newyorker--2020-09-09--The Players’ Revolt Against Racism, Inequality, and Police Terror

In the brief interlude between the Democratic and Republican virtual national Conventions , another taped act of police violence reminded the country that the wounds created by the brutal murder of George Floyd are far from healed .
On Sunday , August 23rd , in the small city of Kenosha , Wisconsin , a bystander captured a white police officer shooting Jacob Blake , a Black man , seven times in his back , at point-blank range , as Blake tried to return to his car after an altercation with the police .
Inside of Blake ’ s car were @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Blake survived his wounds , though he remains hospitalized and paralyzed from the waist down .
When night fell that Sunday , Black Kenosha rose up .
For three days , barging right into the center of the Republican National Convention , cars and buildings were set ablaze , and furious protests went through the night , in rage against racism , inequality , and police terror .
Pleas for calm clashed with the cries of despair and anger .
Such scenes have played out repeatedly over this long and hot summer .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ , midway between Chicago and Milwaukee , two of the most segregated cities in the United States .
Black life is hard in Kenosha : African-Americans are eleven per cent of the population but represent twenty per cent of those living below the poverty line .
White people in Kenosha are twice as likely to have a college degree as their Black peers .
For the past two years , nearby Milwaukee and Racine have been ranked the two worst cities in the United States for African-Americans .
As in cities across the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Black poverty in Kenosha draws the attention of the police .
In 2018 , the county sheriff , David Beth , described five young Black people who had been arrested for shoplifting as “ garbage people ” who were a “ cancer to our society.
” In a barrage of racist invective , Beth continued , “ You have to wash your hands with these people .
We ’ re allowing this group of society to ruin our children and our grandchildren ’ s future .
We have got to try our best @ @ @ @ @ @ @ in our state , in our country.
” He went on , “ We ’ ve got to get a handle on these people .
And maybe what we ’ ve got to do is build warehouses that after this generation is gone , and they ’ ve perished in these buildings , we can turn them into something else.
” This is the kind of raw racism that led to Jacob Blake , though paralyzed and in critical condition , being handcuffed to his hospital bed .
( He was facing criminal @ @ @ @ @ @ @ after Blake ’ s shooting , a white seventeen-year-old , armed with an assault rifle , killed two people at a Kenosha demonstration and then calmly walked through a line of police and returned to his home in suburban Illinois , unscathed .
( The shooter , Kyle Rittenhouse , was later arrested , and is awaiting extradition to Wisconsin on homicide and other charges . )
In Kenosha , local law enforcement predictably overreacted to demonstrations , teargassing and arresting a multiracial crowd of protesters , but it fraternized with white militiamen @ @ @ @ @ @ @ a citywide curfew .
The actions of the police seemed to indicate that white vigilantism is welcome in its effort corral protests that it does not like .
These local ripples overlapped with the provocative distortions of the Republican National Convention .
In the Bizarro World of the R.N.C.
, the coronavirus has miraculously disappeared ; a new white , silent majority cowers in fear of the omnipotent “ Antifa ” ; and cities are ruled by a motley crew of Democrats , looters , and criminals who are threatening to invade nearby @ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
No one will soon forget the unhinged speech by Kimberly Guilfoyle , a Trump campaign fund-raiser and the girlfriend of Donald Trump , Jr. , in which she insisted , of Democrats , “ They want to steal your liberty , your freedom , they want to control what you see and think and believe so that they can control how you live .
They want to enslave you to the weak , dependent , liberal victim ideology to the point that you will not recognize this country or yourself.
” The @ @ @ @ @ @ @ voices of Black people , but it was not to decry racism in our country or even to indulge in the illusion of unity .
Instead , the former professional football players Herschel Walker and Jack Brewer sought to defend Trump against charges of racism , with Brewer making the absurd claim , “ I know what racism looks like , I ’ ve seen it firsthand .
And America , it has no resemblance to President Trump.
” The video of Blake ’ s shooting and the Convention reflected vastly different realities @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , wealthy white élites with a few Black friends ignore the pandemic and pine for the police to impose a brutal regime of law and order ; in the other , nearly two hundred thousand people have lost their lives to COVID-19 , fourteen million are jobless , an estimated twelve million have lost their health insurance , and twenty-nine million people reported in July that they didn ’ t have enough to eat .
For Black people , there is , too , the constant threat of racist police violence .
Serendipitously @ @ @ @ @ @ @ who made an emotional link between these different views of the country .
After the Los Angeles Clippers beat the Dallas Mavericks in a playoff game on Tuesday , August 25th , their coach , Doc Rivers , turned his midnight , postgame news conference into a bitter exposition of Trump and the R.N.C .
“ All you hear is Donald Trump and all of them talking about fear , ” Rivers said .
“ We ’ re the ones getting killed .
We ’ re the ones getting shot .
We ’ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ certain communities.
” With tears in his eyes , he continued , “ It ’ s amazing why we keep loving this country , and this country does not love us back.
” But , in a flash of anger , he also pointed to the hypocrisy of police officers assaulting Black men but showing respect to armed white anti-coronavirus-lockdown protesters .
“ It ’ s funny .
We protest .
They send riot guards , ” Rivers said .
“ They go up to Michigan with guns , and they ’ re @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ” Rivers ’ s comments communicated the fear , frustration , and anger of most of Black America .
The response was electric .
The following morning , his words made headlines and dominated all of sports news .
By late that afternoon , the Milwaukee Bucks , in the thick of the hunt for the N.B.A .
championship title , refused to take the court to protest the police shooting in Kenosha .
Within hours , the other teams in the playoffs also refused to play .
In complete violation of their @ @ @ @ @ @ @ engaged in a wildcat strike against racism and police violence .
The radicalization of young Black professional athletes is a stunning development in this unfolding , raucous movement , one that demonstrates the sheer scale of racial inequality and a deep need to do something about it .
The N.B.A .
is mostly a league of young Black men , who even as millionaire athletes are not immune to racist police harassment .
Sterling Brown , a member of the Bucks , is only two years removed from having been brutally beaten by @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , Brown parked in a handicapped spot outside a Walgreens ; instead of simply issuing him a parking citation , eight police officers beat Brown up , disparaged him , and tasered him before arresting him and taking him to jail .
Within hours , he was released , with no charges filed against him .
If this can happen to a millionaire Black athlete , what on earth happens to the young people that cops like David Beth think should be “ warehoused ” forever ?
This summer , Brown wrote about @ @ @ @ @ @ @ describing how it catalyzed his involvement in Black Lives Matter .
“ What I ’ m fighting for is bigger than me , ” Brown said .
“ Our fight for justice , equality , equity and respect will be heard and will be met .
Our fight for our lives and freedom will no longer be up for debate !
We will not be silenced !
”

