*I started this – meant to be a murder mystery – in 2010-ish. Maybe I’ll get back to it. Thanks for being here, and for reading!
1985
The girl – a young woman actually – had always imagined it might happen, but never really thought it would. She had a vivid imagination, ever since she was a child given to nightmares and later to intense bouts of dark inflected storytelling, some of which disturbed her teachers in the upper grades of the small rural school she attended. She’d often walked her dog across this section of the park, through the woods, wishing and dreaming she were back on the farm of her childhood, a property her mother had sold several years before, after her father’s death, but she knew she was not. She was not, and never again would be, at home; she was in the city, in Central Park, and if she stopped for a moment, letting the crunching sound of her footsteps in the brush fade away, the vibrating yelp of horns, the unnatural hum of park drive traffic, and the distant wail of emergency vehicle sirens wafted within earshot even here, surrounded by trees, a place where the city completely disappeared from view.
She lived on 106th Street between Amsterdam and Manhattan Avenues, in a small apartment up five flights of steep, filthy stairs. The building had no super; the front door hadn’t locked in years, but her two bedroom apartment was so cheap she felt, and was, trapped there, renting the second bedroom out for the full amount she paid the landlord. This gave her a cushion for her various fits and starts in the world of business and the arts; she was, she admitted it freely, lost and floundering, trying to find herself by trying anything, everything, short of – well. Short of prostitution. A prostitute, blond and about her age, lived on the next block, and she felt at times the other short distances between them. She felt too much, thought too much; she liked to joke she was twenty-five going on fifty.
She rarely met anyone in the Park, which, at this end, was deemed too risky to visit by most park users, even those who, like the girl, lived nearby. This made her feel both safer and less safe all at once yet with her dog, a large German Shepard mutt who was a complete sweetheart despite its gaping canine grin, she knew no one would approach her, although, occasionally, a man would flash his penis at her from afar. This kind of spontaneous and unwelcome ‘sharing’ made her angry and amused her all at the same time; she wondered what the thrill was, what the motivation was, for this flashing or whatever it was called. It had happened to her in vintage movie houses, at bus stops on the Upper East Side, while riding in a cab simply gazing out the window, or sitting on a bus.
Was it, she wondered, her age, her red hair and freckle-faced wide-eyed innocence, her merely being female? Or perhaps these men saw and smelt the scent of an outsider, a girl born and raised in the country, and seeing this they were liberated, free to display themselves to her because, she jokingly pondered, she would not by a long shot know their mothers?
Yet when the imagined thing happened, it was not exactly as she had thought it would be, and she did not react immediately when her dog, Darcy, began worrying at something in the brush. ‘Darcy – get over here! Darcy!’, but she would not come. And so the young woman proceeded to pull the dog leash from her pocket, walking to the place where the mutt, named for Austen’s hero, of course, was snorting and snuffling like another creature entirely.
And there he was, not as she had imagined him, a man, a body, with a whole lot of dried blood and a stink like no other she had ever known. A body, dead. She had never imagined the smell, never imagined, really, what she would or might do next. After all, it wasn’t, ever, going to really happen, and now that it had, all she could think of was getting Darcy home: all those fucking stairs, how would she climb them with her heart in her mouth, her stomach cramping and the smell in her nose, that horrible smell.
And then? Then calling the police and never, ever, walking through these woods again. She felt, at that moment, as if she were done with her New York adventure, although, having lived there long enough, she imagined too, a few minutes later, while climbing those goddamned stairs, how this story would play out. She waited tables at Hanratty’s, on the west side, not far from her apartment. Maybe she wouldn’t tell anyone.
*My progressive newspaper opinion column for February, thanks for being here and for reading 🙂
When he was a child, my nephew loved blowing things up. This not uncommon childhood love was satisfied by making potato cannons and rockets, which he then fired toward the school he attended (from afar, mind you). He found this experience very satisfying, including the time he singed his eyebrows.
It’s a youthful thing, taking risks, reveling in making things ‘go boom’. Habits and revels like these among the adult population are, however, signs that we – individually and collectively – have lost the plot, and are operating from a place of dangerous immaturity.
