newyorker--2020-06-15--Brit Bennett Reimagines the Literature of Passing

In 1954 , a pair of identical twins—creamy skin , hazel eyes , wavy hair—flee a small town in Louisiana and the narrow future it affords : nothing but more of the same .
Desiree and Stella Vignes are sixteen and headed to New Orleans .
They scrape by for a while , and eventually Stella applies for a position as a secretary at a fancy department store , a job only white girls get .
She doesn ’ t mention she ’ s black , and no one asks .
She ’ s apprehensive—has she done something wrong ?
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ should the two of them starve “ when Stella , perfectly capable of typing , became unfit as soon as anyone learned that she was colored ?
” Stella gets the job .
Every morning , on the ride to the office , she transforms into her double , Miss Vignes— “ White Stella , ” as Desiree calls her—and every night she undergoes the process in reverse .
It ’ s “ a performance where there could be no audience .
Only a person who knew her real identity would appreciate her @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ever know.
” For a while , the twins are brought together by the joint pleasure of pulling off the performance .
But gradually the gap between them widens : “ Desiree could never meet Miss Vignes .
Stella could only be her when Desiree was not around.
” One day , Stella disappears , leaving her sister a note : “ Sorry honey , but I ’ ve got to go my own way.
” “ The Vanishing Half ” ( Riverhead ) , the second novel by Brit Bennett , tells @ @ @ @ @ @ @ diverging paths .
In doing so , it belongs to a long tradition of literature about racial passing .
From the antebellum period until the end of Jim Crow , countless black Americans crossed the color line to pass as white—to escape slavery or threats of racial violence , or to gain access to the social , political , and economic benefits conferred by whiteness .
Narratives that dramatized this passage became a fixture of popular fiction , written by black and white , male and female authors alike .
Charles W. Chesnutt @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Larsen wrote about it , as did William Dean Howells and Kate Chopin .
“ Imitation of Life , ” the 1933 novel by Fannie Hurst , was twice made into a movie ( in 1934 , by John M. Stahl , and in 1959 , by Douglas Sirk ) .
These stories repeat some version of a generic arc : the “ tragic mulatto , ” often a woman , chooses to leave home and pass for white ; in time , anguished by the betrayal of her black identity , she @ @ @ @ @ @ @ be met with a harsh fate—sometimes death .
By the late twentieth century , the melodrama of these narratives—the predictable characters , the sad destinies—had mostly been cast aside .
But in “ The Vanishing Half ” Bennett roots out these withered tropes and reanimates them in a fresh , surprising story .
The novel begins thirteen years after the lives of the Vignes twins forked .
Stella lives in an upscale subdivision in Los Angeles .
Desiree has returned to the town that she and her sister fled .
Stella is a @ @ @ @ @ @ @ a waitress at the local diner .
Stella has married a man who believes she is white and who knows nothing of her past : nothing of her great-great-great-grandfather who was a slave to his own father ; nothing of her father , who was lynched right in front of her .
Desiree has left her husband , “ the darkest man she could find , ” and reunited with her first love .
Both sisters have young daughters about the same age , and each has inherited her father ’ s features @ @ @ @ @ @ @ eyes ; Jude has “ blueblack ” skin .
Bennett is working within not one but two genres—drawing on the well-worn elements of passing literature as well as the oft-used device of long-lost twins—and she leans into their prescribed melodrama .
Her omniscient narration roves among story lines , introducing us to a cast of stock characters : Barry , the drag queen ; Peg , the women ’ s libber ; Blake , the white moderate voter ; Sam , the violent patriarch ; Loretta , the mother in a “ respectable @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Kennedy get older , they conform to types , too .
Jude is a talented black athlete on scholarship at U.C.L.A.
, and Kennedy is a “ rich bitch ” living on her parents ’ dime .
More than once , the plot turns on an outrageous coincidence .
But , as the novel unfolds , we begin to recognize how deftly Bennett is rearranging the generic pieces of her story .
Her frictionless prose whisks us across a period of nearly forty years , the plot unwinding nonsequentially , a character ’ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ rousing a story from the past .
It is , to borrow an observation that Kennedy makes about how memory works , like “ seeing forward and backward at the same time.
” The electricity inside this space—past , present , and the stretch between—comes from watching seemingly predictable characters collide in unexpected ways .
The narrative of passing inevitably confronts questions of performance : the dissonance between the authentic self and the projected self , the drama of seeing and being seen .
But , in Bennett ’ s novel , Stella @ @ @ @ @ @ @ hardly the only performer .
All of Bennett ’ s characters wrestle with the roles they have been assigned .
The vital dynamic between actor and spectator yields different models of selfhood .
Is identity something you take on , or something you take apart ?
Something you erect , or something you expose ?
Stella ’ s daughter , Kennedy , is an actress in the most conventional sense .
At age eleven , she is cast as a Chinese railroad worker in a school play about the gold rush .
She @ @ @ @ @ @ @ mother helps her memorize them .
Stella , who often seems dismayed at her child ’ s mediocrity , is suddenly encouraging .
“ I mean , it was completely ridiculous , ” Kennedy remembers , years later .
“ You couldn ’ t even see my face .
But my mother told me I did a good job .
She was .
.
.
I don ’ t know , she seemed excited for once.
” ( The dramatic irony is potent : a supposedly white child is affirmed by her secretly @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Chinese . )
By the time Kennedy conjures up this scene , she is a college dropout and a wannabe Broadway star , convinced that acting is “ the only thing she was good at.
” Kennedy , who has never felt she truly knows her mother , or is known by her , sees acting as a way out : rather than contend with her mother ’ s mysteries , she avoids them , opting to inhabit a succession of ready-made lives .
“ Acting is not about being seen , ” @ @ @ @ @ @ @ s about “ becoming invisible so that only the character shone through.
” The teacher articulates a theory of acting—and of being a self—that hinges on erasure .
For Kennedy , the joy of acting is in trying on a new identity ; being successful at it , she discovers , means concealing one ’ s own .
One night , Kennedy experiences the sensation of leaving her body onstage , and calls it the “ greatest performance she would ever give.
” If effacement is one model of selfhood , Bennett ’ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ of her characters seek out an audience not to assume a fictionalized truth but to reveal an inner one .
This ambition is all about exposure : we hear it in the phrase “ coming out , ” which captures the trepidation of unveiling something vulnerable and honest .
Barry , a high-school chemistry teacher during the week , becomes Bianca , a drag queen , on the weekends .
He keeps his two lives separate .
But , between performances , Barry “ thought about [ Bianca ] , shopped for her @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ; she was always there , “ lingering on the edge of his mind.
” Reese , one of Jude ’ s first friends in Los Angeles , has been similarly torn between identities .
He and Jude meet around Halloween , at a party , where , tellingly , each is wearing a literal disguise .
She thinks Reese is cute , and finds excuses to visit him at work .
Early in their friendship , which slowly becomes a romance , he tells her that he ’ s trans .
( @ @ @ @ @ @ @ dreams of being a professional photographer—playing with different notions of exposure . )
Born in Arkansas as Therese , he ran away from home after his father caught him dressed up in a man ’ s shirt and tie , kissing a girl .
By the time Jude meets him , “ no one could tell that he ’ d ever been her , and sometimes , he could hardly believe it either.
” In some ways , Reese ’ s story sounds uncannily like Stella ’ s : an escape from a @ @ @ @ @ @ @ who you are ; a fresh start in a city where no one knows your past .
Jude herself is tripped up by these apparent similarities .
When Reese asks whether she thinks about her missing aunt , Jude sounds bitter : “ I mean , what kind of person just leaves her family behind ?
” The words are out of her mouth before she realizes that this is exactly what Reese has done .

