring musician—where, at best, you can shave something off your emissions, try and offset the rest, and still feel shitty about it—is very illustrative of the situation as a whole,” she said. “The changes most people can make are limited by access and affordability. We want to make big changes, and we’re often stuck with small ones.”
Tour itineraries aren’t always logical documents. In the summer, especially, artists tend to plan their routes around lucrative festivals, such as Glastonbury, which draws around two hundred thousand people daily, or Coachella, which hosts about ninety-nine thousand each day. Most major festivals now have sustainability initiatives in place; Glastonbury recently banned single-use plastic bottles and allows only compostable or reusable plates and cutlery. But nobody has really figured out how to do anything about all the waste generated (Coachella produces around a hundred and seven tons of garbage a day, twenty per cent of which can be recycled) or, more urgently, all the travel involved in getting performers and fans to what is often a semirural area, without a significant public-transportation infrastructure.
In 2019, Unsound, an underground music-and-visual-arts festival held annually in Kraków, Poland, joined with the Aeris Futuro Foundation to estimate the festival’s total carbon emissions, with the idea of planting enough trees to help offset the event’s environmental impact. (Carbon offsets refer to an investment in some kind of technology or practice—often reforestation—that aids in the reduction of carbon-dioxide emissions.) The foundation estimated the over-all carbon footprint of the festival at 943,472 kilograms of CO 2 , an estimate based on “the travel of the audience members, artists, guests and media, as well as overall usage of energy and resources to produce the festival.” (The “vast majority” of the emissions resulted from artists and audience members flying to Kraków.) Attendees could then make a donation to the carbon-offset fund, based on their point of origin—if you flew to Kraków from Sydney, Australia, you would be asked to buy forty-four plants, whereas if you arrived from Kyiv, you would be asked to buy three plants, and so on. Offsets are appealing in part because the transaction is simple. But they offer their purchasers a dangerous sense of acquittal—buy this and you are instantly absolved of culpability. “My personal view is that bands should move away from the idea of getting to ‘carbon-neutral’ by buying offsets and instead commit to working toward really low emissions levels,” McLachlan told me.
Last year, four scholars—Matt Brennan, Jo Collinson Scott, Angela Connelley, and Gemma Lawrence—from universities throughout the U.K. published a paper titled “Do Music Festival Communities Address Environmental Sustainability and How? A Scottish Case Study” in the academic journal Popular Music. The authors were interested in analyzing how music festivals consider issues of sustainability, but they also wanted to raise questions about pervasive greenwashing—any small gesture that, like the purchasing of an offset, might stop attendees and performers from addressing more complex issues—and the vague hypocrisy inherent to the entire enterprise.
“Since its early days in the 1960s, pop music festival culture has been concerned with the practice or at least rhetoric of care, nurture and environmentalism,” they wrote. “Festivals derive cultural cachet from their historic association with environmental utopianism and the attraction of ‘getting back to the garden’ (to paraphrase Joni Mitchell), but more often festival sites vividly dramatise the difficulty of living sustainably—a challenge that is all the more visible when rural landscapes are temporarily transformed into festival communities.”


newyorker--2020-02-18--The Party Raiders of South Carolina

The Party Raiders of South Carolina

Twelve years ago , Rush Limbaugh , who had not yet received the Presidential Medal of Freedom , urged the listeners of his enormously popular and very conservative talk-radio show to vote for Hillary Clinton in the Democratic primaries .
In the patchwork process that is employed to nominate Presidential candidates , more than a dozen states have open primaries , which allow registered voters to participate in either contest .
Limbaugh wanted Clinton ’ s close but seemingly losing fight with Barack Obama to go on for as long as possible , on the theory that a protracted battle @ @ @ @ @ @ @ called the plan Operation Chaos .
Limbaugh didn ’ t think that Clinton was necessarily the weaker of the two candidates—in fact , he ultimately concluded that Obama was ; by May , 2008 , he was pushing his fans to vote for the senator from Illinois .
“ Barack Obama has shown he can not get the votes Democrats need to win—blue-collar , working-class people , ” Limbaugh said .
“ He can get effete snobs , he can get wealthy academics , he can get the young , and he can @ @ @ @ @ @ @ do not win with that.
” Karen Martin , a freelance editor and pet-sitter who lives in Spartanburg , South Carolina , believes that her plan is more strategic than chaotic .
Martin is the creator of Trump 2-29 , which is encouraging Republicans to vote for Bernie Sanders in the state ’ s upcoming Democratic primary , on February 29th .
“ We ’ re really mad , ” Martin told me recently , referring to her fellow-conservatives .
“ Mad at how our President has been treated for the past several @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ” Voting for Trump isn ’ t an option : South Carolina ’ s Republican primary was cancelled in October , out of deference to the President .
( “ With no legitimate primary challenger and President Trump ’ s record of results , the decision was made to save South Carolina taxpayers over $ 1.2 million and forgo an unnecessary primary , ” South Carolina ’ s G.O.P .
chairman , Drew McKissick , announced in a statement at the time .
A former Republican state representative sued to block the cancellation @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ’ s former Vice-President , Joe Biden , was expected to perform well in South Carolina ; Martin wanted to vote for someone who could ruin it for him .
As Iowa neared , she said , “ We decided it ’ ll be Bernie.
” Martin doubts that Sanders will ultimately be the Democrats ’ nominee—though , if that happens , “ It would be a great lesson in American Civics 101 , ” she said , adding , “ To have those final debates be between an avowed socialist and a @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Trump does , that would be really a contrast to see .
Bernie makes it poetic.
” The South Carolina Republican Party has no official involvement in Martin ’ s efforts , but it hasn ’ t discouraged them , either .
The executive director of the South Carolina G.O.P.
, Hope Walker , issued a statement acknowledging the existence of “ activists that may decide to participate in the open Democratic Presidential Preference Primary ” and explaining that the Party “ has taken no official stand on this matter.
” Meanwhile , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Greenville County Republican Party , told the Charleston Post and Courier , “ I think we can easily affect the outcome .
This is going to catch on like wildfire.
” Leupp told me that he had talked not only to local activists but to the five other upstate-county G.O.P .
chairmen about the plan ; they concluded that it would be best for “ the grassroots activists to make this push , ” he said .
( The Post and Courier story mentioned a planned press conference ; after the story ran @ @ @ @ @ @ @ so much attention that “ we didn ’ t need a conference at that point.
” ) Independently from Martin , a political and public-relations consultant from Greenville named Christopher Sullivan has launched a campaign that nods more explicitly to Limbaugh ’ s influence : Operation Chaos 2020 .
“ We ’ ve put up a Web site , and we ’ re doing some digital work and communicating with our members and supporters , ” he told me .
Operation Chaos 2020 flyers were handed out at a Party meeting and garnered @ @ @ @ @ @ @ radio advertising , too , Sullivan said .
Both the flyers and the Web site note that the effort is a project of the Conservative Defense Fund , the name of which may suggest a large organization ; Sullivan is the chair of the group and , he said , its only full-time employee .
( Karen Martin told me , of her own campaign , “ The other day somebody asked , ‘ So how much money is behind this effort ?
’ And I had to laugh .
It ’ s @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ” ) But Sullivan is optimistic that even a modestly funded campaign could have real effects .
He noted that , in South Carolina primaries , Republicans typically turn out at twice the numbers of Democrats—so even a small percentage of Republican crossover voters could be decisive in a reasonably close race .
Unlike Martin , Sullivan is not pushing any particular candidate .
“ One of the things is that the Democratic primary is in such disarray of their own making that it ’ s kind of hard , even at this @ @ @ @ @ @ @ candidate is gon na be the best one to choose , ” he said .
“ Six weeks ago , Joe Biden was the front-runner , and everybody was saying he was assured of the nomination .
And now he ’ s dropping like a rock .
It might be the best vote would be to prop up Joe Biden.
” Sullivan set up a poll on the Operation Chaos 2020 Web site asking “ which crazy Democrat candidate ” participants in the operation should vote for .
Late last week , Sanders @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , over the weekend , thousands of new votes came in for Elizabeth Warren .
“ I think her socialist policies would be a big loser in the general election , so I can see why Republicans would want her to be at the top of the ticket , ” Sullivan told me .
It may be that deciding which candidate is the least likely to beat Trump is no easier than deciding which is most likely to do so .
The kind of voting that Martin and Sullivan are pushing for is @ @ @ @ @ @ @ has been around for a long time .
Measuring its effect is difficult , but it is usually thought to be very small .
( In 2008 , when Limbaugh was pushing Clinton , some Obama supporters were convinced that bad-faith Republican voters had won the Indiana primary for her , but this was disputed . )
That said , South Carolina in 2020 is a “ perfect storm of crossover-voting incentives , ” according to Josh Putnam , a political scientist based in Wilmington , North Carolina , who runs the election-consulting @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the earliness of the primary and the absence of a G.O.P .
contest in the state and noted that , in South Carolina , unlike in many other states , primary participants don ’ t have to publicly proclaim that they belong to the party whose primary they are voting in .
It may not hurt that President Trump has openly encouraged party raiding : at a rally in Manchester the night before the New Hampshire primary , Trump said , “ So I hear a lot of Republicans tomorrow will vote for @ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
Does that make sense ?
You people wouldn ’ t do that !
” ( New Hampshire has a semi-open primary : those who are not registered as a member of a party can vote in either race . )
Trump added , “ My only problem is I ’ m trying to figure who is their weakest candidate—I think they ’ re all weak !
” The South Carolina effort “ has the potential to not only affect the race but how the field of candidates continues to winnow , ” @ @ @ @ @ @ @ variable is promotion.
” Martin has been trying to spread the word on Facebook , where , on the official Trump 2-29 page , you can see debates about the plan unfold in real time .
“ Bernie is leading in the polls , ” a Charleston resident named Sheri Irwin wrote .
“ Why on earth would we vote for him ?
” A man named Paul Fallavollita responded by highlighting South Carolina ’ s importance to Biden , adding , “ A lot of corporations and banks have said they ’ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Democratic Party if Bernie is the nominee .
Here ’ s an opportunity to starve them of funds .
Plus , if Bernie wins most of the primaries and the DNC cheats him , his voters will stay home in November.
” Irwin wasn ’ t convinced .
“ This is how we got the usurper Obama , ” she wrote .
Then another South Carolina voter , Clark Mccauley , chimed in .
“ Democrat party don ’ t want Bernie that ’ s why we need to vote for him , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the craziest.
” Lisa S. Marie wasn ’ t sold .
“ Good to know that the Tea Party is now pro abortion and for socialism , ” she commented .
“ Good luck selling that !
”