The U.S. has often been described as an adolescent country; in the world of #47, a.k.a. Upside Down World, it sure looks, sounds, and feels like the angriest teens ever have taken over. Insecure, self-serving, sure of themselves and their ‘mandate’, ignoring the input of more experienced humans (what do they know?), awash in hormones (or chemical supplements), quick to anger at perceived enemies, showing off, playing at dominance when challenged, bullying and claiming ownership of smaller adolescents’ belongings, engaging in petty acts of revenge…sound familiar?
Upside Down World is where the Gulf of Mexico and Mt. Denali undergo name changes not on anyone’s list of priorities; it’s a world where trans humans don’t exist, nor do federal protections for women, disabled people, and persons of color within the government’s hiring and contracting processes. Upside Down World is #47 declaring a ‘state of energy emergency’ when the U.S. is producing more oil and natural gas than any country on earth, while simultaneously attempting to erase incentives and infrastructure funding for solar and wind energy, which are energy sources we also need.
Upside Down World declares an end to constitutionally guaranteed birthright citizenship while asserting that all human life begins at conception, asserting a binary understanding of gender, when – until about 6 weeks after conception – we’re all biological females. Oops! UDW halts all civil rights investigations and cases while forbidding any new investigations into the same at the Department of Justice, while setting convicted insurrectionists – and other violent criminals – free. UDW also stuns with expansionist nightmares, propounding future control of Canada, the Gaza Strip, the Panama Canal, and Greenland.
By the time this column is published, we will have survived the first three weeks of UDW. Is it a coincidence that so many people I know have been feeling sick? Nope. It’s going to be a long 4 years for the grown-ups among us who believe that climate change and science are real while supporting the vital roles NATO, FEMA, WHO, the CDC, and the NIH play. Just because you don’t know what WHO, NATO or the NIH (etc.) do for you, doesn’t mean they aren’t working for your benefit, and mine, every single day. They are.
Winston Churchill said, “You can always count on the Americans to do the right thing, after they have exhausted all the other possibilities.” UDW is exhausting the possibilities, and is just plain exhausting – already! UDW embraces the ‘try anything’ ethos, creating chaos, blowing things up, which satisfies for a moment, but – explosions tend to singe the eyebrows of everyone involved, including those who imagine they’re safe on the sidelines because it’s ‘their team’.
#47’s GOP is out of step with the majority of Americans; it is also anti-democratic, and anti-rule of law. #47 has – along with the breakdown of traditional media, the rise of social media and the accompanying fall of common cause (and, often, common decency) – brought us to a moment where a slim majority of American citizens are convinced it’s okay (might even be fun!) to light our democracy on fire while risking the international rules-based order of the last seventy years.
Upside Down World seeks to resurrect a version of this country that simply no longer exists, and cannot be resurrected: an idealized, one-sided (white and male) mid-twentieth century ‘Christian’ America, when men like Mitch McConnell, Chuck Grassley, and #47 were attaining their long-lost ‘prime’, and, essentially, when women and ‘others’ (wink, wink) knew their place.
Ask the citizens of Gaza, Aleppo, or Mariupol if blowing things up is fun. Ask anyone who has engaged in ground combat if they remember it fondly as an unadulterated good time. The Upside Down United States under #47 is a spoiled teenager, spoiled by that same seventy years of American power, prosperity, and influence. We need to grow up, because our future, and our grandchildren’s futures, demand it.
George Carlin is one of my favorite comedians. In one of his many classic routines, he said, ‘The planet isn’t going anywhere. We are.’ Carlin was right, but only if we keep childishly denying reality, choosing instead to do the hard, slow work of building and cooperating regardless of tribe, including electing better, more thoughtful leaders. They do exist.
*I love birds’ nests, whether in a box, tree or bush. Love. Finding hummingbird nests, which I have done a handful of times over the last decade (not pictured below because so small and elusive) has been a particular joy, so small, so delicately woven, so perfect. Nature is a talented, smart designer, and yes, when I was a kid I really, really wanted to build myself a house of sticks in the woods. Honestly, I still do. I have 12 birdhouses currently on my property, and plan on adding at least four more this year. Diego helps my efforts to support birds by keeping the neighbors cat (grrrrr….) away, and thank goodness for that, as domestic cats, and feral cats – are decimating our bird population. This enrages me, quite frankly, if only because I really love birds, cats DO NOT need to be outside, and do NOT need to supplement their diets with birds – AND, I really don’t like bugs, which make up the largest chunk of birds’ diets. More Birds = Fewer Bugs, y’all, and there is a ton of evidence that tells us bugs and insects far outnumber us, and will survive when we’re all done and dusted. Keep yo’effing cats inside. Grazie!
