enjoy your genocide?

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A couple of days ago on Bluesky I announced my decision to vote for Kamala Harris and Tim Walz on Wednesday the 16th, the first day in-person voting was allowed. I knew with mathematical certainty that somebody would respond with a comment about genocide. And sure enough:

Voting for Kamala Harris?
Get fucked, liberal. Enjoy your genocide.

Obviously, Kamala Harris hasn’t done nearly enough to halt the genocide of Palestinians. That’s just a fact. Why she hasn’t done more is worth examining, but her motives don’t much matter to the people in Gaza and the West Bank. It’s absolutely valid if that makes you reluctant to vote for her. It’s valid if it prevents you from voting for her.

But to interpret a vote for Harris as support for genocide is bullshit. Yet, we’re inundated with smarmy ‘enjoy your genocide‘ comments by smug assholes whose illusions of moral superiority allows them to justify putting their personal ideology before the lives of actual people. To suggest that voting for Harris not only makes us complicit with evil, but that we take delight in it is monstrous. Worse, it’s stupid.

After voting and Cajun food, feeling very civic-minded.

The thing is, there are lots of other issues that also deserve our attention. I mean, the fate of representative democracy in the US is on the line. So are women’s rights,. And LGBT rights (especially trans rights). Voter’s rights. There’s the issue of Ukraine and Russian aggression. There’s housing and tax policy, and climate change, and the labor movement, and energy policy, and food safety, and and and.

Voting for a third party candidate (or refusing to vote at all) isn’t going to do dick to help Palestinians—or anybody else. There isn’t a single issue—social, political, economic, environmental—that would improve if Trump gets re-elected. There isn’t any likelihood of the lives of marginalized groups being improved if Trump returns to the White House. Moral grandstanding is selfish when others are at risk.

So yes, I voted for Kamala Harris and Tim Walz yesterday. To me, it was the obvious choice. To me, it was the only moral choice, the only choice that might actually help people.

EDITORIAL NOTE: One of the best things about Bluesky is the blocking mechanics. If a person accuses you of enjoying genocide, you can simply block them…and hey, bingo, they disappear. You don’t see them, they can’t see you, and the green grass grows all around, all around.

that bastard Pythagoras

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I have a problem with the ancient Greeks. I can never remember who did what, who said what, and who taught what. I can never quite remember which ones were poets, which ones where philosophers, which ones were mathematicians, which ones were playwrights, which ones were scientists. It doesn’t really matter; it almost always turns out that each of them basically did everything.

But I know this: it’s that bastard Pythagoras who’s credited with first writing ‘There are two sides to every question.’ Then a couple thousand years later, Thomas Jefferson added fuel to the fire in a letter; he wrote: “There’s always a different point of view, which is entitled to be heard.”

Yeah, no.

Pythagoras and Jefferson, those guys took it for granted that those questions and different points of view would be reasonable, at least semi-rational, and somewhat honest. But that’s not the world we live in today. Today a motherfucker will flat out lie his ass off, knowing the news media will find a way to soften–or worse, justify–the lie. Not only that, they’ll dodge using the term ‘lie.’

One of the lead stories in this morning’s WaPo started with this: Donald Trump and his campaign have waged an aggressive campaign against fact-checking. Which is to say Trump doesn’t want anybody to call him out for lying. The article went on to list a few of his lies, calling them ‘falsehoods’ or ‘fabricated tales.’ Fabricated fucking tales. Aesop, another of those Greeks, he told fabricated tales. Donald Trump tells lies.

Pythagoras. I’m not saying it’s all his fault, but c’mon.

But because of that bastard Pythagoras, WaPo felt compelled to include another side to the story. Ready? This: Harris, too, has taken a cautious approach to interviews. Jesus suffering fuck. That ‘too‘ carries a lot of weight. It suggests Trump’s lies are a ‘cautious approach to interviews’ and Harris is basically doing the same thing. That’s not true. In essence, WaPo is lying about Harris in order to be ‘fair’ to that lying sumbitch Donald Trump.

This stuff isn’t complicated. Yeah, there ARE at least two sides to every legitimate question. But c’mon, journalists, do your fucking job. If Candidate A says, “Gravity exists and a fall from a great height can kill you” and Candidate B says, “Gravity is just a theory and the government can’t stop me from jumping from a great height” that doesn’t mean there are two sides to the gravity story. If you report Gravity opponent not afraid of great height risk you’re basically telling folks it’s okay to be suspicious of gravitation. That’s not news; that’s you being irresponsible by spreading bullshit.

