Month: May 2024

We Defeated Fascism 80 Years Ago, We Must Defeat Trump Now. It’s Go Time!

~ Randy Blazak ~ 1 Comment

May 27, 2024

I had a voir dire day dream about a month ago. I was being interviewed as a prospective juror for Donald Trump’s criminal trial in New York. When I was asked about my excessive media bashing of the former president, I offered this reply, “I know two things. The first thing is that this is America and that Mr. Trump is presumed to be innocent and should only be judged on the facts pertaining to the indictment. If those facts support his acquittal, I will vote so. The second thing I know is the Donald Trump is a buffoon who leads a sub-moronic cult of personality and he has no business leading this great nation.” My proclamation wouldn’t have gotten me seated on the jury but it would have probably gotten me seated next to Rachel Maddow the next Monday evening.

It’s so easy to see Donald Jessica Trump as a clown, an obese orange orangoutang, falling asleep and farting in the courtroom, dreaming of dates with Ivanka. His bizarre word salads about Gettysburg and contraception can be written off as dementia, syphilis brain, or just never being told he’s wrong by the army of red tie bootlickers he surrounds himself with. It makes for great fodder for Jimmy Kimmel, Stephen Colbert, and a phalanx of liberal commentators on YouTube. “Look at El Cheeto try to dance to the Village People at his rally! What a train wreck!” “Look at Orange Hitler drink water with two hands like a drunk toddler!” “Look at Dumpie saying Nikki Haley is Nancy Pelosi. Is he an idiot or what?” “Did you see the libertarians booing his confused ass? LMAO!” Trump is the gift that keeps on giving to joke writers.

But is he a joke?

I know a certain Mexican green card-holder that does a good job of frequently popping my bubble of white privilege. We had a pretty heavy conversation about what the potential re-election of Trump really means for people like her. I was curious at why she was not more interested in the Trump soap opera in New York. As someone who works in the law field, I would have thought this fascinating trial would have grabbed her attention. Her response slapped me upside the head. She was so disgusted that we (white people) had let this man rise to the position he’s in that she just checked out of the whole circus. Why aren’t white people rioting in the streets to stop him? “The only time I’ve seen white people rioting was on January 6th,” she said.

Boy, did she have a point.

Her perspective was that white male liberals enjoy the Trump spectacle. He’s fun to lampoon with his spray tan and buckets of KFC. We eat up his gaffes and stories of sexual harassment, knowing that, if he wins, we’ll still be comfortable, sitting in front of MSNBC for the next four years. But if Trump wins in November, he’s floated the idea of building detention camps for undocumented immigrants, including DACA residents. While “illegal aliens” from Norway don’t need to worry too much, a large percentage of my students would be “disappeared” if he was elected. As he did during his first term, Trump would cancel all the federal DEI programs that work to make America a more equitable place. His war on women’s reproductive rights would continue, and the safe space we seek to provide for LGBTQ people would be thrown under the bus to appease his Christian Nationalist base. Make America Gilead Again.

Perhaps even more frightening is if Trump loses. He’s already front-loading the election denial for the results in November for his knuckle-dragging cult that fervently believes the 2020 election was stolen by Biden, the doddering old fool who is also a brilliant criminal mastermind. (Pick a lane, Karen.) The work I’ve been doing on this federally funded grant has collected troves of information on how the far-right is arming up to launch their civil war as soon as their dear leader, again, says, “This election was stolen.” I don’t doubt the FBI has their hands full getting in front of the MAGA militias who are under every rock in the nation.

How did the hell did we get to this point, America? It’s not like Trump has been some secretive Manchurian candidate. He’s been completely open about his “Dictator on Day 1” fantasies. From his idolization of authoritarian leaders like Vladimir Putin, Viktor Orban, and Kim Jong Un, to his utilization of Hitlerian language, like “unify the Reich” and “vermin poisoning the blood of the nation,” the Orange Führer hasn’t actually hid his intentions. And his base is completely fine with Trump as dictator, and turning the White House into a weapon of retribution. (I hope Liz Cheney has a very deep bunker.)

