Flashback, part 76 of n

From 1990 to 2005, I lived exclusively in dorms and apartments – with one exception. For a little over a year, I lived in an aging house in a suburban neighborhood in Arlington. And the thing I keep coming back to with that house is the porch. 

It was necessary. The house had no central air conditioning, so the one window unit was dedicated to keeping the bedroom tolerable. With no fog or marine layer, the “open windows at night to cool off” was minimally effective – and with enough tree cover to make DirecTV a nonstarter, there was shade over the flat porch above the garage. I bought some sort of Adirondack-type lounge chair at a wine festival, and just like that, there was a place to recline with a cigar and a bottle of cider, with fresh air and a breeze and maybe sun, maybe shade, depending on season and leaf coverage. 

It occurs to me that’s the only time I had that. The dorms never really had outdoor space and the apartments never had balconies, and while my house this last decade has a porch, it’s narrow and doesn’t have legroom or reclining space. And let’s face it, cigars probably aren’t happening in Northern California in a tight-packed neighborhood like this. 

But it occurs to me that some of the things I miss most about DC are things like my porch, or my then-girlfriend’s balcony, or the rooftop deck at the 18th Street Lounge, or the patio space at the Mudd House or Mackey’s or the 4th Estate. Maybe what I need is some good old-fashioned alfresco drinking with the gang, assuming a suitable venue can be found that isn’t overrun with skinny-britches techbags.

the miracle of septoplasty and turbinotomy

To be concise, to boil it down to the essence, what the otolaryngologist told me was “you came to us with a quality of life issue, and we believe we have identified a root cause of the problem which is not of your own doing and no fault of your own in any way. We can fix this in a straightforward fashion. It will be painful and inconvenient, but if you do exactly as we say and follow directions, by this date certain you will have significant relief of the problem.”

Can you conceive of what a dream come true this is?

None of the usual dissembling. None of the “you must adhere to this diet/adopt this meditative practice/follow this exercise regime/take these medications regularly and at some point in the indeterminate future you may see some change in some aspect of your life” which invariably ends with your blood pressure higher, your weight creeping up, your heart rate no better, your cholesterol unchanged and your depression symptoms shifting away from sad-and-mopey in favor of angry-and-drinky. This was simple. Part of the inside of your nose is misshapen and obstructing your breathing? We’re going to straighten that sonofabitch, and in two weeks – if you keep using the saline rinse every chance you get, sneeze through your mouth and sleep sitting up in a chair, and we know you’ve never been able to do that sober and not on a plane – you’ll be breathing like you never breathed before.

And damn my ass and pull the plow myself, I can breathe.

There’s still some swelling to go down, internally, which will open things up further. There are some sinusitis-like rebound effects from the Afrin which I was using to help control the bleeding, most of which subsided once I gave it up like I was told. There’s still some snoring because I haven’t yet started using the breathing apparatus again, which should perform much differently. And there’s one sore spot where the biggest suture was, which I just have to wait on healing. But when she vacuumed out the sinus cavities and sent me on my way, I was breathing like I literally have not breathed in thirty years, and it was transformative.

Would that everything worked that way.

the eggs and the basket

There’s a notice of transfer of license in the window of the public house of my frequency. It’s not a good sign. It’s the only place I found reliably offering Irish music on a Sunday evening, and it’s easy to get there and back, and if it stops being an Irish bar I don’t know quite what I’m going to do with myself. Yes, I can fill up the insulated growler for $14 and have all the beer I need of a Sunday evening at home reading in the recliner with the headphones on, but sometimes there’s just no substitute for potato skins and Guinness and someone with actual stringed instruments plinking out “Whiskey In The Jar.”

This reminds me of the news a few weeks back that Wal-Mart was closing about a hundred stores in the United States.  You don’t see much of Wally World in this part of the country – there’s one in the less fashionable end of Mountain View but I literally couldn’t name another location and there are at least three Target stores more readily accessible – but there are places I used to live where closing the Wal-Mart means a torpedo at the waterline of competitive commerce in at least a twenty-mile radius. In places where main-street commerce went down a couple decades ago at the hand of the Beast of Bentonville, losing your Wal-Mart is a nontrivial hit.

