Thanks to all y’all for putting up with my Cali vacation, which you’ll be happy to know included the requisite recipience of Chaya Leah Sufrin’s Shabbat generosity (pictured). Special shout-out to C.L.’s husband and parents, who continue to be very good-natured about the freakshow portal that came in through the bathroom window. If you would have told me eight years ago that I’d be breaking challah bread (or as Coco calls it, “Chaya Leah bread”) on the semi-regular with people I met because of a podcast, well, I would have checked myself into one of Ben Dreyfuss’s special vacation spots. Thank the Flying Spaghetti Monster for life’s rich surprises, and I cannot encourage enough more Fifdom Shabbateria worldwide. Now, onward and upward with the weekend links!
* Speaking of the second-ranked Democratic presidential candidate, he has been making quite the podcasty/libertariany rounds, so much so that our pal Nellie Bowles, in her always-great Free PressTGIF newsletter, wrote this week that “The rasping warble of RFK Jr.’s voice on podcast after podcast in my house (of horrors) has effectively weaseled its way into my mind enough that I’m in the anxious-avoidant stage with vaccines, where I tell the pediatrician don’t tell me what shots you’re giving, just do it fast. I myself just got the chickenpox vaccine and now keep asking people if my eyes are twitching. I’m not saying I’m necessarily against an RFK Jr. presidency, but I am saying that his impact on me (a conspiracy theorist) is so far very bad.” The would-be Dot-Connector in Chief is out there wooing the pricklies at PorcFest, polishing his pearlies for FreedomFest, and taking on some Reasonrapid fire this week from Zach Weismueller and Nick Gillespie (Special Dispatch #72, #379):
* The subject of RFK tends to produce plenty of journalistic froth, so I was gratified to read this pretty good Michelle Goldberg piece in The New York Times reporting from the candidate’s wellspring of support.
The culture wars within sports now refuse to be compartmentalized. You might want to just watch the games, but broader forces are interested in using them. One side is winning this game of presenting the game. It’s the side that, a generation ago, happened to be losing. […]
If you did live through the early 2000s, you might recall a level of jingoistic fervor that we haven’t come close to since. You might remember a moment when George W. Bush was immensely popular and fêted by the sorts of publications that now regard basic Republicans as moral freaks. And, perhaps you’ll recall the role that sports played in manufacturing consent for the right.
Take this bizarre scene from Jon Krakauer’s Where Men Win Glory: The Odyssey of Pat Tillman, one in which an NFL game is held up just so George W. Bush can broadcast a war rally speech in front of a rapturous stadium:
At 1:00 p.m., as the players from both teams stood on the field before the opening kickoff, a surreal image of George W. Bush materialized above them on the stadium’s JumboTron. Dressed in a dark suit, with a red tie, sitting in the White House Treaty Room with an American flag behind his right shoulder, the president pronounced, “Good afternoon.” “On my orders, the United States military has begun strikes against al-Qaeda terrorist training camps and military installations of the Taliban regime in Afghanistan.”
I recently received a touching letter that says a lot about the state of America in these difficult times — a letter from a 4th-grade girl, with a father in the military: “As much as I don’t want my Dad to fight,” she wrote, “I’m willing to give him to you.”
And the crowd fucking loved it.
* I sincerely hope none of you people are traveling by air during this extended Fourth of July period. If so, I can speak from experience: “Government Ruins Yet Another Holiday Travel Weekend: Phantom thunderstorms scotch thousands of flights, because the FAA sucks.”
* Alert listener Ameya Agaskar writes in with some fun news from the community (I have added links and bolding):
The unofficial Fifth Column book club is lively as ever, and we recently finished reading Kat Rosenfield's latest novel, You Must Remember This, as an interlude between the two halves of Stalin's War. We invited her to our little Zoom discussion and were thrilled that she could make it. I am now compelled to inform you that you need to have her on the pod—we checked and were shocked to learn that she has never been on. What are you doing?!
* On M.O. #171 I mentioned a Portlandia sketch about Colin the free-range chicken; thanks to Bored Nihilist for the link:
* Comments were a bit stabby of late, not gonna lie. This week’s winner therefore goes to some kindler, gentler commentary from Not a True Scotsman, whose kitchen musta gotten pretty stanky these past days:
I'm embarrassed to admit this, but I pretty much only do dishes when listening to TFC. I'm usually good at pacing out episodes: 20 minutes here, 10 minutes there. Sometimes though, after a long TFC draught, I'll start to panic and wonder if I'll have dishes pile up and no means to clean them.
(I'm around 75% joking)
Outro, predictable enough, is a timely reminder that 1978 was just about the peak for unsexy pop/rock acts with impressively proficient musical chops:
My kitchen is clean again. Thanks, lads! ❤️
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So when is Kat going to be on the pod?