Twelve years ago, Rush Limbaugh, who had not yet received the Presidential Medal of Freedom, urged the listeners of his enormously popular and very conservative talk-radio show to vote for Hillary Clinton in the Democratic primaries. In the patchwork process that is employed to nominate Presidential candidates, more than a dozen states have open primaries, which allow registered voters to participate in either contest. Limbaugh wanted Clinton’s close but seemingly losing fight with Barack Obama to go on for as long as possible, on the theory that a protracted battle would weaken the eventual nominee. He called the plan Operation Chaos. Limbaugh didn’t think that Clinton was necessarily the weaker of the two candidates—in fact, he ultimately concluded that Obama was; by May, 2008, he was pushing his fans to vote for the senator from Illinois. “Barack Obama has shown he cannot get the votes Democrats need to win—blue-collar, working-class people,” Limbaugh said. “He can get effete snobs, he can get wealthy academics, he can get the young, and he can get the black vote, but Democrats do not win with that.”
Karen Martin, a freelance editor and pet-sitter who lives in Spartanburg, South Carolina, believes that her plan is more strategic than chaotic. Martin is the creator of Trump 2-29, which is encouraging Republicans to vote for Bernie Sanders in the state’s upcoming Democratic primary, on February 29th. “We’re really mad,” Martin told me recently, referring to her fellow-conservatives. “Mad at how our President has been treated for the past several years and wanting to do something now.” Voting for Trump isn’t an option: South Carolina’s Republican primary was cancelled in October, out of deference to the President. (“With no legitimate primary challenger and President Trump’s record of results, the decision was made to save South Carolina taxpayers over $1.2 million and forgo an unnecessary primary,” South Carolina’s G.O.P. chairman, Drew McKissick, announced in a statement at the time. A former Republican state representative sued to block the cancellation but lost in court.) Obama’s former Vice-President, Joe Biden, was expected to perform well in South Carolina; Martin wanted to vote for someone who could ruin it for him. As Iowa neared, she said, “We decided it’ll be Bernie.” Martin doubts that Sanders will ultimately be the Democrats’ nominee—though, if that happens, “It would be a great lesson in American Civics 101,” she said, adding, “To have those final debates be between an avowed socialist and a capitalist with the economic record that President Trump does, that would be really a contrast to see. Bernie makes it poetic.”
The South Carolina Republican Party has no official involvement in Martin’s efforts, but it hasn’t discouraged them, either. The executive director of the South Carolina G.O.P., Hope Walker, issued a statement acknowledging the existence of “activists that may decide to participate in the open Democratic Presidential Preference Primary” and explaining that the Party “has taken no official stand on this matter.” Meanwhile, Nathan Leupp, the chairman of the Greenville County Republican Party, told the Charleston Post and Courier, “I think we can easily affect the outcome. This is going to catch on like wildfire.” Leupp told me that he had talked not only to local activists but to the five other upstate-county G.O.P. chairmen about the plan; they concluded that it would be best for “the grassroots activists to make this push,” he said. (The Post and Courier story mentioned a planned press conference; after the story ran, Leupp said, the effort got so much attention that “we didn’t need a conference at that point.”)
Independently from Martin, a political and public-relations consultant from Greenville named Christopher Sullivan has launched a campaign that nods more explicitly to Limbaugh’s influence: Operation Chaos 2020. “We’ve put up a Web site, and we’re doing some digital work and communicating with our members and supporters,” he told me. Operation Chaos 2020 flyers were handed out at a Party meeting and garnered some attention on Twitter—there are plans for radio advertising, too, Sullivan said. Both the flyers and the Web site note that the effort is a project of the Conservative Defense Fund, the name of which may suggest a large organization; Sullivan is the chair of the group and, he said, its only full-time employee. (Karen Martin told me, of her own campaign, “The other day somebody asked, ‘So how much money is behind this effort?’ And I had to laugh. It’s when I can, in between dog-walking.”) But Sullivan is optimistic that even a modestly funded campaign could have real effects. He noted that, in South Carolina primaries, Republicans typically turn out at twice the numbers of Democrats—so even a small percentage of Republican crossover voters could be decisive in a reasonably close race.
Unlike Martin, Sullivan is not pushing any particular candidate. “One of the things is that the Democratic primary is in such disarray of their own making that it’s kind of hard, even at this late date, to know exactly which candidate is gonna be the best one to choose,” he said. “Six weeks ago, Joe Biden was the front-runner, and everybody was saying he was assured of the nomination. And now he’s dropping like a rock. It might be the best vote would be to prop up Joe Biden.” Sullivan set up a poll on the Operation Chaos 2020 Web site asking “which crazy Democrat candidate” participants in the operation should vote for. Late last week, Sanders was winning in a landslide, but, over the weekend, thousands of new votes came in for Elizabeth Warren. “I think her socialist policies would be a big loser in the general election, so I can see why Republicans would want her to be at the top of the ticket,” Sullivan told me. It may be that deciding which candidate is the least likely to beat Trump is no easier than deciding which is most likely to do so.
The kind of voting that Martin and Sullivan are pushing for is often called party raiding, and it has been around for a long time. Measuring its effect is difficult, but it is usually thought to be very small. (In 2008, when Limbaugh was pushing Clinton, some Obama supporters were convinced that bad-faith Republican voters had won the Indiana primary for her, but this was disputed.) That said, South Carolina in 2020 is a “perfect storm of crossover-voting incentives,” according to Josh Putnam, a political scientist based in Wilmington, North Carolina, who runs the election-consulting firm FHQ Strategies. Putnam pointed to the earliness of the primary and the absence of a G.O.P. contest in the state and noted that, in South Carolina, unlike in many other states, primary participants don’t have to publicly proclaim that they belong to the party whose primary they are voting in. It may not hurt that President Trump has openly encouraged party raiding: at a rally in Manchester the night before the New Hampshire primary, Trump said, “So I hear a lot of Republicans tomorrow will vote for the weakest candidate possible of the Democrats. Does that make sense? You people wouldn’t do that!” (New Hampshire has a semi-open primary: those who are not registered as a member of a party can vote in either race.) Trump added, “My only problem is I’m trying to figure who is their weakest candidate—I think they’re all weak!” The South Carolina effort “has the potential to not only affect the race but how the field of candidates continues to winnow,” Putnam said. “The final remaining variable is promotion.”
Martin has been trying to spread the word on Facebook, where, on the official Trump 2-29 page, you can see debates about the plan unfold in real time. “Bernie is leading in the polls,” a Charleston resident named Sheri Irwin wrote. “Why on earth would we vote for him?” A man named Paul Fallavollita responded by highlighting South Carolina’s importance to Biden, adding, “A lot of corporations and banks have said they’ll pull their donations away from the Democratic Party if Bernie is the nominee. Here’s an opportunity to starve them of funds. Plus, if Bernie wins most of the primaries and the DNC cheats him, his voters will stay home in November.” Irwin wasn’t convinced. “This is how we got the usurper Obama,” she wrote. Then another South Carolina voter, Clark Mccauley, chimed in. “Democrat party don’t want Bernie that’s why we need to vote for him,” he wrote. “He is the craziest.” Lisa S. Marie wasn’t sold. “Good to know that the Tea Party is now pro abortion and for socialism,” she commented. “Good luck selling that!”
Marie is not the only South Carolina conservative who simply can’t stomach voting for someone whose views diverge so sharply from her own, regardless of the potential payoff. Hal Roach, a fifty-eight-year-old lawyer in Greenville, told me that he had friends who were originally “on board to vote for Bernie, but, after looking at some of these debates, they’re saying, ‘They’re all crazy, and there’s no way I can possibly and in good conscience ever vote for anybody up there,’ ” even to help Trump. Still, most Republicans, he believes, are less conflicted about crossing over than they are about who to choose. “Do you pick the most sane—the least crazy, as I view it—Democratic nominee?” he said. “For me, that would be Amy Klobuchar. Or do you pick the biggest whack job—that’s one of my favorite words—who I believe to be Bernie.” Roach has settled on Sanders.
Gaye Holt, a “very conservative, Christian-based Republican” who works for a family-owned screen-printing business in Greer, first heard about the Trump 2-29 effort on Facebook and has been fully convinced by the case for Sanders. “I think he’s a Communist, a Marxist,” she told me. “He wants to give everything for free and have no capitalism in America, even though he flies around on his private jets and town cars.” Holt also told me that she had seen the Democrats doing their own party raiding during a previous election. In the 2012 Republican primary, she was a poll worker, she said, and one of her jobs was to ask those who showed up which primary they had arrived to vote in. “A number of people said they wanted to vote in the Democratic primary,” she recalled. “And I would explain, ‘Well, there’s no Democratic primary today, there’s only a Republican’ ”—that year, the two contests were scheduled a week apart—“and their response, every single time, was ‘Oh, I want to vote for Rick Santorum,’ ” the former Republican senator from Pennsylvania. She added, “Not to judge anyone, but I knew these people were not Republicans.” Holt is convinced that these people had been “guided by someone” to vote for Santorum, “because he would be the easiest for Obama to beat.” If this reflected a concerted effort, it was not a successful one: in 2012, Newt Gingrich won the state’s Republican primary. Santorum finished third.
Among the reasons that party raiding is unlikely to have a tremendous effect on the Democratic nomination is that, in most states, including South Carolina, the Party awards delegates proportionally, according to the percentage of the vote received. (The Republican race, on the other hand, features many winner-take-all states.) When Clinton eked out a win over Obama in Indiana, in 2008, Obama still received thirty-four of the state’s seventy-two pledged delegates.
But Martin emphasized that upending the Democrats’ nominating process is, for her, a secondary goal. Martin is an organizer for the Spartanburg Tea Party and a former member of the South Carolina Republican Platform Committee, and she has been advocating for closed primaries for more than a decade. “Anytime a Democrat comes and votes in a primary that I’m also voting in, my vote is diluted,” she told me. “So it’s a very personal thing. It impacts who represents me.” Sullivan, the consultant, is also in favor of closed primaries, as is Leupp, the Greenville G.O.P. chair. “I go to a Baptist church,” Leupp told me. “When we go to pick a new minister, my Methodist, Lutheran, Catholic, and Mormon friends shouldn’t have a say.” He went on, “This Democratic primary has brought attention to something we feel needs to be changed. If it also disrupts the Democrats, so be it.”
In this respect, at least, the campaigns led by Martin and Sullivan have already made some headway. The state senator Marlon Kimpson, a Democrat who represents Charleston, has introduced a bill to end open primaries in South Carolina, and he cited Republican efforts to vote in the 2020 Democratic primary in his argument for the legislation. Martin posted a video of Kimpson’s remarks on Facebook, writing, “LOOK! Listen! this is what our Trump 2-29 Campaign activists have accomplished in just the first few days . . . Welcome to the team Senator Marlon Kimpson!”
“This is not targeted at the dissatisfied Republicans who are in good faith voting in our primary this time,” Kimpson told me. “It’s designed to send a message to the people who want to unfairly influence our process by voting for the weaker candidate.” Kimpson agrees with Martin about who that is. “The Party is searching for a moderate candidate, and Bernie has seized on the division in the Party. But, by every indication, a democratic socialist is problematic. I think the national data bears that out.” In a recent Gallup poll, a majority of Americans said that they wouldn’t vote for a socialist—but Sanders comes out ahead of Trump in an average of head-to-head national polls and has performed better in such polls than most of his Democratic competitors. (Sanders, who is running as a Democrat for the Presidency but is still an Independent in the Senate, has also expressed support, in the past, for open primaries, in which he has often done well.) It’s possible that conservative party raiders, like Limbaugh twelve years ago, have too much confidence in their political forecasting. As for the likelihood of his bill passing, Kimpson said, “I’ve asked for an expedited hearing. I don’t know that the judiciary chairman will give it to me. We’ll be talking this week.” He doubts that it will be addressed before February 29th.