And that in turn puts me in mind of Uber, slowly meat-grinding the taxi sector even as it struggles to avoid the twin perils of regulation and an IPO which might mark it to market as less valuable than General Motors. What happens when Uber becomes the entirety of “transit” in an area and then either folds or decides it’s unprofitable to continue service? To be honest, Uber coming to Birmingham alarms me simply because Birmingham needs improved transit infrastructure, and while the bones of a viable streetcar system are still present in the east-to-west layout, you’re never going to get uptake from people with money if they’re counting on just pushing a button on the app.

The moral, I guess, is that if you have to put your eggs in one basket, that basket had better be triple-walled vibranium alloy sunk into bedrock with an Aegis-grade radar-guided antimissile defense. There aren’t a lot of those baskets around.

flashback, part 75 of n

March Madness first became a thing in college. Not just because it was a big thing everywhere, but because college basketball became a thing for me -the undergrad team was the defending NAIA champion when I arrived, and by the time I joined the pep band my sophomore year they were back in the NAIA tournament, that famed 32-team small-school championship in Kansas City. So I spent two spring breaks in service there, lining up with the other kids in the lobby for a $40 cash per diem, and believe me when I say that if you had $40 cash per diem in 1992 you were a bigger baller than Puff Daddy. (My section lead turned a profit on the trip, but that’s another tale for another time.)

The point is, I was exposed to all the basketball, not just the Big Dance. There was the NIT on weeknights between tournament weekends. There was the first tournament with the new-look SEC, with ten thousand Arkansas RVs with Bill Clinton signs descending on Birmingham. I left my ushering duties early and missed seeing Dale Brown run onto the floor to “defend” Shaquille O’Neal from the Vols, went home and saw live games taking place twenty miles away where I’d just been. And I first realized that the weekend of the conference tournaments was as tumultuous and exciting a weekend as anything that happened the first two days of the actual field-of-64 Big Dance.

This was a new experience for me all around. It reminded me of the Olympics: all-consuming for a couple of weeks, everyone talking about it, places and names you’d never heard before becoming overnight sensations. And in the tournament itself, only CBS had the coverage, having paid a billion dollars for exclusivity – so you never turned the channel and just hoped they would whip around. And they did, in the main; there was barely time to celebrate a shocking upset or a thrilling buzzer-beater because no sooner did the clock hit zero than you were off to the next, one long three-or-four-day roller coaster ride. It set the stage for every spring since.

Because it’s honestly more fun when I don’t have a dog in the hunt. When it’s just 64 random teams – some national powers, some utter Cinderellas, some programs making the leap from just-happy-to-be-here to we-belong-here to oh-was-that-YOUR-Final-Four-berth? Bill Self at Tulsa, Jim Larranaga at George Mason, Gonzaga when they were “who?”, Florida Gulf Coast University as “Dunk City” and Harold “The Show” Arceneaux at Weber State and Bryce Drew of Valpariaso still making Ole Miss fans angry decades later. It’s a magical time. And it is one of the few things that reflects back from the era of the early 90s before everyone knew about the 12-5 upset and when there were a hard 64 seats on the starship, no exceptions. There are not a lot of things from my college years that still carry on; this might be the best one.

Stuff and such

The iPhone SE won’t get off my mind. Partly it’s because I’m in pain thanks to some long-needed nasal surgery and gooned on opiates, and in need of distraction, but partly because the reviews are starting to trickle in and they’re uniformly just what I’ve hoped for: a premium phone at a better price point that makes no meaningful concessions and gives you a quart in a pint pot, with significantly better battery life. And after fiddling with an old 5S for a couple of days because of the reduced dexterity the drugs gave me, I’ve come to realize that the beginnings of joint pain in the first knuckle of my middle finger on both hands is probably down to gripping an iPhone 6 for a year and change.

