Adaptive Curmudgeon

Is there nothing under the sun that isn’t a reflection of 2018’s navel gazing gobbledygook? Is there anything at all that they’ll leave to simply be? It seems one could grow a tomato garden and somewhere there’s a ninny that’ll imagine it as a statement about oppression or female empowerment or whatever. (I don’t want what they’re selling. Unless you can slice off some fresh empowerment and add it to a cheeseburger I’m not interested.)

But hey, that’s just me right? I’m just an uninformed deplorable who can’t quite grok the nuance of Medieval history, a subject about which I’ve already noted I’m ill informed. Surely modern professionals in the field are unbiased chroniclers of the very old information in question?

Nope! Here’s a link to a long detailed article about SJWs going apeshit on one particular history prof. (Hat tip to Maggie’s Farm.) She wouldn’t bow to their spectacularly irrelevant, new and improved 2018-based ways of thinking. As night follows day, they fired up a shit flinging drama fest in attempts to… Well I’m not sure about their end game. I’m not sure they are either. Maybe it just feels good to fling shit?

The article has a lot of detailed information. It sounds like an honest (and humorous) history professor was unfairly called racist, sexist, white supremacist, boo boo head, and other nasty things. Nevertheless she persisted. (Never fear to use their own vocabulary! You never know if a  speck of cognitive dissonance will help some of the brighter space cadets see a different view.)

It would be nice to think that academics involving events from 1,200 years ago would be free of modern bullshit. Alas, we’re in a cycle where people act as if life is all within the state, nothing outside the state. (See what I did there?) If I can’t breathe air in America without somehow offending someone’s politics I suppose I can’t expect it in even the most obscure of academic endeavors.

It must be maddening. How can a professor productively discuss the Edict of Toleration by Galerius (date: 313) in a world where nitwits reinterpreted the word ‘tolerance’ last week and will reinterpret it again next Tuesday? Snowflakes lose their goddamn mind if you bring up attitudes of 1,700 years ago. They sure as hell aren’t up to learning something new. What can you do to instruct the mighty omniscience granted every youth with a student loan?

Short answer? Can’t be done. Shut up and play your assigned role at the vote farm.

Here are a few interesting tidbits:

“You might think Medieval Studies an odd place for a widespread social justice incursion. Perhaps the activists are just working their way down the list of university departments: they’ve conquered just about everywhere else, after all.”

…

“[t]he Middle Ages were invoked to imagine what Europe was really about, and who Europeans were. You can see why the progressive Left wants to tear it down.”

…

“Eileen Joy has complained that people use medieval history as a “haven” to study white Christianity, as though there were something intrinsically objectionable about that, and ignoring the fact that Christianity was the culture of a largely fair-skinned Europe. According to Joy, the field is a “safe space to be elitist, a safe space to be white, a safe space to be Christian, Eurocentric, misogynist.” But complaining about too much Christianity in Medieval Studies is analogous to objecting to too many numbers in math.”

That’s PRECISELY my point. I noticed lectures where folks got hot and bothered by the only two queens that got a lot of screen time in a two hundred year window. In other situations, otherwise unemployable folks are bitching about Christianity in a place that was called non-ironically Christendom? Bonkers! Whining about male centered analysis in a time where big dudes cleaving skulls with swords was a common way to negotiate differences? Insane! Wincing about words like “barbarian” or “heretic” or “empire” when those are the places that originated those very words? Self-defeating.

I don’t know how deep the rabbit hole goes. We’ll know it when we get there. But if there are 2018 political ramifications to thousand year old medieval history… we’ve already dug pretty goddamn deep.

A.C.

P.S. None of this is to dissuade anyone from learning history. It feels good to learn anything you didn’t heretofore know. Knowledge isn’t wisdom but it’s a necessary building block. Also history gives me a mind for the long game. I start seeing patterns in centuries and eras instead of weeks and months. I’m often surprised at how many ideas that once looked newly hatched by slackers at Starbucks are revealed as a rehash of the same old thing. At least in terms of humans forming societies, there really is nothing new under the sun.

I listen to history lectures as an alternative to bullshit on the radio. This is mostly successful but the lecturers have bias too. One went all girl power over Emma of Normandy.

