Truth Hurts
When I hear the Cardinal sing,
I always think of you
A flash of red inside the hedge
along a sea of blue
And when you leave this earthly realm
and earn your angel wings
I’ll think of you with warmth and love
When the Cardinal sings
Culty MAGA members sing
they bend their knee, they kiss the ring
deny they see a naked king
Banning books and fanning flames
toting guns like Jesse James
thoughts and prayers to stop the bleeding
screaming at a drag show reading
Stripping healthcare, mining coal
pushing myths about the soul
damning those who don’t obey
denying women of their say
Casting stones, suppressing votes
grab our country by the throat
locked into a MAGA craze
they pull us back to darker days
Drinking Kool-Aid from a cup
yelling up is down!
and down is up!
spinning lies and crafting fables
twist the truth to turn the tables
Deny the facts and praise the liar
collectively they all conspire
to set democracy on fire
Culty MAGA members sing
they bend their knee, they kiss the ring
deny they see a naked king
According to a new poll, America is pulling back from the values that once defined it, such as patriotism and religion. One might look at the poll results and think, “Damn, that’s not good,” — but maybe we should look at the results as an awakening.
A Growing Disconnect
There’s a growing disconnect between the values Americans traditionally associate with religion and patriotism and what we witness behaviorally in society regarding religion and patriotism.
Christ is no longer Christianity’s messenger.
Instead, rich and powerful opportunists weave narratives that intertwine cherry-picked aspects of Christianity with firmly held socio-political beliefs. Deep pockets allow these opportunists to promote that narrative through lobbyists, who feed it to money-grubbing, power-hungry politicians.
Christianity isn’t about love and charity anymore. Instead, it’s transparently transactional – and more Americans (especially the skeptical and educated) view politically infused transaction-based religion with disdain. When you combine transparently transactional religion with the equally transparent absence of God in our lives, people will pull back from religion as a value.
The function of religion in American society has moved away from the individual and towards a political collective. This shift has transformed religion from a set of beliefs for coping with a chaotic and hate-filled world to a political directive that disrespects marginalized communities, restricts rights, and promotes hate.
Our Patriotic Divide
Concerning patriotism, America is split between the loud crowd of MAGA-hat-wearing Republicans hell-bent on transforming the country into a dystopian America-First Christian Nationalist society and progressives who want to expand rights and freedoms to everyone.
For patriotism to take root, citizens must agree on what it means to “be patriotic.” If there’s disagreement, the unifying knot of patriotism begins to fray. For example, millions of Americans view the assault on the capital as an act of patriotism and the protests against systemic racism in our justice system as un-American – while just as many (if not more) Americans hold the opposite view. Until most of us can agree on what is and isn’t patriotic, we’ll continue to retreat from patriotism as a value.
So, it’s no surprise Americans are rethinking the values around religion and patriotism. We’re woke to religion and patriotism being hijacked and manipulated by individuals and entities for political or personal gain, altering the meaning of both fundamentally.
Being aware is the first step to instituting change.
This is the America Republican politicians say we can’t do anything about.
This is the America where we raise our children.
This is the America that our children wake up to every day, sitting nervously at the kitchen table and wondering if today will be the day they die in a school shooting.
This is the America where parents send their kids to school and wonder, as their child enters the building, if they will come out alive.
This is the America where children practice active shooter drills and are coached on fighting off a deranged person with an AR-15 intent on slaughtering them and their classmates.
This is the America where that deranged person can easily obtain a weapon of war designed to afflict devastating injuries and mass casualties.
This is America, where even though most of the citizens support regulations that would make it more challenging to obtain these weapons, politicians refuse to enact legislation to make that so.
When it comes to AI, It’s not a matter of if but when.
When AI becomes smarter and when companies begin replacing employees with AI tools and applications.
Corporations are throwing money (see Microsoft’s multi-billion-dollar investment in OpenAI) and resources at AI technologies that can lower costs and improve outcomes for them and their customers.
AI will be a disruptor and a differentiator for businesses across all sectors, from retail and manufacturing to research and transportation, to software and content development.
The latest AI technologies will touch everything and everyone. They’ll affect the world’s economic food chain in ways we’ve never experienced. And while companies scramble to beat their competitors to the punch when applying AI to their processes and applications, our society fidgets and nervously awaits the next brave new world.
Creating corporate-sponsored programs and government policies to train workers in AI might work in the short term. Still, the more advanced AI becomes, the less reliant on humans it will be. Of course, small numbers of people with specialized and advanced AI skills will find complementary roles in this new work paradigm, but many others will not. For the worker, jobs will disappear, and wages will drop. For corporations, profits will soar.