But my iPhone 6 got unlocked and I got my 703 number, two of the biggest things that made me want a new phone in the first place, so the traditional urge to need the things I want isn’t there, and it’s a tough one to justify. There are a lot of things like that floating around lately. The new solid-color Rickshaw Sutro backpacks are only $99, half what they usually cost – but I have two messenger bags more suited for carry-on and don’t carry my laptop back and forth at work enough to need a bigger backpack than the tiny Timbuk2 I’m currently using.  I really like the retro-60s-NASA-engineer-in-short-sleeves look of the Warby Parker Ames frames, but I have a pair of prescription glasses I spent way too much on three years ago and don’t wear enough as is. I really REALLY like the look of the new Coast, the classic single-speed beach cruiser by Priority Bicycles which is belt-drive and basically salt-and-weather-proof, but I don’t ride my Public M8 enough as it is. The Apple Smart Battery Case would easily double the life of my iPhone 6…which I’m trying to talk myself out of using, and which has one battery case and half a dozen battery packs in the drawer already.

This led me to think of my Zippo collection. I haven’t carried a lighter regularly in a decade or more, but the Zippo is one of our greatest technological achievements: simple and elegant, made in Bradford PA since 1932, a wind-resistant source of fire with only a flint and almost any flammable liquid. It’s as perfect a device fit to purpose as exists.  And in so many ways, so is the Coast. So is the Sutro. So is the iPhone SE. The draw of that ideally suited perfect fit is compelling even when what I already have and use is 85% of the way there. Unlike the phone, though, it’s safe to assume my Timbuk2 and Rickshaw messengers will last a lifetime unless deliberately damaged, as will my new California cap or my Navy surplus peacoat or my Alden boots. 

But if anything happens to my work phone, at all, a rose gold iPhone SE in the midnight blue leather case is going in my pocket in a heartbeat, believe that.

Further review

The iPhone SE combines 2 GB of RAM and always-listening voice control on a one-handable package. So did the Moto X when it dropped at the end of the summer of 2013. It’s still flabbergasting to me that Google didn’t take better advantage of that – it was (and in my opinion remains) the most genuinely innovative phone since the original iPhone, and they utterly flubbed it by combining premium pricing with virtually no promotion. Were circumstances reversed, Steve Jobs would have sold a million Moto X first-gens and probably buried the iPhone – but then that’s why Apple is the world’s most valuable publicly-held company and Moto is now a subsidiary of Lenovo churning out (very good value for money) budget phones.

The thing is, the iPhone 6 (technically the fifth different body style) is just a hair too big, made worse by the fact that you have to put a case on it – partly because the damned camera protrudes from the back, partly because the rounded-off sides make it like handling a bar of soap that’s already at the edge of what you can handle in one hand. My iPhone 6 is in Apple’s leather case, and it’s just a little too big to do everything one-handed. My wife’s iPhone 6S is in a different style of case, and it feels (and even looks) like a larger phone. And looking around the last couple of days, it occurs to me that the whole world has pretty much just shrugged and said “okay, phones are five inches now” and decided that we’ll all two-hand it. Which – I mean, how do you hold your drink? How do you stay upright when commuting? (Actually don’t bother answering that last bit. If I had a nickel for everyone at work that I see whizzing by on a bicycle with both hands on the phone instead of the handlebars, I could pay my bail.)

Nope, the iPhone SE is pretty much Apple’s concession to what I’ve said all along: we crossed the finish line in 2013 and all that’s left is to make the bits better. And they largely did – more RAM, always-on voice control, faster processor, greatly-improved camera (and fully enclosed in the body of the phone!) – not to mention the battery life. My random scribblings and attempts at algebra led me to think there should be a 17% battery life improvement from the 5S. Instead, I got 17% battery improvement from the 6S – which is a substantial premium over the original 5S.

The thing is, if the iPhone 6 were my only device, it would be tough to take the hit on screen size. But it isn’t. I have the iPad for movie watching and heavy reading (not to mention the Kindle, which is ideal for long rides on trains and planes). The kind of reading I do on the phone – RSS feeds, Twitter, text and email – isn’t that diminished by going to a 4” screen instead of 4.7”, and the audio (the endless podcasts, and occasionally even music) isn’t affected in the least. 

