Medium Happy

by John Walters

So yesterday afternoon I tuned in, briefly, to MSNBC (guilty) to watch Nicolle Wallace. She seems cool and has some common sense and isn’t hard on the eyes (I called her as a future MSNBC host back when she was just a guest analyst four years ago). And you know, Wallace worked for Bush 43: she’s a Republican. Or at least she was.

Anyway, she had on some Politico writer from New Hampshire who seemed awfully young and awfully milquetoast. And when she asked him about Mike Bloomberg this writer, who might as well have had “WILLIAMSBURG MILLENNIAL” tattooed on his forehead, opined that he could not see any path with the Democrats for the former Republican billionaire to win the Democratic nomination. I don’t think it’s unfair to say that this writer probably identifies as a “Bernie Bro.”

Now, it’s fine if you’re a Bernie Bro. Or if you’re warrin’ for Warren. Or if you happen to love Amy Klobuchar or Andrew Yang’s $1,000-a-month plan or Mayo Pete (great line, SNL). By the way, has anyone ever noticed how similar Pete Buttigieg and Boston Celtics coach Brad Stevens are? Both Hoosier natives, both precocious jump-to-the-front-of-the-line types, both analytical whiz-kid types, both speak in tempered tones, both have brown hair and look as if they just stepped out of the Eisenhower era, both are preternaturally successful and yet not take-it-all-the-way-home successful…

Anyway, I don’t really care which candidate you like. Even Bloomberg. But that’s not the point. What’s funny, and also sad, to me, is this dopey mood I see all over Twitter and with this Politico writer which is basically, Man, if my progressive candidate isn’t nominated this whole thing is gonna go down in flames.

No, dude. Just no.

After the Politico writer, who probably isn’t even 35 yet, spoke (via remote), Wallace returned to three guests in the studio. All older. All who seem to have lived lives more real than this young man (two of the three were black women). And all three almost chortled and you know the women wanted to say, “Child, please.” Or something like that.

Instead what they said to this young idealist was this, and I paraphrase, “Get over yourselves. What makes Bloomberg or Klobuchar or Warren worth nominating is that these people are fighters. They will fight the incumbent with everything they’ve got.”

While someone like Bernie is going to push his radical agenda and hope everyone hops on board, a pragmatist like Bloomberg is going to keep his eye on the ball: and that means doing the only thing that matters in November. Beating Donald Trump.

Which is not to say that people shouldn’t support Bernie. Go ahead and do so if you want. But for goodness sakes, man (and all Democrat zealots, of which I am not), do not take your eyes off the ball: Beating Donald Trump is the only thing that matters.

So no matter who wins in New Hampshire tonight, and going forward, it’s totally cool to stan for whichever candidate you like. But after the dust settles, no matter who it is, and hopefully it will have been a fair fight this time (we’re looking at you, DNC from 2016), that’s the candidate you support. There has never been a more important election in your lifetime. There will likely never be. There’s only one thing that matters: defeating Trump in November.

Get over your flaccid idealism. Your hope of health care for all and/or free college education. And those are other topics for another day. But none of that matters. The only thing that matters is beating Donald Trump. So it doesn’t matter who the candidate is.

Unless it’s Tom Steyer. And then we’re truly f****d.

******

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by John Walters

In the summer of 2013, with the best of intentions, I purchased a six-string Yamaha acoustic guitar. I also bought a stand for it. And for most of the next six years that instrument looked very good in my living room. Gathering dust.

Last winter I finally picked it up and decided to try to learn how to manually operate it (full disclosure: I had done something similar in the early 1990s, even going so far as to take a course at the New School with the great guitar teacher Valerie Mackend, who’d come to New York City decades earlier hoping to become the next Joni Mitchell, and I had abandoned that project after a year). Turning 50 made me realize that if I was ever going to learn how to play the guitar, I’d better start soon.

In fits and starts, I’ve taken to committing myself to the instrument. After a month or so last winter, I had improved to not-horrible when it came to navigating chord progressions from G to C to e minor (the easiest chord) to D, etc. I’d begun unlocking the mysteries, with the help of UltimateGuitar.com, which places the chords above the lyrics of your favorite rock and pop songs, of some of my all-time favorite tunes (“Smells Like Teen Spirit,” for example? Not so difficult). It may not have sounded like it to anyone else’s ears, but I heard myself playing Pink Floyd’s “Comfortably Numb” from start to finish.

Then came my first major hurdle in becoming the next Jimi Hendrix (who’s white, not cool, and eligible for AARP): the F chord. The F chord is a very common chord in rock songs but it is also digitally problematic. Unlike most chords that require only two or three fingers placed on strings, the F chord asks you to use four fingers. And the index finger, or “1” finger in guitar parlance, must press down on two strings at once.

When I first attempted to even maneuver my fingers to do the F chord, I thought, Okay, that’s it. That’s as far as this guitar jones goes. You might as well ask me to dunk. Or speak Arabic. But here’s the thing. I reminded myself that tens of thousands of aspiring guitarists have mastered the F chord. So what did they have that I didn’t have? The answer was simple: they’d put in the time and effort.

So I dove in. Every day. And there were not many good days at first, but after awhile it didn’t seem as difficult to move from a C to an F. And then after another month or so I could maneuver from another chord to an F without even breaking rhythm. Now I’m not even afraid of playing Snow Patrol’s “Run,” which is an otherwise easy song except for the F chords in the chorus.