Was it a one off thing? Nope. It happened again.

In a different set of lectures (possibly the same professor) the focus turned to Eleanor of Aquitaine. As before, it started dripping with 2018 sensibilities the minute the professor had a female to discuss.

Curmudgeonly History (don’t worry, there won’t be a test): Born in 1124, Eleanor of Aquitaine was connected like the Gambino family. As heir to the Duchy of Aquitaine she was also Europe’s most desirable bride:

Her father Duke William X died leaving her in the guardianship of King Louis VI of France. Guardianship includes finding a proper betrothal. He scoured the entirety of Christendom and determined that by golly, wouldn’t you know it, the best possible solution was that her tracts of land marry into his family. Raise your hand if you didn’t see that coming.

The King’s eldest son had died so he booted up the auxiliary backup son (who’d been groomed for monastic life) and married the two pawns together. Thus, at roughly age 13 Eleanor was bound to a hapless prince who soon became King Louis VII of France.

What a mess. Louie was a balless lovesick fool. Eleanor treated him like a doormat and scandalized the court by being a medieval party girl. She was doing blow off the royal mirrors while hubby whined about decorum. The lecturer oozed admiration for her “liberation”.

I’ll admit Eleanor did cool stuff; like going with the King on a Crusade. Picture her suited up like a hot cosplay Dragonslayer. Go ahead and enjoy.

Sadly, a fun outing to kill heathens with his peeps turned into a slog as the King dealt with Eleanor’s military backseat driving. Collectively, King Al Bundy and his high maintenance wife micromanaged their Crusade into a faceplant. The lecturer was all excited about her participation. I disagree. It’s not impressive to participate in losing!

Eleanor and Louis came home in separate boats; which tells you all you need to know. The lecturer was talking about Eleanor’s bravery. I interpret it as Eleanor on a royal camping trip & giving advice that offed many soldiers. But what do I know?

Back at home, Eleanor decided the old man wasn’t awesome enough. She petitioned the pope for an annulment.

The Pope was a buzzkill. “No! What part of ‘until you die’ confuses you?”

Then hubby rings up the Pope and asks for the same thing.

The Pope’s like “Sin and stuff means divorce is a big hairy deal. Throw me a fig leaf.”

“She’s ‘willful’. She’s hotter than a two dollar pistol but every day I wonder if I’ll wake up with a severed horse’s head in my bed. She has me bent, folded, and spindled. I love her but she’s cold as ice.”

“Someday a rock band called Foreigner will run with that theme. However, the church can’t help you. Have you considered packing her off to a nunnery?”

“I don’t think it’ll work. Also I think she’s boinking her Uncle… or at least wants to.”

“Have you considered killing the Uncle? This is the Middle Ages, divorce is sinful but nobody has a problem with violence.”

“How about this? We’re inbred y’all.”

“OK. The Church can work with that.”

(At this point I’d like to thank history lectures for teaching me the cool new vocabulary of “consanguinity“.)

So Eleanor got an annulment, ditched the kids, and her ex-husband listened to country music all night long. Did I mention she kept her huge tracts of land? No shit! The King voluntarily gave up half of France! The lecturer is talking empowerment and I’m surprised by the King. Most kings would marry a lizard to get land. Lovestruck beta-male Louie just let her go? In an era where solutions for a “willful” queen range from nunneries to discrete homicide, Louie made a self-sacrificing choice. Dumbass!

Eleanor was promptly kidnapped by the Count of Blois and the Count of Nantes. They planned the traditional “capture and marry” method I associate with Ming the Merciless. (I’m not clear which of the Counts planned to do the marrying.) Eleanor was all empowered so she sent a letter to the young Duke of Normandy “Yo, hot stuff! Save me and I’ll make it worth your while.” What Prince could turn down an offer like that?

The Duke shows up and saves her by acting exactly like a knight in shining armor from a storybook. They get married toot sweet. In short order he was King Henry I of England and had a hot French wife with huge tracts of land. Nice work if you can get it.

This also means eight weeks after dumping the King of France, Eleanor had self-arranged rescue by a dashing young English boy toy. What’s the medieval French language phrase for “trading up”? Also, how is any of her  “rescue” not like a cliche?