And the other nice thing: the SE is completely 100% backward compatible with the entire ecosystem of iPhone 5/5S accessories. I already have my Magpul case. I already have a Mophie charge case. I could take this to London without spending a cent on accessory support and could almost certainly make it through a full day without even needing to pull on additional charging (largely because I won’t be playing audio all day and most of what I do will be either photography or navigation).

Long story short: I don’t need to replace my work phone now. But as soon as I do, the iPhone SE is the move, because it’s basically the 6S-Minus – all the same stuff, everything I want and nothing I don’t, in a perfectly-sized package. For the first time in I don’t know when, there’s an Apple product ideally tailored to my needs – if only I needed it.

SE

So it’s real. The iPhone SE is basically the slightly polished body of the iPhone 5S, with most of the guts of the iPhone 6S. No 3DTouch (whatevs), no barometer (feh) and the front-facing camera is more or less the one from the 5S (no auto HDR for video, an f/2.4 aperture instead of f/2.2) – and, of course, a display 30% smaller. And a battery larger than the 5S had, one not very much smaller than the 6S. 

The 6S famously has a smaller battery than the 6, to make way for the 3DTouch display. But by eschewing that, and pairing the presumably-more-efficient chipset with the smaller screen, Apple has turned out a phone that leapfrogs its parent – the cited battery life on Internet use and HD video playback is across the board at least 20% greater than what was claimed for the 6 or 6S. 

Twenty percent, in a phone which is available for $500 off contract in a 64GB model as compared to $750 for the same capacity 6S. The same phone under the hood for one-third off. (And one-third off the screen natch).

I’ve been mulling this one over since September, if you go back far enough. Certainly since the rumors began to pick up steam in December. And out of pocket, it’s only going to run me $360 plus tax. It’s a tough call – on the one hand my work-provided phone is unlocked and certainly good enough for daily use. But it’s a better battery in a smaller phone which would be my own damn phone, not the one from work. The best personally owned phone I have right now is that two-plus-year-old Moto X, which has gotten its last OS update. 

It’s not the most irrational thing I’ve ever wanted to spend that kind of money on, no doubt. This is going to be a tough one…and it may depend heavily on whether the battery improvement is as advertised. But I’m tired of having to keep low power mode on all day, and rely on plugging in at the desk…

I know I should wait. I should definitely wait. We’ll see how long and how effectively I hold out. 

THE most electrifying man in sports-entertainment

It’s not like Michael Jordan or Dominique Wilkins, flying through the air with the greatest of ease.  It’s not Wilt or Kareem or Shaq wading through the lane like kaiju to attack the hoop.  Steph Curry is 6-foot-3 and weighs a buck-ninety. He rarely dunks, and when he does he barely dunks. I mean, I’ve got over thirty pounds on the guy and only give away an inch of height. And in a way that’s what makes this year amazing: nothing he does wouldn’t theoretically be possible for any high schooler of decent size who just lived in the gym and shot and shot and shot and shot.

Nothing he does is in any way precedented.  There have been great three-point specialists in the modern era, but Craig Hodges and Reggie Miller and Ray Allen tended to catch and shoot. I can’t think of any jump-shooter who created jump shots off the dribble thirty feet from the basket. And that’s the killer with Curry: his quickness and handle are so good that if you face-guard him, he’ll wrap around and slide by you before hitting a pull-up dagger. And if you play off him so he can’t go by you…he’ll just spot up and let it fly from damn near anyplace over the half-court line.  More than once this season, with the game clock below 2 seconds, he’s brought the ball over half-court, stopped and set himself, and let one go from 40 feet if it’s an inch…and knocked it down.

No one’s ever done that. Nobody. There were guys in the pre-3-point era who could just stroke it from a distance, like Pete Maravich or Oscar Robertson, but were they intentionally firing from thirty-five and hitting it routinely? I’ve been watching pro basketball off and on for over twenty-five years, and I’ve never seen anything like what Steph is doing night in and night out – right now, it’s the greatest show in sports. Nothing compares right now, and I can’t remember the last thing that did.

And that’s a good thing, because I need pro basketball to take the edge off the college game right now. More about that when I stop being mad.

