Nemesis, brain worms & other stories

Yesterday I completed a very, very rough draft of another book, or of something. I don’t know if it’s drivel, or catharsis, or just a couple hundred pages of crying?

The planned main title is Nemesis. In my own mind, at least, it also has a couple of alternate titles; one is The World of Yesterday, because in many ways it was obsolete before I began writing, and the other is The Giant Rat of Sumatra, because paradoxically I suspect this is at the same time “a tale for which the world is not yet ready.”

I am ridiculous and I know that, yet, dear heaven I absolutely can not quite be at the depth of absurdity which prevails so widely.

I don’t mean to keep picking on The Morning, although today’s was another clunker, but in entirely mainstream ways. It is by no means just two or three NYT knobs with this fixation on “overturning a presidential election” as such a dire possibility that every other concern about democracy—voting rights, fair districts, campaign finance of course, you name it—must be jettisoned to prioritize a sacred bipartisan updated Electoral Count Act.

This is partly elite myopia, and partly just mad.

It’s definitely elite myopia to define democracy in terms of elite concerns, rather than, you know, we the people. There is not really any other way to explain, fully, how so many educated and informed people can be in a panic to make sure that overturning presidential elections… remains a formal, predictable, familiar legitimate process rather than any departure at all from precious norms. But this is also, ultimately, brain worms. Whether through bias or myopia or hopeless confusion, a concept of “democracy” in which the most important red line of all is protecting a formal system for overturning presidential elections (that’s The Electoral College, folks) is a concept which makes no fucking sense.

Never mind that an Electoral Count Act compromise is also an obvious, cynical spoiler effort from Republicans, who are the threat to democracy.

Never mind that for now because brain worms are out of fucking control.

I suppose that the book I have written is in a real sense essentially an attempt, one modest little (eventually) edited and polished up attempt, to take one good swing at the brain worms.

I don’t expect that even the best I may produce will actually make much difference. But dear heaven I am so frequently reminded of why I feel like taking that swing anyway.

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