I’m hearing about Eleanor’s story with words like “amazing”. What I comprehend is a scheming woman leaving a trail of broken hearts and dead soldiers.

Eleanor never chilled out. She immediately started hassling her new husband. She preferred to be called “Duchess of Aquitaine” instead of “Queen of England”. Nothing says “happy marriage and social stability” like shitting on your husband’s ego at the royal court where he supposedly wields absolute power. The King stuck with proper social protocol by dipping his wick elsewhere but discreetly. Eleanor was never discrete. After years of nagging, she packed her shit and left hubby #2 around Christmas 1167. Shockingly, the King was cool with it. Medieval kings are notorious for killing anyone who screws with them. Yet jilted kings just let her go… twice! WTF?

Empowered? OK maybe. Then again it feels “off”. The woman was a human wrecking ball but the prof described her like I describe a rainbow.

Having skipped out on husband/king #2, she quietly took up knitting. Ha ha ha. Of course not. Soon she was craving power again. King Henry’s son (creatively named Henry) launched a revolt.

“Dad, I’m going to kill you and take the crown.”

King Henry of England had the testosterone King Louis VII of France lacked. “Molon labe punk!”

The usurper fled to… you guessed it… Miss Empowerment 1173.

“Mom! Dad won’t let me have absolute power!”

“Don’t worry, I’ve raised a couple of spare sons for this eventuality. Meet Richard and Geoffrey. They love seizing power and inciting violence. Also I’ll get some friends to join us in attacking England.”

“Thanks mom! Lets wreck England together!”

“Here’s a sippy cup and a broadsword. We start tomorrow.”

Two years later King Henry had sent his dipshit son packing and stopped the plans of his scheming estranged wife. Twenty English castles and a zillion towns have been destroyed, plus another shitload of people were killed. Given Eleanor’s track record, it’s lucky England wasn’t razed clear to Scotland. The lecturer is still saying things like “fascinating” and I’m thinking “This chick is radioactive. She’s Lady Macbeth!”

Finally, Eleanor’s second husband did the proper medieval thing and sent some knights to capture the bitch. Then he locked her ass in a tower. (It was a nice tower, with pretty drapes.)

Later, the King gave her greater freedom but she was constantly supervised. I think the King was playing with fire. You don’t let Godzilla, Nuclear Weapons, or Eleanor of Aquitaine loose if don’t have to!

When King Henry died, his successor King Richard I felt bad about the situation and sent orders to release Eleanor from supervision. Her custodians had already released her! I assume she was found sitting on a pile of gold next to the dead body of her jailer; possibly twirling a dagger between her fingers and drawing up plans for a Death Star. Empowered? How about Supervillian!

After a couple more daring escapes, kidnappings, and betrayals, Eleanor died. It was 1204. They chained the crypt shut to keep her from coming back from the dead with another plan to seize power.

It’s odd the lecturer talked approvingly of her; like she’s a role model for young women who might want to become surgeons in 2018. What I heard was a scheming 12th century drama lama with a touch of megalomania. Whenever she met a king, she’d rub his face in the dirt, start looking for a place to stick a knife, or both.

We all have bias. Mention a cool female in the 12th century and the prof starts to build a shrine. I’m unimpressed by a harpy that liked causing friction for friction’s sake. My bias is that I think Charlemagne or Diocletian (both of whom spent lots of time killing lots of people) are respectable because they were doing the period appropriate thing of building or shoring up empires. They weren’t grinding up armies merely because they were bored. Also, I theorize twelfth century England (and France!) would’ve been better served by virtually who wasn’t Eleanor. Giving Lindsay Lohan a tiara and then turning her loose in a room filled with cocaine would cause fewer problems.

That’s my story and I’m sticking to it. Which is why I’ll never have a history degree.

I’ve tapered off politics (or at least keep it at arm’s length). Unfortunately, politics is extra special hyperbolic lately. It follows us around like when you feed a stray cat and then the bastard won’t leave. It’s not a new situation but it is increasingly annoying. In 2008 I stopped reading the paper. By 2016 it got bad enough that I officially decided the “national discourse” (if that’s what we should call it) was unhealthy in all media. It was time to wall off most of the asshattery. (Not an uncommon opinion in flyover country.)

