A Brief History of Fat
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The Decline of the United States of America
One of a series.
I drive under the bridge that the Amtrak train tragically jumped the track on in Dupont, Washington over 300 times a year. A considerable part of the coverage was surprise at how fast the train was going. “Even faster than the freeway traffic.” Turns out it was maxing out at 80mph or 129kph. The train lacked the “smart” self-stopping brakes that are de rigueur on trains in other developed countries.
Here’s some perspective for the globally challenged.
At 320-350 kilometers an hour, Seattle to Portland would take about 50 minutes. Once up and running again, our new, ten minute faster train, will still take over three hours. Plain and simple, we’re getting our ass kicked.
My Fav 2017 Books
A longtime reader of the Humble Blog has a brief respite from reading his high schoolers’ French and German exercises. Consequently, he wants some book recommendations. PressingPausers take note, you too can make suggestions and requests of your benevolent dictator.
My fav books of 2017:
1. America the Anxious by Ruth Whippman. Subtitle: How Our Pursuit of Happiness is Creating a Nation of Nervous Wrecks. An endearing Brit deconstructs the commercial happiness industry. I’m looking forward to teaching it in January.
2. Janesville by Amy Goldstein. Since I’m an economically privileged, tenured university professor, a friend sometimes laments that I’m clueless about the “real world”. He underestimates the power of the pen and the imagination. Goldstein provides readers an intimate look at what it is like to build a middle class life through an assembly line job and then lose it.
3. Killers of the Flower Moon: The Osage Murders and the Birth of the FBI by David Grann. A group of Indians strike it rich when oil is found on their tiny, hard scrabble corner of Oklahoma. Whites purposely marry into the tribe and the proceed to kill them. So much for American Exceptionalism.
If your name is Alison and you’re allergic to non-fiction, consider fast forwarding to my first book of 2018, The Invisibility Cloak by Ge Fei. A “slim comic novel which follows the travails of a likable loser trying to stay afloat—financially and emotionally—in contemporary Beijing.” My literary sources are raving about it.
Only One Border
Imagine everyone in the world agreeing to limit their long-distance travel to mitigate the problems associated with climate change. Specifically, imagine everyone agreeing to only cross one border whether state, provincial, or national, in their remaining days on earth.
For example, living in Western Washington State, I could choose to travel only to one of the following places for the rest of my life: Oregon; Idaho; or British Columbia, Canada.
Even though I was born in Idaho, I’m more familiar with and fond of Oregon and British Columbia. Which brings me to a very difficult decision. Oregon has an abundance of beautiful terrain to recommend it. And I still haven’t played Bandon Dunes or any of the adjacent courses. And of course there’s Shakespeare outdoors under the stars in Ashland, cycling in the high desert, running the Deschutes River trail, Batchelor, Hood, the Three Sisters, Crater Lake. Don’t just take my word for it, give this guy’s work a look-see.
Despite the difficulty knowing I will never cross the Columbia River again, I’m going north to British Columbia. For the rest of my life. As much as I like Oregon, I love British Columbia. Victoria, Vancouver, Whistler, the Okanogan Valley, Penticton. Barely scraping the surface of the southernmost part of the province has been enough to tip the balance.
The GalPal and I will stay here a few nights. Here too. And we’ll make regular visits to our private suite at the Hotel Grand Pacific in Victoria.
Part of it is a feeling I get in B.C. I’m sure I idealize it, but I like knowing there’s less gun violence, a progressive head of state, a single payer health care system, and often a self-deprecating sense of humor. I hope some of my Washington State friends are down with my decision. It would be a lot more fun to have some company along for the many, many ferry and border crossings in my future.
The Sky’s The Limit
No world professional cycling team has gotten in touch with my representatives yet. While that offer still stands, suddenly, I’m overwhelmed by other enticing job opportunities in every imaginable sector of the economy.
I’m thinking about taking one of the many seats now available in Congress. The House would be cool, but I like the ring of Senator Byrnes and not having to fund raise non-stop. Nothing against Kansas, Minnesota, Texas, Nevada, or Arizona, but I think I’ll hold out another few weeks so that I can choose among even better states. Looking at you Colorado, Washington, Oregon.
ESPN analyst could be a cool gig. Living exclusively with hopelessly sports-challenged women, I don’t get to talk sports too often, but I could throw that switch. It would be a shame wasting talent like mine on reporting scores and spewing statistics. Maybe an eponymous sports and culture show or one dedicated to endurance sports.