In the brief interlude between the Democratic and Republican virtual national Conventions, another taped act of police violence reminded the country that the wounds created by the brutal murder of George Floyd are far from healed. On Sunday, August 23rd, in the small city of Kenosha, Wisconsin, a bystander captured a white police officer shooting Jacob Blake, a Black man, seven times in his back, at point-blank range, as Blake tried to return to his car after an altercation with the police. Inside of Blake’s car were his three young children. Miraculously, Blake survived his wounds, though he remains hospitalized and paralyzed from the waist down.
When night fell that Sunday, Black Kenosha rose up. For three days, barging right into the center of the Republican National Convention, cars and buildings were set ablaze, and furious protests went through the night, in rage against racism, inequality, and police terror. Pleas for calm clashed with the cries of despair and anger. Such scenes have played out repeatedly over this long and hot summer. Kenosha is a Midwestern Rust Belt city, midway between Chicago and Milwaukee, two of the most segregated cities in the United States. Black life is hard in Kenosha: African-Americans are eleven per cent of the population but represent twenty per cent of those living below the poverty line. White people in Kenosha are twice as likely to have a college degree as their Black peers. For the past two years, nearby Milwaukee and Racine have been ranked the two worst cities in the United States for African-Americans.
As in cities across the country, the disproportionately high level of Black poverty in Kenosha draws the attention of the police. In 2018, the county sheriff, David Beth, described five young Black people who had been arrested for shoplifting as “garbage people” who were a “cancer to our society.” In a barrage of racist invective, Beth continued, “You have to wash your hands with these people. We’re allowing this group of society to ruin our children and our grandchildren’s future. We have got to try our best to save the future of our communities in our state, in our country.” He went on, “We’ve got to get a handle on these people. And maybe what we’ve got to do is build warehouses that after this generation is gone, and they’ve perished in these buildings, we can turn them into something else.”
This is the kind of raw racism that led to Jacob Blake, though paralyzed and in critical condition, being handcuffed to his hospital bed. (He was facing criminal charges.) Meanwhile, two days after Blake’s shooting, a white seventeen-year-old, armed with an assault rifle, killed two people at a Kenosha demonstration and then calmly walked through a line of police and returned to his home in suburban Illinois, unscathed. (The shooter, Kyle Rittenhouse, was later arrested, and is awaiting extradition to Wisconsin on homicide and other charges.) In Kenosha, local law enforcement predictably overreacted to demonstrations, teargassing and arresting a multiracial crowd of protesters, but it fraternized with white militiamen, even after those armed civilians violated a citywide curfew. The actions of the police seemed to indicate that white vigilantism is welcome in its effort corral protests that it does not like.
These local ripples overlapped with the provocative distortions of the Republican National Convention. In the Bizarro World of the R.N.C., the coronavirus has miraculously disappeared; a new white, silent majority cowers in fear of the omnipotent “Antifa”; and cities are ruled by a motley crew of Democrats, looters, and criminals who are threatening to invade nearby suburbs and destroy their way of life. No one will soon forget the unhinged speech by Kimberly Guilfoyle, a Trump campaign fund-raiser and the girlfriend of Donald Trump, Jr., in which she insisted, of Democrats, “They want to steal your liberty, your freedom, they want to control what you see and think and believe so that they can control how you live. They want to enslave you to the weak, dependent, liberal victim ideology to the point that you will not recognize this country or yourself.”
The R.N.C. made sure to include the voices of Black people, but it was not to decry racism in our country or even to indulge in the illusion of unity. Instead, the former professional football players Herschel Walker and Jack Brewer sought to defend Trump against charges of racism, with Brewer making the absurd claim, “I know what racism looks like, I’ve seen it firsthand. And America, it has no resemblance to President Trump.” The video of Blake’s shooting and the Convention reflected vastly different realities in the United States. In one, wealthy white élites with a few Black friends ignore the pandemic and pine for the police to impose a brutal regime of law and order; in the other, nearly two hundred thousand people have lost their lives to COVID-19, fourteen million are jobless, an estimated twelve million have lost their health insurance, and twenty-nine million people reported in July that they didn’t have enough to eat. For Black people, there is, too, the constant threat of racist police violence.
Serendipitously, it was a professional basketball coach who made an emotional link between these different views of the country. After the Los Angeles Clippers beat the Dallas Mavericks in a playoff game on Tuesday, August 25th, their coach, Doc Rivers, turned his midnight, postgame news conference into a bitter exposition of Trump and the R.N.C. “All you hear is Donald Trump and all of them talking about fear,” Rivers said. “We’re the ones getting killed. We’re the ones getting shot. We’re the ones denied to live in certain communities.” With tears in his eyes, he continued, “It’s amazing why we keep loving this country, and this country does not love us back.” But, in a flash of anger, he also pointed to the hypocrisy of police officers assaulting Black men but showing respect to armed white anti-coronavirus-lockdown protesters. “It’s funny. We protest. They send riot guards,” Rivers said. “They go up to Michigan with guns, and they’re spitting on cops, and nothing happens.”
Rivers’s comments communicated the fear, frustration, and anger of most of Black America. The response was electric. The following morning, his words made headlines and dominated all of sports news. By late that afternoon, the Milwaukee Bucks, in the thick of the hunt for the N.B.A. championship title, refused to take the court to protest the police shooting in Kenosha. Within hours, the other teams in the playoffs also refused to play. In complete violation of their collective-bargaining agreement with the N.B.A., players engaged in a wildcat strike against racism and police violence. The radicalization of young Black professional athletes is a stunning development in this unfolding, raucous movement, one that demonstrates the sheer scale of racial inequality and a deep need to do something about it.
The N.B.A. is mostly a league of young Black men, who even as millionaire athletes are not immune to racist police harassment. Sterling Brown, a member of the Bucks, is only two years removed from having been brutally beaten by Milwaukee police. In January, 2018, Brown parked in a handicapped spot outside a Walgreens; instead of simply issuing him a parking citation, eight police officers beat Brown up, disparaged him, and tasered him before arresting him and taking him to jail. Within hours, he was released, with no charges filed against him. If this can happen to a millionaire Black athlete, what on earth happens to the young people that cops like David Beth think should be “warehoused” forever? This summer, Brown wrote about his case for The Players Tribune, describing how it catalyzed his involvement in Black Lives Matter. “What I’m fighting for is bigger than me,” Brown said. “Our fight for justice, equality, equity and respect will be heard and will be met. Our fight for our lives and freedom will no longer be up for debate! We will not be silenced!”
Since July, when players in the Women’s National Basketball Association and the N.B.A. were placed in “bubbles” that have allowed their leagues to continue playing through the pandemic, they have been at the forefront of this latest phase of the B.L.M. movement. Players from both leagues were reluctant to resume playing, for fear of being distractions from the movement. League executives made compromises that included painting the game courts with the words “Black Lives Matter” and allowing players to wear jerseys with movement slogans. Every night, for weeks, professional basketball players in the men and women’s leagues have kneeled in protest during the national anthem and have run up and down the courts with “Say Her Name,” “How Many More,” and “Freedom” stitched across their backs. On the first day of the player work stoppage, women from the W.N.B.A. wore T-shirts with a jarring illustration of seven bleeding bullet holes on the back. Ariel Atkins, of the Washington Mystics, made the obvious connection between her and her fellow-players’ status as professional athletes and the social strife outside of the W.N.B.A. bubble, observing, “We aren’t just basketball players, and just because we are basketball players doesn’t mean that’s our only platform. We need to understand that when most of us go home, we still are Black, in the sense that our families matter.”
In many ways, the women’s basketball players have been at the forefront of the athlete’s turn to protest. When, this summer, players on the Atlanta Dream and other teams began to directly challenge the politics of Senator Kelly Loeffler, a Republican from Georgia and a co-owner of the Dream, Loeffler lashed out against the league’s decision to dedicate its curtailed season to B.L.M., writing in an open letter, “I adamantly oppose the Black Lives Matter political movement.” Instead of supporting that movement, she called on the mostly Black W.N.B.A. players to embrace the American flag as a unifying symbol and wear it on their uniforms. The provocation helped to focus the protests of the women players, which now included the demand that Loeffler be removed as a team owner.
The athletes’ compulsion to act was infectious. Major League Baseball is only seven per cent African-American, but on August 26th and 27th, twenty teams, led by the Milwaukee Brewers, laid down their bats in solidarity with N.B.A. players and the B.L.M. movement. By the end of that week, the ninety-five-per-cent white National Hockey League had paused its own playoffs series. The league and the players’ association released a statement saying, “Black and Brown communities continue to face real, painful experiences. The NHL and NHLPA recognize that much work remains to be done before we can play an appropriate role in a discussion centered on diversity, inclusion and social justice.”


newyorker--2020-09-09--The Whitewashing of Black Music on TikTok

If you download the video-sharing app TikTok right now and scroll the “ For You ” page , it likely won ’ t be long before you stumble upon teen-agers hip-thrusting and chest-popping to the sounds of Jersey club .
The hyper-percussive subgenre , pioneered by producers such as Tim Dolla and DJ Tameil , and reflecting the Black and Latino communities of Newark , continues to advance outward from its home in the Garden State .
The fun , active music is unbelievably catchy , highlighted by heavy kicks and choppy vocals , and it ’ s perfectly suited @ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
TikTok users noticed .
DJ Flex ’ s Jersey-club remix of “ Down in the DM ” spread across the platform last year , and the trend continued during our pandemic summer .
A few popular remixes—including of the 2005 hit “ Laffy Taffy , ” by D4L , and “ Honesty , ” by Pink Sweat $ —have spawned various viral challenges .
But no song has risen further than Cookiee Kawaii ’ s “ Vibe ( If I Back It Up ) , ” which has been used in more @ @ @ @ @ @ @ interview with NJ.com , the Jersey-club practitioner DJ Jayhood , who recommended that Kawaii put her vocals on a club track , said that the song ’ s reach “ put Jersey Club at a different respect level.
” The dance challenges that use Jersey club have been taken up by the mostly white stars who dominate the platform , performers such as Charli D ’ Amelio , Addison Rae , and Noah Beck ( who have eighty million , fifty-seven million , and twelve million followers , respectively ) .
It can @ @ @ @ @ @ @ largely Black club music being co-opted by white influencers in the name of clout .
The white stars feed on the content of smaller users in an act of vampirism , growing stronger as competitors wither away , using culture as a commodity to maintain their positions .
Obviously , thousands , and sometimes millions , of people of all races participate in TikTok trends , but the most visible ( and , usually , the most followed ) of these users are white .
Viewers who encounter these songs through such accounts @ @ @ @ @ @ @ from .
The higher up the chain these viewers go , the further the sounds of club music get from their roots .
Instead of rewarding Black creators , TikTok bolsters the white early adopters .
“ Jersey Club songs go viral on Tiktok all the time .
.
.
they ’ re not ‘ tik tok songs , ’ ” Kawaii tweeted .
At the very least , the optics play into a long , infamous history of white appropriation of Black arts .
Pore over comments and tweets about the use @ @ @ @ @ @ @ common phrase surfaces : the music is being “ gentrified ” by the star video-makers trolling for content .
Historically , gentrification has referred to the concept of “ improving ” a neighborhood to attract consumers in a higher strata , raising the cost of living and forcing out the ( usually Black ) people who live there .
But , increasingly , the colloquial use of the term has shifted the word ’ s meaning to refer to the white repossession or appropriation of any Black commodity , or the erasure of @ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
The idea of gentrifying a sound may seem odd , but it is less so when you think about TikTok as a space where sound is one of the greatest assets and how that asset is being mined to widen a gap between white poachers and Black originators , marginalizing those that it should be centering .
The talk of gentrification on the app doesn ’ t stop with Jersey club .
Recently , the emerging “ slowed + reverb ” production style has been criticized as an attempt to gentrify the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ screwed .
That sound is nearly the inverse of Jersey club : developed by the late Houston producer DJ Screw , the music involves slowing a song way down , until it sounds like it ’ s melting , and then cutting up its lyrics .
Slowed and reverb is far less technical , and it doesn ’ t utilize DJ Screw ’ s chopping technique , but its methods clearly echo screwed music , and it longs to induce the same mood .
As slowed and reverb grows more popular across TikTok @ @ @ @ @ @ @ itself that ’ s drawing the backlash ; it ’ s the excision of DJ Screw from its narrative .
The source of the ire is an account called @ songpsych , short for “ song psychology.
” The account description reads , “ Breaking down your fav songs.
” The video about slowed and reverb is presented , explainer style , from a place of authority , by the “ host , ” Dev Lemons , with tags like # learnontiktok and # musictheory .
She breaks down slowed and reverb to @ @ @ @ @ @ @ sound as a “ phenomenon ” and crediting the innovation to the producer Slater .
( Though Lemons is white and the majority of the popular slowed-and-reverb accounts are run anonymously , it ’ s worth mentioning that Slater is Black and from Houston . )
Lemons does not mention that slowed and reverb is derivative .
It is not clear that she knows .
Fans of Houston rap were quick to issue a correction .
“ You just spent all this time editing , and putting in graphics and motion graphics , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ re talking about , ” the comedian Kevin Fredericks said in a video , doing his own counter-explainer .
The producer at the center of the @ songpsych explainer , Slater , pushed back , too : “ I will pay you $ 3,000 to have this scrubbed from the internet , ” he tweeted , in reference to the video , before adding , “ for the record , i am and what I created are 10000 % inspired and influenced by DJ screw because that ’ s what i grew up @ @ @ @ @ @ @ songpsych account to post another video about DJ Screw ’ s influence , but the mishap served as a powerful illustration of the way that unearned white authority overwrites Black history , and , more specifically , the way some white influencers perpetuate expertise .
The blunder may seem innocuous , and attempts to redress it feel earnest , but many immediately saw the explainer video for what it was : the early signs of erasure , or the perversion of a cultural hallmark .
Both the @ songpsych breakdown of slowed and @ @ @ @ @ @ @ are examples of the insidious ways that Black cultural history can be blotted out by whiteness .
In each case , the influencer is defining the art ’ s relationship with their audience—placing the white body at the center of a trend removed from its local history of dance , or else prioritizing the white interpreter , stripping a style of its substance and subtext .
The rich backgrounds of these sounds extend beyond the parameters of TikTok , and that context is crucial to comprehending the music ’ s value to a @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , Jersey club is bigger than the Internet .
It ’ s important that the TikTok users capitalizing on the sound understand that .