So while late night comedians make fun of Trump for not being able to form a coherent sentence, or tease his sycophants outside the courtroom for dressing as mini-Trumps, the United States is on the precipice of oblivion. What this country might look like during the next election cycle could be unrecognizable, as voting districts are gerrymandered to guarantee Trumpists majorities, women are required to register their pregnancies, abortion only exists in back alleys, new media regulations limit the free (“enemy of the people”) press, and anyone left of Mitt Romney is now the target of heavily militarized police departments. This isn’t hyperbole. Trump has suggest support for such policies and so much more.

How do we save America from Trump?

Personally, I say a nightly prayer that Donald Trump has a heart attack on the toilet. If Nikki Haley is his running mate (if he’s smart, which he’s not), she’ll look like Bernie Sanders compared to a Trump second term. I’m not holding out on the power of collective prayer to remove this human turd from the mortal coil. So we have to heed the words of my favorite Mexican, we need to riot. I’m not talking about kicking in a Starbucks window with our Doc Marten boots. I’m talking about getting vocal every chance we get, like those libertarians who screamed into Trump’s face this weekend. I can’t legally advise throwing rotten vegetables at the presumptive Republican nominee, but this is a fucking 4 alarm fire. In the words of J Lo, let’s get loud.

Here’s my message to straight white men – If Trump is elected, we’ll survive, but a lot of the people we care about won’t. We’re too polite and worried about offending anyone. If you’ve got Trump supporters in your circle, either do your best to wake them up or cut them loose. We need all hands on deck. We need record turnout this fall. Yeah, Biden is old and will probably die soon (putting a woman of color in the Oval Office). But after him, there are multiple generations – X, Millennials, Z, Alpha, that are energized and ready to create a vibrant, healthy nation, that includes everyone, even that crazy uncle who likes “Mexican food, just not Mexican people.” He can be reached. As Lincoln said, “A house divided against itself cannot stand.” And as every annoying reality show contestant says, “Ride or die.”

If you love the idea of America, get off your ass. Whether you are an overwhelmed soccer mom or a teenage anarchist, this is go time. There is no “freedom” under authoritarian rule. Just ask Russia. We must do everything. We must do everything to stop Trump to save America. This Memorial Day for all those brave soldiers who fought fascism 80 years ago, let’s do this.

I Would Have Hated the Beatles in 1964, or How My Daughter Made Me a Taylor Swift Fan in 2024

~ Randy Blazak ~ 4 Comments

May 4, 2024

If I was my current age in 1964, as Beatlemania swept America, I would have absolutely hated the Fab Four. I would have been a 60-year-old jazz purist, dedicated to be-bop, hard-bop, and post-pop. I wouldn’t have had time for West Coast bop (sorry Brubeck), let alone mop top non-bop. I would have taken one look at the grinning lads from Liverpool, surrounded by millions of screaming girls, while they did their white people version of the Isley Brothers’ “Twist and Shout,” and turned up my nose. “That’s pre-packaged bubblegum. I listen to serious music, like Miles and Trane,” I would have said.

Turns out those millions of teenage girls were right.

I’m not making that mistake 60 years later. I am fully in the grip of Swiftmania and I have my 9-year-old daughter to thank for it.

I’m deep in the bag for TS. The haters are the people who knee-jerk react to the trope that “Popular = Bad.” After all, the masses are asses, as L7 sang. Anything as massive as Taylor Swift must suck. That’s the same thing they said about the Beatles in 1964, who clogged up the pop charts with their “Yeah, yeah, yeahs!” But here’s the thing. You can dig L7 (and the Yeah! Yeah! Yeahs! and Miles and Coltrane) AND Taylor Swift. Tay is on my playlists next to punk bands like Destiny Bond and jazz freaks like Sun Ra. I’m not going to let your hipster elitism deny me the appreciation of this crazy trip, especially when it is being led by my Swiftie 4th grader.