We (especially Americans) measure personal success in terms of our work and compensation because most of what we value — the house we own, the car we drive, the family vacations we take, and the sense of safety and security we provide our children is inherently tied to our work and compensation. And thus, our definition of success and how we value ourselves are all balled up in what we do for a living, what we can afford, and how well we can provide.
When automation began replacing workers in manufacturing, those workers lost more than their jobs. People (who just a few years before had a valued and specialized skillset) became obsolete. Unable to pay their mortgages, afford their car, take a family vacation, or provide security for their children, they lost their sense of self-worth. And because the skills they brought to their workplace could now be replicated by a machine, they also lost hope. To survive and be successful again, they’d need to start over – learn new skills, and claw their way back to relevance. For many, that challenge was too great, and they gave up on life. Research shows a causal link between investment in automation and rising mortality levels, “with this rise largely due to so-called deaths of despair, such as drug overdoses and suicides. This was especially so for men and women aged between 45 and 54.“
So, how do we avoid future deaths of despair when the new AI takes hold across industries?
What will our societal response be to millions of jobs disappearing in the wake of AI-driven software and automation?
What happens when the magnitude of job replacement from AI exceeds what we experienced when automation in manufacturing became the norm?
AI is not inherently bad. Its impact on society will largely depend on our reaction to it. We need outside-the-box thinkers in economics, business, the social sciences, and government to begin planning for the consequences of success when it comes to AI, because the effect on humans will be broad, deep, and potentially devastating.
If AI and automation become the benchmark for productivity and success within a corporation, then perhaps AI presents us with an opportunity to reshape what it means to be a productive and successful human.
What if AI allows people to focus on a higher purpose? If AI kills more jobs than it creates (and I think it will), we might consider implementing universal basic income (UBI) to help people find purpose in this brave new world, without fear of losing the roof over their heads.
With the right social and economic safety nets in place, AI can give people the space and the time to become better humans, where instead of defining success by work and compensation, we define it by how we treat others, by volunteerism, and through our capacity to love and care for one another — you know, the things that machines and AI can’t do.
Doomsday just inched a bit closer
So says the clock on the wall
Amused, nihilistic humans
just waiting for mankind to fall!
We know the problem’s we’re facing
We know what needs to be done
We know that the weapon is loaded
but we like the taste of the gun
We’re ninety seconds from doomsday
So says that guy on the news
“It’s the end of the world as we know it”
A theme song to give us the blues
Doomsday just inched a bit closer
it nuzzles up to the fear in our head
The tick of the clock getting louder
It thickens our fear into dread
Religious to the point of destruction
Tribal to our own self-defeat
Chained to a blood-violent nature
Man and doomsday were destined to meet
She made it through the Spanish flu
a million others died
but slipped and fell with scissors held
Oh, how her parents cried
Rorschach’s plume, still in bloom
soaks through her dressing gown
she raps on heaven’s pearly gate
but no one is around
When sorrow clings to angel wings
They might-as-well be clipped
So back to earth
To haunt the house
Where she tripped and slipped
Immortal klutz with lots of cuts
dark shadows on the wall
she roams the house without a spouse
wrapped loosely in her shawl
He stares blankly at his coffee, wondering how long he’s been sitting, cup in hand. The last sip must have been hot. He can still feel the blister on the tip of his tongue.
A dark sadness hangs on his face like a Picasso. He hates the look.
“Definitely his blue period,” he muses, half smirking at his reflection in the dining room mirror.
He mostly avoids reflective surfaces. Feeling depressed is terrible enough; he doesn’t need to see it. He doesn’t need to be reminded of it.
His cat circles impatiently, rubbing against his calf. “Time to eat,” he purrs. . . . “Snap out of it!” he meows.
On days like today, he’s grateful for his cat. The cat’s well-timed reminders keep the man from the doorknob and belt and the dark thoughts that tie everything together.
He whispers, “My demise will have to wait; there’s a cat to feed and a litterbox to clean.”
His apartment is a shambles. It mirrors the cluttered chaos in his head. Based on experience, he knows a good house cleaning will lift his spirits.
He often wonders how feng shui works its magic on the mind. “I’ll have to google that,” he says toward his full-bellied cat, who bathes contently in a patch of sun on the kitchen floor.
The sink is full. There’s half-eaten food caked on dishes, the remnants of last week’s menu. Why not just clean up after each meal? Especially knowing that cleanliness and order help quell his anxiety.
“Why do I let things pile up?
What keeps me from staying on top of things?
Will I ever grow out of this?
That last question knocks around the inside of his skull like an unselected lottery ping-pong ball.