If you download the video-sharing app TikTok right now and scroll the “For You” page, it likely won’t be long before you stumble upon teen-agers hip-thrusting and chest-popping to the sounds of Jersey club. The hyper-percussive subgenre, pioneered by producers such as Tim Dolla and DJ Tameil, and reflecting the Black and Latino communities of Newark, continues to advance outward from its home in the Garden State. The fun, active music is unbelievably catchy, highlighted by heavy kicks and choppy vocals, and it’s perfectly suited for the dancing found in short videos.
TikTok users noticed. DJ Flex’s Jersey-club remix of “Down in the DM” spread across the platform last year, and the trend continued during our pandemic summer. A few popular remixes—including of the 2005 hit “Laffy Taffy,” by D4L, and “Honesty,” by Pink Sweat$—have spawned various viral challenges. But no song has risen further than Cookiee Kawaii’s “Vibe (If I Back It Up),” which has been used in more than 1.9 million videos. In an interview with NJ.com, the Jersey-club practitioner DJ Jayhood, who recommended that Kawaii put her vocals on a club track, said that the song’s reach “put Jersey Club at a different respect level.”
The dance challenges that use Jersey club have been taken up by the mostly white stars who dominate the platform, performers such as Charli D’Amelio, Addison Rae, and Noah Beck (who have eighty million, fifty-seven million, and twelve million followers, respectively). It can be somewhat unsettling to see niche, largely Black club music being co-opted by white influencers in the name of clout. The white stars feed on the content of smaller users in an act of vampirism, growing stronger as competitors wither away, using culture as a commodity to maintain their positions. Obviously, thousands, and sometimes millions, of people of all races participate in TikTok trends, but the most visible (and, usually, the most followed) of these users are white. Viewers who encounter these songs through such accounts often have no idea where they came from. The higher up the chain these viewers go, the further the sounds of club music get from their roots. Instead of rewarding Black creators, TikTok bolsters the white early adopters. “Jersey Club songs go viral on Tiktok all the time . . . they’re not ‘tik tok songs,’ ” Kawaii tweeted. At the very least, the optics play into a long, infamous history of white appropriation of Black arts.
Pore over comments and tweets about the use of Jersey-club music on TikTok and a common phrase surfaces: the music is being “gentrified” by the star video-makers trolling for content. Historically, gentrification has referred to the concept of “improving” a neighborhood to attract consumers in a higher strata, raising the cost of living and forcing out the (usually Black) people who live there. But, increasingly, the colloquial use of the term has shifted the word’s meaning to refer to the white repossession or appropriation of any Black commodity, or the erasure of Black involvement in the creation of something. The idea of gentrifying a sound may seem odd, but it is less so when you think about TikTok as a space where sound is one of the greatest assets and how that asset is being mined to widen a gap between white poachers and Black originators, marginalizing those that it should be centering.
The talk of gentrification on the app doesn’t stop with Jersey club. Recently, the emerging “slowed + reverb” production style has been criticized as an attempt to gentrify the classic Houston rap style of chopped and screwed. That sound is nearly the inverse of Jersey club: developed by the late Houston producer DJ Screw, the music involves slowing a song way down, until it sounds like it’s melting, and then cutting up its lyrics. Slowed and reverb is far less technical, and it doesn’t utilize DJ Screw’s chopping technique, but its methods clearly echo screwed music, and it longs to induce the same mood. As slowed and reverb grows more popular across TikTok, it isn’t the music itself that’s drawing the backlash; it’s the excision of DJ Screw from its narrative.
The source of the ire is an account called @songpsych, short for “song psychology.” The account description reads, “Breaking down your fav songs.” The video about slowed and reverb is presented, explainer style, from a place of authority, by the “host,” Dev Lemons, with tags like #learnontiktok and #musictheory. She breaks down slowed and reverb to its base characteristics, referring to the sound as a “phenomenon” and crediting the innovation to the producer Slater. (Though Lemons is white and the majority of the popular slowed-and-reverb accounts are run anonymously, it’s worth mentioning that Slater is Black and from Houston.) Lemons does not mention that slowed and reverb is derivative. It is not clear that she knows.
Fans of Houston rap were quick to issue a correction. “You just spent all this time editing, and putting in graphics and motion graphics, to not even know what you’re talking about,” the comedian Kevin Fredericks said in a video, doing his own counter-explainer. The producer at the center of the @songpsych explainer, Slater, pushed back, too: “I will pay you $3,000 to have this scrubbed from the internet,” he tweeted, in reference to the video, before adding, “for the record, i am and what I created are 10000% inspired and influenced by DJ screw because that’s what i grew up on.” The backlash prompted the @songpsych account to post another video about DJ Screw’s influence, but the mishap served as a powerful illustration of the way that unearned white authority overwrites Black history, and, more specifically, the way some white influencers perpetuate expertise.
The blunder may seem innocuous, and attempts to redress it feel earnest, but many immediately saw the explainer video for what it was: the early signs of erasure, or the perversion of a cultural hallmark. Both the @songpsych breakdown of slowed and reverb and the whitewashing of Jersey club are examples of the insidious ways that Black cultural history can be blotted out by whiteness. In each case, the influencer is defining the art’s relationship with their audience—placing the white body at the center of a trend removed from its local history of dance, or else prioritizing the white interpreter, stripping a style of its substance and subtext.
The rich backgrounds of these sounds extend beyond the parameters of TikTok, and that context is crucial to comprehending the music’s value to a community. As DJ Sliink once said, Jersey club is bigger than the Internet. It’s important that the TikTok users capitalizing on the sound understand that.


newyorker--2020-09-09--Department of Justice to Pick Up Trump’s Laundry

WASHINGTON ( The Borowitz Report ) —In a move that many in the legal profession and laundry industry called unprecedented , Attorney General William Barr announced that the Department of Justice will start picking up Donald J. Trump ’ s dry cleaning , effective immediately .
Speaking to reporters at the Department of Justice , Barr said that the D.O.J .
would assume full responsibility for dropping off and picking up “ items including but not limited to President Trump ’ s shirts , suits , slacks , socks , and undergarments.
” Congressional Democrats howled in protest at Barr @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ’ money should not be used to pick up laundry items that were purchased while Trump was a private citizen .
But Barr pushed back against that criticism , claiming that “ the legal principle in question is not when the President purchased these items but when he stained them.
” To illustrate his point , Barr held up one of Trump ’ s red ties and indicated a clearly visible mustard stain—which , the Attorney General claimed , the tie suffered last week .
At that point , Barr abruptly ended his @ @ @ @ @ @ @ to get Trump ’ s brown loafers reheeled .

