Executive order
A dark cloud descends over an historically sunny country.
I’ve watched enough dodgy reality TV shows to know a lot of engagements are greeted with shock, bemusement, and reactions that kind of go: “Oh! Wow! Huh. Well … I guess … congratulations?” We all know how we’re supposed to react to someone’s life-changing news, but often that butts up against our belief it’s probably kinda really not a great idea.
The reaction to my engagement to Elevator Girl has been the polar opposite. Everyone seems legitimately thrilled, peppering us with questions about how it all went down, let’s take a look at the ring, and when’s the big day? Family and friends are so jazzed, we’ve had to actively ask them to please hold off on harassing the hotel until the wedding date is actually locked in.
Now, I’d like to think this is because everyone is genuinely ecstatic for us. We’re absolutely going to tell ourselves that, because I happen to think it’s true. But it also seems people here are desperate for something—anything!—to look forward to.
A dark, menacing, and unrelenting cloud has descended on the United States. Every day brings another “you’ve got to be kidding me” moment, from immigration agents having arrest quotas to arbitrary spending freezes blocking Medicaid payments; a barrage of executive orders undermining climate efforts, global health, and dozens of other things; and the confirmation of the least qualified Defense Secretary in US history. The onslaught is so intense that unprecedented, outrageous grifts like issuing billions of dollars worth of untraceable meme coins (with the typically modest names $Trump and $Melania) barely cause a ripple.
The mood feels very different to eight years ago. When Donald Trump first came to power, there were daily outrages, for sure. But it was novel: the reaction for many was Trump was embarrassing and bizarre but his antics were kind of like a real-world episode of The Apprentice. It was mentally exhausting and perpetually infuriating, but the foundation of the world’s oldest democracy only seemed stretched, not snapped.
The first week of Trump’s second term is autocracy on speed. It’s a blitzkrieg of legal, semi-legal, and constitutionally ridiculous actions that seems to be working as intended: to provide the impression Trump is a man of action, that he’s undoing all crazy left-wing stuff the country was apparently fed up with, and he’s basically Il Duce. Defenders insist the guy elected by the smallest margin of any popular-vote winner in half a century has a mandate, and that’s true in the narrowest sense that if you win, you call the shots.
But what I’m struggling with is the nature of his actions. Put yourself in the shoes of a Trump voter: What underpins everything that’s happened so far? It’s not about lowering grocery prices, that’s for sure. Or ending the war in Ukraine, which Trump claimed he would do before even taking office. It’s not about helping the working class or lowering the cost of prescription drugs or revealing the “concept of a plan” for healthcare that he’s punted for nine years.
Every action has been about vengeance, cruelty, retribution, and the raw exercise of power. Trump’s been about that his entire life—no surprise there. But what troubles me is the fact so many Americans now share that attitude. They’re actually giddy with excitement—exultant, even—at seeing someone else’s life shattered, draping the nation in a giant “fuck your feelings” t-shirt.
What does that say about where this country is today?
I consciously chose to build a life in the United States for the same reason as millions before me. I saw it as a land of opportunity, where hard work was rewarded. Where anyone could seek a better future, without the cultural anchors that seek to chop down tall poppies or dismiss ambition as somehow unbecoming.
When I first landed, I was gobsmacked by two things: the extent to which Americans engaged in overt self-promotion, and the fact everyone thought that was both normal and natural. The country seemed to relish being a society where success was venerated rather than reviled; where motivational speakers were a dime a dozen.
Today? It more and more mirrors the president’s personality. People want their share, and everyone else can screw themselves. They want to pull the ladder up behind them, rather than pay it forward. They are actively looking for ways to stick it to people they resent, even if it means sticking it to themselves and their own needs. It is, at its heart, profoundly un-American. And when you manage to penetrate the fog of craziness and think about what’s really happening here, that’s what’s ultimately most distressing.
It’s long been noted that the country’s mood and sense of self is reflected by the president, from the morning in America days of Ronald Reagan to Barack Obama bending the arc of justice. Today, we’re trapped in the world of a failed nepo baby who, desperate for the acceptance and adulation of New Yorkers who will never see him as anything other than an uncouth boor, just wants to burn the whole thing down. There’s really no silver lining. But at least we have a wedding to look forward to!
A note about whatever this is …
After writing a few thousand articles for newspapers and magazines, I spent a long time trying a bunch of other stuff. I guess I figured what came (relatively) easily must by definition be less valuable, so I wandered in the corporate wilderness, becoming increasingly frustrated and doing work that felt increasingly lousy.
Sometimes with age comes wisdom, and I’ve realized finding something (relatively) easy ain’t a bad thing. So, this is a space where I’m resurrecting writing for myself, on topics weird and wild and wonderful.
Posts will appear when the mood takes me, but I do try to be consistently inconsistent—sometimes it’ll be a couple of days between drinks; sometimes a week. But if you subscribe, you’ll get a email letting you know I’m ranting. Again.