Will I ever grow out of this?
Of course, he didn’t know the answer to that question. He remembers a bright era of pre-affliction, which gives him hope. He thinks, “If I magically went from being happy to depressed, why can’t I miraculously go from depressed to happy?”
Unfortunately, there’s a history – a consistent footprint on the ladder of his family’s DNA. He’s been branded in a sense, and sometimes that feels so fatalistic he simply wants to give up.
But he doesn’t.
He continues to clean.
Floating in his own orbit
absent from the ethos of ethics
he was driven by an ugly lust for power
fueled by an insatiable desire for attention
bootlicked and buttressed by a sycophantic public
and buoyed by yes men
The man was wholly unhinged from truth
divorced from morality
and devoid of integrity
Gripped by insecurity
and the crippling fear of being labeled a loser
he cultivated lies and deceit
Like a Shakespearean witch
hunched over a cauldron
of poisonous misinformation
he hatched his plan
to cling to the reins of power
just long enough to topple the republic
For a few hours that day
our democracy flickered and dimmed
teetering on the dark edge of an authoritarian abyss
and if not for the courage of a few
and the rationality of the rest
We’d have lost our democracy
and the hope and freedom it brings to us
It would be a fatal mistake to think
the bullet we dodged cannot be reloaded
The confederacy of cowards
who defended the snake
and helped perpetuate the crime
still walk the halls of congress
and just beneath the ashes
of the failed attempt
are the smoldering embers
of the next
“I know I could do this if things would just slow-the-fuck down,” he muttered. Head bowed, sitting at a dimly lit kitchen table, teetering on the edge of a midlife meltdown.
With more than 30 years in the industry, you think he’d be brimming with confidence. For most, that kind of experience leads naturally to calm assuredness. But with experience comes expectations, and those expectations smother him like a blanket of boulders.
He feels incapacitated by his experience, not buoyed by it.
He fixates momentarily on his wife’s furrowed brow and imagines himself tiny, wandering through those deep valleys of disappointment.
At work, he’s surrounded by the young and hungry. Buzzing with ambition, their bright voices float on currents of frenetic energy.
Was he ever that exuberant (about anything)? He struggles to remember his younger self, but it’s like painting with numbers without the numbers.
In his cubicle, yellow sticky notes pop off the edge of his monitor. A sleek uninviting techno-flower, daring him to delve in – begging him to fail. Tossed to the corner of the desk, a coffee-stained and panic-scrawled legal pad.
His “to-do list.”
After a full day’s work, that list somehow gets longer, not shorter.
Early in his career, he’d slide into a work groove and rip through his “to-dos” effortlessly, like a sickle slashing through wheat. But nowadays, he’s easily and willingly distracted. His ability to focus comes in short bursts only, and the mental elasticity of youth is frustratingly absent.
His focus is hampered further by a barrage of instant messages and multiple meetings a day. As a result, he always feels two steps behind in a mad dash to a deadline.
He wears his age like an ill-fitting suit, and he struggles to keep pace with his profession.
He lifts his head and speaks again.
“Honestly, I don’t think I can do it anymore. I’m sorry, because I know that puts us behind the eight-ball financially, but every day’s a struggle, and I’m barely keeping my head above water.”
He wasn’t being lazy. He was being honest.
He remembers how the quest for success propelled him early in his career. He remembers plowing through whatever work stress he encountered, because on the backside of that stress were people who depended on him. For 25-plus years, that was all the motivation needed to keep at a job he never truly enjoyed.
Now that his kids are grown and on their own, he faces an increasingly stark scenario. Deadlines approach, the work pace quickens, his ability to keep up wanes, and the desire and motivation needed to plow through it all has vanished.
He concludes that what’s required of him, and where he is philosophically (at sixty), have diverged irreconcilably. He feels this in his bones and in his gut every morning when he wakes.
And there’s a nagging sense of entitlement, that at this phase of life he’s earned the right to slow down — to take his foot off the gas — to smell the roses. He romanticizes about a job that doesn’t follow him home every night. A job that ends when the day ends and doesn’t occupy his mind ceaselessly.
At sixty, he has no interest in climbing the corporate ladder. Instead, he wants to set it ablaze, sit cross-legged on his cubicle floor, and watch it burn to ash.
At sixty, he has no illusions about discovering job satisfaction. That boat has sailed, and there’s no sense lamenting he never got on it. Instead, he’s looking for balance.
He’s looking for “just enough.”
Just enough to pay his bills and free up some time.
Just enough to sip coffee in solitude, and not worry about work.
At sixty, he sits at a dimly lit kitchen table, looking for a way out.
bendingtheneedle