The Dispatches have been on hiatus from late summer into winter as I downsized to senior living and hurtled down a rabbit-holeinto the topsy-turvy world of Unreal Estate.More on that before long. But I was dragged out of my hibernation by a need to sublimate the horror of November and dread for 2025 . The result is another in my rewrites of The Night Before Christmas.
’Tis the night before Christmas When all through D.C. The Deep State is worrying How to save democracy.
While down in Mar-a-Lago Trump’s transition team Plots Revenge and Retribution On all who’ve been mean.
I used to love watching Mr. Rogers’ Neighborhood when my children were small. So calm, so soothing, so… well, neighborly. Sometimes I even watched when the children weren’t around. A restful oasis in a stressful day. In Mr. Rogers’ world all the neighbors were nice and friendly and helpful. Ever ready with a kind word or a helping hand. None of them yelled “get off my lawn!” If only it were so.
Today Mr. Rogers is a sweet memory. If you spend any time on the Nextdoor app, which purports to bring neighbors together, you will find yourself in a dark dystopian world where every teenager in a hoodie is a potential carjacker, every delivery man a potential home invader, and every dog walker intent on spreading dog poop over your lawn. Fear and loathing stalk the posts on Nextdoor, the comment threads a cesspool of complaints, anger, stereotypes, and often outright racism. An occasional lone voice bleats for civility.
We slouched through the sclerotic artery of the Capital Beltway, my husband at the wheel. I turned to my book* and read about a glittering glass city floating in the Atlantic, a haven for the rich to escape a future drowning world. The Floating City was designed in concentric circles, each dedicated to a specific class and purpose. Only the elite could enter the inner circle, an Eden where no expense or effort was spared to fulfill their every desire. The workers who toiled to fulfill the dreams of the elite were bused in each day through a tunnel from the broken, flooded mainland.
The voice of the Navigator intoned, “You have arrived at your destination.” I looked up to find myself on a circular road ringing a massive glass and metal edifice that could have been the Floating City of my book. A monstrous golden lion stood guard over the complex, imperiously crushing dreams of luck and riches under his enormous paws. We entered through the lowest circle of Hell, the parking garage. Exit from this level was not easily accomplished. Dragging our luggage we wandered the aisles like lost souls until finally stumbling upon the well hidden elevators. Somewhere Satan was laughing.
With a mechanical hiss we rose to the Casino level. The serpentine hallway was thronged with scantily clad women teetering on six-inch stilettos followed by sharp-suited men with hungry eyes. Teams of watchful security guards mingled with the crowd. ATMs were arrayed along the walls at strategic intervals, and through doorways we glimpsed serried ranks of game machines emitting a disorienting cacophony of flashing lights and electronic sounds. The humans here were mere go-betweens for the machines, doomed to forever carry cash ejected from the ATMs to feed the ravenous appetites of the insatiable game machines, which occasionally vomited forth a dribble of coinage to keep hope of luck alive.
On the first day of Christmas Biden found inside his stocking Joe Manchin’s lump of coal, not really shocking!
On the second day of Christmas Biden found inside his stocking Two piqued Progressives And Joe Manchin’s lump of coal.
On the third day of Christmas Biden found inside his stocking Three obstructive Republicans Two piqued Progressives And Joe Manchin’s lump of coal.
On the fourth day of Christmas Biden found inside his stocking Four Fox hosts a lying Three obstructive Republicans Two piqued Progressives And Joe Manchin’s lump of coal.
On the fifth day of Christmas Biden found inside his stocking Five COVID variants Four Fox hosts a lying Three obstructive Republicans Two piqued Progressives And Joe Manchin’s lump of coal.
A blessed silence falls upon the land. All is calm, all is quiet. Actual birdsong can be heard again, and the murmurings of our own thoughts. Twitter has silenced our Dear Leader. Now he is the Former Dear Leader, banished to St. Helena (oh I mean Mar-a-Largo). His tweets were mercifully swallowed by the great maw of the past and a healing silence reigns.
Twas the night before Christmas when all through the White House
Not an aide was stirring, not even Jared.
Don Jr. and Eric hung their stockings with care
In hopes that they’d soon find a pardon in there.
The Dispatches have been quiet of late. During election season this observer of “the former new world” was consumed with anxiety. Would the new world go the way of the old, perhaps lapsing into mid twentieth century fascism or reenacting the Fall of the Republic in ancient Rome? My political writing style of light-hearted satire seemed inadequate, even inappropriate, for the enormity of the danger faced by this still relatively young Republic. The Roman Republic, after all, lasted almost 500 years before the Senate granted extraordinary powers to Augustus, first in a long line of Continue reading “Veritas – Book Review”→
One recent morning I attended a health seminar. In the waiting room of a car service center in Gaithersburg. It was an impromptu kind of thing. Certainly not what I expected when I checked my car in for its 40,000 mile service, then settled down in the spacious lounge for the usual tedious wait. On the muted television CNN relayed the latest alarming news of the world but no-one paid attention. Vehicle anxiety and international crisis don’t mix well. We stared at our phones or worked on our laptops and avoided eye contact as strangers thrown together in public spaces tend to do. But we were about to be nudged out of our cocoons.
Unidentified men use a narwhal tusk and a fire extinguisher against the London knife attacker
According to Wayne LaPierre of the National Rifle Association “the only way to stop a bad guy with a gun is with a good guy with a gun.” But in London on November 29th a bad guy with a knife was stopped by a good guy with a narwhal whale tusk. And another with a fire extinguisher. And a few more with just their bare hands. The incident reveals much about the difference between the cultures on either side of the pond.
First, the attacker used a knife. He managed to kill two people and seriously injure three others before he was subdued. But here in America he would undoubtedly have been Continue reading “A Good Guy With A Narwhal Tusk”→
You could be forgiven for mistaking the network evening news for the Weather Channel these days. Night after night scenes of devastating flooding somewhere and everywhere. Hurricanes, cyclones, torrential rainfall, storm surges, rivers overflowing their banks, whole towns inundated, homes lost, islands disappearing, glaciers and polar ice melting. Here in Washington D.C. alarming scenes of stranded motorists crouching on the roofs of their submerged cars awaiting rescue. Dire warnings from climate scientists ignored, even suppressed, by our government.
I learned more about the watery world that awaits us in Robert Macfarlane’s marvelous new book Underland. The book is not specifically about climate change or rising seas. It is Continue reading “Water Water Everywhere”→
Dispatches From the Former New World 