Like a lot of people, I drug my heals on the Taylor Train. I prefer Tuareg music from Mali over the American Top 40. But her 2022 lofi dream pop album, Midnights, caught my attention. It took me to some unexpected places that I missed from my youth (like the sound of the wind down at 3 am). But it was when Cozy, my always enthusiastic about something daughter, switched her attention from the Animal Crossing video game to Taylor Swift that I bought my ticket onboard the Swift Express.

Cozy’s cohort followed mine in many ways. In third grade, it was all about the songs. “Cruel Summer,” always got a, “Turn it up, Dad” in the car. (For me it was “Burning Love,” by Elvis Presley.) Fourth grade is more about the artist. Cozy’s girl gang has lots of Taylor Talk before, during, and after school. (By the end of 4th grade, I’d seen most of Elvis’ 33 movies.) The Eras tour sweatshirts are like their team jerseys. Cozy makes song bracelets in hopes that one day she’ll be able to trade them at an actual concert. She’s made her bedroom into a shrine to Taylor with taped up magazine pictures and a rotating “Top 13” favorite song list. (13 is a magical number in Taylor-world.) At 13, my room was split between shrines to Kiss and the Beatles. She falls asleep each night to the TS CD’s I’ve loaded into her mother’s ancient iMac computer. And I assume all her friends live in a similar Taylor bubble.

Cozy’s fanaticism is infectious. She knows every Swift lyric, including to the “Anthology” version songs on Swift’s new album. She knows the outfits of the Eras tour including the “22 hat.” (I have no idea, but she tells me she’s going to show me a YouTube video that explains it.) When the new album, The Tortured Poets Department, dropped at 9 pm on April 18th, we sat together as it streamed into our lives. The next day we raced to the record store to pick up a vinyl copy and record a review for my YouTube channel. That night, her crew had a Swiftie listening party where all the girls dressed as a different era. Thanks to her mom’s make-up skills, Cozy nailed the Reputation look. I don’t know what would be the 1964 version of that, but I’d like to think 4th grade Randy (Ringo’s Version) would have most certainly been combing his hair forward.

It might be different if this was 1997 and I had a nine-year-old who was gaga over the Backstreet Boys. Taylor Swift is an insanely talented artist. Like Paul McCartney, she could sneeze and a brilliant song would come out. Like Bob Dylan, she can take the story of her life, slam words together, and create poetry that we will be analyzing for generations. If you don’t believe me, listen to Dylan’s 1975 track, “Tangled Up in Blue,” written after his separation from his wife Sara, and then the ten minute version of Swift’s “All Too Well,” written after her break up with Jake Gyllenhaal, and tell me they don’t fit together like two socks in a drawer. But because Swift is a young woman (and blonde and thin) her artistry is dismissed. There are plenty of music lovers who extol Joni Mitchell in 2024, who also derided her in 1970 for trying to “be Dylan.” I don’t know what will be seen as “classic” in 2074, but, if there is radio 50 years from now, “Cruel Summer” and the dozens of other Swift hits will be playing to welcoming ears of Gen Z elders and their mutant children.

The mission now is to get Cozy to a Taylor Swift concert. Taylor is playing at Wembley Stadium in London (where I saw Live Aid in 1985) on Cozy’s birthday on August 17th. The cheapest, behind the stage, tickets start at $1200. Tickets to see the Beatles in 1964 were five bucks. For the price of one Taylor Swift ticket I could have bought 240 Beatle tickets. (Yes, I did the math.) I’ve entered contests, bugged friends in London, and watched StubHub like a lunatic. I want Cozy to have this experience. She even described seeing Taylor in concert with her mom and dad as her “perfect day” in a recent family therapy session. When I was her age, my parents took me to see Elvis Presley and it turned me inside out. So, somehow, this will happen.

All this is just a truckload of fun. It’s as much about Cozy’s joy as it is about the wonderful music that Taylor Swift makes. Yes, some of those songs make me cry (“All You Had to Do Was Stay” was written about my own break up, I’m convinced). But I’ll remember (all too well) dancing in the kitchen with my kid to “Shake it Off” and re-discovering the way music can completely consume you. I have my Beatlemania thanks to Cozy. And I’m screaming my lungs out.