Journalists, Pythagoras and Thomas Jefferson aren’t the boss of you. Stop spreading bullshit. If those guys were around today, they’d say, “There are two sides to every question, but c’mon, you can ignore obvious bullshit” or “There’s always a different point of view, which is entitled to be heard, but complete fuckwits should be shrugged off.”

Grow the fuck up, journalists, Call a lie a lie. Do your goddamn job.

trump and his nazgûl advisors want to take us back to 1798

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Shit’s getting way beyond weird now. We’re moving into deeply scary fascist lunacy. Yesterday Trump posted this:

I will invoke the Alien Enemies Act of 1798 to target and dismantle every migrant criminal network operating on American soil.

Okay, we can be confident Trump himself is completely ignorant of the Alien Enemies Act of 1798. But some of his Nazgûl advisors are as clever as they are hateful, and they’ve latched onto an ugly 226-year-old chunk of legislation. The Act in question was one of a set of four laws dealing with immigration and speech enacted in response to an undeclared war with the French First Republic (after the fledgling United States decided to stiff France for loans they’d accepted during the American Revolution).

Three of those laws–the Naturalization Act (dealing with the requirements for citizenship), the Alien Friends Act (allowing the imprisonment and deportation of non-citizens), and the Sedition Act (criminalizing false and malicious statements about the government)–are no longer in effect. They were either repealed or allowed to lapse. But the Alien Enemies Act is still, weirdly, in effect. It’s now Chapter 3 under Title 50 of the U.S. Code. It states:

[A]ll natives, citizens, denizens, or subjects of the hostile nation or government, being of the age of fourteen years and upward, who shall be within the United States and not actually naturalized, shall be liable to be apprehended, restrained, secured, and removed as alien enemies.

It was used against the French in that undeclared war in 1798, against the British in the War of 1812, and against Japanese-Americans after the attack on Pearl Harbor at the beginning of World War 2 (and to a much lesser extent, against Germans and Italians after the US entered the war). Don’t ever forget that 82 years ago the US forcibly rounded up approximately 120,000 men, women, and children of Japanese descent, and detained them without trial for around three years.

This hateful fuck will try to end representative democracy in the US.

Could it happen again? Yep. If Trump should win/steal the election and invoke the Alien Enemies Act, it absolutely could happen again. Obviously, the act would be appealed to SCOTUS. Although none of the Acts of 1798 were subjected to judicial review (Marbury v. Madison, which confirmed the concept of judicial review, wasn’t decided until 1803), the few SCOTUS references to the Alien and Sedition Acts have suggested the Court would consider them unconstitutional. But that was before the current Trump Court, which is so far up Trump’s ass that they granted him wide immunity for ‘official’ actions. It’s very possible this Court would allow it.

Remember this: the Act refers to people “not actually naturalized.” To be eligible to begin the naturalization process, you have to have been a permanent resident in the US for at least five years (three years if you are married to a U.S. citizen). Once the process has begun, it still takes around another six months or so to become a citizen. That means people who’ve been living legally in the US for five and a half years could still be detained, confined without trial, and deported by Trump.

This is fucking terrifying on so many levels. Trump back in power, with a cooperative SCOTUS and aides who are dedicated fascists, will do unimaginable damage, not just to the US and representative democracy, but to the entire world.

innocence doesn’t matter

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Okay, first you have to understand that I’m a criminal defense guy. I spent several years as a private investigator specializing in criminal defense. Prior to that, I’d been a counselor in the Psych/Security unit of a prison for women; a significant proportion of the inmates there didn’t need (or deserve) incarceration. I’ve also taught courses in criminology and policing at American University in DC and at Fordham in NYC. I have a solid understanding of how the criminal justice system works. Or fails to work.

Second, you need to understand that I am completely opposed to the death penalty for any crime. I can present lots of arguments against capital punishment, but to spare you that, let me simply say this: the State should not be in the business of killing its own citizens. That’s it, end of argument for me.

I’m telling you this up front so you’ll understand my position when I see a social media post that makes this claim:

[W]e killed an innocent man in Missouri last week; his name was Marcellus Williams.

