I’m a huge fan of Crazy Ex-Girlfriend and Rachel Bloom. I’m also a huge fan of anything that will get the now gray-haired monster from 1600 Pennyslvania Avenue.
So with apologies to Ms. Bloom, here is a remix/parody of “I Have Friends” — a song that seems peculiarly applicable in this epoch of contending with a raging narcissist who can’t leave the White House gracefully.
Today was the first day in which I felt proud to be an American since 2016. Joe Biden became the 46th President of the United States. With his sweeping victories in Georgia, Pennyslvania, Nevada, and Arizona, Biden won several states that seemed beyond him — often by a razor-thin margin — and defeated the menace that had threatened to permanently destroy democracy.
The mood here in Brooklyn was one of jubilation. Cars honked for hours. People danced in the street. As I did my laundry, an exuberant Jamaican woman offered hilarious commentary to accompany what came from the television. It was the same television in which I had witnessed Hillary Clinton concede while folding my shirts in hopeless tears. Grand Army Plaza was thronged with jumping bystanders feeling a wave of possibility that I haven’t witnessed since Obama took office in 2008.
There still remains much that is uncertain. Namely, whether the Democrats will take the Senate. Two Georgia seats are heading into a twin runoff race. There have been whispers from Alaska about Dr. Al Gross having a mail-in shot. Even Cal Cunningham in North Carolina is behind now by only 95,739 votes, with 2% of the ballots left to count.
But somehow the hard details don’t matter today. Today, we restored dignity and empathy to the Presidency. And this was no small battle. As an American, I feel that we have a strong shot at regaining democracy again and maybe even listening to each other. And I know that everybody I talked to in the streets of Brooklyn felt the same way.
I don’t feel any desire to punch at or mention the man who Biden is replacing. Frankly, that man is digging his own grave by refusing to concede or to even leave the White House with dignity. One feels that a giant marshmallow has deflated and melted. And it’s a strange feeling given how much of a threat he was only last week. He’ll probably pull a few shenanigans in the next 75 days. But what we can confidently say is this: The system held. The republic endured. People made compromises and knew who they needed to stand behind. Let us hope that this spirit of unity holds into the new year and the new presidential administration.
After several calls to the insect’s publicists, Reluctant Habits had the good fortune of landing an exclusive interview with the fly that landed on Mike Pence’s head during the October 7, 2020 vice presidential debate. We normally don’t pay our subjects for interviews, but, given the newsworthy nature of this get, the fly insisted on a large bag of Domino Sugar before speaking with us. The fly is currently in negotiations with Simon & Schuster for a six figure book deal and has also recently taped a reality TV pilot called Life After Larva for Peacock TV. The fly spoke to us in a strange patois of English and buzzing. We did our best to transcribe the conversation so that humans could understand it.
Why did you decide to land on Mike Pence’s head last night?
BZZZZZ. BECAUZZZZE IT WAS THERE!
You were there for two minutes.
BZZZZZ. YES, THE PENZZZZZZZZZZZZZZE IS A DEPENDABLE STATUE. BZZZZZZZZZZZ.
Uh, he’s a living and breathing human being.
HE IZZZZZZ? BZZZZZZZZ. HE WAS STIFFER THAN THE BRIGHAM YOUNG MONUMENT I LANDED ON YEZZZZZZTERDAY. BZZZZZZ.
Did you detect any signs of COVID On Mr. Pence?
BZZZZZ. BZZZZ. I HAVE LARGE COMPOUND EYES THAT SEE EVERYTHING! THE WHITE HAIR WAS A NICE PLACE TO REST AFTER MUNCHING ON ROTTING CARRION!
You’re dodging the question, Mr. Fly. Although it’s true that Pence’s left eye was notably pink.
BZZZZZ. TWAZZZZZZ INDEED. YET STILL NOT AS APPETIZING AS THE RAT I FEAZZZZZZZTED ON IN THE BACKROOM WALLS OF KINGSBURY HALL. BZZZZZZZ.
Wait a minute. I thought they sanitized the place to prevent infection.
BZZZZZZ. WE FLIEZZZZZZZZ CAN GET IN ANYWHERE. MUCH LIKE OUR FRIEND THE COVID-19 VIRUZZZZZZZZZ. NOT EVEN PLEXIGLAZZZZZZZZ WILL STOP UZZZZZZZZZZ! BZZZZZZZZZ!
You’ve spoken directly with the virus?
BZZZZZZZZ. WHY YEZZZZZZZZZZZZ!!!
Wow. Why didn’t you land on Kamalas’s head?
BZZZZZZZ. SHE WAZZZZZ NOT INFECTED WITH MY FRIEND THE COVID VIRUZZZZZZZZZZZZZ! BZZZZZZZZZZ. ALZO, SHE HAD A SOUL! BZZZZZZZZZZZZ. ALZZZZZZOOO, YOU FOOLISH HUMANS HAVE IT BACKWARDS! YOU CATCH MORE OF UZZZZZZZ WITH VINEGAR RATHER THAN HONEY. BZZZZZZZ!