How We Got Here, revisited

The Democratic Leadership Council was formed in the mid-1980s to cope with the problem that the Democrats went 1-4 in Presidential elections from 1968 to 1988. It was Southern in nature – Bill Clinton was its leader for the longest time – and it was focused squarely on what could be considered the New South Governor model. Almost every Southern state had one (except, tellingly, Alabama) – could be from either party, but was always some good-looking young white guy who tried to downplay the racial angles of Southern politics while coming across as broadly pro-business and hammering hard on the importance of education. Writ large, and looked at with 30 years of hindsight, it comes across as “we’re going to take care of you, traditional minorities, but we’re going to do it as quietly as we can so as not to scare the white folks – and when push comes to shove, we’re going to err on the side of not scaring the white folks.”

It was a clear-cut effort to be the lesser of two evils. And at a time when the Democrats still had a significant Southern component (lest we forget, Clinton won Georgia and West Virginia pretty handily in 1992), it was broadly feasible and tactically clever. But it had two major problems. For one, it perpetuated the idea that the “Reagan Democrat” – the working-class and usually Southern white voter – was the most to be desired and somehow counted more than female or black or Yankee voters, maybe because they thought those would always hold their nose and pull the Democratic lever. And for two, it staked everything on capturing a voter base that the Republicans had spent a quarter-century diligently working to pry away from the national level down. Once the Gingrich Revolution completed the capture of the South, the DLC strategy was shot straight to shit.

Flash forward twenty years and here we are.  Things have changed again. In an age of political ennui and indifference and apathy, the biggest risk isn’t defection, it’s that your base will stay home. The GOP has relied on base activation almost exclusively in the 21st century, with tremendous results in mid-term elections every time out save one. The Democrats got incredibly lucky with Obama’s appeal to black and young voters, but at present, those blocs are split between two different primary candidates (and the enthusiastic youth are lining up behind arguably the less electable one). But the demographic component of the New South Governor strategy is of less interest to me than the economic one.

You see, the New South Governors were eager and anxious to create a “good bidness environment,” which meant tax cuts and economic incentives to get your auto plant to go to Smyrna or Spring Hill or Vance instead of Dearborn or Fort Wayne or Sandusky. It meant unbalancing your tax code with the result that somebody got socked with ridiculous income tax or property tax or sales tax to make up for the cuts (which is how a resident of Birmingham could wind up paying 9% sales tax on everything, food and medicine included, and a state income tax that started at $5000). It means, in essence, giving away the game and imitating the GOP so as to get the business angle off the table. And in the rush to be business friendly, the Democrats left a gap in their coverage. A fatal one, as it turns out, because that gap left just enough room for Ralph Nader to get some traction beating his drum. And now that drum has been picked up by Bernie Sanders, and he’s got rhythm, as it turns out.

Because despite the economic recovery, there are still huge gaps in the economy. Nothing has replaced the manufacturing sector as a source of good livelihood for high-school graduates without a college degree. And with the college degree as a necessary but not sufficient criterion for employment, lots of folks are out there on the starting line with tens of thousands of dollars in debt and taking jobs that a) barely service the debt and b) don’t actually need a college degree as anything more than a signifier of what a high school diploma used to stand for: some base level of education to float your resume over the transom. If a degree is so damned important, how do we get swamped with all these stories of people dropping out of school to create their whizzy tech thing?

Which is the other problem: having so many people start their professional life shackled to a debt greatly decreases the flexibility in what you can do. You can’t afford to take jobs that are important and do necessary work but don’t pay enough. (Honestly, I don’t know how the hell anyone becomes a teacher out of college anymore.) Couple people in debt to the new generation of app-enabled contractor service jobs, and you’ve not only invented an entire new class of day labor, you’ve let employers off the hook. Who needs to feel guilty about paying insufficient wages if they can always just go pick up a couple of days a week of driving Uber or doing Instacart deliveries? And then Uber slashes their rates, and Instacart slashes theirs, and you’re back to “well you can just hustle harder and make a living doing this full-time” and next thing you know, you’re on the 80-hours-a-week schedule.