In 1954, a pair of identical twins—creamy skin, hazel eyes, wavy hair—flee a small town in Louisiana and the narrow future it affords: nothing but more of the same. Desiree and Stella Vignes are sixteen and headed to New Orleans. They scrape by for a while, and eventually Stella applies for a position as a secretary at a fancy department store, a job only white girls get. She doesn’t mention she’s black, and no one asks. She’s apprehensive—has she done something wrong?—but her sister is adamant: why should the two of them starve “when Stella, perfectly capable of typing, became unfit as soon as anyone learned that she was colored?” Stella gets the job. Every morning, on the ride to the office, she transforms into her double, Miss Vignes—“White Stella,” as Desiree calls her—and every night she undergoes the process in reverse. It’s “a performance where there could be no audience. Only a person who knew her real identity would appreciate her acting, and nobody at work could ever know.” For a while, the twins are brought together by the joint pleasure of pulling off the performance. But gradually the gap between them widens: “Desiree could never meet Miss Vignes. Stella could only be her when Desiree was not around.” One day, Stella disappears, leaving her sister a note: “Sorry honey, but I’ve got to go my own way.”
“The Vanishing Half” (Riverhead), the second novel by Brit Bennett, tells the story of the Vignes sisters’ diverging paths. In doing so, it belongs to a long tradition of literature about racial passing. From the antebellum period until the end of Jim Crow, countless black Americans crossed the color line to pass as white—to escape slavery or threats of racial violence, or to gain access to the social, political, and economic benefits conferred by whiteness. Narratives that dramatized this passage became a fixture of popular fiction, written by black and white, male and female authors alike. Charles W. Chesnutt, James Weldon Johnson, and Nella Larsen wrote about it, as did William Dean Howells and Kate Chopin. “Imitation of Life,” the 1933 novel by Fannie Hurst, was twice made into a movie (in 1934, by John M. Stahl, and in 1959, by Douglas Sirk). These stories repeat some version of a generic arc: the “tragic mulatto,” often a woman, chooses to leave home and pass for white; in time, anguished by the betrayal of her black identity, she returns to her family, only to be met with a harsh fate—sometimes death.
By the late twentieth century, the melodrama of these narratives—the predictable characters, the sad destinies—had mostly been cast aside. But in “The Vanishing Half” Bennett roots out these withered tropes and reanimates them in a fresh, surprising story. The novel begins thirteen years after the lives of the Vignes twins forked. Stella lives in an upscale subdivision in Los Angeles. Desiree has returned to the town that she and her sister fled. Stella is a housewife with a maid. Desiree is a waitress at the local diner. Stella has married a man who believes she is white and who knows nothing of her past: nothing of her great-great-great-grandfather who was a slave to his own father; nothing of her father, who was lynched right in front of her. Desiree has left her husband, “the darkest man she could find,” and reunited with her first love. Both sisters have young daughters about the same age, and each has inherited her father’s features: Kennedy has blond hair and blue eyes; Jude has “blueblack” skin.
Bennett is working within not one but two genres—drawing on the well-worn elements of passing literature as well as the oft-used device of long-lost twins—and she leans into their prescribed melodrama. Her omniscient narration roves among story lines, introducing us to a cast of stock characters: Barry, the drag queen; Peg, the women’s libber; Blake, the white moderate voter; Sam, the violent patriarch; Loretta, the mother in a “respectable” black family. As Jude and Kennedy get older, they conform to types, too. Jude is a talented black athlete on scholarship at U.C.L.A., and Kennedy is a “rich bitch” living on her parents’ dime. More than once, the plot turns on an outrageous coincidence.
But, as the novel unfolds, we begin to recognize how deftly Bennett is rearranging the generic pieces of her story. Her frictionless prose whisks us across a period of nearly forty years, the plot unwinding nonsequentially, a character’s thought or action in the present rousing a story from the past. It is, to borrow an observation that Kennedy makes about how memory works, like “seeing forward and backward at the same time.” The electricity inside this space—past, present, and the stretch between—comes from watching seemingly predictable characters collide in unexpected ways.
The narrative of passing inevitably confronts questions of performance: the dissonance between the authentic self and the projected self, the drama of seeing and being seen. But, in Bennett’s novel, Stella, the archetypal passing figure, is hardly the only performer. All of Bennett’s characters wrestle with the roles they have been assigned. The vital dynamic between actor and spectator yields different models of selfhood. Is identity something you take on, or something you take apart? Something you erect, or something you expose?
Stella’s daughter, Kennedy, is an actress in the most conventional sense. At age eleven, she is cast as a Chinese railroad worker in a school play about the gold rush. She has only seven lines, but her mother helps her memorize them. Stella, who often seems dismayed at her child’s mediocrity, is suddenly encouraging. “I mean, it was completely ridiculous,” Kennedy remembers, years later. “You couldn’t even see my face. But my mother told me I did a good job. She was . . . I don’t know, she seemed excited for once.” (The dramatic irony is potent: a supposedly white child is affirmed by her secretly black mother when she “becomes” Chinese.) By the time Kennedy conjures up this scene, she is a college dropout and a wannabe Broadway star, convinced that acting is “the only thing she was good at.” Kennedy, who has never felt she truly knows her mother, or is known by her, sees acting as a way out: rather than contend with her mother’s mysteries, she avoids them, opting to inhabit a succession of ready-made lives. “Acting is not about being seen,” one teacher tells her. It’s about “becoming invisible so that only the character shone through.”
The teacher articulates a theory of acting—and of being a self—that hinges on erasure. For Kennedy, the joy of acting is in trying on a new identity; being successful at it, she discovers, means concealing one’s own. One night, Kennedy experiences the sensation of leaving her body onstage, and calls it the “greatest performance she would ever give.”
If effacement is one model of selfhood, Bennett’s novel also contains another. Many of her characters seek out an audience not to assume a fictionalized truth but to reveal an inner one. This ambition is all about exposure: we hear it in the phrase “coming out,” which captures the trepidation of unveiling something vulnerable and honest. Barry, a high-school chemistry teacher during the week, becomes Bianca, a drag queen, on the weekends. He keeps his two lives separate. But, between performances, Barry “thought about [Bianca], shopped for her, planned for her eventual return”; she was always there, “lingering on the edge of his mind.” Reese, one of Jude’s first friends in Los Angeles, has been similarly torn between identities. He and Jude meet around Halloween, at a party, where, tellingly, each is wearing a literal disguise. She thinks Reese is cute, and finds excuses to visit him at work. Early in their friendship, which slowly becomes a romance, he tells her that he’s trans. (Bennett sets this conversation in a darkroom—Reese dreams of being a professional photographer—playing with different notions of exposure.) Born in Arkansas as Therese, he ran away from home after his father caught him dressed up in a man’s shirt and tie, kissing a girl. By the time Jude meets him, “no one could tell that he’d ever been her, and sometimes, he could hardly believe it either.”
In some ways, Reese’s story sounds uncannily like Stella’s: an escape from a small town where everyone has already decided who you are; a fresh start in a city where no one knows your past. Jude herself is tripped up by these apparent similarities. When Reese asks whether she thinks about her missing aunt, Jude sounds bitter: “I mean, what kind of person just leaves her family behind?” The words are out of her mouth before she realizes that this is exactly what Reese has done.
But is it? When Reese makes the long drive from Arkansas to Los Angeles, from his old life to his new life, his becoming is described not as the perfection of a role but as the expression of a true self:
He cut his hair in Plano, hacking off inches in a truck stop bathroom with a stolen hunting knife. Outside of Abilene, he bought a blue madras shirt and a leather belt with a silver stallion buckle. . . . In Socorro, he began wrapping his chest in a white bandage, and by Las Cruces, he’d learned to walk again, legs wide, shoulders square. He told himself that it was safer to hitchhike this way, but the truth was that he’d always been Reese. By Tucson, it was Therese who felt like a costume.
Reese is purposeful as he sheds Therese, aligning the way he self-identifies with the way he is perceived by the outside world. Stella, meanwhile, “had become white only because everyone thought she was.” To herself, she admits that her performance is just that: “This life wasn’t real.”
But who decides what’s “real,” the actor or the audience? It’s a tantalizing question, one that any performance exploits. In moments when we feel seen—the sort of “recognition scenes” that so much theatre turns on—reality can appear, however fleetingly, complete. In Bennett’s novel, only those who accept the imperative of exposure seem to stand a chance of being seen. When Desiree leaves her marriage, her husband hires Early, a private eye, someone whose profession is to look. In one of the book’s coincidental twists, he happens to be Desiree’s first love. What initially sounds sinister—Early sneaking photos of her—becomes one of the novel’s most poignant relationships: he watches over Desiree. Reese, too, wields a camera with care, snapping candids of Jude, even though she “felt vulnerable seeing herself through his lens.” (“Finally,” her grandmother says. “One good picture of you.”)
Reese and Early reflect back the best versions of the women they admire. But identities can’t, in the language of photography, be captured. As Jude changes—moving from one city and one dream to another—her mother is her constant audience. Not long after Jude’s friendship with Reese turns into her first experience of love, she gets a phone call from her mother. “There’s something different about you,” Desiree says. Jude plays dumb. “Ma’am?” she replies:
“Oh, don’t ma’am me. You heard what I said. There’s somethin different. I can hear it in your voice.” “Mama, there’s nothing wrong with my voice.” “Not wrong. Different. You think I can’t tell?”
Desiree sees through her daughter’s show, but her act of exposure is an act of love. What’s more, she sees what her daughter has not fully acknowledged herself, what is both painful and joyful to accept: Jude is becoming someone new. ♦


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newyorker--2020-06-15--The L.G.B.T.Q.-Rights Movement Wins Its Biggest Supreme Court Victory