WASHINGTON (The Borowitz Report)—In a move that many in the legal profession and laundry industry called unprecedented, Attorney General William Barr announced that the Department of Justice will start picking up Donald J. Trump’s dry cleaning, effective immediately.
Speaking to reporters at the Department of Justice, Barr said that the D.O.J. would assume full responsibility for dropping off and picking up “items including but not limited to President Trump’s shirts, suits, slacks, socks, and undergarments.”
Congressional Democrats howled in protest at Barr’s decision, arguing that taxpayers’ money should not be used to pick up laundry items that were purchased while Trump was a private citizen.
But Barr pushed back against that criticism, claiming that “the legal principle in question is not when the President purchased these items but when he stained them.”
To illustrate his point, Barr held up one of Trump’s red ties and indicated a clearly visible mustard stain—which, the Attorney General claimed, the tie suffered last week.
At that point, Barr abruptly ended his press conference, stating that he had to get Trump’s brown loafers reheeled.


newyorker--2020-09-09--The Coronavirus, Climate Change, and the End of Seasons as We Knew Them

There ’ s a Staples store on Fourth Avenue , in Gowanus , a part of Brooklyn that lately feels less and less like New York City and more like the rest of the United States .
I went there the other day to send a package via UPS .
Then I ducked into a familiar aisle and got three boxes of yellow pencils to bring home for my three sons , a back-to-school ritual .
I braced for a long line : some years , buying school supplies at Staples , I ’ ve waited half an hour to @ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
In this year of long lines ( in June , the socially distanced line outside of the Whole Foods on Third Avenue stretched across the Gowanus Canal ) , there was no line at all .
Two minutes later , I was paid up and cycling home , some lyrics from Talking Heads ’ s “ Life During Wartime ” running through my head : “ Burned all my notebooks / What good are notebooks ?
/ They won ’ t help me survive.
” It hardly needs saying that , in @ @ @ @ @ @ @ this school year will be one like no other .
More than fifty million students will take part from home , while many of those who are on school property will assemble for classes in playgrounds and on sports fields , wearing masks and disinfecting their hands .
The adoption of distance learning is as dramatic a change in American education as when the K-12 academic calendar took its present form ( about a hundred and eighty school days , with summers off ) , more than a century ago .
Parents are @ @ @ @ @ @ @ usually at a distance come September , are taking classes near at hand .
After six months , the long-anticipated release from the challenge of balancing work , school at home , meals , and child care isn ’ t coming .
Without kids leaving home for school , for many of us the beginning of the new school year feels the way the coming of fall feels for an Easterner in California : a symbolic change without the literal changes that accompany it .
The unravelling of back-to-school rituals is part of @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , together with recurring natural phenomena brought on by climate change , is sharply altering our sense of the seasons .
Like gentrification , COVID-19 has accelerated a process that has been under way for several decades ; in a few months , it has made the seasons seem as arbitrary as the pro-sports seasons that are now being played out in empty stadiums and in the N.B.A .
bubble in Florida .
The seasons as we know them combine the astronomical seasons ( marked by events involving movements of planets and stars @ @ @ @ @ @ @ weather and climate patterns ) , religious seasons , and times of planting and harvest .
“ Sumer Is Icumen In , ” from the thirteenth century , is one of the oldest songs in English ; the four seasons were traditional for half a millennium before Vivaldi composed concerti for spring , summer , autumn , and winter , in 1725 .
“ The Young Girls of Rochefort , ” in a 1967 musical , insisted that “ You Must Believe in Spring ” ; when Ali MacGraw , in “ Love @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Ryan O ’ Neal dodge and weave on ice skates in Central Park , the hills surrounding Wollman Rink were blanketed in snow .
But changing weather patterns in recent decades have blurred the distinctions between the seasons .
They have in New York , at any rate .
Last October 2nd , the air temperature reached ninety-three degrees Fahrenheit in Central Park , the highest October temperature recorded there since 1941 .
Three months later—this past January—the mean daily temperature in the city was thirty-nine degrees , six and a half degrees @ @ @ @ @ @ @ last winter was tied for the second-smallest snowfall since we began keeping records , in 1868 .
In New York , we now have two seasons : warm and less warm .
It ’ s likely that the flattening of the seasons in New York is an effect of climate change .
And it ’ s a certainty that the effects of climate change have rendered common ideas of “ seasons ” practically meaningless in other parts of the country .
“ Fire season ” in California begins in May and now runs @ @ @ @ @ @ @ than it did less than twenty years ago—as higher temperatures , corresponding drought , and winds create conditions conducive to wildfires .
In Florida and along the Gulf Coast , the officially designated hurricane season runs from June through November , but it has started early in each of the past six years , with large tropical storms—the named ones—striking in May .
This year , Florida , Louisiana , and Alabama are dealing with hurricane season and COVID-19 at once .
In New York , COVID-19 has compounded our sense of the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ effects all its own .
The coronavirus probably began to spread here in late February .
Like January , February in the city was uncommonly warm : a mean temperature of 39.5 degrees ( 7.5 above normal ) , and a high of sixty-two degrees on February 24th .
( Snow ?
There was only a tenth of an inch in Central Park , and none at the New York airports until a light dusting on Leap Day , February 29th . )
Then , in March , the virus spread pandemically through @ @ @ @ @ @ @ more than forty thousand cases , and nearly twelve hundred hundred deaths .
That month , New York had ten warmer-than-usual days and two with highs in the seventies .
The virus overtook the city , that is , just as the weather turned from less warm to warm .
COVID-2020 has been a season unto itself ever since .
And New Yorkers ’ responses to the pandemic , in all their variety , have involved an unvarying factor : warm weather .
Just as the terror and grief of 9/11 were compounded @ @ @ @ @ @ @ of the day , so the wrenching drama of the pandemic—loss of life , loss of jobs and income , loss of a sense of safety , loss of human contact—has unfolded against a seemingly unending stretch of clear , bright , long days .
( A new poll shows that in New York and other large cities the pandemic has had effects “ much , much worse ” than expected , sharply reducing income , savings , access to health care and child care , and peace of mind . )
In @ @ @ @ @ @ @ warm weather is a cold comfort , but a comfort nonetheless .
Because of it , many of us , if not our essential workers , can limit our use of the subway without altering our daily routines too much .
Most of us can wait in line outside a grocery store or at a coronavirus-test site with no great strain on the senses .
We can offset hours spent indoors looking at computers with daily jogs , bike rides , and walks through streets that are restricted to pedestrians only , the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ distance from one another .
And there ’ s new life on the street .
Just as the subsiding of ambulance sirens and the easing of the nightly 7 P.M. bang-on-a-can ritual suggested that the worst was over , so the sudden emergence of makeshift outdoor curbside-dining spots , in June , enabled several thousand restaurant employees to return to work , and suggested that the city was back to some kind of normal .
At streetside , the air is warm .
The sun is shining .
The virus is invisible .

There’s a Staples store on Fourth Avenue, in Gowanus, a part of Brooklyn that lately feels less and less like New York City and more like the rest of the United States. I went there the other day to send a package via UPS. Then I ducked into a familiar aisle and got three boxes of yellow pencils to bring home for my three sons, a back-to-school ritual. I braced for a long line: some years, buying school supplies at Staples, I’ve waited half an hour to reach the register. Not in 2020. In this year of long lines (in June, the socially distanced line outside of the Whole Foods on Third Avenue stretched across the Gowanus Canal), there was no line at all. Two minutes later, I was paid up and cycling home, some lyrics from Talking Heads’s “Life During Wartime” running through my head: “Burned all my notebooks / What good are notebooks? / They won’t help me survive.”
It hardly needs saying that, in large parts of the United States, this school year will be one like no other. More than fifty million students will take part from home, while many of those who are on school property will assemble for classes in playgrounds and on sports fields, wearing masks and disinfecting their hands. The adoption of distance learning is as dramatic a change in American education as when the K-12 academic calendar took its present form (about a hundred and eighty school days, with summers off), more than a century ago. Parents are registering the change differently: children, usually at a distance come September, are taking classes near at hand. After six months, the long-anticipated release from the challenge of balancing work, school at home, meals, and child care isn’t coming. Without kids leaving home for school, for many of us the beginning of the new school year feels the way the coming of fall feels for an Easterner in California: a symbolic change without the literal changes that accompany it.
The unravelling of back-to-school rituals is part of a larger shift. The coronavirus pandemic, together with recurring natural phenomena brought on by climate change, is sharply altering our sense of the seasons. Like gentrification, COVID-19 has accelerated a process that has been under way for several decades; in a few months, it has made the seasons seem as arbitrary as the pro-sports seasons that are now being played out in empty stadiums and in the N.B.A. bubble in Florida.
The seasons as we know them combine the astronomical seasons (marked by events involving movements of planets and stars), meteorological seasons (characterized by weather and climate patterns), religious seasons, and times of planting and harvest. “Sumer Is Icumen In,” from the thirteenth century, is one of the oldest songs in English; the four seasons were traditional for half a millennium before Vivaldi composed concerti for spring, summer, autumn, and winter, in 1725. “The Young Girls of Rochefort,” in a 1967 musical, insisted that “You Must Believe in Spring”; when Ali MacGraw, in “Love Story,” from 1970, watched Ryan O’Neal dodge and weave on ice skates in Central Park, the hills surrounding Wollman Rink were blanketed in snow. But changing weather patterns in recent decades have blurred the distinctions between the seasons. They have in New York, at any rate. Last October 2nd, the air temperature reached ninety-three degrees Fahrenheit in Central Park, the highest October temperature recorded there since 1941. Three months later—this past January—the mean daily temperature in the city was thirty-nine degrees, six and a half degrees above a hundred-and-fifty-one-year average. Over-all, last winter was tied for the second-smallest snowfall since we began keeping records, in 1868. In New York, we now have two seasons: warm and less warm.
It’s likely that the flattening of the seasons in New York is an effect of climate change. And it’s a certainty that the effects of climate change have rendered common ideas of “seasons” practically meaningless in other parts of the country. “Fire season” in California begins in May and now runs more than half the year—seventy-five days longer than it did less than twenty years ago—as higher temperatures, corresponding drought, and winds create conditions conducive to wildfires. In Florida and along the Gulf Coast, the officially designated hurricane season runs from June through November, but it has started early in each of the past six years, with large tropical storms—the named ones—striking in May. This year, Florida, Louisiana, and Alabama are dealing with hurricane season and COVID-19 at once.
In New York, COVID-19 has compounded our sense of the blurring of the seasons, producing seasonal effects all its own. The coronavirus probably began to spread here in late February. Like January, February in the city was uncommonly warm: a mean temperature of 39.5 degrees (7.5 above normal), and a high of sixty-two degrees on February 24th. (Snow? There was only a tenth of an inch in Central Park, and none at the New York airports until a light dusting on Leap Day, February 29th.) Then, in March, the virus spread pandemically through the city: from one case to more than forty thousand cases, and nearly twelve hundred hundred deaths. That month, New York had ten warmer-than-usual days and two with highs in the seventies. The virus overtook the city, that is, just as the weather turned from less warm to warm.
COVID-2020 has been a season unto itself ever since. And New Yorkers’ responses to the pandemic, in all their variety, have involved an unvarying factor: warm weather. Just as the terror and grief of 9/11 were compounded by the cloudless sky and full sunshine of the day, so the wrenching drama of the pandemic—loss of life, loss of jobs and income, loss of a sense of safety, loss of human contact—has unfolded against a seemingly unending stretch of clear, bright, long days. (A new poll shows that in New York and other large cities the pandemic has had effects “much, much worse” than expected, sharply reducing income, savings, access to health care and child care, and peace of mind.) In the face of all this, the warm weather is a cold comfort, but a comfort nonetheless. Because of it, many of us, if not our essential workers, can limit our use of the subway without altering our daily routines too much. Most of us can wait in line outside a grocery store or at a coronavirus-test site with no great strain on the senses. We can offset hours spent indoors looking at computers with daily jogs, bike rides, and walks through streets that are restricted to pedestrians only, the better to allow us to keep our distance from one another. And there’s new life on the street. Just as the subsiding of ambulance sirens and the easing of the nightly 7 P.M. bang-on-a-can ritual suggested that the worst was over, so the sudden emergence of makeshift outdoor curbside-dining spots, in June, enabled several thousand restaurant employees to return to work, and suggested that the city was back to some kind of normal. At streetside, the air is warm. The sun is shining. The virus is invisible.
The virus has held us in suspension for six months, and we’ve developed rituals and strategies for getting through. This state of things can’t last, though. The opening of public schools in New York City has been pushed back to Monday, September 21st—the day before the equinox that marks the beginning of autumn. The school calendar and the heavenly calendar will be aligned. Per Mayor Bill de Blasio’s Open Restaurants initiative, the city’s restaurants must break down their alfresco dining spaces on November 1st, most likely putting many restaurant staff out of work again. The less-warm season will arrive soon afterward. Last November, the mean daily temperature in the city was 44.8 degrees; in December it was 39.09 degrees. Frigid, no—but those are temperatures cold enough to keep many people indoors, to prompt us to crowd into subways and buses rather than walking or cycling. And as we move indoors, we’ll do so without most of our usual chances to gather for film, theatre, opera, classical music, dance, and nightclub sounds—the “first-nighting” experiences in the arts that have characterized “Autumn in New York” since the song was written, in 1934.