Celebrity chef. I have that special cooking somethin’ somethin’ and I’ve grown accustomed to the fame this blog has brought me. Mercurial, check. Telegenic, check.
Hollywood actor/director/impresario. How hard can acting be? I’m mean they’re all pretending. And barking directions and funding projects? Not exactly rocket science.
My charm, smarts, and humility make me an excellent candidate for all of these openings; however, a few other things truly make my selection a no-brainer. I don’t make inappropriate comments to women about their appearance. I don’t grope women. I don’t ask them to come to my hotel room for “meetings”. I don’t greet them wearing only a bathrobe. I don’t expose myself to them. I don’t force myself on them. I don’t threaten them with reprisals.
I always thought my education, work experience, and professional friendships would tip the balance in my employment favor. Suddenly, not being a sexual predator Trumps all of those things.
Hire Me
Dear World Pro Cycling Teams:
I appreciate the opportunity to apply for your position as Performance Enhancing Drugs Wordsmith.
Let’s review where we are. Today’s news that the world’s best cyclist in a routine anti-doping test conducted at the Vuelta a España in September had double the legal limit of 1,000ng/ml of his asthma medication floating around his system, led Chris Froome to say this in his defense:
“My asthma got worse at the Vuelta so I followed the team doctor’s advice to increase my Salbutamol dosage. As always, I took the greatest care to ensure that I did not use more than the permissible dose”.
It’s imperative your riders mount a more credible defense than Froomey when their time in the performance enhancing drug spotlight inevitably comes. That’s where I’m confident you’ll find my services are a bargain at $50,000 per incident.
Every failed test is a little different requiring a true craftsman who can contextualize in a heartbeat. Here’s a little flavor flav of possible talking points for your team’s next PED presser. The first I call the “deflection”, which you’ll find far more subtle than the second, “faux confessional”.
• “Like climate change, these results are more fake science compliments of a vast left-wing conspiracy. Over the millennia, there have always been abnormal tests results like these just as there have always been changing weather patterns. Noam Chomsky and my other accusers are sad (sick) guys. Maybe my critic-crybabies should train harder.”
• “The reports of my failed drug test are true. Regretfully, starting several years ago, I succumbed to the drug-addled culture of the peloton and the pressure of my team’s docs to conform. I am ashamed and embarrassed by the vapidity of my “means justifies the ends” morality. Once I got accustomed to riding in the front of the peloton, I couldn’t help myself. I am not proud of my actions and I am sorry to have perpetuated a hoax on cycling fans the world over. I plan on taking extensive time off the bike to make amends to all of my sponsors, teammates, and fans. [Long pause followed by bursts of laughter.] Kidding of course. Fuck you guys and your fake science. Maybe my critic-crybabies should improve their drug regimens.”
Similarly, I have a bevy of “hidden motor” responses in the quiver too. I look forward to hearing from. You can reach me at PedWordsmith@gmail.com.
Selecting The Wrong Leader. . . Again
Fighting an insidious attack on my immune system, I’ve opted to lean in to the sickness by reading the Atlantic’s God’s Plan for Mike Pence and the New York Times’s Inside Trump’s Hour-by-Hour Battle for Self-Preservation.
Journalism is hemorrhaging jobs, but fortunately, in some places, long form journalism is flourishing. These are detailed; thoughtful; and if you’re left-leaning, harrowing pieces.
From God’s Plan for Mike Pence:
“Scott Pelath, the Democratic minority leader in the Indiana House of Representatives, said that watching Pence vouch for Trump made him sad. “Ah, Mike,” he sighed. “Ambition got the best of him.” It’s an impression that even some of Pence’s oldest friends and allies privately share. As one former adviser marveled, ‘The number of compromises he made to get this job, when you think about it, is pretty staggering.'”
Tucked in the NYT piece were passing references to Trump’s twelve daily Diet Cokes and his regular dinner of. . .
“plates of well-done steak, salad slathered with Roquefort dressing and bacon crumbles, tureens of gravy and massive slices of dessert with extra ice cream.”
I’m calling bullshit on his doc’s glowing reports on his health. #fakenews
Why do we as citizens, employees, members of civic organizations, make leadership decisions we often regret? Why is our batting average too often Seattle Mariner-like?