Criminal trials are about evidence–testimony and forensic evidence. Can the State present enough evidence to convince a jury beyond a reasonable doubt that the defendant committed the crime of which they are accused? At best, it’s an imperfect system. Sometimes factually guilty people will go free, sometimes factually innocent people will get convicted. That’s an indisputable fact (and also a solid argument against the death penalty).

Marcellus Williams

A lot of people are making the claim that Marcellus Williams was innocent. Was he? Despite those claims, we don’t really know (another argument against the death penalty). What DO we know? We DO know the following:

  1. Felicia Gayle was murdered. She was stabbed 43 times with a knife taken from her kitchen.
  2. Her purse, jacket, and a laptop computer belonging to her husband were missing at the crime scene, presumably stolen by her murderer.
  3. Henry Cole, a convicted criminal, testified that Williams admitted killing Gayle while they were both in jail for crimes unconnected to the murder. His testimony conformed to published public reports of the crime and contained no new information. He did NOT come forward until after a reward for information was offered (he accepted the reward: US$5000). Although there’s no overt connection to this case, when Cole violated his parole the State chose NOT to revoke his parole. It’s possible this may have been influenced by his decision to testify against Williams.
  4. Laura Asaro, Williams’ girlfriend at the time of Gayle’s murder, testified Williams admitted to her that he’d killed Gayle. She also said she saw a laptop in Williams’ car and found a purse that contained Gayle’s ID. In addition, she testified that she saw scratches on Williams’ neck, blood on his shirt. Although she did NOT accept any reward money, a neighbor said Asaro claimed she was getting paid to testify. No flesh was found under the fingernails of the victim, making her testimony about scratches moot. Asaro, who’d been arrested for solicitation (prostitution), lied about that arrest during deposition. No bloody shirt was found during a later search, nor was Gayle’s purse recovered.
  5. A warranted search of Williams’ car produced a calculator belonging to Gayle and a ruler with the logo of Gayle’s employer.
  6. The laptop taken from Gayle’s home was recovered from a witness who claimed he’d bought it from Williams.
  7. There was no physical forensic evidence tying Williams directly to the scene of the murder. No fingerprints that matched Williams; none of his shoes that were tested matched the bloody footprints found at the scene; DNA taken from the murder weapon did not match Williams. Police suggest Williams may have worn gloves and could easily have disposed of a bloody shirt, shoes, and Gayle’s purse.
  8. All capital cases are tried before death-qualified juries. Potential jurors who are categorically opposed to the death penalty are automatically disqualified. Research strongly suggests death-qualified juries are more likely to vote for convictions.
  9. Williams was convicted of first-degree murder and sentenced to death.

The Innocence Project (a group I respect) made much of the fact that the State offered no motive for Williams to have murdered Gayle. Despite what you see on television, motive is rarely a major factor in a criminal investigation. The fact is, people do stuff all the time without being able to explain why they did it. That’s even more true of people with drug issues or problems with impulse control. The absence of an obvious motive doesn’t mean much when it comes to criminality.

Back to Williams. Was he innocent? There was evidence that he was involved in the murder, but that evidence is largely circumstantial. There was testimony that he’d confessed, but the veracity of testimony given by a fellow inmate who sought a reward and an ex-girlfriend is questionable. Williams offered no explanation for why he had the victim’s calculator and ruler in his vehicle, or why another witness testified he’d sold the victim’s laptop. The evidence presented to the death-qualified jury was enough to convince them of his guilt.

So, was Williams innocent? Maybe. Maybe not. We don’t know. I’m inclined to think he was probably guilty. But in the end, I really don’t care.

His guilt or innocence doesn’t matter to me in terms of his death sentence. Even if he murdered Gayle, I don’t believe the State should have the power or authority to kill its own citizens. I also believe that when we base our opposition to the death penalty on the innocence of the accused, we’re tacitly agreeing with the argument that it’s okay to execute the guilty.

The State should not have executed Marcellus Williams, regardless of his guilt or innocence.

colors, textures, and retirement-age train otaku

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I’m not a train guy. Not a railroad guy. I mean, sure, I like trains and railroads. I appreciate their historical significance. I like to hear their whistles and see them rumbling along the tracks. I absolutely love the photographs of O. Winston Link. But if somebody asked me if I’d like to go spend a day looking at trains, I’d say…well, I’d say yes. Not because I’m a train guy, but because I’ll go look at just about anything.