newyorker--2020-09-09--Trump Threatens to Move to Suburbs If Biden Wins

WASHINGTON ( The Borowitz Report ) —Hoping to stoke suburban voters ’ deepest fears , Donald Trump has threatened to move to the suburbs if Joe Biden wins the November election .
Issuing the terrifying ultimatum in a series of seventy-four tweets , Trump warned that , if he relocates , “ Your beautiful suburbs will be destroyed forever.
” Forcing suburban voters to imagine the horrific reality of having him live next door , Trump tweeted , “ If you wonder what kind of neighbor I would be , just ask Canada and Mexico.
” “ I will treat @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , ” he threatened .
“ Don ’ t park your car on the street unless you want your windshield cracked.
” “ Since I don ’ t believe in global warming , I won ’ t be recycling , ” he added .
“ I ’ ll just toss my empty Diet Cokes over the fence and into your yard.
” Saving his most chilling threat for last , Trump warned , “ When I move to the suburbs , I will be taking Don , Jr. , and Kimberly Guilfoyle with @ @ @ @ @ @ @ precious peace and quiet goodbye , suburban suckers and losers .
”

WASHINGTON (The Borowitz Report)—Hoping to stoke suburban voters’ deepest fears, Donald Trump has threatened to move to the suburbs if Joe Biden wins the November election.
Issuing the terrifying ultimatum in a series of seventy-four tweets, Trump warned that, if he relocates, “Your beautiful suburbs will be destroyed forever.”
Forcing suburban voters to imagine the horrific reality of having him live next door, Trump tweeted, “If you wonder what kind of neighbor I would be, just ask Canada and Mexico.”
“I will treat my front lawn like a driving range,” he threatened. “Don’t park your car on the street unless you want your windshield cracked.”
“Since I don’t believe in global warming, I won’t be recycling,” he added. “I’ll just toss my empty Diet Cokes over the fence and into your yard.”
Saving his most chilling threat for last, Trump warned, “When I move to the suburbs, I will be taking Don, Jr., and Kimberly Guilfoyle with me. So you can kiss your precious peace and quiet goodbye, suburban suckers and losers.”


On Lava

“ Lava , that mucus expell ’ d when a volcano ’ s bowels have been insufficiently soothed by raine , is fyre which has been turned to gelatin and , when cool ’ d , is therefore edible.
” —Sir Isaac Newton , “ Philosophiæ Geologica , ” 1689 “ Scientists have long held that magma is different from lava—that magma is molten rock beneath the Earth ’ s surface , whereas lava is molten rock on the Earth ’ s surface .
But , come on , just call it fucking lava.
” —Stephen Hawking , private correspondence @ @ @ @ @ @ @ peoples to mean that the Corn God was displeased , a volcanic eruption is now known to signal the presence in a community of an unmarried woman.
” —Thomas Edison , “ A Proposal for the Increased Understanding of Planetary Tremors , ” 1901 “ I could grow peanuts there , no problem.
” —George Washington Carver , instant utterance upon seeing a photograph of a Polynesian village submerged in lava , 1933 “ I think it inevitably follows that as new species in the course of time are formed through natural selection @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , and finally extinct , especially if they ever become stuck in lava , in which case that ’ s pretty much it for them.
” —Charles Darwin , “ On the Origin of Species , ” 1859 “ That goo is hot !
Do not touch the hot goo !
” —Aristotle , “ Hot Goo Ethics , ” 342 B.C .
“ My research is neither leisurely nor theoretical ; rather , it finds its basis in the urgent fact that , as great volcanic chancres continue to sprout across the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , by this century ’ s end , be forced to make our home on another.
” —Galileo Galilei , “ Discourse on Lava ’ s Deleterious Effects Toward Human Flesh , ” 1633 “ Lava ?
Ooh , scary .
You do know I discovered radium , right ?
” —Marie Curie , “ Don ’ t Even Talk to Me About Lava , ” 1932 “ Suppose a cave whose inhabitants have been chained , hand and foot and neck , making all movement impossible , and suppose further that these @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the wall , and now imagine the cave is slowly filling up with lava .
Scary !
” —Plato , “ The Republic , ” 375 B.C .
“ It is the most dangerous creation in all of nature , save the cactus.
” —Albert Einstein , “ On Lava and Cacti , ” 1906 “ The ideal subject of totalitarian rule is not the convinced Nazi or the convinced Communist but people for whom the distinction between fact and fiction ( i.e.
, the reality of experience ) and the distinction between @ @ @ @ @ @ @ standards of thought ) no longer exist .
This distinction ’ s evaporation was perhaps best exemplified in the 1918 Bolshevist pamphlet ‘ Lava Is Actually Cold.
’ ” —Hannah Arendt , “ The Origins of Totalitarianism , ” 1951 “ When I got into orbit , I looked down at our fragile little planet—the one place we all share—and it finally sunk in .
There are no borders , no boundaries .
We ’ re one people .
And what divides us is far less significant than what unites us : vulnerability @ @ @ @ @ @ @ —Mae Jemison , “ Find Where the Wind Goes , ” 2001 “ No , I ’ m not worried.
” —Lucius Graccus , public address as Mayor of Pompeii , 78 “ What you ’ ve got to remember about lava is that it ’ s hot .
Almost unimaginably hot .
Much worse than a stove , for example .
And the State Department knew this for decades before making the information public.
” —Noam Chomsky , “ 60 Minutes ” interview , 1987 “ It does not matter how slowly @ @ @ @ @ @ @ do not stop .
Unless you ’ re fleeing lava .
Then it matters.
” —Confucius , “ Lava Analects , ” 500 B.C .
“ Magnificently boundless in scope , the universe challenges us not only to understand it but also ourselves .
For to know who we truly are—what we are—we must first comprehend our place in the vastness of the cosmos .
And vast it is .
For example , picture a hundred marbles .
The universe , as we know it , contains that many gallons of lava.
” @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Personal Voyage , ” 1980 “ Stay back !
I ’ ve got a dollop of it on the end of this stick !
Whooo !
” —Archimedes , drunken outburst , 199 B.C .
“ Lava is no different from any other earthly phenomenon , in that it is about penises.
” —Sigmund Freud , “ Repression , ” 1915 “ While no evidence exists to support a rational belief in God , I believe that no one can credibly argue against my findings that periodic eruptions of lava from beneath the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ by Satan.
” —Richard Dawkins , “ The God Delusion , ” 2006