I’m not the only one that sees seeks understanding or refuge. Scott Adams seems to have it nailed down. He called it “cognitive dissonance“. If cognitive dissonance sounds too clinical, try the different but closely related “mass hysteria“. (I’m not joking, look up the definition of “mass hysteria” and then watch the news. Go ahead and write don’t what they’re freaking out about today and then write down what happened to those concerns in a month, a year, etc… They covered Trump tweeting about Kim Jong-Un with the same concern I’d react to a velociraptor shoved down my underpants. That’s hysteria. A month later they can’t find the place on a map. That’s how you know it was yet another looming disaster that didn’t materialize.) Credit to Captain Capitalism who was way ahead of the curve. He’ been exhorting us to Enjoy the Decline for years. (Full disclosure, I’ve read several of Clarey’s books but not that particular title.) I wasn’t the first one on the bandwagon and more come aboard all the time.

But I’m not here to bitch about bullshit. I’m here to mention one of my (many!) escape valves… and bitch that the bullshit is following me there!

One personal “safe space” from politics (using the wingnut’s own terminology!) was a new interest in history lectures. In particular, I wanted avoid the state propaganda system. I drive a lot and it’s just too damn dominant on the FM airwaves. (Yes, I call it state propaganda. Look up the actual dictionary terms. It can easily be argued that National Public Radio is both state sponsored and propaganda. Those words really do mean what I think those words mean.)

I bought several Great Courses lectures in Medieval History. It was an ideal subject. I went to public schools which are allergic to teaching nearly anything and especially history. So I had plenty of room to learn. Also it’s about as removed from American politics in 2018 as humanly possible. A place where the wingnuts wouldn’t bother me. FREEDOM!!!!

Sadly, I could occasionally detect the whiff of bullshit. I first noticed it when one of the lecturers got really wound up about Emma of Normandy (985 – 1052).

A bit of history told Curmudgeon style: Emma of Normandy was the queen of England. In the year 1002 she married a king with the hilarious nickname Ethelred the Unready. As is common in history of that era (think “Game of Thrones”) a new player showed up to overthrow the existing monarchy. The new guy was called Cnut the Great (also spelled as  Canute). He brought his A game to an England that was minor league at best.

He and his soldiers acted all Viking-like. It went something like this:

“Greetings, we’re super badass dudes that came on this boat. We navigate the oceans in craft that would make a Coast Guard safety officer weep. We think Ragnarok would be fun. We cleave skulls as a hobby.” Pause to wait for everyone to shit their pants. “OK, Who’s in charge here? Did you say ‘Ethelred’? Oh that’s hilarious… ha ha ha!” Pause while everyone finishes shitting their pants and notice they’re serious about the Ethelred thing. “Oh wait, you mean it? OK fine, please go inform King whatsisname that we’re comin’ for him and that he’s fucked.”

Cnut demonstrated what happens when a fellow nicknamed “the Great” encounters a fellow nicknamed “the Unready”. In short order Ethelred is deader than a doornail. I presumed Emma would be planning a sudden trip to France under an assumed name; possibly in the middle of the night… while wearing a disguise.

I was happily digesting this information as I drove in my truck. No whiff of 2018 American political bias yet.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch…

All of a sudden Emma winds up married to Cnut. WTF? I didn’t see that coming.

OK fine, it was the medieval period and a lady’s gotta’ do what a lady’s gotta do. I’m not judging.

In a turn of events that would make a soap opera proud, Emma has gone from Queen of England, to sad widow, to Queen of England, Denmark and Norway.

Did I mention that Cnut was a bad ass? King of England and Norway and Denmark. It amuses me to picture the new ruler Cnut with a stack of crowns. He could wear whatever one he felt like on a given day… because he’s not just King but King cubed.

This seemed like it would cement Emma’s place in trivia as the Queen who was Queen twice. I presume that’s rare and it’s quite interesting. Modestly worth my attention.

The lecturer, on the other hand, went into heat! After hundreds of years of history about one dude after another she finally had a woman to discuss! She was super excited. Her voice practically levitated. WTF?

I put two and two together and remembered that the lecturer was from a literature department instead of a history department. Ugh… not this shit again.