Two of the three people at the heart of the landmark L.G.B.T.Q.-rights decision handed down by the Supreme Court on Monday did not live to know that they had won .
The fight to protect L.G.B.T.Q .
people from employment discrimination has been a long one—years for the individual plaintiffs , decades for the larger movement .
Until Monday , such discrimination was legal in more than half the country ’ s states .
Donald Trump ’ s Administration had argued that it should continue to be .
But , in a 6–3 opinion written by the Trump appointee Neil @ @ @ @ @ @ @ on the basis of sexual orientation or transgender status is illegal under Title VII of the Civil Rights Act of 1964 .
It was the single biggest victory in the history of the L.G.B.T.Q.-rights movement .
The court heard arguments in the three cases—two originally brought by gay men and one brought by a transgender woman—on October 8th of last year .
The stories , as Gorsuch writes in his opinion , are uncomplicated .
“ Few facts are needed to appreciate the legal question we face , ” he wrote .
“ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ started the same way : An employer fired a long-time employee shortly after the employee revealed that he or she is homosexual or transgender—and allegedly for no reason other than the employee ’ s homosexuality or transgender status.
” The employers did not pretend that there were other grounds for termination ; in all three cases , they argued that the dismissals were legal .
The Civil Rights Act forbids discrimination on the basis of sex .
The employers in the Supreme Court cases argued—and the Trump Administration agreed—that sexual orientation and transgender @ @ @ @ @ @ @ lawyers for the dismissed employees argued that discrimination on the basis of sexual orientation constitutes discrimination on the basis of sex .
Pamela Karlan , the Stanford law professor who argued on behalf of Donald Zarda and Gerald Lynn Bostock , the two gay men , proposed a hypothetical : “ Two employees who come in , both of whom tell you they married their partner , Bill , last weekend .
When you fire the male employee who married Bill , and you give the female employee who married Bill a couple @ @ @ @ @ @ @ celebrate the joyous event , that ’ s discrimination because of sex.
” In other words , she argued , the salient difference between a straight woman and a gay man , who share the trait of being attracted to men , is their sex .
The Justices agreed .
Gorsuch reiterated Karlan ’ s scenario in his opinion .
“ Consider , for example , an employer with two employees , both of whom are attracted to men , ” he wrote .
“ The two individuals are , to the employer @ @ @ @ @ @ @ all respects , except that one is a man and the other a woman .
If the employer fires the male employee for no reason other than the fact he is attracted to men , the employer discriminates against him for traits or actions it tolerates in his female colleague.
” ( Zarda died , in an accident , in 2014 ; Bostock attended the hearing in October . )
The case of Aimee Stephens , the transgender plaintiff , was perhaps simpler , because transgender status is more intuitively a matter of @ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
lawyer who represented Stephens , argued that no matter how an employer reasons through the dismissal of a transgender employee—whether Stephens was fired , in essence , because in her boss ’ s mind she was the wrong kind of woman or the wrong kind of man—the decision comes down to a matter of sex .
During the hearing , the Justices on both sides of the court ’ s liberal-conservative divide spent much of their time conjuring the spectre of transgender people using single-sex bathrooms , but in his opintion for @ @ @ @ @ @ @ of the case .
“ Take an employer who fires a transgender person who was identified as a male at birth but who now identifies as a female , ” he wrote .
“ If the employer retains an otherwise identical employee who was identified as female at birth , the employer intentionally penalizes a person identified as male at birth for traits or actions that it tolerates in an employee identified as female at birth .
Again , the individual employee ’ s sex plays an unmistakable and impermissible role in the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ was at the hearing , died in May , of complications from kidney failure . )
The Trump Administration had argued that Congress did not intend to protect L.G.B.T.Q .
employees when it passed the Civil Rights Act fifty-six years ago .
Gorsuch , an adamant textualist , disagreed .
“ Those who adopted the Civil Rights Act might not have anticipated their work would lead to this particular result , ” he wrote .
“ Likely , they weren ’ t thinking about many of the Act ’ s consequences that have @ @ @ @ @ @ @ its prohibition against discrimination on the basis of motherhood or its ban on the sexual harassment of male employees .
But the limits of the drafters ’ imagination supply no reason to ignore the law ’ s demands .
When the express terms of a statute give us one answer and extratextual considerations suggest another , it ’ s no contest .
Only the written word is the law , and all persons are entitled to its benefit.
” The Court ’ s decision is by far the most consequential in the decades-long @ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
Earlier victories included the adoption of anti-discrimination laws by states and the 2013 and 2015 Supreme Court decisions on same-sex marriage .
But , although not everyone gets married , or wants to , most American adults work .
The ruling also probably renders moot the Administration ’ s hateful rule , released on Friday , that encourages discrimination against transgender people in health care .
In an even bigger rebuke to Trump , the President ’ s ban on transgender people in the military , which is still being litigated , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ defend .
On Twitter , Carrie Severino—the president of the conservative Judicial Crisis Network , which backed Gorsuch ’ s candidacy for the Supreme Court—expressed outrage over the decision , calling it “ the hijacking of textualism.
” Glee erupted in the comments , which advised Severino to “ cry more ” and offered “ thoughts and prayers.
” It had been a while since conservatives had bemoaned an L.G.B.T.Q .
victory , and many of us had feared it wouldn ’ t happen again .

Two of the three people at the heart of the landmark L.G.B.T.Q.-rights decision handed down by the Supreme Court on Monday did not live to know that they had won. The fight to protect L.G.B.T.Q. people from employment discrimination has been a long one—years for the individual plaintiffs, decades for the larger movement. Until Monday, such discrimination was legal in more than half the country’s states. Donald Trump’s Administration had argued that it should continue to be. But, in a 6–3 opinion written by the Trump appointee Neil Gorsuch, the Court ruled that discrimination on the basis of sexual orientation or transgender status is illegal under Title VII of the Civil Rights Act of 1964. It was the single biggest victory in the history of the L.G.B.T.Q.-rights movement.
The court heard arguments in the three cases—two originally brought by gay men and one brought by a transgender woman—on October 8th of last year. The stories, as Gorsuch writes in his opinion, are uncomplicated. “Few facts are needed to appreciate the legal question we face,” he wrote. “Each of the three cases before us started the same way: An employer fired a long-time employee shortly after the employee revealed that he or she is homosexual or transgender—and allegedly for no reason other than the employee’s homosexuality or transgender status.” The employers did not pretend that there were other grounds for termination; in all three cases, they argued that the dismissals were legal.
The Civil Rights Act forbids discrimination on the basis of sex. The employers in the Supreme Court cases argued—and the Trump Administration agreed—that sexual orientation and transgender status are distinct from sex. The lawyers for the dismissed employees argued that discrimination on the basis of sexual orientation constitutes discrimination on the basis of sex. Pamela Karlan, the Stanford law professor who argued on behalf of Donald Zarda and Gerald Lynn Bostock, the two gay men, proposed a hypothetical: “Two employees who come in, both of whom tell you they married their partner, Bill, last weekend. When you fire the male employee who married Bill, and you give the female employee who married Bill a couple of days off, so she can celebrate the joyous event, that’s discrimination because of sex.” In other words, she argued, the salient difference between a straight woman and a gay man, who share the trait of being attracted to men, is their sex. The Justices agreed. Gorsuch reiterated Karlan’s scenario in his opinion. “Consider, for example, an employer with two employees, both of whom are attracted to men,” he wrote. “The two individuals are, to the employer’s mind, materially identical in all respects, except that one is a man and the other a woman. If the employer fires the male employee for no reason other than the fact he is attracted to men, the employer discriminates against him for traits or actions it tolerates in his female colleague.” (Zarda died, in an accident, in 2014; Bostock attended the hearing in October.)
The case of Aimee Stephens, the transgender plaintiff, was perhaps simpler, because transgender status is more intuitively a matter of sex. David Cole, the A.C.L.U. lawyer who represented Stephens, argued that no matter how an employer reasons through the dismissal of a transgender employee—whether Stephens was fired, in essence, because in her boss’s mind she was the wrong kind of woman or the wrong kind of man—the decision comes down to a matter of sex. During the hearing, the Justices on both sides of the court’s liberal-conservative divide spent much of their time conjuring the spectre of transgender people using single-sex bathrooms, but in his opinion for the majority Gorsuch stuck to the substance of the case. “ Take an employer who fires a transgender person who was identified as a male at birth but who now identifies as a female,” he wrote. “If the employer retains an otherwise identical employee who was identified as female at birth, the employer intentionally penalizes a person identified as male at birth for traits or actions that it tolerates in an employee identified as female at birth. Again, the individual employee’s sex plays an unmistakable and impermissible role in the discharge decision.” (Stephens, who was at the hearing, died in May, of complications from kidney failure.)
The Trump Administration had argued that Congress did not intend to protect L.G.B.T.Q. employees when it passed the Civil Rights Act fifty-six years ago. Gorsuch, an adamant textualist, disagreed. “Those who adopted the Civil Rights Act might not have anticipated their work would lead to this particular result,” he wrote. “Likely, they weren’t thinking about many of the Act’s consequences that have become apparent over the years, including its prohibition against discrimination on the basis of motherhood or its ban on the sexual harassment of male employees. But the limits of the drafters’ imagination supply no reason to ignore the law’s demands. When the express terms of a statute give us one answer and extratextual considerations suggest another, it’s no contest. Only the written word is the law, and all persons are entitled to its benefit.”
The Court’s decision is by far the most consequential in the decades-long history of the American L.G.B.T.Q. movement. Earlier victories included the adoption of anti-discrimination laws by states and the 2013 and 2015 Supreme Court decisions on same-sex marriage. But, although not everyone gets married, or wants to, most American adults work. The ruling also probably renders moot the Administration’s hateful rule, released on Friday, that encourages discrimination against transgender people in health care. In an even bigger rebuke to Trump, the President’s ban on transgender people in the military, which is still being litigated, will be harder for the Administration to defend.
On Twitter, Carrie Severino—the president of the conservative Judicial Crisis Network, which backed Gorsuch’s candidacy for the Supreme Court—expressed outrage over the decision, calling it “the hijacking of textualism.” Glee erupted in the comments, which advised Severino to “cry more” and offered “thoughts and prayers.” It had been a while since conservatives had bemoaned an L.G.B.T.Q. victory, and many of us had feared it wouldn’t happen again.


newyorker--2020-06-15--Running for Office During a Pandemic

Running for Office During a Pandemic

The need for social distancing has upended most of the ways that candidates have traditionally put themselves before voters : @ @ @ @ @ , kissing babies .
Eric Lach has been following the race in New York ’ @ @ @ @ @ learn how Facebook Live , e-mail newsletters , and Zoombombs are shaping the race .
@ @ @ @ @ question that people are in pain , and they ’ re worried and they ’ @ @ @ @ @ Fine , a candidate with a background in digital organizing , said .
“ So @ @ @ @ @ to be able to break through all that noise .
.
.
.
But all @ @ @ @ @ going up .
”

Photograph by Noam Galai / Getty
The need for social distancing has upended most of the ways that candidates have traditionally put themselves before voters: gathering crowds, shaking hands, kissing babies. Eric Lach has been following the race in New York’s Seventeenth Congressional District to learn how Facebook Live, e-mail newsletters, and Zoombombs are shaping the race. “There’s no question that people are in pain, and they’re worried and they’re distracted,” Allison Fine, a candidate with a background in digital organizing, said. “So we’re not going to be able to break through all that noise. . . . But all the metrics of engagement are going up.”


newyorker--2020-06-15--Mitch McConnell Gently Donald Tells Trump Why He Can’t Fire Neil Gorsuch

WASHINGTON ( The Borowitz Report ) —In an Oval Office meeting described as “ tense , ” the Senate Majority @ @ @ @ @ explained to Donald J. Trump why he can not fire Supreme Court Justice Neil Gorsuch @ @ @ @ @ McConnell rushed to the White House after being informed of Trump ’ s plan to @ @ @ @ @ with the Fox News host Jeanine Pirro .
In the Oval Office , Trump adamantly @ @ @ @ @ I hire someone , I have the right to fire him if he turns out @ @ @ @ @ McConnell slowly and carefully explained that Supreme Court Justices are appointed for life , but @ @ @ @ @ position .
“ I can fire this Neil Gorsuch joker just like I fired Jeff @ @ @ @ @ ” Trump said , adding that he planned to add a ramp outside the Supreme @ @ @ @ @ s departure .