newyorker--2020-02-18--“Hunters” Is a Spectacularly Misbegotten Tale of Avenging the Holocaust

The Amazon series “ Hunters , ” created by David Weil , imagines that a band of German Nazi loyalists escaped prosecution for their crimes and infiltrated American society , and that the detection of them has fallen , in 1977 , to a scrappy collection of vigilantes .
Spectacularly misbegotten , the series , which employs frequent flashbacks to death camps , strives to gratify our thirst for justice by lingering on the torture of the villains , and to complicate our understanding of revenge by flinging around loose strands of philosophy .
We are introduced to our young @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , exits a first-run screening of “ Star Wars , ” puffs on a joint , and discourses on morality .
“ Vader doesn ’ t get up every day looking to destroy the galaxy , no—no !
He gets up every morning believing he needs to save it , ” he says , and proceeds to cite some ethically dubious deeds valorized within D.C. Comics .
“ The only difference between a hero and a villain is who sells more costumes on Halloween.
” This is Jonah Heidelbaum ( Logan Lerman ) @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , Ruth , who survived Auschwitz .
Jonah is a period-piece cool kid , with a job at a comic-book shop and a side hustle selling weed .
There ’ s a Patti Smith poster above his bed , Farrah Fawcett on the cover of his TV Guide , and many carefully chosen pop artifacts strewn about his room , along with correspondence bearing the letterheads of Harvard and Yale .
We presume these to be acceptance letters unaccompanied by financial-aid offers .
“ You don ’ t think I wan na be @ @ @ @ @ @ @ t afford , actually making something of myself ?
” Jonah asks his bubbe , after she busts him with a knapsack full of pot , which he failed to sell to a floridly anti-Semitic peer .
She insists that he is wasting his gifts , telling him , “ You see things no one else can.
” This foreshadows hokey moments in which , say , every eighth letter on a typewritten page will go luminous with special effects to relay Jonah ’ s native genius for cryptography .
Jonah witnesses Ruth @ @ @ @ @ @ @ a shadowy intruder who escapes down a back alley .
Parallels to the formative trauma of Bruce Wayne are swiftly drawn .
Jonah settles under the wing of the successful Meyer Offerman ( Al Pacino ) , with whom Ruth had been working , for a year or so , to ferret out the Nazis and administer thematically appropriate vengeance .
( For instance , their team adjusts the plumbing in the bathroom of a onetime chemist in order to gas her in her shower . )
The show is a pastiche of @ @ @ @ @ @ @ rudimentary meta-analysis , and Meyer soon talks to Jonah about the story of his whale-swallowed namesake .
“ You should read the Torah more , ” Meyer says .
“ It is the original comic book.
” “ Hunters ” wants to hit you over the head with a Ben Day-dot the size of a frying pan .
Pacino ’ s Offerman , with his large Yiddish accent , is almost a figure of fond caricature , and “ Hunters ” has no fear of corniness .
The squad of Nazi-hunters , their @ @ @ @ @ @ @ of Quentin Tarantino , includes a Foxy Brown knockoff , a Bruce Lee stand-in , and a moustached ladies ’ man in the “ Anchorman ” mold .
( The third of these is foremost among the many characters who are saddled with underscoring the seventies-ness of the proceedings .
Inspecting a restaurant where villains were suspected to rendezvous , he says , “ This place is more exposed than the bathroom at Studio 54 .
Hard to believe Nazis were meeting here.
” ) Nonetheless , Pacino resists pushing his performance into @ @ @ @ @ @ @ want to suppose that his restraint is a function of his boredom .
While the hunters hunt , the Nazis scheme , and you sit back and detest them .
Biff Simpson ( Dylan Baker ) has infiltrated the State Department , and he opens the series by putting a bullet in every head at a back-yard barbecue .
To clean up the mess , he calls Travis Leich ( Greg Austin ) , a young American devoted to the cause .
Travis struts around oozing existential menace .
The excesses of this @ @ @ @ @ @ @ of “ Mein Herr , ” from “ Cabaret , ” and who bullies a black woman at a laundromat with a line about separating colors and whites—constitute the show ’ s great success at justifying its over-the-top tone .
All the while , there are those flashbacks to the death camps .
“ Hunters ” skims over the most common atrocities to focus on baroque instances of sadism , as when one Nazi officer executes members of a chorus , one by one , for singing poorly during a performance piped live @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ( In the America of “ Hunters , ” this Nazi becomes a big-time record producer ; interrogating him , his pursuers tie him up in his home studio and play a Chuck Berry song at a volume that makes his ears literally bleed . )
The mashup of pop fantasy and world history deadens the former and debases the latter .
It doesn ’ t help that Jonah , in his grief , begins seeing visions of his grandmother as a young woman .
At one point , Jonah and his pals @ @ @ @ @ @ @ and the lightness of the moment is conveyed by a dance sequence set to the Bee Gees ’ “ Stayin ’ Alive ” ; the moment is broken when he sees Ruth , in her prison stripes and yellow star , glumly standing near the Wonder Wheel .
What I felt , in this moment , was an inkling of what it might have been like to see Jerry Lewis ’ s unreleasable Holocaust film , “ The Day the Clown Cried.
” Neither the moral deliberations of “ Hunters ” nor its @ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
When Jonah is seized by feelings of guilt , the show sends him rushing to the bathroom to scrub Nazi blood from his cuticles .
The action sequences are flat , the fist fights blandly choreographed .
When an F.B.I .
agent investigates a suspected Third Reich doctor , she opens the top drawer of the man ’ s desk to discover an Iron Cross , a stethoscope decorated with a swastika , and a box filled with human teeth , right there , where you might expect the Scotch tape to @ @ @ @ @ @ @ inappropriate for children , but it seems constructed to entertain adults who think on their level .