I decided to roll with it. Why not indulge a professor a little personal bias? This Emma chick was kinda’ unusual and if the prof wants to go on like she’s the grooviest thing since sliced bread I’ll roll with it. (For the record, I interpreted Emma’s actions as mildly interesting at best. Likely just a side discussion on how you can conquer the shit out of a people and then marry into the royal family to improve your legitimacy to the throne. Or maybe the dude was just skeevy. Didn’t Ming the Merciless have the same plot arc in Flash Gordon?) I sat and listened for some time while the prof rambled about her like Queen Emma was the love child of Rosie the Riveter and Wonder Woman. This has got to be big time bias. After all, she (the lecturer) spent more time discussing Emma than the ruling king Cnut.

End of Curmudgeonly history discussion.

But what do I know? I already admitted I’m not professionally trained in medieval history. Just a little bias and no big deal right?

Once is chance, twice is a pattern. Tune in next time to hear about a real life Lady Macbeth.

Well that didn’t take long:

Being a caterpillar blows, I’m gonna’ make me some wings.

Forgive the crappy photo. I assure you it’s an artifact of the cheap phone camera and not an instance of the first caterpillar to master arc welding.

By my count the little critter only took 4 days to get to the “glue my ass to a leaf in preparation for making a chrysalis” phase.

It’s fun doing kid things. Don’t ever get too “mature” for doing simple stuff that makes you smile.

I’ve always wanted to raise a monarch butterfly. Recently it dawned on me that I own an homestead and I’m not dead yet. Now was the time. (In light of certain events in 2018 I’ve taken to returning to the basic joys in life. The headier heights of more adult concerns are on the back burner for a while (and the house looks like it).)

I always walk to the mailbox with my dog. Time is taking its toll (on both of us but the clock runs faster for a dog). Each day the walk gets slower. Two weeks ago I started roaming in the ditch observing milkweeds. My dog walks the path while I’m the one rooting around in the weeds. Our roles have reversed.

Some ecological observations: My understanding of milkweed was that it’s damn near poison to everything. (With the exception of monarch caterpillars, which are themselves poison to the birds that might otherwise eat them.) Yet many leaves have a bite or a nip taken out of them. In particular I found a few reddish insects that were presumably eating the milkweed… or just hanging out there. So much for my view of monarch caterpillars as the sole leaf eater; a koala analogue for the eucalyptus-like milkweed. As with all things ecological, reality is messier than theory.

I didn’t bother looking for eggs. Finding something the size of a poppy seed while standing in tick territory requires more dedication that I’ve got. Also elderdog needed my attention.

Even so, I verified that there were no monarch caterpillars. I saw milkweed, monarch butterflies, and no caterpillars. WTF? I was frustrated.

I began my search in mid-July. After two weeks I was convinced I was either too late or doing something stupid. However, I’m not one to quit easily. On the 15th day of informally checking I found a tiny, ugly, squib of a 1/4″ long caterpillar. Squinting real hard I could tell it was a miniature monarch caterpillar.

Note: some insect life looks exactly the same through several orders of magnitude in size. So it is with the monarch caterpillar. The thing I was looking for was a handsome 3″ beast. The thing I found was a grain of rice.

I left it there.

“Did you find one?” Mrs. Curmudgeon is always supportive of my various vision quests, both large and small.

“Yep.”

Mrs. Curmudgeon eyed the huge jar I’d prepared for my project. “And?”

“They’ve got food, water, and habitat. Might as well let ’em grow.”

This last statement is a difference in cunning between the seven year old I once was and the hunter I am now. I’m comfortable letting the goal play loose. I can reel it in when I want. Perhaps this is part of the wisdom of age.

Two days later they were more common. I found a handful of little grains of rice. How long was this going to take? I suppose I could look up the lifecycle but… well now look at this!

One caterpillar was ahead of its peers. Ten minutes later it was named, in a jar, and eating dinner with the rest of the family. Yes, there are men that’ll put a caterpillar in a jar and leave it in sight for dinner… yes I’m that sort of fella. And yes I named it.

I present to you, Sebastian:

It’s good to be a kid at heart.

A.C.