Do you feel bad about distracting the American public from the real issues of this very important election?
BZZZZZZZ. NOOOOOO. THERE ARE SO MANY OF MY BROTHERS AND ZIZZZZZZZTERS. MORE OF UZZZZ THAN YOU. IT’S ABOUT TIME YOU PAID ATTENTION TO UZZZZZZZZ. BZZZZZZZZZZ.
Has celebrity changed you, Mister Fly?
BZZZZZZZ. MORE DECAYING FRUITS AND VEGETABLES TO ZPREAD MY ZEEED! BZZZZZZZZZ!! THE BEGINNING OF WORLDWIDE FLY DOMINATION! BZZZZZZZ!
You’re getting a tad megalomaniac there.
BZZZZZZZZZZ. WE ARE NO WORSE THAN YOUR FASCIST LEADERZZZZZZZZ. SUBMIT TO UZZZZZZZ NOW, HUMANZZZZZZZZZ!
Alright, here’s the bag of sugar.
I watched much of the interminable DNC coverage tonight, waiting for Jerry Lewis and Sammy Davis, Jr. to show up, and I’m sorry, but I demand better. Business as usual isn’t going to rid us of that evil man in the White House. This is the most important election of our lives. Phoning it in with condescending montages and feel-good bullshit isn’t going to cut it.
Aside from the passionate pizzazz from Bernie, who decried authoritarianism against the incongruous backdrop of chopped wood, and Michelle Obama’s mild concession that Trump was ill-suited to the Presidency (which is a bit like saying that breathing in carbon monoxide is bad for you: sure, it’s something you need to say, but it’s hardly the foundation for the brio one sees in, oh say, the good King rallying the troops in Henry V), this was a largely comatose affair that could have played on any UHF station twenty years ago, complete with a cameo from Tom Vu telling you to come to his seminar. And even if my ridiculous transposition were to actually transpire, I’m pretty sure Vu would have been the liveliest and most memorable figure.
Fake smiles propped themselves up, tendering platitudes and quips that could have been cribbed from a cornball Hallmark card. Kloubuchar’s sham dentition, in particular, was truly a phony crocodile look for the ages. I’ve seen that self-serving look espoused by far too many cutthroat types in corporate boardrooms. But few of these speakers had any plans and they never espoused anything close to real empathy over the many people suffering throughout the nation right now. Even an In Memoriam montage for the 170,000 Americans killed by COVID played at a remarkably brief clip, as if some twitchy kid hopped up on Mountain Dew in the control room was randomly determining the trajectory of the broadcast. John Kasich looked as if he was between holes on a golf course and looked eager to return to the game. You resented him for being there. Eva Longoria looked better prepared to host some VH1 special rather than one of the major political congregations of the year.
Where was the true compassion for the millions of Americans who are unemployed or who face eviction right now? Where was, in short, the real emotional conviction? We’re living in a hellscape. Let’s not forget that. Read the national temperature and it’s pretty clear that this isn’t the kind of environment that you organize a harmless little potluck over. We are in a place that demands mobilization and action and passion and conviction. Sure, it’s nice to know that Biden talks to regular people while riding Amtrak. But it’s a sign of how far our standards have plummeted that this tepid corporate nonsense, with its overwrought tunes and those relentless bullet points of info reminding what each speaker had done, has apparently caused so many to mist up or to express “how proud” they are to be a Democrat. It turns out that being a risk-averse neoliberal is a bit like being a member of Rotary International. You pat people on the back for saying nothing special and then you use your card to get the 10% discount at Denny’s.
Frankly, I was mostly appalled and deeply uninspired. Only Bernie’s promised appearance tonight kept me watching. You can’t act as if the millions of people from many backgrounds who mobilized behind Bernie never existed. Hell, you can’t pretend that real working people and real unemployed people who are seeing their life savings and mental health nosedive don’t exist. The Democrats are making the same damn mistake they always have. They act like the party of the middle-class and they never come across as the party of the people. And if they’re not careful during the next three nights, Trump is going to swoop in just as he did in 2016 and speak to these very real people in ways they want to hear. And these people, desperate for anything, will buy it. And we’re going to be in a sizable cesspool from which we will probably never be able to escape. The hell of it is that mainstream Democrats never want to hear this. But they’re the ones who really need to. Because they’re the ones who put their fingers in their ears and say “Ka Ma La I can’t hear you.”
I’m starting to fear we’re going to lose this. And we really can’t. If Trump is re-elected, it’s going to permanently break our country. I’d put my own passion into trying to get people to vote for the greater good. But the problem here is that the so-called greater good gives me nothing to be passionate about. And I’m not someone who is ever going to offer fake passion. It’s the job of the Biden campaign to close the deal. And the present presentation format simply isn’t going to cut it.
