There’s only one thing stopping Trump from truly revolutionizing our broken tax system…

… and it’s sitting in the Oval Office: “Trump’s Industry, Real Estate, Poses Hurdle to Tax Overhaul

Give this a read, give your reps a call, carry on with your day.🇺🇸📞

Thx!

P.S.: I was gonna do some sort of gag about dude’s total floundering for his first 100 days, but it quickly got tedious.  Here’s his “Contract with the American Voter” (SPOILER ALERT: he’s in breach).  Go ahead and play “broken promise/laughable goal” bingo on your own; I’m done playing pigeon chess with the PotUS (who, I’m sure, is just about to release another deluge of tweets about how great he’s doing, or would be doing if the world was fair—but a poor ole richer-than-God, weasel-wording, sexual-molesting, pee-faced pathological steak-ruining tin-whistle shukster-turned-U.S. President just can’t catch a break in America).

pigeon-chess

A Brief Tale of Uncertain Moral for Yom Ha’Shoa

I wrote about this via Twitter back in January.  I’ll more-or-less re-iterate what I shared then here.  I don’t know why I feel compelled to do this (again), apart from the fact that, as the years go on, I realize that this anecdote is, more so than the Torah or Midrash or anything else, the primary text by which I attempt to understand the nature of God.  And Judaism is a religion that has, despite poor odds, survived, and it has done so on the basis of repetition: I say the words that my dad said that my grandfather said that his parents said; I teach them to my children to repeat, maybe out in front of a crowd, maybe in candlelight away from windows.  But the words are repeated, and we persist, a thin red thread stretching through human history.  And when I cannot believe in anything else—as is frequently the case—I can believe in the worthiness of that task, and my fitness toward taking it up:  I can persist in the repetition of the words, I can take them a little farther down the road.

I’ve got a lot to say about this but I bet you can guess most of it. And the parts you can’t guess… there’s no room for them here.

Like, for example, here’s a thing: When I was in college I used to participate in this thing in the Diag, where for 24hr we’d read names of…

…Holocaust victims. The names were on these ledger sheets in a big, thick binder. I’d always take an overnight shift, 3 or 4am, reading out…

…into the dark, telling cold air and trees and sleeping crows the names of the dead. The ledger sheets, there were columns for name, number…

…birth place and date, death place and date. Maybe some other stuff. The first time I did this, I hit a patch where there were no names…

…just numbers. The birth and death dates were close together—not much more than a year, as I recall, some much less—and the birth and death…

…places were both camps. These were infants born in camp, numbered, and then taken elsewhere to die or be executed. No names, so I read …

… their numbers, told them to the cold air and the trees and the sleeping crows and the dark and the handful of Jews standing around w/ me…

…I know a lot about the Holocaust. I know numbers, I know places, I know people. I’ve seen pictures and films, I know stories that are…

…published and well known, and others that are between me and the person who no longer remembers them (z”l). I think about all of them…

… often. But I think of those pages of numbers, the empty column for names, those infants, that dark, the crows most often. B/c I feel…

… more than any other, that fact, that moment, has something important to tell me about the Nature of God and the Nature of Humans. And…

… 20 years on, I still have no idea what precisely that is.

Except for maybe that, nowadays, I think of it and, for no particular reason, I think of Malachi 3:18—which you can look up on your own.

I lumped this into my “Take Action” category, not because there is any particular action you should take today, but so that you maybe might seraphchamsa-IMG_7181meditate on this story further, as you go about your days.  Because someday you will need to take action, and all I can do for you is prime you for that not-at-all-good moment.

Actually, on reflection, there is an action to take today:  Tell this to your sons and daughters.  This is thing, it was a grand—almost inconceivably grand—project humans undertook.  Not monsters.  Not one Very Bad Man—worse even than Pharaoh or Bashar al-Assad—but just normal human beings—tons of them, whole nations of them, doing their jobs.  No more, no less.

Human beings like you and me.  No more, no less.

Need Help Building your Daily Writing Ritual?

Just a quick one:  For folks who are having trouble with writer’s block (either in their professional or creative work), I’ve put together this little week-long clinic.  Totally free, no strings attached.  My gift to you.  Check it out:

Clearflow Creative Writing Clinic

Experience the Power of the Slinky Sound Forest at Penguicon 2017

I’ll be at Penguicon again this year (April 28–30).  But instead of just sitting on a few panels and mooching a lot of free drinks, I wanted to do something extra special.  So this year I’m spending the entire weekend building something extra special for you to experience and interact with—and for the Slinkies to finally be heard.