When I was a kid I tried and failed to raise a monarch butterfly in a jar. I chalked it up as one of those “path not traveled” things.

Then I bumped into the online presence of Christine DeMerchant. I’d say she’s a blogger but that’s not the right term. Perhaps the right word is polymath? She’s got so much to say about so many things that she’s got not only a huge website but another even bigger one. In the true spirit of the internet I tuned into her site looking for information about moldy firewood, made a detour to ponder leathering oars (something on my vast “to do” list), and wound up reading about growing milkweed plants.

You know that special feeling of discovery the internet held before it turned into Facebook and bullshit? For a moment I had it back. Here was someone, ostensibly an adult, who reminded me that I can do whatever the hell I want…including raising a butterfly. Brilliant!

Who says you have to grow up?

So thanks a million to Christine DeMerchant (whom I’ve never met and probably associates with a cooler crowd than me). Her posts reminded me that even though it’s a pursuit normally associated with a seven year old… I can still give it a shot now.

Many moons ago, as a young Curmudgeon, I was constantly bringing nature indoors. Most springs I had salamanders or tadpoles growing in a jar somewhere, for fishing I had a worm farm, many summer nights I had fireflies in a jar (or smeared on my bicycle tires), and I’ll never forget… the fucking monarchs….

The salamanders, tadpoles, fireflies, and whatever else I found (snakes were verboten) did their time in my well meaning temporary jail and were released. Usually in decent health.

But monarchs outwitted me. (Admittedly, outwitting a kid is not a tough challenge.) I had it in mind to capture a caterpillar, stuff it in a jar with some leaves, and observe the magic of nature until I had a beautiful monarch butterfly. Then release it, of course.

This never worked. Kids are idiots and I was a kid. They’re also laughably unobservant. I could never find a caterpillar when I was thinking about it. Oh sure, I’d see them when I wasn’t looking for one but that doesn’t count. (Life is like that. Ever see an elk in the middle of town when you’re coming home empty handed after scouring the hinterlands for one during hunting season?) In retrospect I’m not sure I was bright enough to look on milkweed. Did I mention kids are idiots?

One year my aunt found a chrysalis. Ironically it was on a stalk of corn. This made no sense to me because I knew monarch caterpillars eat milkweed. I think I was pissed off about the corn stalk at the exact same time that I was too dumb to find caterpillars because I was probably looking on pine trees. Kids are idiots!

Anyway, I put it in a jar and waited. In kid years a week is a decade and I watched that damn thing for what seemed like years. It took forever. Then one weekend I was gone on camping and the thing emerged. When I returned, my mom had let it go. Stupid butterfly!

So it is with life. Youthful ideas fade and are replaced by weighty concerns and tax returns. Or are they? More in part 2.

America is designed to be a federation. Theoretically and within reason, as each state manages it’s own affairs, some will have good ideas and some will have bad ones. Also states (at least in theory) apply only those solutions desired by their people. Meaning a law appropriate for Massachusetts isn’t crammed down the throat of Wyoming; and vice versa. Oh how I wish we hadn’t drifted from that simple humility! The other advantage of a federation is that the nation’s people have an escape valve. They can move from state to state seeking the place they like best… as I have done more than once. (Indeed Americans do this all the time.)

I like it when states do weird things, so long as the stupidity remains at the state level and leaves me out of it. In particular, California regularly comes up with heroically ridiculous ideas. You gotta’ hand it to them; there’s nothing so pointless and minor that they won’t codify a solution to it… that often makes things worse in ironic and amusing ways. So long as they’re not pissing in my Cheerios I don’t care.

The idea of banning plastic straws, for example, is stupid and pointless but since they’re bossing themselves around it’s just a punchline. Enjoy some memes based on California’s newest brilliant idea:

I generally think of the New York Times as something I might accidentally step in. But I always give credit where credit is due. I’m truly impressed with their Extremely Detailed Map of the 2016 Election. (Hat tip, to Ace of Spades (I think). Honestly, I can’t quite recall which blog pointed me there.)

Check it out. It’s damn cool.