My F chord is by no means a finished product and I realize (if you are a skilled guitarist reading this you must be laughing, like listening to a 3rd grader just boast that he’s been able to read a Hardy Boys book cover to cover) that there are many more difficult hurdles to overcome if I ever want to become proficient. But it’s better. And here’s what the entire odyssey has taught me:

There’s a vast difference between someone who first picks up a guitar and someone who can eventually look at a song sheet and play a song from start to finish. And there’s another vast difference between that person who can look at a song sheet and play a song and the guy or gal you see playing on a street corner, a person who not only can play a dozen or two dozen songs but has memorized the chord progressions (and lyrics) on all of them. And then there’s another vast difference between that street busker and someone who can actually WRITE their own songs. And there’s an even vaster difference between someone who can write their own songs and someone who can write really good songs.

And I realized, the more I thought about it, that what separates each of those musicians in their various stages of development is one thing and one thing only: Time. Time put in to improving.

Yes, talent is a thing and two different people starting at the same time and each putting in, say, 1,000 hours is going to yield you two different guitarists, one more accomplished. But the lowest common denominator is time. Neither one of those two is getting anywhere without having put in the 1,000 (or 10,000 or 100,000) hours. It reminds me of the anecdote about a concert pianist who plays a corporate event and when he’s done, one of the staffers approaches the pianist and as a compliment says, “I’d give my life to be able to play like that.” And the pianist replies, “I did.”

Time. Time, which is sacrifice, because you could be doing something else, something more fun or easier, with that time. Time. And it got me to thinking about accomplished guitarists or accomplished runners or golfers or anyone who is very, very good at a skill that you just don’t pick up and master in a day or two: they all have a sense of humility. Particularly when it comes to critiquing the endeavors of others.

Why humility? Because, having put in all the hours that they have to become Bruce Springsteen or Tiger Woods or Jenny Simpson, they have a healthy respect for just exactly what it takes to become that deft at it. They know the price that was paid. And so few people truly do.

With few exceptions, and those exceptions usually being empty male posturing and/or a dumb rivalry, the greats have humility. Particularly when it comes to assessing the work of others. Because they know. You can go on Twitter and find all sorts of trolls and critics (“Is Joe Flacco elite?”) and what all those people have in common is that they’ve never put in the work at anything to become particularly great at it. And so because they don’t have that respect, that humility, of knowing exactly what is required to summit Everest, they find it is just easier to knock those who try. On a subconscious level, it makes them feel better about themselves.

Which brings us to Donald Trump. And to MAGA rallies. There is a reason that the president always knocks “elites” at his rallies. And there is a reason that his “base” takes to it like carnivores to a fresh kill. And I’ll tell you the reason. Lean in here. Ready?

Because they are losers.

You want to knock someone for being great at something? For being well-read? What does that say about you? Trump has made it popular to criticize “elites” because the people who do find that it’s a lot easier to do that than it is to look in the mirror. Criticize elites and blame people who are not white or straight or who don’t speak English as a first language for the fact that you’re a loser. It’s easier, isn’t it?

Time. The time one invests to become truly proficient at something creates a residue of humility. It truly humbles you to know just what it took to be able to shoot a 75 on a golf course or to play a Rush song. And that humility translates to other endeavors. So that even if you’ve never written a book, maybe if you’ve at least become an accomplished chef, you can appreciate the sacrifice it took to write a book. You are part of a community of humility.

You don’t see a lot of humility at a Trump rally, starting of course with the ringmaster. In fact, you don’t see any. You see boastfulness. Hostility. Meanness. Belittling of others. Anger. Pride. You see all the traits that losers possess.

One of my grandparents never learned to speak English and the second only broken English. And I imagine many of you can say the same about your grandparents or great-grandparents. And I can guarantee you that your immigrant ancestors faced ridicule and prejudice from people. And those people who did so were doing it because they felt threatened. And I cannot understand why they felt threatened other than that there was something about themselves about which they were insecure.

There are folks who support Donald Trump for any other number of reasons: some simply are wealthy and love their tax cuts; others are ride-or-die anti-abortion types who are willing to overlook the fact that Trump breaks about five commandments per week and wouldn’t know the Old from the New Testament; there are others who simply will never sway from the Republican conservative model no matter how far Trump takes them away from their supposed principles; there are those who are just blatantly racist.

But when you gaze upon a MAGA rally, and the TV media is very, very careful never to actually say this while never being shy about interviewing these types, what you see a lot of are losers. You see people who have found a total loser (all Trump has ever done is go from one colossal failure to the next, which is why you’ve never seen his Penn transcripts or his taxes) who proudly serves as their leader and who has found a way to channel all that frustration and hostility and resource it as energy for his campaign.

Losers criticize. Losers belittle. Losers mock those who have accomplished more than they have. Because it’s a lot easier than simply putting in the time. And what Donald Trump has done, better than any politician in my lifetime, is to create a safe space for all of those losers to convene. And to feel better about themselves.

You know who else was a total loser most of his life? Adolf Hitler.

It’s not a coincidence.

I’m hoping that everyone at a MAGA rally picks up a guitar. And tries to learn to play a song. And maybe even masters the F chord. And I’m sure there are people at MAGA rallies who already can play the guitar. But, as I said, there are other reasons people support Trump. Darker reasons. For most, though, it’s simply because he makes them feel better about being losers.

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This site will always be free but we’ve decided to try a new wrinkle: more frequent posts, no daily Starting Five, and we’ll add a PayPal address for any and all who’d like to donate.

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Since 1842

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