WASHINGTON (The Borowitz Report)—In an Oval Office meeting described as “tense,” the Senate Majority Leader, Mitch McConnell, explained to Donald J. Trump why he cannot fire Supreme Court Justice Neil Gorsuch.
According to sources, McConnell rushed to the White House after being informed of Trump’s plan to terminate Gorsuch and replace him with the Fox News host Jeanine Pirro.
In the Oval Office, Trump adamantly told McConnell, “When I hire someone, I have the right to fire him if he turns out to be a jerk.”
McConnell slowly and carefully explained that Supreme Court Justices are appointed for life, but Trump refused to accept this position.
“I can fire this Neil Gorsuch joker just like I fired Jeff Sessions and Gary Busey,” Trump said, adding that he planned to add a ramp outside the Supreme Court to speed Gorsuch’s departure.


newyorker--2020-06-15--Mark McKnight and the Bodies That Modernist Photography Didn’t See

Like these artists , McKnight is attuned to the ways in which photographs reflect both the outside world and the interior landscapes of their creators .
( See , for instance , McKnight ’ s “ The Black Place , ” an intentionally underexposed picture of a humped , basalt-colored sand dune , which telegraphs a mood of doom and gloom as well as any portrait could . )
Also like these artists , as McKnight takes pains to point out , he is interested in photography as an expression of spirituality , which puts him somewhat at odds with @ @ @ @ @ @ @ world .
Some of his images , such as “ Revealed ( & Redacted ) , ” a noirish-lit closeup of a person stretching the skin of their scrotum over their penis , so that it resembles the crowning head of a baby , are explicit enough to provoke discomfort in certain viewers .
McKnight has engaged in continual battles with Instagram , to keep the platform from taking down his pictures ; a printer once refused to produce a poster for one of his shows because it featured an image— “ Eric @ @ @ @ @ @ @ perched half naked on a rock , simultaneously peeling off his T-shirt and pissing into a river .
And yet , McKnight said , perhaps “ the most transgressive thing I could do is actually tell people that I believe in God.
” The title of McKnight ’ s recent project ( which is ongoing , and encompasses the majority of the pictures he ’ s made since 2018 ) is “ Decreation , ” a concept propounded by the French mystic Simone Weil to describe an intentional effacement of the self in @ @ @ @ @ @ @ divine .
At one point in our discussion , McKnight insisted on pausing while he dug up a Weil quote from her posthumously published book of aphorisms , “ Gravity and Grace , ” from 1947 .
It would explain better what he was getting at in his work , with its mingling of erotic reverie , reverence for the land , and the quiet intensity of its creator .
After a minute , he found it : “ If only I could see a landscape as it is when I am not @ @ @ @ @ @ @ any place I disturb the silence of heaven by the beating of my heart .
”

Like these artists, McKnight is attuned to the ways in which photographs reflect both the outside world and the interior landscapes of their creators. (See, for instance, McKnight’s “The Black Place,” an intentionally underexposed picture of a humped, basalt-colored sand dune, which telegraphs a mood of doom and gloom as well as any portrait could.) Also like these artists, as McKnight takes pains to point out, he is interested in photography as an expression of spirituality, which puts him somewhat at odds with today’s slick and cynical art world. Some of his images, such as “Revealed (& Redacted),” a noirish-lit closeup of a person stretching the skin of their scrotum over their penis, so that it resembles the crowning head of a baby, are explicit enough to provoke discomfort in certain viewers. McKnight has engaged in continual battles with Instagram, to keep the platform from taking down his pictures; a printer once refused to produce a poster for one of his shows because it featured an image—“Eric (Voiding)”—of a man perched half naked on a rock, simultaneously peeling off his T-shirt and pissing into a river. And yet, McKnight said, perhaps “the most transgressive thing I could do is actually tell people that I believe in God.”
The title of McKnight’s recent project (which is ongoing, and encompasses the majority of the pictures he’s made since 2018) is “Decreation,” a concept propounded by the French mystic Simone Weil to describe an intentional effacement of the self in order to channel the will of the divine. At one point in our discussion, McKnight insisted on pausing while he dug up a Weil quote from her posthumously published book of aphorisms, “Gravity and Grace,” from 1947. It would explain better what he was getting at in his work, with its mingling of erotic reverie, reverence for the land, and the quiet intensity of its creator. After a minute, he found it: “If only I could see a landscape as it is when I am not there. But when I am in any place I disturb the silence of heaven by the beating of my heart.”


newyorker--2020-06-15--Trump’s Vacuous West Point Address and the Revolt Against It

President Trump has enraged the U.S. military—from top to bottom .
On June 11th , an angry and mournful letter signed by hundreds of graduates of West Point—spanning from the Class of 1948 to the Class of 2019—was posted on Medium .
It addressed the Class of 2020 .
It cited the current “ tumultuous time ” in America : more than a hundred thousand deaths from a new disease with no known cure , forty million newly unemployed people , and a nation “ hurting from racial , social and human injustice ” after the murder of George Floyd @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , anger and helplessness are the daily existence for too many Americans , ” the signatories wrote .
They warned bluntly of leaders who “ betray public faith through deceitful rhetoric , quibbling , or the appearance of unethical behavior.
” They reminded students of the cadet honor code , which dictates not to “ lie , cheat , or steal , ” and not to tolerate those who do .
Without naming names , they cited their fellow-graduates who are now in senior government positions and failing to uphold their oath of @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Mark Esper , and the Secretary of State , Mike Pompeo , both graduated in the West Point Class of 1986 . )
They wrote that their appeal “ is not about party ; it is about principle.
” And , after welcoming the newest class to the Army tradition of the “ Long Gray Line , ” they concluded , “ Our lifetime commitment is to the enduring responsibility expressed in the Cadet Prayer : ‘ to choose the harder right instead of the easier wrong , and never to be content @ @ @ @ @ @ @ be won.
’ ” The letter was timed to Trump ’ s commencement address at West Point , on Saturday , Donna Matturro McAleer , of the Class of 1987 , told me .
She was one of a half-dozen co-authors who talked for weeks—on social media and Zoom—about the many issues that intersected with Trump ’ s first graduation appearance at the hallowed institution , which is formally known as the U.S. Military Academy .
The pandemic forced West Point to send cadets home in March ; they completed the semester online @ @ @ @ @ @ @ speak at commencement , more than a thousand cadets had to return to campus two weeks beforehand to quarantine , so that the President , who has not worn masks in public and often does not observe social distancing , would be safe .
In their letter , the West Point graduates assailed Trump ’ s use of the military to clear protests that erupted in Washington , D.C. , after Floyd ’ s death .
Esper and General Mark Milley , the chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff , accompanied Trump @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ’ s Episcopal Church , where he waved a Bible , briefly , for a photo op .
“ Sadly , the government has threatened to use the Army in which you serve as a weapon against fellow Americans engaging in these legitimate protests , ” they wrote .
“ Worse , military leaders , who took the same oath you take today , have participated in politically charged events.
” The letter to the cadets warned against the “ disgrace ” of making a “ Faustian bargain ” to please leaders or @ @ @ @ @ @ @ is the most abused attribute of leadership , ” they wrote , and appealed to the Class of 2020 to “ right the wrongs ” and to hold one another accountable to ideals instilled at West Point .
McAleer told me that the drafters of the letter had worked hard to reach a consensus .
“ This letter is the collective voice of many graduates—spanning over eight decades and serving in the Army through thirteen Administrations—speaking as one .
We have a hymn at West Point about gripping hands , and we felt @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ” she said .
“ Given how intergenerational we are , we don ’ t agree on much , but we all came together without reservation on this.
” Much like the protests across America , the letter quickly gained traction .
“ We didn ’ t post this and say , ‘ Sign on , ’ ” McAleer said .
“ They came one by one as they heard about it from classmates or friends who went to West Point .
We knew we were right on this issue .
We all @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the same mission .
Even for those of us not in uniform , that oath does not expire.
” By Monday morning , more than a thousand alumni had signed on .
“ We ’ re a little overwhelmed , ” McAleer , the author of “ Porcelain on Steel : Women of West Point 's Long Gray Line , ” told me .
“ It ’ s been kind of cool.
” West Point , which is on a commanding plateau above the Hudson River , an hour from New York City @ @ @ @ @ @ @ since the Revolutionary War .
General George Washington counted on it as “ the most important strategic position ” in the land .
He used it to prevent the British Army from seizing the Hudson River and isolating the colonies .
American soldiers have been there ever since .
In 1802 , Thomas Jefferson created a formal institution—to teach the science of warfare—to future military leaders .
Abraham Lincoln visited West Point to consult on military strategy during the Civil War ( which had West Point graduates leading on both sides ) .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ the twentieth century on West Point ’ s hundredth anniversary , in 1902 .
Since then , more than a dozen Presidents have announced new policies , military strategies , and diplomatic breakthroughs at its commencements .
In 1955 , Dwight Eisenhower , of the Class of 1915 , outlined America ’ s global goals as the Cold War heated up and told cadets that mankind must find ways to use nuclear technology other than for the world ’ s deadliest weapons .
In 1962 , John F. Kennedy warned cadets about a @ @ @ @ @ @ @ instead of by combat ; by infiltration , instead of aggression , seeking victory by eroding and exhausting the enemy instead of engaging him.
” It proved an apt description of what became the Vietnam War—America ’ s first major military defeat .
In 1987 , Ronald Reagan chose to detail from West Point a historic nuclear deal with the Soviet Union—requiring Moscow to give up four times as many nuclear warheads as the United States—and to invite the Soviet leader Mikhail Gorbachev to visit the United States .
Less than six weeks @ @ @ @ @ @ @ to sign the Intermediate-Range Nuclear Forces Treaty .
In 1991 , George H. W. Bush ’ s commencement address focussed on race , three months after Rodney King ’ s brutal beating by police in Los Angeles .
“ Our Armed Forces have shown what Americans can do when they see themselves not as white and black and red or brown but as one people united in common purpose , ” he said .
Bush also noted that West Point was graduating its thousandth black cadet , its thousandth female , and its @ @ @ @ @ @ @ s task is to achieve nationally what we celebrate today at West Point , ” he said .
“ To reach that end , we must destroy the racial mistrust that threatens our national well-being.
” In 2002 , George W. Bush outlined a new , post-9/11 U.S. policy in Afghanistan .
“ The war on terror will not be won on the defensive , ” he told the cadets .
“ We must take the battle to the enemy , disrupt his plans , and confront the worst threats before they emerge.
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ to outline the surge of thirty thousand troops to Afghanistan—after years of the war moving “ backwards ” —in an address at West Point .
He vowed that the surge would last only eighteen months—long enough to seize the strategic initiative , strengthen Afghan military capacity , and allow a “ responsible transition.
” As was the case after other Presidential addresses at West Point , reality took a different turn .
The United States is now negotiating a peace deal with the Taliban so that it can bring all forces home from @ @ @ @ @ @