Maybe this was easier in the shadow of the Great Depression and the Second World War. Maybe there was a time when demand was high, unions were strong, and management looked at the money and said “there’s enough to go around” instead of viewing every penny spent on labor as a penny that could have been profit. But we’ve had three substantial recessions since the last time “socialist” meant anything other than “I’m a right-winger in search of some way to slander anyone to the left of Ayn Rand” and no round of downsizing or offshoring or outsourcing has been meaningfully reversed. The clothing comes from Bangladesh instead of Russellville, the electronics are assembled in Shenzen instead of Fremont or Fort Worth, and you have the opportunity and flexibility of free agency instead of actual job security. The net impact of the last thirty years, the productivity revolution and globalization, has been to transform and expand the day labor class in America.

Could we even bring it back? Consider the iPhone in my pocket. Donald Trump thinks he can somehow make Apple make them in the United States, which, okay, let’s just take it as read that we can move an entire supply chain and manufacturing base that hasn’t existed in this country in over a decade. Sure. No problem. Even allowing for that particular impossibility, from how many companies has Apple taken a bite? Consider where I was in, say, 2000: I had a PDA (Palm), cellphone (Nokia), Walkman (Sony), pager (Motorola), camera (Kodak), plus a regular record store (Sam Goody). How many of those companies even exist any more? Everyone but Sony either got axquired or bankrupted, and none of them ever the ability to replace all the others. That’s not even a question of a new company replacing an old, that’s entire categories of consumer goods done away with at all but a superfluous level. Point-and-shoot cameras, cassette players, consumer pagers and PDAs – those are done. They aren’t coming back. It’s not enough that rust-belt heavy manufacturing has decamped elsewhere, the cutting-edge high-tech sector eats its own just as quickly.

And the other problem is that all those broke folk in the red states, whose good solid blue collar livelihoods have been drummed out of existence by the invisible hand of globalization – where do they get the things they need to get by? How about Wal-Mart? And how does Wal-Mart sustain those Everyday Low Prices? By ruthlessly slashing away at supplier contracts until the supplier has to resort to outsourcing and offshoring, and the circle of life continues – because we can’t charge enough for American-made goods to pay American workers a decent wage to make them, and in turn the workers can’t afford to buy American-made goods. Economic death spiral. If you want to blame somebody, miss me with Apple and instead ask what the hell they’ve been thinking in Bentonville these last couple of decades. And be grateful that government and unions still required some measure of made-in-America to keep up what manufacturing we still have in those sectors.

So there you have it. We turned the American Dream into a luxury good, and along the way one side spent years whipping up the oooga-booga at the foreigners and the gays and the MOOslims and such.  And the folks whose world was slowly starting to crumble believed what they were told, and grew to buy into this “you’re entitled to your own facts” mentality. And right on time, here comes a prominent TV figure offering simple solutions, and he’s rich so he must be smart, and you get what we have now. Which is terrifying, but so so utterly predictable.  And now…who knows.

Is it worse now?

That’s the question I keep asking myself. How much of the state of the world is just me getting older and crankier and how much is actually great heaping quantities of bullshit? Moreover, how much of this has always been there and is just now getting noticed because of social media and technology proliferation?  I saw a line somewhere about “amazing how as soon as everyone got a camera on their phone, police brutality went up and UFO sightings went away” and I think there’s something to that, especially for things like police shootings and stuff that was more easily hushed up in days of local centralized media.  After all, when a major city has four or five TV stations and two newspapers, there aren’t a lot of channels to get the word out.

But I’m less concerned with coverage than things going the other direction. Consider the likes of Donald Trump, or indeed any major right-wing political figure in the 21st century who trades heavily in what can only be described as “racism that took a bath and put on shoes.” Twenty-five years ago, in the age of David Duke, this meant a lot of trafficking in newsletters and flyers, things that you had to go to some effort to connect with. If you wanted somebody to hype you up about immigration and the threat to America, you had to make an effort to connect with some like-minded people. Even into the 1990s, there was plenty of that sort of thing on AM shock radio, but it was considered unsavory at best and was sort of limited in what it could do – it was broadcasting and not particularly effective. Now, Facebook and email forwards are synonymous with the kind of old-white-people racism that had a tough time proliferating beyond personal contact. Or rather, the scope of personal contact has increased beyond reason.