“Lava, that mucus expell’d when a volcano’s bowels have been insufficiently soothed by raine, is fyre which has been turned to gelatin and, when cool’d, is therefore edible.” —Sir Isaac Newton, “Philosophiæ Geologica,” 1689
“Scientists have long held that magma is different from lava—that magma is molten rock beneath the Earth’s surface, whereas lava is molten rock on the Earth’s surface. But, come on, just call it fucking lava.” —Stephen Hawking, private correspondence, 1998
“LAVA SPOUT?!” —Leonardo da Vinci, marginal note accompanying notebook drawing, 1502
“Once taken by primitive peoples to mean that the Corn God was displeased, a volcanic eruption is now known to signal the presence in a community of an unmarried woman.” —Thomas Edison, “A Proposal for the Increased Understanding of Planetary Tremors,” 1901
“I could grow peanuts there, no problem.” —George Washington Carver, instant utterance upon seeing a photograph of a Polynesian village submerged in lava, 1933
“I think it inevitably follows that as new species in the course of time are formed through natural selection, others will become rarer and rarer, and finally extinct, especially if they ever become stuck in lava, in which case that’s pretty much it for them.” —Charles Darwin, “On the Origin of Species,” 1859
“That goo is hot! Do not touch the hot goo!” —Aristotle, “Hot Goo Ethics,” 342 B.C.
“My research is neither leisurely nor theoretical; rather, it finds its basis in the urgent fact that, as great volcanic chancres continue to sprout across the surface of our planet, we will, by this century’s end, be forced to make our home on another.” —Galileo Galilei, “Discourse on Lava’s Deleterious Effects Toward Human Flesh,” 1633
“Lava? Ooh, scary. You do know I discovered radium, right?” —Marie Curie, “Don’t Even Talk to Me About Lava,” 1932
“Suppose a cave whose inhabitants have been chained, hand and foot and neck, making all movement impossible, and suppose further that these people may behold only shadows projected on the wall, and now imagine the cave is slowly filling up with lava. Scary!” —Plato, “The Republic,” 375 B.C.
“It is the most dangerous creation in all of nature, save the cactus.” —Albert Einstein, “On Lava and Cacti,” 1906
“The ideal subject of totalitarian rule is not the convinced Nazi or the convinced Communist but people for whom the distinction between fact and fiction (i.e., the reality of experience) and the distinction between true and false (i.e., the standards of thought) no longer exist. This distinction’s evaporation was perhaps best exemplified in the 1918 Bolshevist pamphlet ‘Lava Is Actually Cold.’ ” —Hannah Arendt, “The Origins of Totalitarianism,” 1951
“When I got into orbit, I looked down at our fragile little planet—the one place we all share—and it finally sunk in. There are no borders, no boundaries. We’re one people. And what divides us is far less significant than what unites us: vulnerability to the true enemy, lava.” —Mae Jemison, “Find Where the Wind Goes,” 2001
“No, I’m not worried.” —Lucius Graccus, public address as Mayor of Pompeii, 78
“What you’ve got to remember about lava is that it’s hot. Almost unimaginably hot. Much worse than a stove, for example. And the State Department knew this for decades before making the information public.” —Noam Chomsky, “60 Minutes” interview, 1987
“It does not matter how slowly you go, so long as you do not stop. Unless you’re fleeing lava. Then it matters.” —Confucius, “Lava Analects,” 500 B.C.
“Now I am become lava.” —J. Robert Oppenheimer, awed whisper, 1945
“Magnificently boundless in scope, the universe challenges us not only to understand it but also ourselves. For to know who we truly are—what we are—we must first comprehend our place in the vastness of the cosmos. And vast it is. For example, picture a hundred marbles. The universe, as we know it, contains that many gallons of lava.” —Carl Sagan, “Cosmos: A Personal Voyage,” 1980
“Stay back! I’ve got a dollop of it on the end of this stick! Whooo!” —Archimedes, drunken outburst, 199 B.C.
“Lava is no different from any other earthly phenomenon, in that it is about penises.” —Sigmund Freud, “Repression,” 1915
“While no evidence exists to support a rational belief in God, I believe that no one can credibly argue against my findings that periodic eruptions of lava from beneath the Earth’s crust are somehow caused by Satan.” —Richard Dawkins, “The God Delusion,” 2006
“Yes, lava would harm them.” —Jane Goodall, Q. & A. session, 1991


newyorker--2020-09-10--The Thrills and Horrors of HBO’s “Class Action Park”

In 2005 , the health department in Albuquerque closed down a local water park called the Beach , citing overwhelming health concerns .
I grew up in Albuquerque , and the Beach , situated next to the desert superhighway running through town , had been a mainstay of my childhood .
But I was not at all surprised that the health department found cockroaches in the lazy river or algae blooming inside the children ’ s slide .
Even during its heyday , the place had a chaotic energy .
The entire park smelled like fried onions and industrial bleach @ @ @ @ @ @ @ by .
The park ’ s star attraction , the seventy-five-foot-tall Big Plunge slide , featured a “ free fall ” that would often send riders flying , only to smack their rear ends back on the fibreglass with monstrous friction ; it was a badge of honor to walk around the park all day with an oozing , bluish “ plunge bruise.
” For years after the park closed , the skeleton of the Big Plunge towered over I-25 like the neck of a brontosaurus .
I thought about the Beach again—and @ @ @ @ @ @ @ giddy mix of elation and dread—when I watched the new HBO Max original documentary , “ Class Action Park.
” It turns out that my home-town park was tame compared to what was going on in the nineteen-seventies and eighties at Action Park , in Vernon , New Jersey .
That amusement park was the brainchild of an eccentric former penny-stock trader named Gene Mulvihill , who left behind his “ pump and dump ” schemes on Wall Street to purchase the Vernon Valley ski area in 1976 .
Hoping to generate some @ @ @ @ @ @ @ track and a few small water slides , then soon expanded into a full-on amusement park , which boasted dicey thrills with very little oversight .
The staff at Action Park ( or , as it came to be known , “ Class Action Park ” or “ Traction Park ” ) was almost entirely composed of teen-agers , some under the legal working age , who saw a summer gig there as a constant bacchanal—one interviewee in the documentary describes waking up on the park grounds hungover and stumbling to his job @ @ @ @ @ @ @ park ’ s clientele also tended to be rowdy teens , many of them latchkey kids whose parents rarely knew their whereabouts , and who were drawn to Action Park not in spite of its dangers but because of them .
Mulvihill designed many of the park ’ s rides himself or augmented existing designs to be more extreme—one water slide with a loop-the-loop in the middle left riders with missing teeth and bloodied backs .
Those who spent their summers at Action Park now see surviving the rides as a point of @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , Chris Charles Scott and Seth Porges , found a colorful collection of talking heads , including the comedian Chris Gethard and the actress Alison Becker , to wax nostalgic about the adolescent battle scars they collected at the park .
Early in the film , Gethard recalls how the park ’ s paths were made of black tar , not an ideal material for deflecting heat .
“ If you don ’ t bring your own flip-flops or those water shoes , ” he says , “ you are going to suffer @ @ @ @ @ @ @ chopped-meat feet.
’ ” The first two-thirds of the ninety-minute film have a jaunty , kitschy lightness to them ; John Hodgman narrates the story , tracing the dubious financial history that made Action Park possible and guiding viewers through the park ’ s most menacing rides , including the Alpine Slide ( a concrete luge that guests would barrel down using small plastic sleds ) and the Tarzan Swing ( a rope contraption over a deep , ice-cold swimming hole ) .
Scott and Porges found a trove of archival materials , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ synth-heavy television ads to home videos of the notoriously debauched staff parties .
Several former Action Park staffers describe , in shocking detail , how very little they did to keep people from getting hurt .
One tube ride , the Roaring Rapids , featured a steep curve where several parkgoers dislocated limbs and broke their noses ; the park ’ s approach to these risks was not to mitigate them but rather to embrace them as a natural byproduct of a thrilling experience .
To maintain this posture , Mulvihill was breaking @ @ @ @ @ @ @ pricey insurance premiums required to perpetuate the park ’ s dangerous conditions , he created a fake insurance company in the Cayman Islands and then proceeded to insure himself .
“ A lot of people wish they could ignore rules , ” one journalist says in the film .
“ Gene actually did that.
” Ignoring rules , however , is only exciting until there are grave consequences .
As one former parkgoer says in the film , “ The magic and the horror of Action Park is that you can go there @ @ @ @ @ @ @ memories , and you can leave with those exact things .
Oh , or you can leave in a body bag .
And you didn ’ t know which it was going to be.
” The final act of the film explores several deaths—at least six—that happened at the park , including one electrocution in the Kayak Experience and multiple fatalities in the wave pool .
( “ Nobody should ever be the second person to die in a wave pool , ” Gethard says .
“ Close the fucking wave pool.
” @ @ @ @ @ @ @ litigation and personal-injury suits .
In 1984 , Mulvihill ’ s company , Great American Recreation , came under a grand-jury investigation for deceiving the state about his insurance policy .
Mulvihill eventually took a plea bargain to avoid jail time , accepting a two-hundred-and-fifty-thousand-dollar fine and a three-year probation .
But he managed to keep Action Park going by purchasing the land it was on from the state of New Jersey , in 1985 , giving him more leeway to set his own ground rules .
The most galling moment of the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ woman whose son died after flying off the Alpine Slide .
Her anger and grief are still palpable after two decades .
She says that Mulvihill never apologized to her family nor even acknowledged wrongdoing ; for her , the park is not a campy slice of bizarre Americana but a place of unspeakable tragedy .
Scott and Porges do not seem to know quite how to square this sorrow with the silly popcorn nostalgia that has come before , and the film ends on an unfinished note .
Do the directors condemn @ @ @ @ @ @ @ to unsuspecting summer crowds , or do they see it as a kind of admirable outlaw , flouting the system ’ s stifling rules ?
They offer no clear explanation for why Mulvihill ’ s creation was allowed to operate for so long and with such deadly stakes .
In 1998 , Mulvihill shut down Action Park after declaring bankruptcy ( and after one of his close friends and investors was sentenced to ten years in jail for money laundering ) .
A new developer swooped in , built safer rides , and @ @ @ @ @ @ @ but Mulvihill could never really let go of his pet project .
In 2010 , two years before his death , he led a group of investors that bought back the park and returned it to Mulvihill ’ s control .
After he died , his family even briefly reinstated the Action Park name , but the association with lawsuits and broken bones proved to be too toxic .
In 2016 , the family quietly retired the name for good .