President Trump has enraged the U.S. military—from top to bottom. On June 11th, an angry and mournful letter signed by hundreds of graduates of West Point—spanning from the Class of 1948 to the Class of 2019—was posted on Medium. It addressed the Class of 2020. It cited the current “tumultuous time” in America: more than a hundred thousand deaths from a new disease with no known cure, forty million newly unemployed people, and a nation “hurting from racial, social and human injustice” after the murder of George Floyd. “Desperation, fear, anxiety, anger and helplessness are the daily existence for too many Americans,” the signatories wrote. They warned bluntly of leaders who “betray public faith through deceitful rhetoric, quibbling, or the appearance of unethical behavior.” They reminded students of the cadet honor code, which dictates not to “lie, cheat, or steal,” and not to tolerate those who do. Without naming names, they cited their fellow-graduates who are now in senior government positions and failing to uphold their oath of office. (The Defense Secretary, Mark Esper, and the Secretary of State, Mike Pompeo, both graduated in the West Point Class of 1986.) They wrote that their appeal “is not about party; it is about principle.” And, after welcoming the newest class to the Army tradition of the “Long Gray Line,” they concluded, “Our lifetime commitment is to the enduring responsibility expressed in the Cadet Prayer: ‘to choose the harder right instead of the easier wrong, and never to be content with a half-truth when the whole can be won.’ ”
The letter was timed to Trump’s commencement address at West Point, on Saturday, Donna Matturro McAleer, of the Class of 1987, told me. She was one of a half-dozen co-authors who talked for weeks—on social media and Zoom—about the many issues that intersected with Trump’s first graduation appearance at the hallowed institution, which is formally known as the U.S. Military Academy. The pandemic forced West Point to send cadets home in March; they completed the semester online. After Trump announced that he would speak at commencement, more than a thousand cadets had to return to campus two weeks beforehand to quarantine, so that the President, who has not worn masks in public and often does not observe social distancing, would be safe.
In their letter, the West Point graduates assailed Trump’s use of the military to clear protests that erupted in Washington, D.C., after Floyd’s death. Esper and General Mark Milley, the chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, accompanied Trump on his controversial walk to St. John’s Episcopal Church, where he waved a Bible, briefly, for a photo op. “Sadly, the government has threatened to use the Army in which you serve as a weapon against fellow Americans engaging in these legitimate protests,” they wrote. “Worse, military leaders, who took the same oath you take today, have participated in politically charged events.” The letter to the cadets warned against the “disgrace” of making a “Faustian bargain” to please leaders or advance their own careers. “Loyalty is the most abused attribute of leadership,” they wrote, and appealed to the Class of 2020 to “right the wrongs” and to hold one another accountable to ideals instilled at West Point.
McAleer told me that the drafters of the letter had worked hard to reach a consensus. “This letter is the collective voice of many graduates—spanning over eight decades and serving in the Army through thirteen Administrations—speaking as one. We have a hymn at West Point about gripping hands, and we felt it was time to grip hands,” she said. “Given how intergenerational we are, we don’t agree on much, but we all came together without reservation on this.” Much like the protests across America, the letter quickly gained traction. “We didn’t post this and say, ‘Sign on,’ ” McAleer said. “They came one by one as they heard about it from classmates or friends who went to West Point. We knew we were right on this issue. We all went to the same school that had the same mission. Even for those of us not in uniform, that oath does not expire.” By Monday morning, more than a thousand alumni had signed on. “We’re a little overwhelmed,” McAleer, the author of “Porcelain on Steel: Women of West Point's Long Gray Line,” told me. “It’s been kind of cool.”
West Point, which is on a commanding plateau above the Hudson River, an hour from New York City, has been a seminal American institution since the Revolutionary War. General George Washington counted on it as “the most important strategic position” in the land. He used it to prevent the British Army from seizing the Hudson River and isolating the colonies. American soldiers have been there ever since. In 1802, Thomas Jefferson created a formal institution—to teach the science of warfare—to future military leaders. Abraham Lincoln visited West Point to consult on military strategy during the Civil War (which had West Point graduates leading on both sides). Teddy Roosevelt outlined the military challenges of the twentieth century on West Point’s hundredth anniversary, in 1902. Since then, more than a dozen Presidents have announced new policies, military strategies, and diplomatic breakthroughs at its commencements. In 1955, Dwight Eisenhower, of the Class of 1915, outlined America’s global goals as the Cold War heated up and told cadets that mankind must find ways to use nuclear technology other than for the world’s deadliest weapons. In 1962, John F. Kennedy warned cadets about a new type of warfare “by ambush instead of by combat; by infiltration, instead of aggression, seeking victory by eroding and exhausting the enemy instead of engaging him.” It proved an apt description of what became the Vietnam War—America’s first major military defeat. In 1987, Ronald Reagan chose to detail from West Point a historic nuclear deal with the Soviet Union—requiring Moscow to give up four times as many nuclear warheads as the United States—and to invite the Soviet leader Mikhail Gorbachev to visit the United States. Less than six weeks later, Gorbachev was in Washington, to sign the Intermediate-Range Nuclear Forces Treaty.
In 1991, George H. W. Bush’s commencement address focussed on race, three months after Rodney King’s brutal beating by police in Los Angeles. “Our Armed Forces have shown what Americans can do when they see themselves not as white and black and red or brown but as one people united in common purpose,” he said. Bush also noted that West Point was graduating its thousandth black cadet, its thousandth female, and its first Hmong student. “America’s task is to achieve nationally what we celebrate today at West Point,” he said. “To reach that end, we must destroy the racial mistrust that threatens our national well-being.” In 2002, George W. Bush outlined a new, post-9/11 U.S. policy in Afghanistan. “The war on terror will not be won on the defensive,” he told the cadets. “We must take the battle to the enemy, disrupt his plans, and confront the worst threats before they emerge.” In 2009, Barack Obama chose to outline the surge of thirty thousand troops to Afghanistan—after years of the war moving “backwards”—in an address at West Point. He vowed that the surge would last only eighteen months—long enough to seize the strategic initiative, strengthen Afghan military capacity, and allow a “responsible transition.” As was the case after other Presidential addresses at West Point, reality took a different turn. The United States is now negotiating a peace deal with the Taliban so that it can bring all forces home from America’s longest war.
In contrast to the tradition of big ideas and new initiatives, Donald Trump’s first graduation address at West Point was vacuous—or, as Slate put it, in a headline, “West Pointless.” Danny Sjursen, of the Class of 2005, who is a veteran of the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan and also a former West Point instructor, noted that Trump said nothing to heal a fractured nation. He didn’t address the protests over racial injustice which are taking place in more than two thousand America cities. He didn’t address his own deepening strains with the military, including with Esper and Milley, who publicly disavowed the President’s use of federal forces against protesters. “He didn’t mention a single theatre of U.S. military operations—not Afghanistan, Iraq, Syria, or the many places where special forces are deployed or U.S. warplanes have bombed,” Sjursen, who has chronicled Presidential appearances at West Point since Kennedy, told me.
Trump also offered no words of comfort about the coronavirus pandemic—or thanks to the cadets for the most complicated commencement address ever held at West Point. It was a stark and lonely graduation, because family and friends could not attend. The cadets paraded onto an empty field, in white face masks and their famed gray jackets, to sit on white folding chairs more than six feet apart. Instead of marching onstage to get their degrees, they exchanged salutes with Trump from a distance. It was another Trump photo op—writ large. (Ten of the White House’s “Photos of the Week,” released on Sunday night, were from West Point.)
Trump talked briefly and vaguely about the durability of American institutions “against the passions and prejudices of the moment. When times are turbulent, when the road is rough, what matters most is that which is permanent, timeless, enduring, and eternal,” he said. As he often does, Trump pledged an end to endless wars but offered no details on how to do it. In a silly aside, he noted that his birthday, on Sunday, coincided with the Army’s birthday. “I don’t know if that happened by accident,” he told the cadets. During Trump’s talk, protesters on several boats in the Hudson River flashed signs. Seven people on kayaks lined up together, each holding a large letter, to spell “R-E-S-I-S-T.” A sailboat used its mast to hoist a protest sign bearing Trump’s face. “He is a THREAT to our constitution,” it said. There were others.