Before we get to who MK is, let’s start with my opinion, which is whatchur here for, amirite? Michael Knowles, in my considered opinion, whether you’ve heard of him or not, is a total prick brotherfcking asshole. Oh, that feels better! I hadn’t heard of him until a recent appearance on PBS, where – still abiding by the Fairness Doctrine Ronnie Reagan and his administration (a whole other collection of pricks) did away with, and for which we are all paying – he was featured as a counter to their pride coverage, as in Gay Pride. And, I hadn’t heard of him because I don’t live in the mano-sphere or in conservative Catholic circles, places where transphobes, homophobes, and misogynistic pricks like Michael hang, because why TF would I?
Michael Knowles is a mere 34 years old, a graduate of Yale U., white, raised in a wealthy suburb in Westchester County, N.Y.; I have a nephew very like this Knowles prick, also a bulldog, raised in a rich ‘burb outside NYC, ultra-conservative Catholic; we don’t have a relationship. Knowles has got a popular Youtube channel thanks to the world we are now living in where any loser can get followers if they’re persuasive enough. He achieved this ‘success’ after training as an actor in NYC (this makes me so embarrassed for my former profession), and being featured in a few TV and film roles of no note whatsoever, including – verrrrrrry interestingly – a student film at Yale where he played a gay man who seduces another man. Why is that interesting? Well, Mr. Knowles – in the PBS interview, and despite his college role – would not acknowledge that gay humans exist. He would only say that he was aware some same-sex attraction exists, but that it is an ideology not a reality. Ditto trans humans.
I found myself so angry upon watching this privileged young(-ish) Ivy League prick, I could hardly speak, and I am still angry as I write this. Denying the lived reality of other humans, denying science – the interviewer, Amna Nawaz, did a good job of pushing back – enrages me. The actual harmful ideology is his – because denying science and reality leads to real harms, harm to those who are gay, who are trans, and anyone who cares about them. This is what we’re up against, smooth talking haters packaged in the familiar cloth of well-educated white maleness – so familiar except – he’s a nasty piece of work, designed only to promote hate, and cruelty. We need to be aware, and stay angry.
From his wiki page, which I will not link as I have no desire to in anyway gain this asshole clicks even at several arms lengths. “In February 2023, Knowles stated that those who identify as transgender are “laboring under a delusion, and we need to correct that delusion”. At the Conservative Political Action Conference (CPAC) in March (2024), he further stated that “there can be no middle way in dealing with transgenderism”, and “if [transgenderism] is false, then for the good of society, and especially for the good of the poor people who have fallen prey to this confusion, transgenderism must be eradicated from public life entirely – the whole preposterous ideology.” His comments were criticized by people including civil rights attorney Alejandra Caraballo, who interpreted them as “genocidal.” Knowles made legal threats to media outlets which reported that he was calling for the eradication of transgender people or the transgender community, stating that the outlets were being libelous, and that he was referring to “transgenderism” as an ideology; critics considered the distinction meaningless.”
Other than his show at Daily Wire and his YouTube channel, Knowles is probably best known for his best-selling book: Reasons to Vote for Democrats, which was blank. Hilarious. Don’t you just love privileged white-boy pranksters? Not. He might actually be interesting or amusing as a closeted gay man (again, in my opinion) if he weren’t so dangerous because he has a platform, and followers. He’s another metro-sexual Josh Hawley (also closeted, imo) type who seeks the limelight as does the golden ass they all currently worship, #47. So. Who is Michael Knowles? He is the enemy.
*a poem by Jasmin Kaur, about whom you can learn more (a very little) below or (better yet) at https://www.jasminkaur.com
brother
when did you forget
that the walls of
a woman’s body
were once a fortress
protecting you from
a world you were too fragile for?
she has been
defending you
long before you decided
she has no place
defending you
*Jasmin Kaur is a writer, illustrator, and spoken word artist living in Vancouver, BC, Canada. Her writing explores feminism, social empowerment, love, and survival, acting as a means of healing and reclaiming identity. As an arts facilitator and fourth-grade teacher, Jasmin has led creative writing workshops for young people across North America, the UK, and Australia.