The Amazon series “Hunters,” created by David Weil, imagines that a band of German Nazi loyalists escaped prosecution for their crimes and infiltrated American society, and that the detection of them has fallen, in 1977, to a scrappy collection of vigilantes. Spectacularly misbegotten, the series, which employs frequent flashbacks to death camps, strives to gratify our thirst for justice by lingering on the torture of the villains, and to complicate our understanding of revenge by flinging around loose strands of philosophy. We are introduced to our young hero as he, flanked by chums, exits a first-run screening of “Star Wars,” puffs on a joint, and discourses on morality. “Vader doesn’t get up every day looking to destroy the galaxy, no—no! He gets up every morning believing he needs to save it,” he says, and proceeds to cite some ethically dubious deeds valorized within D.C. Comics. “The only difference between a hero and a villain is who sells more costumes on Halloween.”
This is Jonah Heidelbaum (Logan Lerman), an orphan raised by his grandmother, Ruth, who survived Auschwitz. Jonah is a period-piece cool kid, with a job at a comic-book shop and a side hustle selling weed. There’s a Patti Smith poster above his bed, Farrah Fawcett on the cover of his TV Guide, and many carefully chosen pop artifacts strewn about his room, along with correspondence bearing the letterheads of Harvard and Yale. We presume these to be acceptance letters unaccompanied by financial-aid offers. “You don’t think I wanna be at a Wasp college we can’t afford, actually making something of myself?” Jonah asks his bubbe, after she busts him with a knapsack full of pot, which he failed to sell to a floridly anti-Semitic peer. She insists that he is wasting his gifts, telling him, “You see things no one else can.” This foreshadows hokey moments in which, say, every eighth letter on a typewritten page will go luminous with special effects to relay Jonah’s native genius for cryptography.
Jonah witnesses Ruth’s murder at the hands of a shadowy intruder who escapes down a back alley. Parallels to the formative trauma of Bruce Wayne are swiftly drawn. Jonah settles under the wing of the successful Meyer Offerman (Al Pacino), with whom Ruth had been working, for a year or so, to ferret out the Nazis and administer thematically appropriate vengeance. (For instance, their team adjusts the plumbing in the bathroom of a onetime chemist in order to gas her in her shower.) The show is a pastiche of folktale and pop fantasy glued together with rudimentary meta-analysis, and Meyer soon talks to Jonah about the story of his whale-swallowed namesake. “You should read the Torah more,” Meyer says. “It is the original comic book.” “Hunters” wants to hit you over the head with a Ben Day-dot the size of a frying pan.
Pacino’s Offerman, with his large Yiddish accent, is almost a figure of fond caricature, and “Hunters” has no fear of corniness. The squad of Nazi-hunters, their vibe shamelessly appropriated from the grindhouse style of Quentin Tarantino, includes a Foxy Brown knockoff, a Bruce Lee stand-in, and a moustached ladies’ man in the “Anchorman” mold. (The third of these is foremost among the many characters who are saddled with underscoring the seventies-ness of the proceedings. Inspecting a restaurant where villains were suspected to rendezvous, he says, “This place is more exposed than the bathroom at Studio 54. Hard to believe Nazis were meeting here.”) Nonetheless, Pacino resists pushing his performance into a realm of gravel-throated kitsch. I want to suppose that his restraint is a function of his boredom.
While the hunters hunt, the Nazis scheme, and you sit back and detest them. Biff Simpson (Dylan Baker) has infiltrated the State Department, and he opens the series by putting a bullet in every head at a back-yard barbecue. To clean up the mess, he calls Travis Leich (Greg Austin), a young American devoted to the cause. Travis struts around oozing existential menace. The excesses of this character—who enters the show to the strains of “Mein Herr,” from “Cabaret,” and who bullies a black woman at a laundromat with a line about separating colors and whites—constitute the show’s great success at justifying its over-the-top tone.
All the while, there are those flashbacks to the death camps. “Hunters” skims over the most common atrocities to focus on baroque instances of sadism, as when one Nazi officer executes members of a chorus, one by one, for singing poorly during a performance piped live into the prison yard at Buchenwald. (In the America of “Hunters,” this Nazi becomes a big-time record producer; interrogating him, his pursuers tie him up in his home studio and play a Chuck Berry song at a volume that makes his ears literally bleed.) The mashup of pop fantasy and world history deadens the former and debases the latter. It doesn’t help that Jonah, in his grief, begins seeing visions of his grandmother as a young woman. At one point, Jonah and his pals smoke a joint at Coney Island, and the lightness of the moment is conveyed by a dance sequence set to the Bee Gees’ “Stayin’ Alive”; the moment is broken when he sees Ruth, in her prison stripes and yellow star, glumly standing near the Wonder Wheel. What I felt, in this moment, was an inkling of what it might have been like to see Jerry Lewis’s unreleasable Holocaust film, “The Day the Clown Cried.”
Neither the moral deliberations of “Hunters” nor its technical prowess are adequate to its ambitions. When Jonah is seized by feelings of guilt, the show sends him rushing to the bathroom to scrub Nazi blood from his cuticles. The action sequences are flat, the fist fights blandly choreographed. When an F.B.I. agent investigates a suspected Third Reich doctor, she opens the top drawer of the man’s desk to discover an Iron Cross, a stethoscope decorated with a swastika, and a box filled with human teeth, right there, where you might expect the Scotch tape to be. “Hunters” is clearly inappropriate for children, but it seems constructed to entertain adults who think on their level.