newyorker--2020-06-15--Donald Trump and the Uses and Misuses of the Bible

In extreme circumstances like the present , people go back to their deep beliefs and look into their souls .
The Democratic Party , by way of the Joe Biden campaign , has announced that the upcoming Presidential election will be “ a battle for the soul of America.
” But , in religious terms , what kind of a soul will that be ?
America remains a Christian-majority nation , and evangelicals are an important and dependable part of President Trump ’ s base ; part of his “ Make America Great Again ” theme has been his in-your-face @ @ @ @ @ @ @ lived more or less the opposite of a Christian life , many evangelicals see him as their heaven-sent ally , an instance of God ’ s well-known habit of working in mysterious ways .
A faithful churchgoer he ’ s not .
After he held up a Bible for his violence-enabled photo op in Lafayette Square , a reporter asked him , “ Is that your Bible ?
” He replied , “ It ’ s a Bible.
” If , as he seemed to be saying ( unsurprisingly ) , this particular @ @ @ @ @ @ @ its actual owner remained unknown .
Ivanka Trump had carried it in a designer handbag during the walk from the White House to St. John ’ s Church and had given it to her father so that he could pose with it , but apparently it wasn ’ t hers , either .
After the photo op , nobody stepped forward to claim this Bible as his or her own and take pride in its having participated in an important moment in history .
Of course , there are millions of Bibles out @ @ @ @ @ @ @ to anyone .
Maybe this was just a copy that the White House had on hand .
In courtrooms , for the swearing-in of witnesses , there are Bibles that are the general property of the court .
At a witness ’ s request , a court might provide a copy of the Torah instead ; in places with more diversity , courts might also offer Qurans and Bhagavad Gitas .
The option of not swearing on any text at all exists , too .
Atheists , for example , don ’ t @ @ @ @ @ @ @ swear on a hardback of Richard Dawkins ’ s “ The God Delusion ” but may simply affirm that what they say will be the truth .
Some judges make a point of telling jurors to remember that a witness who chooses to affirm rather than swear is no less likely to be truthful .
For Trump ’ s purposes in Lafayette Square , however , only a Bible would do , because he was once again making a claim about America and Christianity .
His senior legal adviser Jenna Ellis later told @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , as a constitutional law attorney , as an American , and as a Christian—all those things came together for me in that moment.
” In America ’ s past existential battles , both sides were emphatically Christian .
During the Civil War , Confederate troops prayed in revival meetings , sometimes led by their generals , and Union Army regiments sang “ The Battle Hymn of the Republic ” as they marched .
Nowadays , only the Trump side is hugging the faith to its bosom , having trained it for combat @ @ @ @ @ @ @ in which Trump seems to have subdued the enemy to his satisfaction .
Late in 2017 , when announcing his huge tax cut for corporations and the rich , he said , “ We will give the American people a big , beautiful Christmas present , ” thus combining Father and Son—God and Money—with the Holy Spirit , which would be himself .
Meanwhile , the anti-Trump side remains formally ungirded in holy armor , maybe so as not to leave anybody out .
It ’ s a big country , after all @ @ @ @ @ @ @ by the many millions of Americans who aren ’ t .
Imagine that , in previous struggles , only the wrong side—the demonstrably wrong side , as revealed by history—had been loudly and avowedly Christian .
Jefferson Davis , the President of the Confederacy , the wrong side , would have presented himself as the Christian champion , and Abraham Lincoln , whose position was considerably closer to the teachings of Christ , would have stayed disinterestedly and tolerantly silent .
Lincoln was not a Bible-thumper , as Bible-brandishers used to be called @ @ @ @ @ @ @ but he wrote and spoke and thought in terms of Scripture .
In his Second Inaugural Address , near the Civil War ’ s end , he framed the two warring sides like this : “ Both read the same Bible , and pray to the same God ; and each invokes His aid against the other.
” Then he went on , with that moral clarity combined with dry frontier wit which made him not only our greatest President but one of our greatest writers : “ It may seem strange that @ @ @ @ @ @ @ just God ’ s assistance in wringing their bread from the sweat of other men ’ s faces ; but let us judge not that we be not judged.
” At that moment , he had reason to hope that the war would soon end in victory , but he took nothing for granted .
It could go on for a long time : The struggle did go on for a long time after the war ended , and it continues , but not as Lincoln envisioned it .
His speech urged compassion @ @ @ @ @ @ @ about what the people formerly held in slavery would do .
As it turned out , former combatants on both sides found that they had a common enthusiasm for white supremacy , postbellum , and wounds were duly bound .
When asked how the freedmen and -women were going to get along without property or education or prospects , Lincoln answered , “ Root , ” abbreviating a rural expression for getting by in tough circumstances : “ Root , hog , or die.
” The terrorism and lies of white supremacy and @ @ @ @ @ @ @ root ” have brought us to the present day .
The civil-rights movement of the nineteen-fifties and sixties would not have happened without the black church in America and the Reverend Martin Luther King , Jr. A person of any faith , or none at all , could be excused for wishing that King had somehow miraculously returned to thunder at Trump when he posed with the Bible , as you might wish that your school principal had arrived when a playground bully was smacking you around .
The Bible talks about justice @ @ @ @ @ @ @ and love—what obvious things this President obliges us to assert and reassert !
—and a number of dissenting voices pointed that out after the photo op .
Biden said that Trump should not just brandish the Bible—he should open it and read it .