Maps serve a purpose beyond entertainment. They present information that would, in other communication methods, be harder to grok. Here’s an example.  You’ve all seen the maps of which state voted R versus which states voted D. Here’s a simple version I found randomly on Google. If you look at it you “learn something”:

Suppose you look at it with more detail? Here’s a map of which counties voted R versus D. If you look at it you “learn more”:

With this interactive map you can drill down to very small areas. Neighborhoods really. I had no idea voting information had such fine granularity. So what does a clever monkey like me do with this groovy toy? Attempt to learn things, of course:

The press in the throes of confirmation bias that everyone is exactly like the enlightened, thoughtful, diverse urbanites who universally voted for the correct party:

The press is also struggling with cognitive dissonance that mysoginist, racist, embittered, knuckle dragging, right wing Deplorables are somehow not yet lined up and shot:

Gosh, with such a huge disparity between 100% blue and 100% red voting blocks, how will we make it through the month without a shooting war?

Well, what if I wandered around the map and in half a second I found this:

It took half a minute to find a precinct (is that the word?) that went for Trump over Hillary by a minuscule 687 to 669. A difference of 18 votes. That’s within 1.3% of a perfect coin flip. If I lined up 1356 voters, handed them a quarter and said “flip this” would 18 votes different be basically a wash?

Now I’m not saying America is one big happy family. Nor am I saying that the people of Detroit and Kansas will someday learn to get along. I’m not even saying some random spot northeast of Bend Oregon is some sort of peaceful Nirvana.

I’m just saying at a small scale you can see things you wouldn’t see elsewhere. Thinking about it tells me that both sides, with their “we’re too far apart and doomed to blows” may be oversimplifying. Maybe people self segregate and just like to bitch about the “other”. Maybe people will chill the hell out in time. Who knows? I’m just sayin’ the fat lady hasn’t yet sung and the press is turning the dial to eleven accentuating the negative until she does. Maybe it won’t all go to hell?

I’m hardly an optimist, but I’ve seen this before. USSR, the terrifying ICBM laden mutually assured destruction player of my youth, collapsed without a shot fired. The press, busily shitting on Reagan for the lead up to it, was caught flat footed. So were our intelligence agencies. I don’t know what they were doing then, but they’re so busy wiretapping politicians now that they’re surely missing a big picture elsewhere.

And back to USSR, or perhaps I can call it “the war that didn’t happen”, was that not a great thing? It could have been worse. Ironically, the side that wanted to “give peace a chance” with the mighty Russian bear seems determined to goad Trump into kicking Putin in the balls on live TV. Meanwhile, the side that was saber rattling under Reagan is nominally headed by an Orange Haired fella’ who is determined to turn our relationship into a far less shooty arrangement. He envisions a Coke versus Pepsi rivalry that is somewhat less likely to incinerate Baltimore. So when did the two sides switch? And did they wave at each other as they passed on the road?

Look at the large scale and look at the small. The press is out to drive us all nuts. Better knowledge is the antidote to gaslighting!

A.C.

P.S. One more thing. For those of you who wish to be the Grey Man, avoiding issues by carefully blending in, this map has a huge (or should I say “yuge”?) lesson. Even in a national presidential race, your “secret ballot” is far less secret than the state or county level totals I imagined. It’s something I didn’t know until today.

Up above, I showed an image of a voting precinct (?) with 24 Trump votes and none for his opponent. Below there’s a voting precinct (?) with 10 Hillary votes and none for her opponent. If you move into either area and honestly vote your mind you’re taking a risk. It wouldn’t take a rocket scientist to look at 2016 and then look at 2020 and “root out” the lonely dissenter with extreme precision. For that matter, what might happen to the two Trumpsters in the Detroit image? They’re in a small (a few blocks) area and outnumbered 506 to 2! These detailed vote counts can be the difference between a secret choice and Custer’s last stand!

Also, it doesn’t necessarily have anything to do with your neighbors. Even if your neighbors are great people who you’d trust with your life, your individual vote in very small, very blue, and very red districts might show up on the national scene. I’m just an idiot blogger playing with a map in another timezone and I found out stuff. Almost certainly a database search of public information can get you on some loon’s list of “problem people”; at least if you’re in a small and biased precinct(?).

It’s probably nothing. Likely just a tinfoil hat concern. However, if you’re dedicated to the Grey Man solution, these maps are telling you something.