Author George Saunders is much in the news of late, chatting up the press in preparation for going on tour to promote his latest book, “Virgil,” due out later this month.
Speaking with The Guardian, Saunders said he was still trying to decide how to speak about politics when he hits the road. Preaching to the converted feels “a little too good, like it’s too much sugar,” he said, adding that while his nature is to seek peace, “that’s dangerous right now because I don’t want to be a peacemaker for this regime.”
I’m not a celebrated author, prepping for a book tour, or a Tibetan Buddhist. I blog irregularly and without distinction, the only tours I take are by Subaru, and the only thing I’m promoting is my own mental health. My devotion to Zen is sporadic at best.
But I sure dig where Saunders is coming from when he says The Work is the thing.
The one thing I’m doubling down on is: just keep making fictive worlds. Improve the quality of your thought, improve the quality of your compassion, by that sacramental exercise, then whatever you have to do you’ll be better equipped.
It reminds me of the Zen proverb, “Before enlightenment, chop wood, carry water. After enlightenment, chop wood, carry water.” Also, and too, of the Epistle of James, which goes, “For as the body without the spirit is dead, so faith without works is dead also.”
And I was pleasantly surprised to see Saunders prescribe a spoonful of sugar to help his medicine go down: “Also start weightlifting, build a machine-gun turret. …”
Sounds like the right sort of work for an old blogger short on faith as the reign of His Excremency Donald the Dozy barrels along unhindered. We’re running out of water to carry in the Southwest, and we don’t burn wood. But you never know when a buffed-up bod’ and a machine-gun turret are liable to come in handy.
Mad Blog Media 
I’m starting to think that my friend Mackenzie Allen had the right idea: sold his house outside Santa Fe and moved to France. Perhaps being an expat ain’t a bad idea right now.
For the rest of us, range practice and that machine gun turret might come in handy. What was that book? Zen and the Art of Assault Rifle Maintenance?
Plenty of people go that route, for sure. Two of my cartooning heroes, Robert Crumb and Gilbert Shelton among them. We know a couple from here who beat it for France a few years back. Andrew Hood from VeloNews has lived in Spain since forever. I think my old race-promoter buddy Brook Watts may be fulltime in Mexico now.
I’m not there yet. We have Miss Mia Sopaipilla to think about. And something feels wrong about just packing up and taking it on the lam. The old man and his brother did their bit in World War II, and mom’s dad served in WWI. I can’t know what motivated them, but if it was that they felt this country — or even the simple idea of it — was worth defending, I’d feel kinda bad about going all like, “Nope, see ya, woon’t wanna be ya.”
So I guess I gotta hang around, work on the machine-gun turret between blog posts. Sucks to be me.
You have NO idea how many times I wished the fishing rod tubes on my roof rack were missile launchers. Especially coming up behind a loud diesel pickup covered in MAGA stickers and their maddening “patriot” flags. I’d love to launch a Patriot right up their oversized tailpipe. But no, I just grimace as they speed off “rolling coal” and just wait for the day….
Oh, yeah. Many’s the time I’ve envisioned myself putting the Subie on cruise control, standing with one foot on each front seat and my head and shoulders through the moon roof, chambering a round in the Ruger Mini-Thirty with its 30-round mag’ (which I no longer have), and taking aim at some declaration of idiocy attached to the vehicle dead ahead.
Well. A can of spray foam with the tip held open with a piece of tape will easily slide down inside of the exhaust of many obnoxious vehicles. A broom stick or flagging stake will help to insure more effective insertion. Of course, after about 30 seconds, removal of said spray can and it’s now hardening components will not be so easy. Because most of said vehicles operate on a fuel that does not ignite easily, the startling backfire at the intake of the engine will not occur, unless the operator tries to use some starting fluid to get their trumpean beast started. Many hours shall be involved in head scratching and subsequent exhaust reaming cussing. Sadly the nom de crayon of the buffoon in chief will likely not be part of the profane auditory.
Note that the application of such task is better to perform on one of those heavy snowfall nights when the quietude of the moment aids in discretion and the downfall of such precipitation buries the prior evidence of any act.
I just want all of the Epstein files. And, Europe to gradually stop importing American made products and services. This needs to seriously fuck up our economy to wake the stupid and ignorant up. Meanwhile, China and Russia abide with a smile.
Since 1987 we’ve gone from “Tear down this wall!” to “Build the wall!”
I wonder how many undocumented immigrants worked on our little wall project. …
Meanwhile, the wall around the Epstein files remains substantial. I guess white people can still make stuff. Who knew?
Yep, paper tigers in congress. Chump and his minions tell them to piss off, and they confer, all year. I know impeaching a president is a really big deal. Impeaching an Attorney General and FBI Director for contempt of Congress isn’t so much, and it would be a nice shot across the bow to get the man child’s attention. Just tell chump that Kennedy and Noem are next.
As far as moving to a foreign land, I guess Vietnam is nice this time of year. It’s certainly much better than the last time I was there. And they are building a new golf course.