In extreme circumstances like the present, people go back to their deep beliefs and look into their souls. The Democratic Party, by way of the Joe Biden campaign, has announced that the upcoming Presidential election will be “a battle for the soul of America.” But, in religious terms, what kind of a soul will that be? America remains a Christian-majority nation, and evangelicals are an important and dependable part of President Trump’s base; part of his “Make America Great Again” theme has been his in-your-face cheerleading for Christianity. Although Trump has lived more or less the opposite of a Christian life, many evangelicals see him as their heaven-sent ally, an instance of God’s well-known habit of working in mysterious ways.
A faithful churchgoer he’s not. After he held up a Bible for his violence-enabled photo op in Lafayette Square, a reporter asked him, “Is that your Bible?” He replied, “It’s a Bible.” If, as he seemed to be saying (unsurprisingly), this particular Bible did not belong to him, its actual owner remained unknown. Ivanka Trump had carried it in a designer handbag during the walk from the White House to St. John’s Church and had given it to her father so that he could pose with it, but apparently it wasn’t hers, either. After the photo op, nobody stepped forward to claim this Bible as his or her own and take pride in its having participated in an important moment in history.
Of course, there are millions of Bibles out there that don’t technically belong to anyone. Maybe this was just a copy that the White House had on hand. In courtrooms, for the swearing-in of witnesses, there are Bibles that are the general property of the court. At a witness’s request, a court might provide a copy of the Torah instead; in places with more diversity, courts might also offer Qurans and Bhagavad Gitas. The option of not swearing on any text at all exists, too. Atheists, for example, don’t have to raise their right hands and swear on a hardback of Richard Dawkins’s “The God Delusion” but may simply affirm that what they say will be the truth. Some judges make a point of telling jurors to remember that a witness who chooses to affirm rather than swear is no less likely to be truthful.
For Trump’s purposes in Lafayette Square, however, only a Bible would do, because he was once again making a claim about America and Christianity. His senior legal adviser Jenna Ellis later told the Washington Post, “For me, as a constitutional law attorney, as an American, and as a Christian—all those things came together for me in that moment.” In America’s past existential battles, both sides were emphatically Christian. During the Civil War, Confederate troops prayed in revival meetings, sometimes led by their generals, and Union Army regiments sang “The Battle Hymn of the Republic” as they marched. Nowadays, only the Trump side is hugging the faith to its bosom, having trained it for combat during the so-called War on Christmas, in which Trump seems to have subdued the enemy to his satisfaction. Late in 2017, when announcing his huge tax cut for corporations and the rich, he said, “We will give the American people a big, beautiful Christmas present,” thus combining Father and Son—God and Money—with the Holy Spirit, which would be himself. Meanwhile, the anti-Trump side remains formally ungirded in holy armor, maybe so as not to leave anybody out. It’s a big country, after all, and the Trump-supporting evangelicals are outnumbered by the many millions of Americans who aren’t.
Imagine that, in previous struggles, only the wrong side—the demonstrably wrong side, as revealed by history—had been loudly and avowedly Christian. Jefferson Davis, the President of the Confederacy, the wrong side, would have presented himself as the Christian champion, and Abraham Lincoln, whose position was considerably closer to the teachings of Christ, would have stayed disinterestedly and tolerantly silent. Lincoln was not a Bible-thumper, as Bible-brandishers used to be called in an age before Lafayette Square, but he wrote and spoke and thought in terms of Scripture. In his Second Inaugural Address, near the Civil War’s end, he framed the two warring sides like this: “Both read the same Bible, and pray to the same God; and each invokes His aid against the other.”
Then he went on, with that moral clarity combined with dry frontier wit which made him not only our greatest President but one of our greatest writers: “It may seem strange that any men should dare to ask a just God’s assistance in wringing their bread from the sweat of other men’s faces; but let us judge not that we be not judged.”
At that moment, he had reason to hope that the war would soon end in victory, but he took nothing for granted. It could go on for a long time:
Yet, if God wills that it continue, until all the wealth piled by the bond-man’s two hundred and fifty years of unrequited toil shall be sunk, and until every drop of blood drawn with the lash, shall be paid by another drawn by the sword, as was said three thousand years ago, so still it must be said “the judgments of the Lord, are true and righteous altogether.”
The struggle did go on for a long time after the war ended, and it continues, but not as Lincoln envisioned it. His speech urged compassion for the other side but said nothing about what the people formerly held in slavery would do. As it turned out, former combatants on both sides found that they had a common enthusiasm for white supremacy, postbellum, and wounds were duly bound. When asked how the freedmen and -women were going to get along without property or education or prospects, Lincoln answered, “Root,” abbreviating a rural expression for getting by in tough circumstances: “Root, hog, or die.” The terrorism and lies of white supremacy and a hundred and fifty-five years of “root” have brought us to the present day.
The civil-rights movement of the nineteen-fifties and sixties would not have happened without the black church in America and the Reverend Martin Luther King, Jr. A person of any faith, or none at all, could be excused for wishing that King had somehow miraculously returned to thunder at Trump when he posed with the Bible, as you might wish that your school principal had arrived when a playground bully was smacking you around. The Bible talks about justice, and faith, and humility, and love—what obvious things this President obliges us to assert and reassert!—and a number of dissenting voices pointed that out after the photo op. Biden said that Trump should not just brandish the Bible—he should open it and read it.
The Reverend Al Sharpton, in his eulogy at the memorial service for George Floyd, in Houston, said the same and much more along religious lines. He was speaking in a church, in the context of a funeral service, but was also addressing the entire country. At the beginning of the eulogy, he said, “Let me ask those of you that, in the traditions of eulogies, need a scriptural reference, go to Ecclesiastes, third chapter, first verse,” and then he paraphrased the line “To everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under heaven.” By allowing that some of his listeners might need a scriptural reference and some might not, he spoke to his immediate audience while keeping the larger one in mind.
At a similar ceremony—the memorial for nine members of a Bible-study group murdered by a white supremacist, in Charleston, South Carolina, in 2015—President Obama sang the hymn “Amazing Grace,” a cappella, as part of his eulogy. Everybody in America knows “Amazing Grace” or will encounter it eventually. If America had a national religion, “Amazing Grace” would be the national hymn. Obama gave many powerful speeches, and his singing of “Amazing Grace” was a high point, distilling so much of the hope and healing that surrounded him. Sadly, the grace that has, as the hymn says, “brought me safe thus far” is looking kind of questionable and sketchy right now.
King is not going to come back and stop the frightened bully. A second Julia Ward Howe will not write us another hymn about trampling out vintages and terrible swift swords. People of good will, everyday people who are alive now, in all their complexity and doubt, their religiousness or irreligiousness, will have to proceed in the struggle armed with whatever faith they have, putting their trust in God—or not—and marching on.


newyorker--2020-06-15--The Shock Jocks of Menswear

The Shock Jocks of Menswear

When I first met Lawrence Schlossman and James Harris , better known as Larry and Jimmy of the fashion podcast “ Throwing Fits , ” they were leaving their jobs to focus on the show full time , which is to say , to talk about clothes , music , and memes ; to mock each other ’ s appearance ; and to pry into their guests ’ finances and sex lives .
We shook hands on a wet day in early March in the lobby of an office building in downtown Manhattan , before the COVID-19 lockdowns or the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ were on top of the world then , heading into an appointment with a representative from Diemme , an Italian luxury-shoe manufacturer .
They were taking the first step toward opening “ new revenue streams ” by designing a pair of boots .
While we waited for the elevator , we did a “ fit check , ” a what-are-you-wearing rundown that the hosts do at the start of each episode .
Schlossman , who is thirty-three , had on black Blundstone Chelsea boots , black Supreme jeans , a Rancid T-shirt , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , combined with his beard and slight hunch , made him look like Oscar the Grouch .
Harris , also thirty-three , shorter , with thick black hair , was wearing beater New Balances , Our Legacy jeans , and a cropped charcoal puffer coat , with a zipper that extended to the top of the hood .
A security guard interrupted us to explain that the elevator we were waiting for was , in fact , a stairwell .
“ Have some fucking respect for the process , ” Schlossman said to @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Throwing Fits ” and its creators seem absurd .
The show is an audio-only experience devoted to a visual and tactile medium , helmed by two average-looking dudes who have never sewn a garment or walked a runway—whose chief fashion expertise comes from obsessing over clothes .
The pair are what Schlossman calls “ jawnz ” enthusiasts , a subculture of men whose primary passion is clothes—researching , buying , and discussing them online , and photographing themselves wearing their duds with friends .
“ This is some late-stage-capitalism fuck shit , ” @ @ @ @ @ @ @ A jawnz enthusiast lives and dies by copping stuff .
That ’ s just what fucking moves their dick .
That ’ s what fucking releases the serotonin in the brain , ” he said .
On the other hand , jawnz enthusiasts are not “ blindly being slaves to consumerism , without having any kind of discerning taste of their own.
” They can be motivated by something more individual and quixotic , and it is the job of “ Throwing Fits ” to help fans along their style journeys .
“ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ jawnz enthusiast ’ s work is never done , like , he ’ s gon na be copping till he dies , but I ’ d like to think that it ’ s for the right reasons—this idea of the pursuit of personal style , the pursuit of knowing thyself.
” The podcast has been downloaded millions of times since it started four years ago , and almost three thousand people pay Schlossman and Harris on Patreon for extra content and perks .
These fans form a devoted community around “ Throwing Fits @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the hosts jokingly describe as “ fourteen-year-old virgins with Mom ’ s credit card.
” Beyond eager teen-agers seeking jawnz advice , “ Throwing Fits ” has developed a following among media insiders and a certain kind of fashion-conscious celebrity .
Guests have included Vampire Weekend ’ s Ezra Koenig ; Nylon ’ s editorial director , Alyssa Vingan Klein ; and the actor and director Jonah Hill , whose voice introduces each episode with the phrase “ You ’ re listening to the only podcast that matters.
” In the show ’ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Schlossman bill themselves as “ two grown dirtbags just tryna navigate the millennial male zeitgeist , ” but in May they signed a representation deal with W.M.E .
and are planning to embark on a national tour of live shows , when it ’ s safe to travel again .
Four years , one name change , and more than a hundred and fifty episodes later , they have gone from navigating the Zeitgeist to defining it .
Neither host ever expected to find himself in such an influential position in the fashion @ @ @ @ @ @ @ enlightened bro ” from North Jersey .
He was attracted to fashion through the Jersey post-punk and skate scenes but had little aptitude for either .
However , he always had a way with words ; an eighth-grade Latin teacher diagnosed him with “ diarrhea of the mouth.
” He cruised through an economics degree at Wake Forest and planned to work in finance but was derailed by the 2008 financial crisis .
While supposedly working at his first job out of college ( a managerial training program at a for-profit university ) @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ’ s fashion , called Sartorially Inclined , and amassed a following by writing in a breezy , relatable voice .
By 2011 , he had decided to move to New York and try to make it in the fashion industry .
Harris , the straight man of the duo , grew up in Manhattan , in Peter Cooper Village , and is the son of a Japanese mother and an American father .
He attended Stuyvesant High School , where he was well-liked but adrift and unmotivated .
“ I was too @ @ @ @ @ @ @ was too white for the Asian kids , ” he said .
He went to college at Vassar , where he majored in geography , because it “ didn ’ t require a thesis.
” “ That kind of sounds horrible , ” he said , “ but I guess it ’ s how I lived my life.
” Harris and Schlossman met in 2011 as gofers at the fashion P.R.-and-event-planning agency B.P.M.W .
( Brand Pimps Media Whores ) .
Both were barely scraping by , Harris remembered .
“ Go to @ @ @ @ @ @ @ for lunch .
Save half for dinner.
” They got their big breaks with jobs at Complex Media , in 2012 , and , from there , worked their way up in the industry .
Their podcast began in 2016 , as a side project recorded in the offices of Grailed , a menswear-resale Web site where Schlossman was working as brand director .
The show was originally called “ Failing Upwards ” ; Schlossman lays out his reasoning for the title in the first episode , reflecting on how the pair had @ @ @ @ @ @ @ professionalism or work ethic , to “ fuck up enough in the right way ” and become moderate successes .
From these early recordings of two friends telling stories about almost meeting Kanye or losing their virginity , the podcast has transformed into a cross between “ The Howard Stern Show ” and “ Bodega Boys ” —foulmouthed and myopically self-referential but guided , above all , by the dynamic between the hosts .
Before they begin recording , Harris cracks open a twenty-ounce Diet Pepsi and Schlossman usually chugs a sugar-free Red @ @ @ @ @ @ @ four hours and is broken into two episodes .
Harris starts by reading a baroque list of epithets to introduce the guest .
On a recent episode with Sean Evans , the host of the YouTube wing-eating show “ Hot Ones , ” Harris introduces him as “ the ruiner of rectums , the sultan of spice , the annihilator of assholes , the diarrhea Don Dada , the prince of peppers , the baron of bubble guts , the beautiful bald bitch himself.
” After the introduction comes a fit check and @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ( Working Title ) ” and “ Last Jawn/Next Jawn , ” in which guests discuss brands , films , clothing , and music that they like and dislike , ostensibly to educate listeners about the finer things in life .
“ What makes your Pringle tingle ?
” Harris likes to ask .

