Saturday, August 23, 2025

Near Misses

One of the early joys of the Internet in the 1990s was the ability to uncover just how closely connected we all are. We previously had no easy way of visualizing how only six degrees of separation were all that separated each of us from presidents, actors, athletes, billionaires and far less savory characters as well.

Online and off, we run across new people all the time, and it’s only natural to wonder how closely we may have been to meeting each other sometime in the past, but didn’t.

Perhaps we passed within a block of each other in some random city years ago -- one of us going one direction, one in another.

We just missed.

The opposite is also true. We may meet someone in some consequential way that sticks in our memory but never encounter them again. We didn’t get to know them and we never will. But that one meeting mattered.

An example for me is a guy currently in the Senate, Chuck Grassley of Iowa, was a 40ish chair of a House agricultural committee when he questioned a 30ish journalist rather harshly half a lifetime ago. 

He had an untamed Midwestern twang and probably assumed the reporter was some city slicker from San Francisco who cared only about the environmental issue he termed the "Circle of Poison," and didn’t care about the plight of farmers like those in Grassley’s district.

They sparred over pesticides but the Congressman seemed shocked when the journalist described the plight of the small farmers who were among the primary victims of the multinational agrochemical companies he'd exposed in his book.

That was many years ago now, probably forty. I doubt Grassley even remembers the encounter or knew that the guy he grilled that day was the son of a man who grew up on a very small farm in Canada.

***

A decade after I appeared before Grassley’s committee, the most significant legislative attempt to date to address the issues I testified about was introduced by Sen. Patrick Leahy and it was called “Circle of Poison Prevention Act." 

It would have “prohibited the export of pesticides that were not registered for domestic use; were not registered for food use and would not be exported for use on food; or had had the majority of registration canceled.”

The legislation was co-sponsored in the House by Leon Panetta, but it died in committee.

It was a near miss.

HEADLINES:

  • John Bolton raid shows weaponization of FBI against Patel’s ‘gangsters’ list (Guardian)

  • The Retribution Phase of Trump’s Presidency Has Begun (New Yorker)

  • The Gerrymander Race to the Bottom (WSJ)

  • Justice Department releases transcripts from Ghislaine Maxwell’s interview (CNN)

  • Hegseth authorizes National Guard to carry weapons in D.C. deployment (WP)

  • Two Big Signs That ICE Has Way Too Much Money (New York)

  • Kilmar Abrego GarcĂ­a set free after illegal deportation, smuggling charges (WP)

  • AP analysis shows Texas and California redistricting efforts could mess with rare partisan balance (AP)

  • Newsom Signs California Redistricting Plan to Counter Texas Republicans (NYT)

  • The Supreme Court hands down some incomprehensible gobbledygook about canceled federal grants (Vox)

  • Putin demands Ukraine cede the Donbas region (Reuters)

  • Famine grips Gaza’s largest city and is likely to spread, authority on food crises says (AP)

  • Gaza City could be destroyed if Hamas does not agree to terms to end war, Israel's defense minister says (ABC)

  • Extra illumination from streetlights, store signs and skyscrapers are prompting birds to tweet for nearly an extra hour a day on average, a new study found. (WP)

  • The AI Doomers Are Getting Doomier (Atlantic)

  • Police test robot dog for potential UK rollout (BBC)

  • Bank Fires Workers in Favor of AI Chatbot, Rehires Them After Chatbot Is Terrible at the Job (Gizmodo)

  • Family Members Locked In Heated Bidding War To Convince Cat To Sleep In Their Bed (The Onion)

 

Friday, August 22, 2025

Friday's News

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Thursday, August 21, 2025

Past into Future


China Camp


Alone on a small beach here today, the only sounds were small waves lapping at the shore, a breeze in the trees, and sea gulls. The same sounds of 130 years ago in this remote corner of San Francisco Bay.

The crumbling buildings still here are a ghost-town. Way back then, only Chinese was spoken here. You can close your eyes and see it all -- the junks, the nets, the shells.

Sometimes, the kids and I come here at the change of seasons. To imagine the past, and welcome the future.

(From 2009.)

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Wednesday, August 20, 2025

Local Herores

Over the past 25 years, I’ve written dozens of articles about the disappearance of newspapers and other local news outlets, and about the social, economic and political impacts that news deserts have on our society as a whole.

When it comes to deserts, I have nothing against them per se, and they have their place in our ecosystem. Furthermore, everyone around here (except me) is getting ready to depart soon for the playa at Burning Man.

But wherever there are groups of people, even temporarily, there simply has to be some among them who know how to gather and spread the news of what’s happening beyond the nearest tentpole. So it was sad when the Burning Man’s own weekly ceased publishing a couple years back after a 30-year run.

I’m sure some alternative rag has popped up by now or will soon (I’m out of that loop), but the point is you can’t really have a community without collecting and distributing its news.

That’s one main reason I’ve worked with the Local NEWS Network (LNN) based in Durango, CO, these past few years. It provides a for-profit path for implementing a digital network of local news and local advertising for communities that otherwise would exist in a news desert.