newyorker--2020-02-18--A Celebrity Profile of My Cat

A Celebrity Profile of My Cat

I am led into the quaint living room of Honeybear ’ s rustic Santa Monica bungalow , where she sits by the window , her gimlet eyes scanning the bushes beyond the glass .
“ Just keep looking , ” she whispers—a mottled bloom of calico perched on the edge of a peacock couch .
I ’ m rapt in suspense and more than a little nervous .
It isn ’ t every day that you get to see life through the eyes of what many critics attest is the prettiest cat on her street .
“ There , ” @ @ @ @ @ @ @ jay alights on the terra-cotta vase tastefully placed beside the front door .
“ I see him sometimes.
” It ’ s only been a year since Honeybear first graced the bluffs of this picturesque beach city , but she ’ s already garnering glowing reviews .
Stu the mailman recently proclaimed , “ Such a beautiful cat !
” And a little girl on her way to school raved , “ Look !
Fluffy !
” Naturally , I expected that the interview would be conducted over bespoke cocktails at Fia or @ @ @ @ @ @ @ would invite me into her home .
Over the past twelve months , Honeybear has been decidedly camera-shy , rarely stepping out to field questions from the press .
“ I ’ m not a recluse , ” she explains with a whip of her lustrous tail .
“ It ’ s just , I had this .
.
.
it ’ s kind of hard to talk about.
” She pauses , partly owing to the gravity of the moment , partly owing to the sound of a lozenge wrapper crinkling in @ @ @ @ @ @ @ time , she describes her private struggle with fleas .
“ I love the outdoors .
Especially the parts where the grass is , because I like to eat the grass.
” I nod—who doesn ’ t ?
She continues , “ it ’ s not something I thought would happen to me , but I ’ ve realized that it ’ s a problem a lot of cats grapple with .
Anyway , I ’ m on meds now and am doing a lot better.
” She is .
So much so @ @ @ @ @ @ @ on the patio .
And I ’ m here to witness her triumphant return .
We step outside and I ’ m happy to see it ’ s a slow day for onlookers—two crows at the most .
Honeybear effortlessly spreads out on a wicker love seat , embracing the weathered teal cushion like an old friend .
“ I like this one the best because it ’ s dirty and has the most weird smells .
I like weird smells.
” Somehow , in spite of all her success , she never @ @ @ @ @ @ @ What keeps her motivated ?
Everything .
“ I really feel that the key to life is a curious mind .
And crane flies.
” Then , as if the universe were her own personal concierge , she expertly catches a crane fly in her mouth .
“ These things are crazy , ” she remarks , unintentionally dropping the bug onto the Spanish tile .
“ I want one to be my friend and to play with me , but also to let me eat him.
” It ’ s comforting to @ @ @ @ @ @ @ to have it all .
Finally , we visit her art studio , a place few have seen .
“ I ’ m very private about my art , ” she says , delicately .
“ Also , it ’ s hard for people to come here because it ’ s under a bed.
” As Alice once descended the rabbit hole , so I lower myself to the floor and wriggle under the stately bed frame with a vigor I know would make my editors at Forgettable Life Style Magazine proud .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ weep .
“ What I do is , I scratch up the carpet where no one can see , ” Honeybear expounds .
“ I started in the corner and now I ’ m here.
” The aggressively shorn Berber is visceral—raw , but with a technical competency that belies the artist ’ s lack of formal training .
Once I collect myself , I muse on its meaning—could it be a sagacious commentary on the social unrest tearing at the corners of society ?
Honeybear shrugs , and confesses , “ I @ @ @ @ @ @ @ I should have known .
The piece refuses to be labelled or pigeonholed , just like the artist .
As you might expect , trying to put a bow on this story is about as difficult as putting a bow on Honeybear herself .
She hates wearing bows .
At the same time , maybe it ’ s wrong to try to define someone so multifaceted .
Better to appreciate the ineffable .
Embrace the unknown .
As Honeybear leads me to the door , we see the scrub jay has returned to @ @ @ @ @ @ @ “ Whoa , ” Honeybear whispers , her eyes wide with glee .
“ I didn ’ t see that coming .
”

Photograph by Vikki Hart / Getty
I am led into the quaint living room of Honeybear’s rustic Santa Monica bungalow, where she sits by the window, her gimlet eyes scanning the bushes beyond the glass. “Just keep looking,” she whispers—a mottled bloom of calico perched on the edge of a peacock couch. I’m rapt in suspense and more than a little nervous. It isn’t every day that you get to see life through the eyes of what many critics attest is the prettiest cat on her street.
“There,” she purrs, as a small scrub jay alights on the terra-cotta vase tastefully placed beside the front door. “I see him sometimes.”
It’s only been a year since Honeybear first graced the bluffs of this picturesque beach city, but she’s already garnering glowing reviews. Stu the mailman recently proclaimed, “Such a beautiful cat!” And a little girl on her way to school raved, “Look! Fluffy!” Naturally, I expected that the interview would be conducted over bespoke cocktails at Fia or Fig. I never imagined that she would invite me into her home.
Over the past twelve months, Honeybear has been decidedly camera-shy, rarely stepping out to field questions from the press. “I’m not a recluse,” she explains with a whip of her lustrous tail. “It’s just, I had this . . . it’s kind of hard to talk about.” She pauses, partly owing to the gravity of the moment, partly owing to the sound of a lozenge wrapper crinkling in the other room. In her own time, she describes her private struggle with fleas. “I love the outdoors. Especially the parts where the grass is, because I like to eat the grass.” I nod—who doesn’t? She continues, “it’s not something I thought would happen to me, but I’ve realized that it’s a problem a lot of cats grapple with. Anyway, I’m on meds now and am doing a lot better.” She is. So much so that she’s been allowed back on the patio. And I’m here to witness her triumphant return.
We step outside and I’m happy to see it’s a slow day for onlookers—two crows at the most. Honeybear effortlessly spreads out on a wicker love seat, embracing the weathered teal cushion like an old friend. “I like this one the best because it’s dirty and has the most weird smells. I like weird smells.” Somehow, in spite of all her success, she never forgets to appreciate the little things.
What keeps her motivated? Everything. “I really feel that the key to life is a curious mind. And crane flies.” Then, as if the universe were her own personal concierge, she expertly catches a crane fly in her mouth. “These things are crazy,” she remarks, unintentionally dropping the bug onto the Spanish tile. “I want one to be my friend and to play with me, but also to let me eat him.” It’s comforting to know even the best of us struggle to have it all.
Finally, we visit her art studio, a place few have seen. “I’m very private about my art,” she says, delicately. “Also, it’s hard for people to come here because it’s under a bed.” As Alice once descended the rabbit hole, so I lower myself to the floor and wriggle under the stately bed frame with a vigor I know would make my editors at Forgettable Life Style Magazine proud. Then, I see the work—and I weep.
“What I do is, I scratch up the carpet where no one can see,” Honeybear expounds. “I started in the corner and now I’m here.” The aggressively shorn Berber is visceral—raw, but with a technical competency that belies the artist’s lack of formal training. Once I collect myself, I muse on its meaning—could it be a sagacious commentary on the social unrest tearing at the corners of society? Honeybear shrugs, and confesses, “I just like scratching.” A formalist! I should have known. The piece refuses to be labelled or pigeonholed, just like the artist.
As you might expect, trying to put a bow on this story is about as difficult as putting a bow on Honeybear herself. She hates wearing bows. At the same time, maybe it’s wrong to try to define someone so multifaceted. Better to appreciate the ineffable. Embrace the unknown. As Honeybear leads me to the door, we see the scrub jay has returned to feast on the semiconscious crane fly. “Whoa,” Honeybear whispers, her eyes wide with glee. “I didn’t see that coming.”


newyorker--2020-02-18--Bloomberg Enrages Trump by Buying Greenland

NEW YORK ( The Borowitz Report ) —In an apparently successful attempt to get under the skin of Donald Trump @ @ @ @ @ mayor Michael Bloomberg has purchased Greenland from Denmark .
In an official statement released on @ @ @ @ @ of Denmark , Mette Frederiksen , would not disclose the price that Bloomberg paid for @ @ @ @ @ was an “ all-cash offer.
” News of Bloomberg ’ s purchase of Greenland reportedly @ @ @ @ @ ordered his son-in-law , Jared Kushner , to make an offer to buy the Faroe @ @ @ @ @ minutes , however , Denmark rebuffed Kushner ’ s bid .
“ We do not @ @ @ @ @ of running the Faroe Islands , ” Frederiksen said .
As for Bloomberg , his @ @ @ @ @ about the historic purchase of the 836,330-square-mile landmass , saying only , “ Mike gets @ @ @ @

NEW YORK (The Borowitz Report)—In an apparently successful attempt to get under the skin of Donald Trump, former New York City mayor Michael Bloomberg has purchased Greenland from Denmark.
In an official statement released on Tuesday, the Prime Minister of Denmark, Mette Frederiksen, would not disclose the price that Bloomberg paid for Greenland but indicated that it was an “all-cash offer.”
“Mr. Bloomberg has a lot of money,” Frederiksen added.
News of Bloomberg’s purchase of Greenland reportedly infuriated Trump, who immediately ordered his son-in-law, Jared Kushner, to make an offer to buy the Faroe Islands from Denmark.
Within minutes, however, Denmark rebuffed Kushner’s bid. “We do not believe Donald Trump is capable of running the Faroe Islands,” Frederiksen said.
As for Bloomberg, his campaign released a brief statement about the historic purchase of the 836,330-square-mile landmass, saying only, “Mike gets it done.”


