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The Way We Were

It was some effect, that Streisand Effect. I was under the mistaken impression that it meant whatever annoys Barbra Streisand most is bumped to the top of Google searches. Technically, I was wrong. But interestingly, the searches turn out the same either way. I’m calling this the Monaco Effect, which up to this point had something to do with Formula One race cars.

What an age we’re living in. I’ve been cranking out these blog posts for a long while now and chalk my scribbling longevity up mostly to misplaced narcissism. But I’ve also been careful to keep my themes consistent with the rhetorical question (and titular qualifier) “Who Asked Me?” Truly, nobody gives a shit what anybody else thinks unless it’s that you’re unusually intelligent, attractive, or funny. So I’ve written a lot about sports, people, and music. Where I do brush up against the political, I tend to couch my opinions in concessions to what I imagine to be the opposition view. Or I simply lean into humor, or what passes as such for me. The public figures I’ve admired have tended to be publicly apolitical. I don’t think it’s terribly difficult to tell where someone is coming from, but I may be wrong. There have been rare moments in my life where I’ve confided a true take to someone who has known me for a long while and have been amazed by the reaction.

Never have such revelations been more volatile. I was at a small party a long while back in New York, speaking to two young dudes who were recent Julliard graduates. I mentioned that I preferred the Kinks to the Beatles and their response was beyond insulting, bordering on challenging, or even threatening. A friend of mine was at a costume party in San Francisco some years back, dressed as Joe DiMaggio. A young guy came up to him and said “I know this is a costume party, but I’m a Red Sox fan, and just seeing you wear that Yankees cap makes me want to punch you in the face.” Both these incidents involve male stupidity, but there is very much a female and inter-sexual equivalent. And there is a precise political parallel.

The thing is, it feels good to win. It feels good to have our opinions or identity validated and to see those who mock that identity crushed. Even when we stay quiet or ‘fake it’ in a practiced, stealth manner, we’re not immune to this very human truth. It’s inescapable and seemingly unavoidable. And while it’s legitimate to point out that this self-validating, victorious feeling often dissipates quickly, it would be disingenuous to claim that it’s inconsequential or doesn’t return.

I can’t recall a time that was riper for conspiracy theories. Tin-foil hat sales are through the roof. To argue that it’s some kind of mass hysteria is to discount the reality of diametrically opposed versions of the “truth” being asserted daily. This is the Grand Paradox of the information age. Where we may have assumed that more people having access to more information at greater speed emboldens a democracy, there’s a key addendum: More people are being fed disinformation, more channels are being suppressed, and all of it is happening exponentially faster and on an unimaginably larger scale. Still, the Streisand Effect is real and people will get at what you try to obscure or hide.

Billy Joe Shaver died last night. How’s that for a non-sequitur. The thing is, he was one of the greatest songwriters of all time, yet many don’t know his work. I’d urge anyone unfamiliar to listen to “Ragged Old Truck,” or “I’m Just An Old Chunk Of Coal,” or “You Just Can’t Beat Jesus Christ.” These are works of art. This is all I’m certain of anymore. And those guys at the party can go fuck themselves — Ray Davies rules.

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