Consider the Clinton Chronicles, that pastiche of fever-dream conspiracy theory hawked by right-wing nutjobs throughout the 90s with all the various anti-Clinton slurs bound up in it: sex, drug trafficking, murder, you name it. It was limited in its distribution by whatever holy rollers were willing to sell you a copy (and risk their tax-exempt status) or whatever radio hosts were willing to flack for it. And while it was out there, it was also limited to this subculture and had trouble leaking out of the sewer (although the willingness of Congressional Republicans to do just that was probably the first sign of the modern conservatism through which we new suffer).

By contrast: how long did it take for the “Obama is a secret Muslim born in Kenya” thing to proliferate? And how long was it sustained in the complete absence of evidence? And how long as it kept up despite the lack of evidence – and indeed the copious evidence to the contrary not to mention the limits of basic reason? It’s been sustained, and remains sustainable, because technology allows the like-mindeed to keep the fires burning, to keep feeding the madness with minimal effort.

Or consider the ongoing issues with GamerGate harassment or how easy it is to turn social media into an unlimited firehose of abuse. In the past, what would be the opportunity cost for thousands of people to bombard a target – whether it be Brianna Wu or the Nashville Tennessean – with threats and hate speech?  You’ve got to sit down, write something out, put it in an envelope, find an address to send it to, pay for a stamp and get it in the mail – who the hell has time for that?  Now you can just dash off something threatening with a single click, and rally thousands of like-minded people to do the same – when a couple of decades ago, you might have been hard-pressed to locate thousands of like-minded people, let alone connect with them. Now Reddit and Twitter have done it for you.

I keep going back to Neal Stephenson’s The Diamond Age for this, and the Neo-Victorian society that concluded that the solutions to these technological issues could not be technological: it had to be cultural. Our notional asshole above, in addition to having to find stationery and stamps and everything else, had to contend with the fact that society would frown on what he (almost always he, for some reason) was doing. Now he’s just one angry tweeter in a storm of thousands, with the protection that comes from just being a face in the crowd and (to borrow a line from WWII airpower doctrine) the fact that the bomber will always get through. You can’t block all 10,000 harassing tweeters, not with accuracy and precision. In the end, you either have to just let it happen or retreat and bail out altogether. Neither of which seems to be an acceptable solution, but right now, we don’t have door number three.

I don’t know if it’s manners, or norms, or what it is. It’s just that there used to be some things that were clearly beyond the pale. Some people misused those manners and norms, and so apparently the decision was taken that rather than curb the misuse, we should throw out the idea of manners and norms altogether. And now we’re reaping all the benefits – there are no standards of conduct, and no ways of enforcing the old ones without making trouble. Call out the guy smoking on the train platform beneath the “No Smoking” sign, and you’re the asshole. Writ large, there’s nobody to call you out if you decide to say something completely different one day from what you said 24 hours earlier. Everyone gets their own opinion, everyone gets their own facts, and the results are predictable.

Ian Malcolm’s Jurassic Park warning about dinosaur DNA is even more apt when you consider that we’ve put equal access to the most powerful communication instrument in the world into the hands of everyone, with no rules and no safety catch: “you’ve spent so much time thinking HOW you could do it that you never considered whether you SHOULD.” We’ve put the entire elementary school out to recess with only one teacher supervising, and that teacher just keeled over. And when you decide that whatever you want to do is fine, without any sort of societal framework to contain it, you get everything from people blowing stoplights because it’s inconvenient to Donald Trump as the leading candidate to be the Republican nominee for President of the United States.

Yes, some things were always this bad, and it’s just now becoming easy for people to see. But we’ve also created entirely new ways to make things worse, eroded the things that helped prevent them getting worse, and we aren’t going to get them back into the bottle. It’s past time to start thinking of how we can make a society that makes it possible to live with what we’ve done to ourselves.