newyorker--2020-02-18--How Milwaukee Could Decide the Next President

In the early hours of April 3 , 2019 , in a tableau that many Americans will recognize , the darkness of my family ’ s New York apartment was ruptured by the contemptible light of a laptop .
An election result in another time zone had kept me up .
In the race for a Wisconsin Supreme Court seat , Brian Hagedorn , a man so extreme in his views that he ’ d alienated reliable conservative donors , had beaten his moderate-liberal opponent , the chief judge of the Wisconsin Court of Appeals , Lisa Neubauer .
This @ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
Our polarized national politics means that the Presidential election is exceptionally transparent .
If the Democrat flips Michigan , Pennsylvania , and Wisconsin , he or she will almost certainly win .
If Donald Trump holds just one of these states , he will very likely scrape together an Electoral College majority .
In the 2018 midterms , which came to be known as the Blue Wave , Democratic gubernatorial candidates won in Pennsylvania and Michigan by about seven points .
In Wisconsin , the Democrat Tony Evers defeated Scott Walker , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ than thirty thousand votes .
If the upcoming Presidential race goes down to the wire , it very much looks like the wire will be in Wisconsin .
How had Hagedorn won ?
Trump had carried the state by only twenty-three thousand votes .
Neubauer ’ s supporters had spent a fortune on her campaign .
Elections around the country were trending against the G.O.P .
How had Wisconsin Republicans overcome all of that ?
As Butch Cassidy might have asked : Who are those guys ?
They ’ re WOW voters , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Milwaukee in Waukesha , Ozaukee , and Washington counties are heavily white and legendary in political circles for delivering victories to the G.O.P .
While suburbs elsewhere in the country have turned away from the Republican Party , WOW came through for Hagedorn .
His win confirmed my worst nocturnal fears : Wisconsin conservatives know how to win elections .
Most Democrats in Wisconsin are concentrated in two cities : Madison and Milwaukee .
Voter turnout in Madison has been consistently very high ; in Milwaukee , it has been up and down @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Milwaukee city ’ s turnout was measured at sixty-six per cent , but in 2016 it fell to fifty-six per cent .
The difference comes to forty-one thousand votes—almost double Trump ’ s margin of victory .
This is not the whole story , of course .
But even I , who had never set foot in the state , could figure out this much : if Milwaukee voters turn out in numbers , Trump will be in trouble .
Who are those guys ?
Here we come to one of the great @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Milwaukee has been rated the worst city in the country to be an African-American resident , yet nearly forty per cent of its population is African-American .
What may be the most downtrodden urban community in the United States has a superpower : the potential to decide who will be the country ’ s next President .
On a cold , gray , intermittently sleety afternoon in December , I accompanied three young women as they knocked on doors on West Galena Street in Milwaukee .
The women , who wore name tags @ @ @ @ @ @ @ and Brittany , literally knocked : doorbells were not put to use .
Some of the doorknobs had tags on them , hung by other visitors , stating “ Fight for $ 15 and a Union.
” The women visited some thirty homes and were answered five times , not counting numerous barking dogs .
They delivered pamphlets and engaged three residents in meaningful conversation .
They got two signatures for a petition—for Unlock the Vote WI , a campaign to restore voting rights to formerly incarcerated Wisconsinites .
Tamer Malone , Amari @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ambassadors for a group named BLOC—Black Leaders Organizing for Communities .
This part of West Galena Street is on Milwaukee ’ s North Side .
The North Side has connotations that are as much racial as geographic .
Milwaukee is perhaps the most segregated metro area in the United States .
The North Side is where almost all of its African-Americans live .
If you drive through the North Side ’ s extensive neighborhoods , you ’ ll be struck by its green and tranquil appearance .
There are parks and grassy spaces @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , often sizable and handsome , dominate the housing stock .
The portion of West Galena Street where the BLOC ambassadors were canvassing is not atypical .
Between the Ultra Food Mart convenience store ( “ We don ’ t go in those , ” Malone told me , “ for our own safety.
” ) on the block ’ s southeast corner and the white clapboard Good Way Church , on the northwest corner , were sizable old houses separated by large , grassy yards .
Apart from a few people milling @ @ @ @ @ @ @ was quiet .
You ’ ll see some boarded-up or fallen-down properties in north Milwaukee and notice a distinct lack of retail activity .
Sometimes a car drives by that hasn ’ t been fixed up since its last crash .
But unlike , say , parts of Detroit or Baltimore , Milwaukee does not offer a spectacle of urban ruin .

During the afternoon of November 8, 2016, it dawned on a young political activist named Angela Lang that the voting activity she was seeing in Milwaukee was less than what she’d hoped for. Lang, who is from Milwaukee, was the political director of For Our Future Wisconsin, a super PAC that supported Hillary Clinton. She went home to watch the election results come in. She told me, “I remember being wrapped in my blanket with a bottle of tequila. My boss, John Grabel, called me at one in the morning, thanking me for my work. It was very sombre. I thought I was out of a job, too.”
Lang is now thirty years old and the executive director of BLOC. I spoke with her at BLOC’s offices, which are on the second floor of a modern red brick building owned by the Greater Spring Hill Missionary Baptist Church. Lang wore pants with blue checks, knee-high black boots, and a black top. Sometimes she wore glasses, sometimes she didn’t. She moved between a neutrally professional speech register, for our interview, and a more colloquial way of talking, for her colleagues.
After the election, Lang was upset by “the narrative that, if black and brown people had turned out, we wouldn’t be in this mess. I complained about it to my boss”—Grabel—“who knew of my love for Milwaukee. ‘What do we do?’ we asked ourselves. In May, 2017, we—John and I and other folks, including folks from For Our Future and the Center for Popular Democracy—locked ourselves into a room with butcher paper. We came out with BLOC.” Much to Lang’s surprise, Grabel suggested that she run it. Lang took the job but made it clear that BLOC, rather than its funders at F.O.F. and the C.P.D., would control the organization’s vision and mission.
The mission, Lang explained to me, “is to increase the quality of life for black people in Wisconsin by expanding their idea of civic engagement. Civic engagement isn’t just voting—we have folks on staff that can’t vote in 2020. It’s also learning about the difference between city and county government, about how to talk to your alderperson or county executive. We ask people what issues they have—say they want speed bumps—and we identify the process to get that issue resolved. People feel they don’t have the power to make a change, because they don’t understand where they fit. We help them understand their power.”
BLOC knocked on its first door in November, 2017. The knocker, Lang told me, was probably the program director, Keisha Robinson, who is forty-two, with a bob of purple curly hair, and is the mother of nine children (one girl followed by eight boys). Lang calls Robinson “a superwoman with an out-of-this-world work ethic.” BLOC’s ambassadors do most of the community outreach. They are recruited locally and then trained in administrative skills—how to use Google Docs and spreadsheets, in some cases how to use e-mail—and in advanced civics: what a sheriff does, what’s on the ballot in a local election. Ambassadors have firsthand experience of prison, poverty, and other bad outcomes. “We’re rough around the edges, in the most beautiful way” is how Lang puts it. “People were skeptical—but they saw us again and again. Our ambassadors have authenticity. The things people are talking about, we know.”
A former ambassador, a thirty-one-year-old named Steven, told me, “A lot of the black community don’t believe in change: ‘Why would Caucasian people change things for us?’ People don’t understand that, by not voting, they’re voting for sameness. I think we’re having a big effect on the community. People are starting to really know us and open up on their issues. Fully engaging with us. It has been a successful year.”
“I like to think about what success is,” Lang said to me. “Does it mean electoral wins? Yes. But also engaging people that haven’t been engaged. We’re reaching new people typically left out of political power.” This includes her own colleagues: “Success means our ambassadors posting links off C-SPAN. To see their growth, to see them stand in their power and knowledge, is beautiful to watch.”
There are other grassroots groups in Milwaukee—for example, Voces de la Frontera and LIT (Leaders Igniting Transformation), which are focussed, respectively, on immigrant rights and organizing youth of color. But no other organization in Milwaukee is doing the work BLOC is doing. It aims, Lang said, “one, to turn a nonvoter into a voter; two, educate them about the process; and, three, get them to vote for candidates we support.”
A measure of BLOC’s influence is that stopping by its offices has become an important ritual for local politicians running for office. On the day I met with Lang, she led a morning staff meeting at which the recent visit of the state representative David Crowley came up. Crowley is running for Milwaukee County executive. Someone said, “We’re all going to vote for David. I almost cried.” Lang smiled. “Yeah, he’s good,” she said, then added, “David and I go back ten years; I knew him before he was elected. I like David, I like Chris Larson”—another candidate—“and I don’t know who I’m voting for.” Lang’s role at BLOC has a pronounced teacherly component. She went on, “I don’t want y’all to be too easily persuaded, to take everything at face value. It’s y’all’s job not to take everything at face value. I encourage you all to do the research and not be mystified.” One of the women mentioned a third candidate, Theodore Lipscomb. “His wife is black—he ain’t the typical white boy,” she said. Lang responded, “He’s got a cute family.” One of the men said, “I grew up with Theo. Played basketball.”
Later that day, Lena Taylor, who is running for mayor of Milwaukee, dropped by to say a few words and then go on a “silent canvass,” in which a politician accompanies civic ambassadors on the strict condition that he or she says nothing, takes no pictures, and listens to what Milwaukeeans have to say. (It isn’t only local politicians who do this: Julian Castro, Beto O’Rourke, and Cory Booker took part in BLOC silent canvasses last year.) Before Taylor’s visit, Lang again encouraged her staff to listen critically to a speech that would be, she said, designed to appeal to them. Taylor arrived and duly gave a funny and compelling presentation that dwelt on the successful frustration of a proposal to build a meat-processing plant nearby. Afterward, her audience had two questions. First, what would she do differently than the current mayor, who is also a Democrat? Second, regarding her proposal to encourage local hemp production, would the THC in hemp—its psychoactive ingredient—show up in a urine sample?


