Bastards of Young — The Replacements
#365Songs: October 2nd
God, what a mess, on the ladder of success
Where you take one step and miss the whole first rung
Dreams unfulfilled, graduate unskilled
It beats pickin’ cotton and waitin’ to be forgotten
Last night’s Vice Presidential Debate won’t linger too long in the broader scope of our abused attention spans, but the spectacle was quite fascinating nonetheless — for a few reasons. It’s been a long time since we’ve witnessed a polite, cordial interaction between political parties. The two men—both small town Midwesterners—commended one another, verbally agreed when their body language suggested otherwise, and even gathered briefly post-debate with their partners. What was once a norm has become, in the Trump era, an unexpected sight. You have to journey back to Obama / Romney in 2012 to find a similar moment.
We are the sons of no one, bastards of young
We are the sons of no one, bastards of young
The daughters and the sons
If you listened closely to the “undecided” voters’ read on the debate, it was clear this was very much appreciated. JD Vance proved to be an effective sociopath, flashing a Midwestern charm and politeness that fooled the masses into believing he was a decent human being after releasing 2016’s Hillbilly Elegy. And that leads to my first hot take: the far-Right flame-throwing ass-licking MAGA Nazi version of Vance who’s been making waves on the campaign trail might’ve hurt Trump had that version shown up for the debate, but it likely would’ve been the more effective strategy. The ‘Midwestern Nice’ display simply reminded sane-minded American people that Trump’s brand of divisive name-calling pulls us apart far more than we need to be. By contrasting Trump, Vance inadvertently illustrated the pre- and post-Trump political climate.
But as with everything, there’s two sides to that problem. And that leads to my second point: JD Vance is far scarier than Donald Trump. With his cult leader eyes, debate-club eloquence, and Midwestern ‘aw-shucks pal’ lingo, Vance can almost make you forget that he’s about to strip away your most precious rights.
Clean your baby womb, trash that baby boom
Elvis in the ground, there’ll ain’t no beer tonight
Income tax deduction, what a hell of a function
It beats pickin’ cotton and waitin’ to be forgotten
‘Midwestern Nice’ is beautiful, in theory, but it’s not as it seems. These are often false gestures that present a distorted vision of the Midwest, a reimagining of truths that aren’t quite so true when you dig a little deeper. Vance’s brand of kindness masks his true intentions, whereas Tim Walz’s politeness validates and legitimizes another’s worst behaviors while leaving room for falsehoods to normalize.
I wrote my critical thesis in art school about subtext, the distance between what we say and how we say it. Growing up in the Midwest taught me there’s an extreme difference between the two forms of communication, a contradiction of intent, and it’s perhaps why it’s the country’s most misunderstood region. Racism lives underneath forced smiles, rage resides within a tight-gripped handshake, misogyny thrives in lines like “I think there’s so much we can do on the public-policy front just to give women more options” when spoken in soft tones in perfect light as the eyeliner softens a terrible man’s cold blue eyes.
We are the sons of no one, bastards of young
We are the sons of no one, bastards of young
The daughters and the sons
Unwillingness to claim us, ya got no word (war?) to name us
Trump exposed the Midwest for what it is: small towns fearful of progress, Christians misinterpreting the Bible while demonizing those their Jesus cared for the most, armed mobs of angry White men protecting their own self interests at the expense of the Other. He revealed the anger and self-righteousness, the bullying nastiness in the repetition of slandering nicknames, the misplaced Patriotism as so many of them now fly a false flag at half-mast while storming against the very institutions they claim to love most.
A distorted vision of the Midwest was on full display last night, on both sides. Walz was the kind neighbor, politely commending the worst person in the room at the expense of the rest of us — even as his dour bulldog expressions suggested worry, anxiety, and discomfort. And Vance was the charismatic Willy Loman walking door-to-door selling a bullshit rendition of the American Dream.
We are the sons of no one, bastards of young
We are the sons of no one, bastards of young
The daughters and the sons
Unwillingness to claim us, ya got no word (war?) to name us
The ones who love us best are the ones we’ll lay to rest
And visit their graves on holidays at best
The ones who love us least are the ones we’ll die to please
If it’s any consolation, I don’t begin to understand them
I love The Replacements, and their grand opus Bastards of Young, and while the lyrics are a pitch-perfect display of the Midwest’s punk underbelly, I don’t align with that last lyric. I DO understand Midwesterns, now more than ever. Sometimes we need to leave a place and go back to see things for what they are, to truly see people for how they behave. So many of us Midwestern expats who moved to the coasts heard the alarms in mid-2016, saw the unleashed rage, the cult centering around its new leader. We knew the moment we heard Hillary’s use of the word, “deplorables,” that she’d lose those key swing states, and that the burning fire made space for outsiders like Trump to swoop in and feast on the collective anger. We knew before anyone that Trump would win.
For every JD Vance there are a dozen Tim Walz types sitting in corporate diners, standing on sidelines, and manning the summer BBQ. Those friendly uncles and memorable teachers who say the right things, smile, nod and pep talk us about how great the Midwest is, working hard to make space for everyone. And perhaps that worked just fine decades ago, when the regions were thriving economic hubs for blue collar workers, but that time is long ago and far away. In some ways, Tim Walz’s genuine kindness is as toxic as JD Vance’s false version.
The New Yorker version of Tim Walz would’ve won that debate in the first five minutes. Cut straight to the point, call out the lies. Want manufacturing to come back from China, better jobs, fair benefits, and higher wages? Cold turkey that Walmart habit. Think illegal immigrants are stealing your jobs and buying those affordable homes? Go apply for that job and see how much it pays. Worried about censorship? Stop banning books. Think Haitians are eating your pet? Prove it or shut the fuck up, you racist prick.
Don’t get me wrong. I like Tim Walz. He’s the perfect counter to Trump, the nice neighbor full of wisdom and kind gestures. But when contrasted to Vance, it’s not so easy to tell the difference when you’re not so familiar with the Midwestern ways. And that’s exactly what happened last night.
We are the sons of no one, bastards of young
We are the sons of no one, bastards of young
The daughters and the sons
Young…take it, it’s yours…
~
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