Vital—Grouper

#365Songs: November 20th

Vital, vital, vital
Vital, vital, vital
Died by the stairs
He’s the man who, …together in space
Searching my soul…
Breaking it all forever in me
By the boat, by the boat …this far away
Follow this … lead, I pray
Vital, vital, vital
Vital, vital, vital

Years ago, on a long drive from Cleveland to Boston, I was listening to an old radio show called Coast to Coast AM with Art Bell. I preferred driving through the long stretches of nowhere deep in the night, alongside the fellow insomniacs and wired up truckers. Smoking cigarettes with the windows down, as the miles passed, set to the soundtrack of Art’s kooky ghost stories and conspiracy theories— a pre-social media Q-Anon, long before misinformation could spread in minutes. From his castle in the high desert near Area 51, he’d interview paranormalists, kooky bar professors, the alien abducted, ghost hunters, and the sorts of anti-government militia men who’ve been normalized in Trump’s America.

To quote myself, “Spend enough time in the desert you’ll believe just about anything.”

Or, if you’re tired, delirious, and lost in the middle of nowhere too late at night, alone, thankful to hear other voices. Endlessly amusing, sometimes terrifying, Art Bell was always the second best stimulant to caffeine.

On one of those drives, Art interviewed the late great George Carlin, who still retains the status as America’s finest social critic. The older Carlin got the more poignant and political he became, and an interview or comedy special would turn into a long, brilliant, flawless rant that would weave together all the threads of our broken culture. On this particular night, he expressed to Art that he loves natural disasters, major accidents, and mass catastrophes because it’s the only time he could retain any hope in humanity. The way everyone activates, strangers rushing into danger to save one another. For some, sadly, proximity to another’s pain is the only imaginable way that pain can exist at all.

Of course I don’t hope for hurricanes, earthquakes, terrorist attacks, or a fallen asteroid, but I do desperately crave that feeling Carlin refers to, some sign that empathy exists at all.

A year or two after that episode, 9/11 happened. I was living in Cambridge at the time, and I experienced that exact moment when everyone’s eyes met, when, for just a day, we all sort of just cared about one another. And it all made sense, Carlin’s words. November 9th, 2016 was the only other time I felt that way—in the Bay Area, at least.

Anthony Bourdain thrived during the years between those two events, urging us all to share a meal with a stranger, reminding us that our differences disappear when bread is broken together. I believed it so much I spent almost eight years spreading a similar message as a travel writer and storyteller for Airbnb. I heard thousands of true stories over those years that validated this belief, proving that yes, we are just humans wandering around in search of connection, and it’s possible with just about anyone when you’re open to it.

I’m not so sure I believe that anymore.

Art Bell, George Carlin, and Anthony Bourdain are all dead.
And so is empathy.

Last night, America’s most punchable Christian, otherwise known as Speaker of the House Mike Johnson, passed a policy banning trans women from using Capitol restrooms. The same restrooms used by the sexual predators, pedophiles, insurrectionists, and serial rapists nominated for Trump’s Cabinet.

In a conversation with a family member this evening, I was told, “The only thing you should be concerned about is what you have control over.”

There’s not much difference between those two events, despite one being more egregious than the other. Whether you’re the perpetrator, policy maker, or sympathizer, you’re still a part of the same system normalizing the minimization of another’s experience.

Let’s face it: empathy is dead. Or, perhaps rather than dead, empathy has been weaponized. “He sees us,” says the Blue Collar Trump voter. “He protects unborn babies,” says the faux Christian who just voted to ban health care for queer families. “He’s protecting our borders,” says the first generation immigrant. “He’s keeping men out of women’s sports,” says every man who has never watched a women’s sporting event.

And that’s the problem: we can’t see someone else’s pain when we’re only focusing on our own, when we’re sitting around waiting for some savior to transfer it from us to someone else.

That’s America today. We don’t heal pain, or solve problems, we simply shift the pain around, lift one group by demonizing another.

Art Bell’s show was a mainstay during a very different time in American history, but what made him popular, what made him entertaining, was that he always tried to unmask the bogeyman, that nefarious spirit who perpetuated our collective misery. What made that Carlin episode so memorable, so timely to our today, was that the bogeyman wasn’t an alien, government agency, or disgruntled ghost, it was us. It was always us.

He’s the man who, …together in space
Searching my soul…
Breaking it all forever in me
By the boat, by the boat …this far away
Follow this … lead, I pray

~

Start following the #365Songs playlist today, and listen to each new song with each new article!

Follow me on Substack: https://thefogandthefury.substack.com/