newyorker--2020-02-19--Dreams: The Video Game That Lets You Make Video Games

A video game can be as dense as a puzzle or as expansive as a universe , but it always makes a god of its maker .
The creator is , after all , responsible for the rules and boundaries of a world , everything from the force of its gravity to the color of its sky to the temperament of its creatures .
In Nintendo ’ s Super Mario Bros. , from 1985 , each of Mario ’ s jumps lasts a little over a second ; he sails through the sky with the hex value # C0B1FF and @ @ @ @ @ @ @ upon a time , Shigeru Miyamoto , the game ’ s designer , typed the programming equivalent of “ let there be light , ” and , lo , in the Mushroom Kingdom , there was light .
Within the pantheon of video-game gods is a forty-eight-year-old British designer named Mark Healey .
Healey has long gray hair and peppery stubble and wears a grunge-like wardrobe .
In 2006 , he and four friends founded Media Molecule , a development studio ; Healey serves as the creative director .
Media Molecule ’ s @ @ @ @ @ @ @ town equidistant from London and England ’ s south coast , look much like those of any other studio , but its work sets it largely apart from the rest of the industry .
Healey doesn ’ t want players to marvel at the worlds he creates .
Rather , he wants to give them the power to create worlds of their own .
Dreams , which was released for PlayStation 4 on Friday , is the most powerful example yet of the genre that Healey and Media Molecule have helped pioneer .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ character , no universal objectives , and no side quests or treasure hunts .
Instead , it offers a suite of creative tools that can be used to create art , music , and games themselves .
“ We want people to go out and make stuff that we could never predict , ” Healey told me .
Dreams acts as both divine canvas and gallery , with players broadly working in two modes .
One , Dream Shaping , is the “ create ” function , in which users build using a @ @ @ @ @ @ @ tutorials .
The other mode , Dream Surfing , is similar to YouTube : users can explore , play , and even borrow from other users ’ creations , either by following their favorite game makers or by browsing through various filters .
Some filters elevate the most popular games on Dreams ; others feature hand-picked selections from Media Molecule ’ s curators , who also flag inappropriate content .
Dreams began development in 2011 .
Last April , the game entered “ early access , ” the pre-release phase during which customers @ @ @ @ @ @ @ shape the final product .
Within three months , more than seventy thousand creations had been uploaded to Dreams ’ servers .
The results ranged from the experimental to various forms of pastiche .
( Many builders chose to re-create scenes from their favorite films or video games . )
Some players built first-person shooters or pastoral landscapes , while others created Pixar-esque animations or pieces of music , recording via the PlayStation camera ’ s microphone .
On the eve of the game ’ s release , one fan stitched together a @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , highlighting the variety of media that had been created .
Crucially , all of it had been made without typing a single line of code .
Healey ’ s obsession with democratizing game development began early .
Born in Ipswich , in Suffolk , he spent much of his childhood frustrated by an inability to enter the industry .
At the time—the nineteen-eighties—titles like Pinball Construction Set allowed players to create games but offered a limited set of tools .
“ I was desperate for some software that would enable me to @ @ @ @ @ @ @ “ But there wasn ’ t really anything .
So I had to learn machine code .
I ’ ve always had in my head that we should make it easier for people to make games.
” Healey eventually won admission to an art college in Ipswich .
At the start of his second year , he received a check for two hundred pounds—as the child of a single parent , he was eligible for a government grant—but “ spunked it all in one go ” on a disk drive for his Commodore @ @ @ @ @ @ @ buy school supplies , Healey dropped out and joined a government training course in business programming .
During his first session , his tutor recognized that Healey knew more about programming than she did .
She put Healey in contact with the British video-game publisher Codemasters , who offered him a contract .
Healey presented the two-thousand-pound fee to his mother , as back pay for his rent .
When he was twenty-six , Healey joined Lionhead , a Guildford-based game studio , where , in his spare time , he began working @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Kung Fu .
The game was a simple fighting title in which comically rendered mannequins hurled one another around the screen .
It also allowed players to design and build their own characters , a popular feature that attuned Healey to the power of so-called user-generated content .
Three of Healey ’ s Lionhead colleagues—Alex Evans , Kareem Ettouney , and David Smith—helped him finish the game , which achieved significant success , and which spurred the men to leave their jobs and co-found Media Molecule .
( A fifth co-founder , the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ from EA ) .
From the beginning , Media Molecule aimed to keep a small , intimate team , and to reconceive what a game might be .
The studio released its first title , LittleBigPlanet , in 2008 .
It is a Super Mario-style platform game in which players guide a knitted doll named Sackboy through scenes built from craft materials : cardboard walls , woollen bushes , staircases made of paperclips .
After completing these prefab stages , players are invited to design and build and share their own levels , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ servers for others to try out .
To date , more than eleven million user-generated levels have been published inside LittleBigPlanet and its two sequels , and the series has sold millions of copies .
In 2010 , Media Molecule was bought by Sony .
LittleBigPlanet ’ s success soon inspired other publishers .
Nintendo ’ s Super Mario Maker series lets players build their own levels using a palette of approved assets ; videos of the most punishing or inventive specimens are routinely shared on social media .
And while Minecraft isn @ @ @ @ @ @ @ game engine , its millions of players have constructed from Lego-like building blocks everything from replicas of the Taj Mahal to scale models of the “ Game of Thrones ” universe .
Dreams , by presenting players with a set of tools nearly as powerful and flexible as those used by professional game makers , represents a major step change in the genre .
Though broadly accessible , its software contains obscure depths .
In fact , Media Molecule ’ s designers—many of whom were amateurs recruited from the pool of LittleBigPlanet ’ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ campaign mode using only the tools available in the game itself .
One of the most significant barriers to making video games is the medium ’ s multidisciplinary nature .
Unlike a novelist , who can conjure entire worlds with language , a game maker must often be a polymath , skilled in programming , art , design , and composition .
To lower this threshold , Dreams encourages artists , musicians , and designers to collaborate on projects , much as they might do in a studio .
( A similar spirit @ @ @ @ @ @ @ employees sit together at a long “ Last Supper ” -esque table to eat a lunch cooked by an in-house chef ) .
Scores of amateur teams have convened in Dreams , with some coining their own names , creating lavish logos , and launching social-media channels to promote their works in progress .
Artists and musicians who aren ’ t directly collaborating can publish a 3-D chair or a two-minute composition for string quartet and allow others to use the asset in their projects—or , with the appropriate permission , to adapt @ @ @ @ @