In 2005, the health department in Albuquerque closed down a local water park called the Beach, citing overwhelming health concerns. I grew up in Albuquerque, and the Beach, situated next to the desert superhighway running through town, had been a mainstay of my childhood. But I was not at all surprised that the health department found cockroaches in the lazy river or algae blooming inside the children’s slide. Even during its heyday, the place had a chaotic energy. The entire park smelled like fried onions and industrial bleach, and lifeguards were hard to come by. The park’s star attraction, the seventy-five-foot-tall Big Plunge slide, featured a “free fall” that would often send riders flying, only to smack their rear ends back on the fibreglass with monstrous friction; it was a badge of honor to walk around the park all day with an oozing, bluish “plunge bruise.” For years after the park closed, the skeleton of the Big Plunge towered over I-25 like the neck of a brontosaurus.
I thought about the Beach again—and how a day there always provoked a giddy mix of elation and dread—when I watched the new HBO Max original documentary, “Class Action Park.” It turns out that my home-town park was tame compared to what was going on in the nineteen-seventies and eighties at Action Park, in Vernon, New Jersey. That amusement park was the brainchild of an eccentric former penny-stock trader named Gene Mulvihill, who left behind his “pump and dump” schemes on Wall Street to purchase the Vernon Valley ski area in 1976. Hoping to generate some summer revenue, he built a go-kart track and a few small water slides, then soon expanded into a full-on amusement park, which boasted dicey thrills with very little oversight. The staff at Action Park (or, as it came to be known, “Class Action Park” or “Traction Park”) was almost entirely composed of teen-agers, some under the legal working age, who saw a summer gig there as a constant bacchanal—one interviewee in the documentary describes waking up on the park grounds hungover and stumbling to his job overseeing a treacherous river ride. The park’s clientele also tended to be rowdy teens, many of them latchkey kids whose parents rarely knew their whereabouts, and who were drawn to Action Park not in spite of its dangers but because of them. Mulvihill designed many of the park’s rides himself or augmented existing designs to be more extreme—one water slide with a loop-the-loop in the middle left riders with missing teeth and bloodied backs.
Those who spent their summers at Action Park now see surviving the rides as a point of pride: the documentary’s directors, Chris Charles Scott and Seth Porges, found a colorful collection of talking heads, including the comedian Chris Gethard and the actress Alison Becker, to wax nostalgic about the adolescent battle scars they collected at the park. Early in the film, Gethard recalls how the park’s paths were made of black tar, not an ideal material for deflecting heat. “If you don’t bring your own flip-flops or those water shoes,” he says, “you are going to suffer from the notorious ailment known as ‘chopped-meat feet.’ ” The first two-thirds of the ninety-minute film have a jaunty, kitschy lightness to them; John Hodgman narrates the story, tracing the dubious financial history that made Action Park possible and guiding viewers through the park’s most menacing rides, including the Alpine Slide (a concrete luge that guests would barrel down using small plastic sleds) and the Tarzan Swing (a rope contraption over a deep, ice-cold swimming hole). Scott and Porges found a trove of archival materials, from the park’s gaudy, synth-heavy television ads to home videos of the notoriously debauched staff parties. Several former Action Park staffers describe, in shocking detail, how very little they did to keep people from getting hurt. One tube ride, the Roaring Rapids, featured a steep curve where several parkgoers dislocated limbs and broke their noses; the park’s approach to these risks was not to mitigate them but rather to embrace them as a natural by-product of a thrilling experience. To maintain this posture, Mulvihill was breaking the law: instead of paying the pricey insurance premiums required to perpetuate the park’s dangerous conditions, he created a fake insurance company in the Cayman Islands and then proceeded to insure himself. “A lot of people wish they could ignore rules,” one journalist says in the film. “Gene actually did that.”
Ignoring rules, however, is only exciting until there are grave consequences. As one former parkgoer says in the film, “The magic and the horror of Action Park is that you can go there expecting a great time, expecting fantastic memories, and you can leave with those exact things. Oh, or you can leave in a body bag. And you didn’t know which it was going to be.” The final act of the film explores several deaths—at least six—that happened at the park, including one electrocution in the Kayak Experience and multiple fatalities in the wave pool. (“Nobody should ever be the second person to die in a wave pool,” Gethard says. “Close the fucking wave pool.”) Action Park quickly became synonymous with litigation and personal-injury suits. In 1984, Mulvihill’s company, Great American Recreation, came under a grand-jury investigation for deceiving the state about his insurance policy. Mulvihill eventually took a plea bargain to avoid jail time, accepting a two-hundred-and-fifty-thousand-dollar fine and a three-year probation. But he managed to keep Action Park going by purchasing the land it was on from the state of New Jersey, in 1985, giving him more leeway to set his own ground rules. The most galling moment of the film comes when the directors interview a woman whose son died after flying off the Alpine Slide. Her anger and grief are still palpable after two decades. She says that Mulvihill never apologized to her family nor even acknowledged wrongdoing; for her, the park is not a campy slice of bizarre Americana but a place of unspeakable tragedy.
Scott and Porges do not seem to know quite how to square this sorrow with the silly popcorn nostalgia that has come before, and the film ends on an unfinished note. Do the directors condemn the park and the hazards it posed to unsuspecting summer crowds, or do they see it as a kind of admirable outlaw, flouting the system’s stifling rules? They offer no clear explanation for why Mulvihill’s creation was allowed to operate for so long and with such deadly stakes. In 1998, Mulvihill shut down Action Park after declaring bankruptcy (and after one of his close friends and investors was sentenced to ten years in jail for money laundering). A new developer swooped in, built safer rides, and rebranded the place as Mountain Creek, but Mulvihill could never really let go of his pet project. In 2010, two years before his death, he led a group of investors that bought back the park and returned it to Mulvihill’s control. After he died, his family even briefly reinstated the Action Park name, but the association with lawsuits and broken bones proved to be too toxic. In 2016, the family quietly retired the name for good.


newyorker--2020-09-11--Bob Woodward Finally Got Donald Trump to Tell the Truth About COVID-19

President Donald Trump began the day on Wednesday engaged in a bout of self-promotion , dreaming of the Nobel Peace Prize he might soon win .
Delighted with the news that a right-wing crank in the Norwegian parliament had nominated him for the honor , Trump had the White House press secretary put out an official statement that hailed the President ’ s “ bold diplomacy and vision.
” Before 10 A.M. , Trump retweeted stories about the Nobel nomination—and congratulations to himself for it—nearly two dozen times .
I would not be surprised if he took particular delight in @ @ @ @ @ @ @ RealMattCouch , a self-described journalist and patriot : “ Can you imagine the riots and temper tantrums from the leftist mob when President Trump is re-elected and he wins the Nobel Peace Prize in the same year .
.
.
This is going to be glorious : ) ” But , of course , there will be no Nobel , nor will there be a Middle East peace deal to end all peace deals , with Trump ’ s name emblazoned on it in gold .
Do his followers in the MAGA bubble @ @ @ @ @ @ @ lunchtime , the fantasy was forgotten , or at least temporarily set aside .
Reality , in the form of the President ’ s own words , taped by the journalist Bob Woodward with Trump ’ s permission , had intruded .
The coronavirus was “ deadly , ” he had told Woodward , on February 7th , “ more deadly than even your strenuous flus.
” As we now all know , Trump then spent the next month publicly downplaying the danger , telling Americans the exact opposite of what he had @ @ @ @ @ @ @ 19th , after finally being forced to confront the reality of the escalating pandemic inside the United States , and having declared a national emergency , Trump admitted to Woodward the scale of his wintry deception .
“ I wanted to always play it down , ” he said , according to Woodward ’ s forthcoming new book , “ Rage.
” “ I still like playing it down , because I don ’ t want to create a panic.
” This , too , is on tape , and as of Wednesday @ @ @ @ @ @ @ on CNN—the President , in his own words , confirming his calculatedly cynical approach to a public-health catastrophe that sometime in the next few days will have claimed two hundred thousand American lives .
This is one of those brutal weeks in the Trump Presidency—and there have been many—when the facts revealed about the President are so painful that it is not just his supporters in the Senate , perennially dodging reporters ’ questions on their way to lunch , who might prefer to look away .
Among Democrats and the liberal commentariat @ @ @ @ @ @ @ : Why had he waited so long to publish this damaging information ?
But there was also another question : Will any of this new information matter , what with Trump voters so locked into their support of the President that no outrage , no matter how deadly , will sway them ?
For Trump ’ s defenders , it was just another time to dodge and deflect .
On Fox News , the host Tucker Carlson opened his prime-time show with a long attack on Senator Lindsey Graham , the Presidential confidant @ @ @ @ @ @ @ coöperate with Woodward .
Carlson noted that Graham had sat in on the first interview , but did not offer his viewers any explanation for why Trump conducted seventeen subsequent interviews with Woodward .
I found a certain emptiness to the exercise , to the partisan vaporings and performative outrage of the political class .
Everyone is suiting up for a fight , and they all think they know its resolution : Trump will deny and dissemble , and then some other thing will happen and the news cycle will move on .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ was quickly apparent ; this is a play they have run many times before .
If the President can pretend the virus that he had called “ deadly ” is , in fact , not so bad , then he certainly can pretend that he never said those things to Woodward ; that the book , like all the other books , is just a “ political hit job ” ; and that it ’ s irrelevant , anyway , because he is doing such a terrific job and his enemies are terrible @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , Trump was back to demanding that Democrats reopen schools , the coronavirus be damned .
He was tweeting about his good friend Kim Jong Un , planning to hold a campaign rally in Michigan , and complaining about the “ phony Russia , Russia , Russia HOAX.
” A day after implausibly reacting to the Woodward book by claiming that , in lying , he was just acting responsibly , to avoid panicking the American public , Trump returned to scaring it .
“ If I don ’ t win , ” @ @ @ @ @ @ @ s Suburbs will be OVERRUN with Low Income Projects , Anarchists , Agitators , Looters and , of course , ‘ Friendly Protesters ’ .
” Soon after that tweet , I heard a thwack at the front door .
My copy of the Woodward book had arrived .
Should I even bother to read it ?
In Trump ’ s nihilistic world , nothing matters .
There is no point , no truth that is not partisan .
The election is just under two months away .
To Trump , that is @ @ @ @ @ @ @ book , or any other book , for that matter , change its outcome ?
I thought about all of that .
I decided to start reading .
The reviewers at the Times and the Washington Post have already had their shots at Woodward ’ s book .
His latest work has prompted as much fury on their part at the cowardly group of sycophants and enablers surrounding the President as at Trump himself .
All of us already know that Trump is a charlatan , a con man , a fool .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ these decorated generals and self-professed Christians have spoken privately with Woodward but have refused to level with the American people ?
Perhaps it ’ s “ a tale not of character but of complicity , ” as Jennifer Szalai wrote in the Times .
“ What makes the book noteworthy is Woodward ’ s sad and subtle documentation of the ego , cowardice and self-delusion that , over and over , lead intelligent people to remain silent in the face of Trumpian outrages , ” Rosa Brooks , a Georgetown University law professor @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the Post .
It is hard to disagree with their assessment .
At times , you may slam the book down in frustration as you read , yet again , about Trump ’ s enablers telling a journalist how paranoid and narcissistic , foul-mouthed and foolish , the President is .
These are people who have worked closely with him , and who apparently believe that Trump is a mortal danger to the nation , but they never say anything about him to the public .
Still , the problem is this : @ @ @ @ @ @ @ silences and self-serving leaks appear to be , Jim Mattis and Dan Coats and all the rest are not running for President .
They are , in the end , not responsible for the follies of the Trump Presidency , any more than Bob Woodward is responsible for the outrageous things that Trump told him .
Does anyone seriously believe that , had Woodward published an article based on his February phone call with the President , Trump would have chosen any different course of action toward the pandemic ?
At every step @ @ @ @ @ @ @ been called on his public misstatements and untruths about the virus .
It did not make one bit of difference .
Trump is unrepentant , now and forever .