Because we pick leaders based upon tangible qualifications that most closely match those we detail in our job postings, with far too little attention paid to the finalists’ psychological well-being. Granted, psychological well-being is hella-hard to assess in even a series of interviews, but somehow, we have to get better at it.
Let’s start with this premise, on a “Psychological Health” scale of 1-100, the most self-actualized person in the world is a 90. Put differently, everyone has “issues” and is fallible. The goal is to select leaders with the fewest inner demons so as to avoid getting hopelessly side-tracked from the group’s overarching mission. How about this for an interview question: Which of your inner demons are we likely to learn about six months from now? Maybe I should use italics when joking. But seriously, how do interviewers enter the side or back door to assess a candidate’s relative mental health and basic people skills?
My best work friend of all time took another job two and a half years ago. When the damnable university called me to talk about him, this is some of what I said, “He utterly has no ego. As a result, he doesn’t care who gets the credit for the good work that get’s done. All he cares about is that good work gets done.” His lack of ego was an indicator of genuine psychological health, the foundation of which, was equal parts a wonderful marriage and extended family, a deep spirituality, and a commitment to physical activity. Importantly, he also laughed a lot, often at himself.
Maybe the answer to the question, how do we assess job finalists’ psychological health, lies in the previous paragraph. Talk to more former co-workers in greater depth. I’m interested in other ideas you may have.
Winter Dreaming
This makes me want to fly to Northwest Italy bigly.
Muddling Through
A tough semester draws to an end. A time period marked by unusual levels of interpersonal conflict. Here’s hoping for a great resetting when the calendar flips over.
Two things helped me muddle through.
Fall marathon training was a refuge. Ironically, long, conflict-free, predawn runs were renewing.
And my first year writing seminar. Here’s what I just told them at the start of our last class session:
“Thank you. It’s been a challenging semester with the university’s financial challenges and other conflicts in other parts of my life. This class has always been a wonderful break from that. I’ve appreciated how you’ve embraced the course content and worked to improve your writing. Most of all though, I’ve drawn inspiration from the friendly and respectful way you’ve interacted with each other all semester. It gives me hope for the future. I’m going to miss this class.”
You Might KNOW A Couple of People
In “Why Garrison Keillor’s Fall From Grace Feels Particularly Queasy-Making” Ruth Graham writes:
“But there were always reasons to suspect that Keillor’s folksy persona wasn’t a true portrait of the man: the unseemly lawsuit against his neighbor, the messy personal life. In interviews, he often comes off as aloof and awkward. A profile last year in the New York Times ended with the radio host breezing past the reporter after a show without acknowledging her, or even seeming to recognize her. “He is certainly the strangest person I know,” the writer Roger Angell, his one-time editor, said in that piece. ‘I don’t think he’s necessarily a happy man.'”
Word of 2017. . . p-e-r-s-o-n-a.
Lesson of the year. Never say you like an actor, athlete, President, business leader, comedian, musician, religious leader, etc., because you don’t know them, just their public persona. Let’s seize this moment to distinguish between people’s true selves and their often carefully crafted personas. Do that by referencing the specific part of the public figure’s work you like, Garrison Keillor’s Prairie Home Companion, Taylor Swift’s music, Bill Cosby’s Cosby Show, Russell Wilson’s athleticism, Barack Obama’s foreign policy.
The people who wear Russell Wilson jersey’s to Lutheran Church of the Good Shepherd this time of year do not know Russell Wilson. It doesn’t matter that they hear he visits the Seattle Childrens’ hospital regularly and is beloved by Alaska Airlines execs, they still don’t know him. All they know is he can play quarterback.
Despite listening to her music all the time and reading about her regularly, the Youngest doesn’t know Taylor Swift. All she can know for sure is she can sing, make slick vids, and sell music. That’s the 1% of the iceberg that’s visible, the other 99% inevitably includes lots of unflattering stuff.
TSwfit is a performer. Like Garrison Keillor, Bill Cosby, Russell Wilson, the President, your member of Congress, and quite possibly, your pastor, boss, and neighbors. Everyone.
You might know a couple of people. Their hopes, dreams, inner demons. None of whom are likely public figures.
Our shock at each name added to the list of alleged sexual predators speaks volumes about our susceptibility to celebrity culture. Their abuse of power and often criminal treatment of people is the story; but our collective, predictable naivety, is the silent subtext.