A video game can be as dense as a puzzle or as expansive as a universe, but it always makes a god of its maker. The creator is, after all, responsible for the rules and boundaries of a world, everything from the force of its gravity to the color of its sky to the temperament of its creatures. In Nintendo’s Super Mario Bros., from 1985, each of Mario’s jumps lasts a little over a second; he sails through the sky with the hex value #C0B1FF and evades murderous mushrooms called Goombas. Once upon a time, Shigeru Miyamoto, the game’s designer, typed the programming equivalent of “let there be light,” and, lo, in the Mushroom Kingdom, there was light.
Within the pantheon of video-game gods is a forty-eight-year-old British designer named Mark Healey. Healey has long gray hair and peppery stubble and wears a grunge-like wardrobe. In 2006, he and four friends founded Media Molecule, a development studio; Healey serves as the creative director. Media Molecule’s offices, in Guildford, a large town equidistant from London and England’s south coast, look much like those of any other studio, but its work sets it largely apart from the rest of the industry. Healey doesn’t want players to marvel at the worlds he creates. Rather, he wants to give them the power to create worlds of their own.
Dreams, which was released for PlayStation 4 on Friday, is the most powerful example yet of the genre that Healey and Media Molecule have helped pioneer. The game has no central narrative or character, no universal objectives, and no side quests or treasure hunts. Instead, it offers a suite of creative tools that can be used to create art, music, and games themselves. “We want people to go out and make stuff that we could never predict,” Healey told me. Dreams acts as both divine canvas and gallery, with players broadly working in two modes. One, Dream Shaping, is the “create” function, in which users build using a collection of gadgets, tools, and tutorials. The other mode, Dream Surfing, is similar to YouTube: users can explore, play, and even borrow from other users’ creations, either by following their favorite game makers or by browsing through various filters. Some filters elevate the most popular games on Dreams; others feature hand-picked selections from Media Molecule’s curators, who also flag inappropriate content.
Dreams began development in 2011. Last April, the game entered “early access,” the pre-release phase during which customers can play a beta version and help shape the final product. Within three months, more than seventy thousand creations had been uploaded to Dreams’ servers. The results ranged from the experimental to various forms of pastiche. (Many builders chose to re-create scenes from their favorite films or video games.) Some players built first-person shooters or pastoral landscapes, while others created Pixar-esque animations or pieces of music, recording via the PlayStation camera’s microphone. On the eve of the game’s release, one fan stitched together a trailer, backed by a stentorian soundtrack, highlighting the variety of media that had been created. Crucially, all of it had been made without typing a single line of code.
Healey’s obsession with democratizing game development began early. Born in Ipswich, in Suffolk, he spent much of his childhood frustrated by an inability to enter the industry. At the time—the nineteen-eighties—titles like Pinball Construction Set allowed players to create games but offered a limited set of tools. “I was desperate for some software that would enable me to make games,” Healey said. “But there wasn’t really anything. So I had to learn machine code. I’ve always had in my head that we should make it easier for people to make games.”
Healey eventually won admission to an art college in Ipswich. At the start of his second year, he received a check for two hundred pounds—as the child of a single parent, he was eligible for a government grant—but “spunked it all in one go” on a disk drive for his Commodore 64 computer. Without the funds to buy school supplies, Healey dropped out and joined a government training course in business programming. During his first session, his tutor recognized that Healey knew more about programming than she did. She put Healey in contact with the British video-game publisher Codemasters, who offered him a contract. Healey presented the two-thousand-pound fee to his mother, as back pay for his rent.
When he was twenty-six, Healey joined Lionhead, a Guildford-based game studio, where, in his spare time, he began working on a personal project called Rag Doll Kung Fu. The game was a simple fighting title in which comically rendered mannequins hurled one another around the screen. It also allowed players to design and build their own characters, a popular feature that attuned Healey to the power of so-called user-generated content. Three of Healey’s Lionhead colleagues—Alex Evans, Kareem Ettouney, and David Smith—helped him finish the game, which achieved significant success, and which spurred the men to leave their jobs and co-found Media Molecule. (A fifth co-founder, the studio director Siobhan Reddy, joined them from EA).
From the beginning, Media Molecule aimed to keep a small, intimate team, and to reconceive what a game might be. The studio released its first title, LittleBigPlanet, in 2008. It is a Super Mario-style platform game in which players guide a knitted doll named Sackboy through scenes built from craft materials: cardboard walls, woollen bushes, staircases made of paperclips. After completing these prefab stages, players are invited to design and build and share their own levels, uploading them to the game’s servers for others to try out. To date, more than eleven million user-generated levels have been published inside LittleBigPlanet and its two sequels, and the series has sold millions of copies. In 2010, Media Molecule was bought by Sony.
LittleBigPlanet’s success soon inspired other publishers. Nintendo’s Super Mario Maker series lets players build their own levels using a palette of approved assets; videos of the most punishing or inventive specimens are routinely shared on social media. And while Minecraft isn’t, strictly speaking, a game engine, its millions of players have constructed from Lego-like building blocks everything from replicas of the Taj Mahal to scale models of the “Game of Thrones” universe. Dreams, by presenting players with a set of tools nearly as powerful and flexible as those used by professional game makers, represents a major step change in the genre. Though broadly accessible, its software contains obscure depths. In fact, Media Molecule’s designers—many of whom were amateurs recruited from the pool of LittleBigPlanet’s level creators—built Dream’s single-player campaign mode using only the tools available in the game itself.
Dreams allows players to conjure entire landscapes or edit and modify existing game templates. Illustration Courtesy Sony Interactive Entertainment
One of the most significant barriers to making video games is the medium’s multidisciplinary nature. Unlike a novelist, who can conjure entire worlds with language, a game maker must often be a polymath, skilled in programming, art, design, and composition. To lower this threshold, Dreams encourages artists, musicians, and designers to collaborate on projects, much as they might do in a studio. (A similar spirit is encouraged at Media Molecule, where employees sit together at a long “Last Supper”-esque table to eat a lunch cooked by an in-house chef). Scores of amateur teams have convened in Dreams, with some coining their own names, creating lavish logos, and launching social-media channels to promote their works in progress. Artists and musicians who aren’t directly collaborating can publish a 3-D chair or a two-minute composition for string quartet and allow others to use the asset in their projects—or, with the appropriate permission, to adapt or remix the work.
For those with more modest ambitions, Dreams provides game templates that new players can edit and modify—an option meant to stave off blank-canvas syndrome. “We have tried to make sure that anyone can come into the game and make something straight away,” Healey said. “But the depth is there if people want it. If I give you a pencil, you can immediately draw a stick man. I give the same pencil to Leonardo da Vinci, and he can draw something incredible. Dreams is the pencil.”
Media Molecule’s art director, the forty-four-year-old Kareem Ettouney, also cited the idea of an instrument, one that responded as instinctively as the kind you hold in your hand. Ettouney is an artist who believes that most 3-D art software impedes creativity. “3-D software becomes very complicated very quickly,” he told me. “And it’s unattractive to watch someone working with the tools—not like seeing a painter throwing paint on a canvas.” Dreams, by contrast, enables artists to use the wand-like PlayStation Move controllers to draw, sculpt, and manipulate 3-D art using arm gestures, much as a sculptor might chip at stone. At one point, Ettouney demonstrated how quickly an entire landscape could be conjured in the game. Onscreen, he plucked a mossy rock from thin air before enlarging and duplicating it; then, layer by layer, he proceeded to erect a mountain. When painting grass, Ettouney created alluring pastel fades before twisting the angle to survey his work. Finally, with a press of a button, he summoned a character and began hopping across a landscape that, moments earlier, did not exist.
“The trouble with a lot of traditional modelling packages and traditional computer game-making software in general is you kind of need to plan what you’re going to do,” Healey said. “Here you can simply sketch.”
Doodles are one thing, but many of Dreams’ players have ambitions to create larger, more fully realized projects. Often, these ambitions collide with the issue of ownership. Who has the rights, for example, to a character designed in Dreams? Is it the artist who bought the game, the studio that made the game, or Sony, the company that published the game? The question has stirred intense debate among players. On Reddit, one asked, if “I take my short story and, in Dreams, make a decent short film, is that still my intellectual property? If someone else uploads it to YouTube, who files the copyright claim?”
Healey assured me that anything created inside the magic circle of Dreams belongs to the people who make it. “We want people to invent new genres and new brands,” he said. A spokeswoman from Sony told me, via e-mail, that the company is “still not in a position to comment” on the issue, but that staff are “continuously monitoring what people create and are working closely with our Legal and Business Affairs team.” The minor conflict in these statements represents, perhaps, the difference in perspective between the magnanimous creator and the vigilant corporation. (As one headline writer at Vice put it recently, “Dreams is a powerful tool to create anything and own nothing.”) When I talked to Jas Purewal, a British lawyer who specializes in the video-game industry, there seemed to be no clear procedure by which a Dreams player could copyright his or her work. “Who owns user-generated content in games is one of the great unanswerable questions in our industry,” Purewal said. “Copyright law doesn’t yet do a very good job of dealing with Dreams-type situations. The ways in which people can create new online content are moving much faster than the law that is intended to protect creative works.”
More generally, there is the question of how useful Dreams is for a young game designer who, like Healey in the eighties, hopes to break into the industry. The game may teach the basic principles of 3-D art, level design, and music sequencing, but it could be argued that those who want to become actual game makers are better off working with professional-software packages, which would allow them to hone their skills and retain the full rights to any work they feel is salable. Still, Healey is adamant that Dreams’ affordability—the game is only $39.99—is the first step toward a more democratic art. “There are gifted designers out there sitting in their bedrooms who maybe don’t have the opportunity to go to university or who can’t get hold of a powerful-enough PC to learn to make games on,” he said. “Dreams shows that, if you provide the tools, talent will reveal itself.”