President Donald Trump began the day on Wednesday engaged in a bout of self-promotion, dreaming of the Nobel Peace Prize he might soon win. Delighted with the news that a right-wing crank in the Norwegian parliament had nominated him for the honor, Trump had the White House press secretary put out an official statement that hailed the President’s “bold diplomacy and vision.” Before 10 A.M., Trump retweeted stories about the Nobel nomination—and congratulations to himself for it—nearly two dozen times. I would not be surprised if he took particular delight in the tweet he passed along from @RealMattCouch, a self-described journalist and patriot: “Can you imagine the riots and temper tantrums from the leftist mob when President Trump is re-elected and he wins the Nobel Peace Prize in the same year . . . This is going to be glorious :)”
But, of course, there will be no Nobel, nor will there be a Middle East peace deal to end all peace deals, with Trump’s name emblazoned on it in gold. Do his followers in the MAGA bubble know this? Does Trump? By lunchtime, the fantasy was forgotten, or at least temporarily set aside. Reality, in the form of the President’s own words, taped by the journalist Bob Woodward with Trump’s permission, had intruded. The coronavirus was “deadly,” he had told Woodward, on February 7th, “more deadly than even your strenuous flus.” As we now all know, Trump then spent the next month publicly downplaying the danger, telling Americans the exact opposite of what he had privately confided to Woodward. By March 19th, after finally being forced to confront the reality of the escalating pandemic inside the United States, and having declared a national emergency, Trump admitted to Woodward the scale of his wintry deception. “I wanted to always play it down,” he said, according to Woodward’s forthcoming new book, “Rage.” “I still like playing it down, because I don’t want to create a panic.” This, too, is on tape, and as of Wednesday afternoon it was playing on a loop on CNN—the President, in his own words, confirming his calculatedly cynical approach to a public-health catastrophe that sometime in the next few days will have claimed two hundred thousand American lives.
This is one of those brutal weeks in the Trump Presidency—and there have been many—when the facts revealed about the President are so painful that it is not just his supporters in the Senate, perennially dodging reporters’ questions on their way to lunch, who might prefer to look away. Among Democrats and the liberal commentariat, there was the usual Woodward bashing: Why had he waited so long to publish this damaging information? But there was also another question: Will any of this new information matter, what with Trump voters so locked into their support of the President that no outrage, no matter how deadly, will sway them? For Trump’s defenders, it was just another time to dodge and deflect. On Fox News, the host Tucker Carlson opened his prime-time show with a long attack on Senator Lindsey Graham, the Presidential confidant whom Carlson blamed for convincing Trump to coöperate with Woodward. Carlson noted that Graham had sat in on the first interview, but did not offer his viewers any explanation for why Trump conducted seventeen subsequent interviews with Woodward.
I found a certain emptiness to the exercise, to the partisan vaporings and performative outrage of the political class. Everyone is suiting up for a fight, and they all think they know its resolution: Trump will deny and dissemble, and then some other thing will happen and the news cycle will move on. The strategy from Trump and his partisans was quickly apparent; this is a play they have run many times before. If the President can pretend the virus that he had called “deadly” is, in fact, not so bad, then he certainly can pretend that he never said those things to Woodward; that the book, like all the other books, is just a “political hit job”; and that it’s irrelevant, anyway, because he is doing such a terrific job and his enemies are terrible.
Sure enough, by Thursday morning, Trump was back to demanding that Democrats reopen schools, the coronavirus be damned. He was tweeting about his good friend Kim Jong Un, planning to hold a campaign rally in Michigan, and complaining about the “phony Russia, Russia, Russia HOAX.” A day after implausibly reacting to the Woodward book by claiming that, in lying, he was just acting responsibly, to avoid panicking the American public, Trump returned to scaring it. “If I don’t win,” the President tweeted, “America’s Suburbs will be OVERRUN with Low Income Projects, Anarchists, Agitators, Looters and, of course, ‘Friendly Protesters’.”
Soon after that tweet, I heard a thwack at the front door. My copy of the Woodward book had arrived. Should I even bother to read it? In Trump’s nihilistic world, nothing matters. There is no point, no truth that is not partisan. The election is just under two months away. To Trump, that is all that counts. How will the book, or any other book, for that matter, change its outcome? I thought about all of that. I decided to start reading.
The reviewers at the Times and the Washington Post have already had their shots at Woodward’s book. His latest work has prompted as much fury on their part at the cowardly group of sycophants and enablers surrounding the President as at Trump himself. All of us already know that Trump is a charlatan, a con man, a fool. But isn’t it infuriating that these decorated generals and self-professed Christians have spoken privately with Woodward but have refused to level with the American people? Perhaps it’s “a tale not of character but of complicity,” as Jennifer Szalai wrote in the Times. “What makes the book noteworthy is Woodward’s sad and subtle documentation of the ego, cowardice and self-delusion that, over and over, lead intelligent people to remain silent in the face of Trumpian outrages,” Rosa Brooks, a Georgetown University law professor, concluded, in a review for the Post.
It is hard to disagree with their assessment. At times, you may slam the book down in frustration as you read, yet again, about Trump’s enablers telling a journalist how paranoid and narcissistic, foul-mouthed and foolish, the President is. These are people who have worked closely with him, and who apparently believe that Trump is a mortal danger to the nation, but they never say anything about him to the public. Still, the problem is this: as enraging and perplexing as their self-imposed silences and self-serving leaks appear to be, Jim Mattis and Dan Coats and all the rest are not running for President. They are, in the end, not responsible for the follies of the Trump Presidency, any more than Bob Woodward is responsible for the outrageous things that Trump told him. Does anyone seriously believe that, had Woodward published an article based on his February phone call with the President, Trump would have chosen any different course of action toward the pandemic? At every step along the way, the President has been called on his public misstatements and untruths about the virus. It did not make one bit of difference. Trump is unrepentant, now and forever.
By late Thursday afternoon, the Woodward news cycle had made its inevitable way to a Trump press conference, the ritual moment wherein the President would denounce the book, deny wrongdoing, and say a whole lot of other words.
“Why did you lie to the American people?” the ABC News correspondent Jonathan Karl asked, when Trump gave him the first question.
“There’s no lie,” Trump responded. “And the way you asked that question is very disgraceful.”
Perhaps even more to the point, Trump repeated, over and over, that what he told Woodward essentially does not matter. Because America’s response to the coronavirus has been right, terrific, amazing. Better than Europe. Better than anywhere. “I think we did a great job,” he told Karl. And also, “We’re rounding the final turn.” The pandemic, to hear Trump tell it, is practically over.
This is the same mix of fantasy and lies that Trump was spreading publicly in February, while privately telling Woodward the truth about the coronavirus’s deadliness. The difference is that nearly two hundred thousand Americans are dead now, and few of them had any inkling that their lives would soon be in danger because the President chose neither to tell the country the truth nor take actions that would empower the government to properly respond to a pandemic of this scale and lethality.
Will it make any difference in the election? I doubt it. But the awfulness of the latest Trump revelations is no less awful for having been both anticipated and completely consistent with what we already suspected. In fact, it might be even worse than a surprise bolt from nowhere. Through sheer repetition, Trump has defeated the idea of the game-changing disclosure. Just in the past few days, weeks, and months, we’ve learned that his former national-security adviser considered him “unfit” for office; that his first defense secretary called him “dangerous”; that his first director of National Intelligence thought Vladimir Putin must have had damaging kompromat on him; and that his own sister was secretly taped saying that he was a “cruel” man “with no principles.” None of these disclosures significantly altered the landscape of American politics in this election year. Why would it change anything to know how cynical Trump has been with American lives—to have the confirmation of what you already knew and believed? By now, that’s the thing about these disclosures: the awfulness is not only in the knowing but in the instantaneous awareness that the knowing probably doesn’t much matter. It just makes it a bit more awful.
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