Of all the masking tribes (full-timers, in-passing-ers, no-maskers, noseys, etc.) the least explicable to me are the “tippers.” There’s a mask around the neck & a gesture is made sort of akin to the last days of hat tipping: Just … brushing it with the fingertips in passing.

After exhausting all available What We Do in the Shadows, Last Kingdom, For All Mankind, and Servant, we’ve moved on to a rewatch of Mad Men.

A few notes at about ¾ through S1:

It is both harder to watch and easier to watch than it was when it first came out, in 2007. It turns out a lot can happen in 14 years in terms of sensitization, for me anyhow.

What’s harder: There are small moments I simply didn’t register in 2007 that are so much more obvious to me now. The men in the office are more menacing. Their over-sexed leering isn’t what’s new to me … it’s the quieter moments, when a woman walks into a room full of men and they have this predatory glint. It’s knowing Joan Holloway’s arc ahead of time. And it’s knowing that while the social order may gain in dynamism season over season, the nauseating core of the show is that every twist, turn, and threat to the existing hierarchy will be absorbed and repurposed into consumerism’s many distracting spectacles. Everything sincere will be punctured, sucked dry, stuffed with gears, and mounted on the walls of the fun house. In the first nine episodes, I’ve had so many moments of low, gut-churning dread. In one episode, I said to Alison “there’s a Chekov’s gun thing going on here, but the gun isn’t that gun on the screen … it’s Pete and his curdled entitlement.”

The thing that makes it easier to watch is that its popular culture moment has passed. I commented to Alison that it is an easier show to accept when there’s not a full “Mad Men Collection” window display downtown at Nordstrom’s, exhorting people to dress like their favorite office predator. Without the miasma of marketing tie-ins and Facebook avatars, it stands more alone, and I have less doubt about the creator’s intent. I’m not required to grapple with the moral vacuity of the marketing effort, which wanted to make the shared cultural experience one of nostalgia for an era and style, eliding the show’s underlying themes of alienation, emptiness, precarity, and sheer, grinding injustice.

Maybe not good bedtime reading, but good reading.

evening stroll to Woodstock with the Funleader. “Five-mile walk after work? Sure!” wasn’t really super common before this past year.

Today had a few moment of “this is weird” so I put on the Funleader 18 and got out while the sun was getting low and went with the weird.

Wahkeena Falls Trail, Multnomah Falls, East Wind Drive-In

Floodplain, a little better

Floodplain

Shot #2 is in my arm. The National Guard private who took my info had a 13-year-old address on record for me. I corrected it and said “this is why the thought of a one-world government doesn’t scare me” and she snorted.

How to keep me from making a purchase: show me your entire product line with $500 between the bottom and top, and describe every. single. product. in. it. as “the ultimate in performance.”

It’s either great or tragic that I left marketing.

Pretty day at Yaquina Lighthouse and tide pools

Hobbit Beach, near Heceta Head

“Twitter is a machine for directing self-righteous anger, and it fires all day, every day, whether the targets are deserving or not.” —John Gruber

I would offer some qualifications, because Twitter is at a scale where there sort of isn’t one Twitter, the same way there’s not really one “Internet.” But there is this aspect of it that approaches unavoidable sometimes. As a friend put it yesterday, “I hate seeing names on trending, because it means they’re either dead or did something terrible,” to which I added “… and when they’re dead, it means we’re probably going to find out they did something terrible in short order.” (And either way, if you had to go to a wake every single day, it would start getting hard to go to wakes.)

I know there’s a school of thought that says “you should want to know that,” and I am not going to write the thousands of words it would take to establish why I take some issue with that.

Instead, I’ll offer that one way to dampen the anger machine aspects of Twitter is to:

  1. Follow everyone you know.
  2. As a general practice, confine people you don’t know to lists instead of your friends. If you break this rule, unbreak it as soon as someone you don’t know gives you cause to regret your trust in them.
  3. Get a Twitter client that can filter, and make a filter that removes RTs, quotes, and @’s.

You can selectively disable retweets for individual follows without a special client, but that’s too fiddly for me. Instead, I have Tweetbot set up to filter out everything that isn’t “someone I know using their own words to talk about something.” That effectively makes Twitter about as reasonable as the people I follow, and since I largely stick to rule #1 up there, it means Twitter is about as reasonable as the people I know.

I know there’s another school of thought that considers this a squandered opportunity … an invitation to fall into an epistemic trap. For people who are cognitively and temperamentally wired up to treat Twitter as their front door, that’s great and please do go on. I don’t think I owe Twitter or its denizens unfettered access to my time and attention, and that’s not something I could tolerate. There are better ways for me to absorb a diverse set of viewpoints for me.

Elsewhere in my media diet

I think it’s a sign of my own slow return to merely “whelmed” that I’ve allowed Apple News back into my media diet. I still block sites pretty ruthlessly when I think they’re wasting my time, but I appreciate having an option that’s sort of a very pretty RSS reader with a “shuffle” button to go with my more carefully curated Reeder list. Now that Reeder has its own sync back-end, I’ve dropped Feedly.

I’ve also, finally, let podcasts enter my consciousness. A list of regular listens:

And I’ll mention the Slate Political Gabfest, but of all these I find this one the most alienating. It is the professional managerial class embodied. Reading Fear of Falling and The Virtue Hoarders helped me understand why I feel so antagonized and irritable after listening to this, but I do listen because it is also a fine encapsulation of maybe 85 percent of the modern Democratic voter coalition, from its “soft left” wing to its right.

Anyhow, that’s my media brain these days.

Xoco Coco!

I’ve bought enough camping gear lately that the advertising algorithms are starting to push 5 gallon barrels of dehydrated survival chow on the off chance I’m actually a prepper.

Windmills

Rufus Landing and Deschutes Canyon Loop Trail, Columbia River Gorge

The Soapstone Lake trail, a few miles south of Hwy 26 on the way home from the coast.

Walk along the Nehalem Bay spit

Snowy Plovers

Manzanita Sunset

Assorted sights on Crescent Beach at Ecola State Park

Assorted creatures on Crescent Beach at Ecola State Park

Headed to the coast for a long birthday weekend. Trading the watch that goes bing and reminds me of meetings for the one that … doesn’t.

Possibly the best birthday card ever.