Won’t you join me—and the Slinkies—before it’s too late?

Continue reading “Experience the Power of the Slinky Sound Forest at Penguicon 2017”

“President Trump’s biggest weakness is that he doesn’t know how to make deals.”

I don’t put too much trust in political prognostication by narrative extrapolation, but this lil article in the WaPo— “Trump is throwing himself into the Democrats’ trap” —is reminding me of something I wrote way back in June 2016:

Is he a great negotiator?  No.

Is a great businessman?  No.

Is a statesman of any stripe? No.

Is he even a politician, in any conventional sense of the word?  No.

But he is possibly the greatest salesman this country has ever known, in part because he has perfected the sales process beyond the need for any product at all.

And none of us should feel good about this fact.  That he’s a shit negotiator and abysmal dealmaker in no way impedes his capacity to hurt countless people, profoundly and callously—because profound callousness is the product he’s selling.  Even just glance at the charts here and you’ll see what I mean.  Hell, just remember that his healthcare plan—which was so fucked up even his own party wouldn’t support—cost more and covered fewer people than a simple repeal of Obamacare.  It didn’t obey any coherent American political ideology—it wasn’t more care, or better care, or cheaper care.  It was just profoundly callous and cruel, because that’s what he sells: The opportunity to exercise a callous “fuck you!“ishness toward a world that fails to recognize how inherently wonderful and superior you are.

We’re not even “through the looking glass” here, because it’s a universe without mirrors or even light, just groping through the darkness insisting what you need to be true must be true, because otherwise you are a fucking freier of the first degree, and you’ve been duped by a soft-handed dimbulb who couldn’t even convince his buddies to do the thing they’ve spent seven years screaming they were gonna do at the very first opportunity.

FREE READ: “The Lure of Lake 19” by David Erik Nelson

My horror short, “The Lure of Lake 19,” is up and free to read over at Evil Girlfriend Media’s Speculate! webzine.  This year’s theme is Curiosity Killed the Cat—’cause ain’t that the truth.

The story starts like this

Tate didn’t like how the kid was acting. The teenaged male in the second-hand cruiser’s back seat—who could produce no ID,10LureOfLake19a-300x200 but had given the moderately improbable name of “Jamal Kartazian”—was far too compliant. As a rule, kids like this—scrawny white boys with lumpy dreadlocks and grimy hoodies—were a spewing font of the Three Bs: bravado, back-peddling, and begging.

But not this kid. Jamal Kartazian was cool and collected; he almost seemed satisfied to find himself locked in the back of a cop car. And, in contrast to every other kid Tate had ever busted in his short two-act career as first a cop and then a rent-a-cop, this kid was actually asking to be “hauled back to the station.”

. . . and goes downhill from there:  “The Lure of Lake 19” by David Erik Nelson

Enjoy!

Emails to reps done!🇺🇸⌨️ Topic: White House conflicts of interest🇺🇸💸🇷🇺🔥

Here’s what I just wrote—just in case you’d like to call your reps about something similar (and don’t worry if you didn’t call about this today; the issue is sadly evergreen):

SUBJECT: White House corruption and conflicts of interest

Dear TKTKTK,

I continue to be deeply disturbed by very clear conflicts of interest in the Trump White House. For example, Forbes reported (and Slate reiterated) that Eric Trump will be reporting to President Donald Trump about Trump Organization business on a quarterly basis.

This is nothing remotely like “separation,” let alone a “blind trust”—heck, given this standard, there is more separation between me and my Roth IRA (which I check bi-annually, at best), and President Trump and Trump Org business.

Meanwhile, we learned from the Washington Post this morning that Jared Kushner (the PotUS’s son-in-law) will be heading a “SWAT team to fix government with business ideas” (with the president’s daughter in an advisory role), even as the Senate Intelligence Committee is questioning him about his ties to both the Russian government and Russian banks.

This is so plainly inappropriate that I feel sort of silly harping on it.  And yet here we are.

I continue to have a great deal of faith in our system of government and in your office—but only because I’ve seen your unflagging dedication to using the latter to assure the continuing basic function of the former.

Thank you!

All Best,

David Erik Nelson . . .