I’m going to be avoiding political news for the rest of the week. I’m doing this for my own sanity. I have an audio drama to finish editing and freelancing jobs to carry on with and lovely actors to record some insert scenes with. And frankly, like many of you who were disappointed in last night’s results, I need to devote my time and energy to summon hope and positivism and joy after the sorrow and sleeplessness caused by Super Tuesday. (I finally did get some sleep. But it wasn’t easy. And I know I wasn’t alone. I was texting with three friends at 4 AM, all of us up, all of us worried, all of us advocating for different candidates, all of us seeing the shocking reality ahead of us. What serious political wonk looking at the long game implications wasn’t up at an ungodly hour contemplating the horrific consequences of four more years of Cheeto?)
The Democratic Establishment, a cowardly entity that prioritized a formula that didn’t work in 2016 and that went all in on a doddering Wonder Bread spokesman who cannot get names, dates, or places right and who is less inspiring than Walter Mondale, Michael Dukakis, and George McGovern combined, decided that Joe Biden would be the man to defeat Trump and coordinated accordingly in Dallas on Monday night. Even the best polls inform us that Biden can barely muster little more than 50% against the worst President that this nation has ever had the misfortune to endure.
I will vote for Biden if he is the frontrunner. But he won’t get a dime from me. I won’t campaign for him. I have no enthusiasm for this man whatsoever. I may as well be voting for a potted plant that can occasionally form coherent sentences while it is being watered. Honestly, someone needs to find Corn Pop and get his side of the story. I’m guessing Biden wasn’t nearly as tough as he thought he was.
Sure, we have to vote for him in November if it comes to that. We have little choice. But Joe Biden is not a man for the people. He is not a unity candidate. He is meaner than Bernie and more of a bully. Biden’s needless attacks and insults on voters — such as berating the two vets who bravely confronted his pro-war record in Oakland, calling an Iowa voter “a damn liar,” and telling another voter questioning his policy that he was fat — are not the stuff of a President who must consider the viewpoints of others and remain coolheaded and respectful when facing justified criticism. Frankly, Biden’s conduct here is far more Trumpian than any comparisons that have been applied to Bernie.
And poor Elizabeth Warren. She couldn’t even carry her own state. She refused to see the writing on the wall and stayed in the race too long. And now Warren and Sanders supporters are at each other’s throats on social media. Fractiousness and divisiveness. The stuff we don’t need right now. The best thing that Warren can do — if she truly believes in progressive policy — is to drop out of the race and persuade her followers to vote for Bernie. That’s the only way we’ll get a progressive President at this point. But it’s not likely. It looks like we’re all going to be holding the bag for a gaffe machine.
November will be the equivalent of attending a mandatory corporate meeting and falling asleep and getting reprimanded for not paying attention to the floundering and boring old man, devoid of innovation and originality and true awareness, spearheading the PowerPoint shitshow that expresses little more than vanilla platitudes and the status quo and a remarkably uninspiring litany of mainstream awfulness. I will vote — like many, without a shred of passion or conviction, holding my nose the entire way, much like someone disposing of a rat caught in a glue trap, feeling the sense that I am not changing a damn thing and knowing that Biden is as inspiring as accidentally walking into a giant heap of moldy white bread during a morning stroll — and I will probably go home right after my vote and drink many shots of whiskey, contemplating how the DNC cowered and caved when they could have created hope and dreams and inspiration and built upon Bernie’s coalition and given more than a few fucks about universal healthcare and a world in which people didn’t have to go bankrupt to stay healthy. Amy, Beto, Pete — all easily purchased pawns. When Trump wins again in November, they will have to live with this. I’m sure they’ll sleep quite well. After all, they had to be promised something. The worst thing about all this is that all of America will fall victims to authoritarianism and abject cruelty and a nation in which income inequality and exploiting the poor and the middle class is ever more the status quo. Good hard-working American people who clearly don’t deserve to be sacrificed to the corporate gods worshipped by neoliberal centrist cowards — this will be the new normal. And it will take at least a decade to recover from this madness. That’s the best case scenario.
Yes, it’s vital to accept realism. But we cannot lose hope despite these nightmarish truths. It fills me with sadness to see a remarkable progressive movement manipulated and short-changed so expertly by an Establishment instilling fear in swing voters who were, only days before yesterday, completely in the tank for Bernie. Perhaps we were fools in believing that progressive momentum would continue unabated. Still, it was the best kind of foolishness: the one that involved taking care of others, standing for something bigger than ourselves, believing that people were worthy of human rights and dignity, feeling empathy and passion and conviction, and placing pure energy in a beautiful dream that the Democrats could once again return to their roots and alter the national landscape and improve wellbeing much as they had with the New Deal and the Great Society. Still, it’s equally important to not have your hopes and spirits and idealism and ambitions paralyzed by the truth. And who wants to listen to hopelessness? I certainly don’t want to be guided by it.
We will rise again. We will fight again. Bernie is still a long shot. But do we want to tell our grandchildren that we didn’t go the distance? It may take years, but we have no other choice. For now, let us regroup and be gentle and be true and be bold and crack jokes so that we can find the faith again. That is what gets people eventually on the right side. That is the true path to unity.