And that’s exactly what I did recently. I agreed to go on a family/friend train excursion that included historic trains, a small train museum, and a dining experience in an old train that traversed some fields and woods and a ridiculously narrow bridge over a rather high river valley. It wasn’t something I’d have chosen on my own, but I’m really glad I agreed. (Pro-tip: always agree to do almost everything, because you never know.) It was fun and, of course, I took a few photos.

I’d expected to enjoy the train ride, and I did. There was a period of time when I lived on the East coast and I frequently traveled by train–Boston, New York City, Washington, DC, Norfolk. I always enjoyed it. But there’s a radical difference between (what in the US passes for) ‘modern’ train travel and an historical train. The engine that pulled our dining cars wasn’t a steam engine or anything, but it was old and slow and pleasantly lazy. Which was just as well, since the tracks were also old and the train swayed a LOT more than any train I’d ever been on. Hell, at times it swayed more than a lot of boats I’ve been on. You don’t want a lot of swaying when you’re on a high trestle bridge over a river valley. Still, it was fun and the food was surprisingly good.

But the train ride and the meal were, for me, secondary. Hell, they were tertiary. I could have spent the entire day noodling around the train yard, looking at stuff I didn’t understand and appreciating it. BIG blocks of color. Gobs of dark, sexy shadow. Weirdly-shaped mechanical bits and bobs. And who knew trains had so many ladders? Everywhere you look, there’s a ladder. And different shapes of ladders, at that.

I hadn’t anticipated being fascinated by the shapes and forms, particularly of the works of the undercarriage (if that’s what it’s called). Everything was so massively sturdy. And I was completely captivated by the colors–the sun-faded greens, the bright yellows and oranges, the weathered reds and russet browns of the cars. I could have spent an hour just looking at the variety of textures and photographing the industrial weirdness of the undercarriage.

For once, I was more interested in the stuff than in the people, and I rather regret that because when I took a moment to actually talk with the people they were…well, I guess you could call them retirement-age train otaku. They were obsessive, but reserved until encouraged. One guy, with minimal encouragement, agreed to let my brother and I climb up an exterior ladder into the engineer’s cockpit (if that’s what it’s called). I don’t think it was actually prohibited, but it was certainly not part of the routine. Once we got up there, he explained how the engine, which had been built in 1958, had been retired from some Canadian railroad. He rattled off the specifications of the engine, and where it fit in the evolution of train engines. I suspect he’d have told us the entire life history of that particular engine, but folks were waiting for us and we had to leave.

I actually regretted leaving the train yard. But not everybody shares my interest in weathered paint and arcane mechanical whatsits, so I left without complaint. Now I find myself with a metric ton of train-related photographs, and while I’m hesitant to impose them on the unsuspecting Intertubes, I’m afraid you’re going to see more train stuff on my social media. Of course, I won’t be able to identify what’s IN the photos. You’ll have to find a retirement-age train otaku for that.

picking up stones

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Trump: Women, I am your protector.
Women: You’re what?
Trump: You will no longer be abandoned, lonely, or scared.
Women: Okay, dude, you’re creeping the fuck out of us right now.
Trump: You will no longer be in danger.
Women: Oh shit, we are deffo in danger now.
Trump: Your groceries will be more affordable.
Women: [looking at each other] The fuck?
Trump: You will be able to turn on your faucet and have water come out.
Women: [looking at each other] Yeah, I don’t know. I’ve got segue whiplash.
Trump: You will no longer have to be depressed or unhappy.
Women: While you’re talking, there isn’t enough Xanax in the world.
Trump: You will no longer have to think about abortion.
Women: Uh, yeah, I’m pretty sure we will.
Trump: You will no longer have to worry about strangers eating your cats.
Women: Jesus suffering fuck, this guy.
Trump: I will protect women at a level they have never seen before.
Women: Fuck you in the neck, we can protect ourselves.
Trump: Nobody protects women more than me.
Women: We’re calling E. Jean Carroll right now.
Trump: Women will be happy.
Women: [Picking up stones] Feeling happier already.

EDITORIAL NOTE: We must burn the patriarchy. Burn it to the ground. Burn it, gather the ashes, piss on them, douse them in kerosene, set them on fire again. Burn the patriarchy, then drive a stake directly through the ashes where its black heart used to be. Set fire to the stake. Keep burning it, over and over. Burn it for generations. Nuke it from orbit. Then find a good book, some chocolates, and a cozy chair. Maybe with a cat.

weird is good

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Strangest thing. I’ve been shooting photos since about the Triassic period and in all that time I very rarely shot photos in portrait orientation. Well, I mean, except when I was shooting actual portraits, of course. Landscape orientation has always seemed more natural and organic to me.