When I first met Lawrence Schlossman and James Harris, better known as Larry and Jimmy of the fashion podcast “Throwing Fits,” they were leaving their jobs to focus on the show full time, which is to say, to talk about clothes, music, and memes; to mock each other’s appearance; and to pry into their guests’ finances and sex lives. We shook hands on a wet day in early March in the lobby of an office building in downtown Manhattan, before the COVID-19 lockdowns or the murder of George Floyd. The podcasters were on top of the world then, heading into an appointment with a representative from Diemme, an Italian luxury-shoe manufacturer. They were taking the first step toward opening “new revenue streams” by designing a pair of boots.
While we waited for the elevator, we did a “fit check,” a what-are-you-wearing rundown that the hosts do at the start of each episode. Schlossman, who is thirty-three, had on black Blundstone Chelsea boots, black Supreme jeans, a Rancid T-shirt, and a vintage green Patagonia fleece that, combined with his beard and slight hunch, made him look like Oscar the Grouch. Harris, also thirty-three, shorter, with thick black hair, was wearing beater New Balances, Our Legacy jeans, and a cropped charcoal puffer coat, with a zipper that extended to the top of the hood.
A security guard interrupted us to explain that the elevator we were waiting for was, in fact, a stairwell.
“Have some fucking respect for the process,” Schlossman said to himself.
At first glance, “Throwing Fits” and its creators seem absurd. The show is an audio-only experience devoted to a visual and tactile medium, helmed by two average-looking dudes who have never sewn a garment or walked a runway—whose chief fashion expertise comes from obsessing over clothes. The pair are what Schlossman calls “jawnz” enthusiasts, a subculture of men whose primary passion is clothes—researching, buying, and discussing them online, and photographing themselves wearing their duds with friends.
“This is some late-stage-capitalism fuck shit,” Schlossman told me via FaceTime. “A jawnz enthusiast lives and dies by copping stuff. That’s just what fucking moves their dick. That’s what fucking releases the serotonin in the brain,” he said. On the other hand, jawnz enthusiasts are not “blindly being slaves to consumerism, without having any kind of discerning taste of their own.” They can be motivated by something more individual and quixotic, and it is the job of “Throwing Fits” to help fans along their style journeys. “It sounds like a Sisyphusean fucking task—a jawnz enthusiast’s work is never done, like, he’s gonna be copping till he dies, but I’d like to think that it’s for the right reasons—this idea of the pursuit of personal style, the pursuit of knowing thyself.” The podcast has been downloaded millions of times since it started four years ago, and almost three thousand people pay Schlossman and Harris on Patreon for extra content and perks. These fans form a devoted community around “Throwing Fits” called the Throw Gang, which the hosts jokingly describe as “fourteen-year-old virgins with Mom’s credit card.”
Beyond eager teen-agers seeking jawnz advice, “Throwing Fits” has developed a following among media insiders and a certain kind of fashion-conscious celebrity. Guests have included Vampire Weekend’s Ezra Koenig; Nylon’s editorial director, Alyssa Vingan Klein; and the actor and director Jonah Hill, whose voice introduces each episode with the phrase “You’re listening to the only podcast that matters.” In the show’s description on iTunes, Harris and Schlossman bill themselves as “two grown dirtbags just tryna navigate the millennial male zeitgeist,” but in May they signed a representation deal with W.M.E. and are planning to embark on a national tour of live shows, when it’s safe to travel again. Four years, one name change, and more than a hundred and fifty episodes later, they have gone from navigating the Zeitgeist to defining it.
Neither host ever expected to find himself in such an influential position in the fashion world. Schlossman is a self-described “enlightened bro” from North Jersey. He was attracted to fashion through the Jersey post-punk and skate scenes but had little aptitude for either. However, he always had a way with words; an eighth-grade Latin teacher diagnosed him with “diarrhea of the mouth.” He cruised through an economics degree at Wake Forest and planned to work in finance but was derailed by the 2008 financial crisis. While supposedly working at his first job out of college (a managerial training program at a for-profit university), he started a blog about men’s fashion, called Sartorially Inclined, and amassed a following by writing in a breezy, relatable voice. By 2011, he had decided to move to New York and try to make it in the fashion industry.
Harris, the straight man of the duo, grew up in Manhattan, in Peter Cooper Village, and is the son of a Japanese mother and an American father. He attended Stuyvesant High School, where he was well-liked but adrift and unmotivated. “I was too Asian for the white kids; I was too white for the Asian kids,” he said. He went to college at Vassar, where he majored in geography, because it “didn’t require a thesis.” “That kind of sounds horrible,” he said, “but I guess it’s how I lived my life.”
Harris and Schlossman met in 2011 as gofers at the fashion P.R.-and-event-planning agency B.P.M.W. (Brand Pimps Media Whores). Both were barely scraping by, Harris remembered. “Go to Subway—get a five-dollar footlong. Eat half for lunch. Save half for dinner.” They got their big breaks with jobs at Complex Media, in 2012, and, from there, worked their way up in the industry. Their podcast began in 2016, as a side project recorded in the offices of Grailed, a menswear-resale Web site where Schlossman was working as brand director. The show was originally called “Failing Upwards”; Schlossman lays out his reasoning for the title in the first episode, reflecting on how the pair had managed, despite their apparent lack of professionalism or work ethic, to “fuck up enough in the right way” and become moderate successes.
From these early recordings of two friends telling stories about almost meeting Kanye or losing their virginity, the podcast has transformed into a cross between “The Howard Stern Show” and “Bodega Boys”—foulmouthed and myopically self-referential but guided, above all, by the dynamic between the hosts. Before they begin recording, Harris cracks open a twenty-ounce Diet Pepsi and Schlossman usually chugs a sugar-free Red Bull. An average studio session lasts four hours and is broken into two episodes. Harris starts by reading a baroque list of epithets to introduce the guest. On a recent episode with Sean Evans, the host of the YouTube wing-eating show “Hot Ones,” Harris introduces him as “the ruiner of rectums, the sultan of spice, the annihilator of assholes, the diarrhea Don Dada, the prince of peppers, the baron of bubble guts, the beautiful bald bitch himself.” After the introduction comes a fit check and segments called “Fuck With/Not Fuck With (Working Title)” and “Last Jawn/Next Jawn,” in which guests discuss brands, films, clothing, and music that they like and dislike, ostensibly to educate listeners about the finer things in life. “What makes your Pringle tingle?” Harris likes to ask.
A pair of Nike Air Tech Challenge II sneakers, as worn by Andre Agassi? “Hot lava,” Schlossman says.
Allbirds, the formless wool sneakers ubiquitous in Silicon Valley? “A plague,” Harris says.
From jawnz, the conversation can move in surprisingly personal directions. Although Harris and Schlossman feign stupidity, they lead guests to discuss serious topics, from sexism in the sneaker world to cancer and body dysmorphia. In a recent episode, the writer Chris Black reflected on his struggles with addiction. The hosts were talking about what topics draw an audience to the show:


newyorker--2020-06-15--Trump Orders Bill Barr to Investigate Nation’s Ramps

WASHINGTON ( The Borowitz Report ) —Arguing that “ there ’ s something going on ” with the nation ’ s sloping surfaces , Donald J. Trump has ordered Attorney General Bill Barr to launch a Department of Justice investigation into the United States ’ s vast collection of ramps .
“ It ’ s something we ’ re looking into quite strongly , ” Trump told reporters on the South Lawn of the White House .
“ Ramps have treated me very unfairly.
” The decision to probe the nation ’ s ramps came after a night of Trump @ @ @ @ @ @ @ one claiming that George Soros had plotted to make American ramps steeper and slipperier than they were during Barack Obama ’ s Presidency .
Trump told reporters that he was also considering signing an executive order requiring all ramps to have an incline of zero degrees , rendering them completely flat .
“ Those would be perfect ramps , ” he said .
Responding to this proposal , CNN ’ s Jim Acosta asked if , by making ramps flat , Trump would in effect be making the nation ’ s ramps no @ @ @ @ @

WASHINGTON (The Borowitz Report)—Arguing that “there’s something going on” with the nation’s sloping surfaces, Donald J. Trump has ordered Attorney General Bill Barr to launch a Department of Justice investigation into the United States’s vast collection of ramps.
“It’s something we’re looking into quite strongly,” Trump told reporters on the South Lawn of the White House. “Ramps have treated me very unfairly.”
The decision to probe the nation’s ramps came after a night of Trump feverishly retweeting anti-ramp conspiracy theories, including one claiming that George Soros had plotted to make American ramps steeper and slipperier than they were during Barack Obama’s Presidency.
Trump told reporters that he was also considering signing an executive order requiring all ramps to have an incline of zero degrees, rendering them completely flat.
“Those would be perfect ramps,” he said.
Responding to this proposal, CNN’s Jim Acosta asked if, by making ramps flat, Trump would in effect be making the nation’s ramps no longer ramps at all.
“You’re a terrible person,” Trump replied.