There are other laudable attempts to revive local news teams nationally, many of them supported by philanthropies, which is another way to go.

As for LNN, it’s the opposite of a top-down solution offered by outsiders. It’s a ground-up solution, and recognizes that — given the choice — many people will choose a local diner or hardware store over national chains, and the same is true when it comes to their community news outlets.

For news at the state, national and global levels, we need the various networks, but when it comes to our towns and neighborhoods, we all deserve a chance to find out what’s going on from reputable journalists working within earshot. At least, that’s the way I see it.

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Tuesday, August 19, 2025

The President's Finger

First of all, I think that Volodymyr Zelenskyy, himself a former entertainer, has finally figured out Trump’s schtick.

When I recently labeled Trump “America’s Hitler,” I didn’t mean it to be taken literally. It’s a metaphor.

After all, Hitler wasn’t addicted to social media and didn’t have to deal with it. Trump is and does.

Trump as dictator is in many ways a laughable concept, although it’s not a funny one. His main accomplishment prior to his election was as a reality TV star — one who hired or fired people, seemingly on whim.

That role has translated perfectly to his governing style, which is primarily by whim. Or for that matter, U.S. foreign policy under Trump. It can change with the click of a finger.

But the presidency isn’t a TV show, no matter how much Trump tries to treat it as such.

And this is where this piece is going to take a weird turn. You know I like romantic comedies, right? So naturally, I liked Marry Me, the 2022 film featuring an aging pop superstar, Jennifer Lopez, impulsively marrying a schlumpy math teacher, Owen Wilson, as a gimmick all on social media.

The film is not the first to explore the space between what’s real or not regarding love or fake marriages, but it does a good job at showing how under the right circumstances, a gimmick can over time become real in the age of social media, where everything in our lives seems like it can change with the click of a finger.

And that is my issue with Trump’s regime. It seems like a gimmick, a joke, but it’s not funny, and I am deeply afraid that it is becoming all too real. He may or may not be America’s Hitler, metaphorically speaking, but he’s most definitely some sort of a B-movie version, streaming on a platform near you.

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Monday, August 18, 2025

The Prelude

In her current piece for the New Yorker, Margaret Talbot raises the operative question: “Is the President’s takeover of D.C. a dry run for other cities?”

From Project 2025 to his executive orders to his various pronouncements, Trump has laid the groundwork for an authoritarian solution to how he can circumvent the Constitutional limits on his power that would otherwise restrain him from seizing complete control of the U.S. government.

Congressional Republicans are in lockstep behind him; Democrats are virtually helpless. Some of the courts have tried to restrain him but the legal challenges are slow and ultimately dependent on a compromised Supreme Court, which has issued rulings complicit with and supportive of Trump’s grab for power.

The blue states are fighting back and a few Democratic leaders, most notably Gavin Newsom, are trying to counteract the takeover, but their prospects for halting Trump’s drive are not good.

Trump uses the tired tropes of big-city crime and homelessness as his excuse for the military occupation of D.C., but the idea of using these problems as reasons for a takeover are specious, as Talbot’s piece documents.

In the end, it’s going to be either democracy, with all of its messiness (like gerrymandering) or tyranny. In that context, we will face individual options of whether to speak out or remain silent, so I’m going to recommend a lovely little movie (now on Netflix) called The Penguin Lessons. Set in Argentina in the 1970s, it’s funny, sad and relevant. I laughed, I cried, and I wrote this essay.

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Sunday, August 17, 2025

What Remains

It’s often the case that lyrics from songs I listened to the night before play over and over in my mind the following day. Today, it was that line from Trent Reznor’s haunting tune, Hurt:

Everyone I know
Goes away in the end

Near the very end of his life, Johnny Cash covered the song, but I’d latched onto the line when Nine Inch Nails recorded it in 1994.

As with any phrase of this sort, you can ascribe various meanings to it, which is true of art in general, but clearly in Cash’s interpretation, this was about death.

Death as a topic is one that I usually avoid, because it would seem that there’s no coming back from it. No sequels. Regardless of our differences, whether we like bacon or not, smoke weed, go to church, use a treadmill, are Republicans, Moslems, Jews, Communists or people battling Parkinson’s, all of our individual stories have the same ending — and as we age, it looms closer and larger.

Speaking with old friends recently, I enquired about some of our mutuals, only to receive one or another of that all-too-familiar refrain:

“He died last week.”

“She’s gone.”

“Oh, didn’t you hear? Dead.”

It gets to the point you don’t want to ask any longer. But then again, there is new life all around us, reminders that the spirit that animates us lives on well beyond our own time here on earth.

Living with my grandchildren. I get to see their beauty, feel their energy, hear their laughing, salve their hurts, indulge their dreams, encourage their hopes and — occasionally — tell them stories from long ago.

Stories about the people I’ve known who have gone or will be going away. But even as we disappear, our stories don’t have to end. Like good topsoil, our best stories can remain to help build the future.

That’s why I tell them. 

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