But since I’ve been using this Ricoh GR3X, I find myself shooting more shots in portrait style. I really can’t explain it. Is it because the camera is so small and light that I’m more willing to turn it on its side? That doesn’t make much sense to me, because I tend to pre-visualize almost all of my shots. I generally ‘see’ them before I shoot them. So why would the camera matter? Maybe it’s the fixed lens? I don’t know.

Or maybe I’m just ‘seeing’ more portrait-oriented shots? Maybe it’s just a coincidence that I’ve started doing that shortly after picking up a new camera? That seems improbable too. Doesn’t it?

Another thing. I’m not entirely sure this is true, but it seems like when I shoot something in portrait orientation, I pay closer attention to the edges of the frame. I like to think I do that with most shots, but I find myself actively thinking about the edges when I’m shooting in portrait. Maybe that’s just because I’m not used to it? Maybe I do it so automatically in landscape orientation that I just don’t notice it as much? That seems possible.

Take this photo, for example. I wanted that tiny bit of chimney in the upper right. And that sliver of the window frame on the left side. And along the bottom, that white line of the parking strip and the blob of shadow from a parked car. I wanted those things, but I didn’t want very much of them. Which, because the GR3 has a fixed lens, meant stepping forward just an inch or two, then stepping back half an inch. It meant doing the goddamn hokey-pokey in the middle of the street until I had it just right.

When I got home and downloaded the photos, I noticed that of the 24 photos I shot during that brief photo-walk, 7 of them were in portrait orientation. Seven. Almost a third of the photos. I’ve never in my life done anything like that.

It doesn’t bother me. It’s just a bit of a shock. Has this happened to anybody else? Have you suddenly found yourself shooting in a different orientation? Or have I maybe had a stroke and just failed to notice it? Maybe it’s a tumor. I don’t know. All I know is that it’s weird.

Happily, I believe weird is good.

0 and 2

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That title’s a tad misleading. There was only one actual assassination attempt on Trump’s life. The second incident was basically a security breach, but it’s being described as an assassination attempt. In order to be an assassination attempt, you have to actually attempt the assassination. The Secret Service stopped the guy before an attempt could be made. Which, you know, is what they’re supposed to do.

About that…people (and by ‘people’ I mean Republicans and gutless Democrats) are posturing outrage again, asking “How did the would-be shooter get so close to Trump before being spotted?” He got that close because 1) Trump insists on golfing at his public courses, and 2) golf courses are fucking huge, and 3) unless a golf course is in a secure area (like, say, a military base) it would take a LOT of personnel to secure the entire perimeter. This is why presidents Obama and Bush often golfed on military bases. They weren’t greedy narcissists like Trump, who’s happy to charge the Secret Service for green fees that’ll go right into his own pocket.

I don’t know, but I’m assuming the Secret Service was running some sort of rolling security bubble around Trump’s golf cart, securing a couple of holes ahead of him and a couple of holes behind him. Which, really, is enough…or would be enough for an ordinary ex-POTUS. An ex-POTUS who wasn’t an active, volatile threat to the future of democracy. An ex-POTUS who didn’t thrive on pissing people off.

Let’s face it. A lot of people would like to see Trump dead. A lot of people responded to the first assassination attempt by saying they were sorry the shooter missed. A lot of people fucking hate Trump.

I want to see him cry.

I’m not one of them. Well, okay, yeah, I hate the guy. But I don’t want to see him dead killed by an assassin. I don’t want him made into some sort of MAGA martyr. That could lead to something really really ugly. And, frankly, a quick death is too good for Trump. I want him to suffer.

I want to see him tried by a jury of ordinary citizens and, it’s to be hoped, convicted of his crimes. I want to see him incarcerated. Or at least—at the very least—facing some sort of carceral punishment, even if it’s something like 20 years under house arrest. I want to see him bankrupt. I want to see his assets seized to given to E. Jean Carroll. I want Trump broke and humiliated and reviled. I want his wife and family broke, humiliated, reviled. I want him to be internationally scorned; I want global headlines calling him a convict. I want Trump alive and painfully aware that he’ll be one of the most despised characters in American history. I want him cognizant that the name Trump will be mocked and scorned for decades.

I want the motherfucker to suffer. I’m somewhat ashamed of that, but there it is.