Saturday, June 11th, 2016
The Villages, Sumter County, Florida
United States of America
From the scant research I've done thus far on the "census-designated place" (or CDP) I find myself in known only as The Villages, it's a retirement development community that has, for the most part, sprung into its current iterated existence only in the last 5 or 6 years. It lacks a real municipal government (hence why it is a CDP and not an incorporated municipality), and is headed by the current generation of a rich development family who began with Michigan businessman Harold Schwartz selling tracts of land in the area via mail order. Long story short, the American government passed a law prohibiting the sale of land and real estate through mail order in 1968, which left Schwartz and his business partner, Al Tarrson, with large tracts of land in the area, prompting them to begin the development of a mobile home park in the early 1970's. When, by the 1980's only 400 units had been sold, Schwartz bought out Tarrson's share and brought his son, Harold Gary Morse, on-board in 1983.
Taking the hint that vapid suburban developments are worthless without the filler of hyper-convenient consumer amenities, Morse began to commercially upgrade the sprawling suburbia and created a community endlessly peppered with large tracts of land turned into giant golf courses between streets and neighbourhoods... so much so, in fact, that one of the most common ways to get around, whether you golf or not, is with golf carts.
Not surprisingly, real estate in the area is expensive, and as the brain-child of a now deceased billionaire, it shouldn't be surprising to anyone that both The Villages and the larger area it is incorporated within have a heavy bias towards the Republican Party. In the past, it's been a key campaign stop, both for Republican's attempting to secure their party's nomination, as well as for Republican's that have made the ticket and are looking to further woo area residents with promises of lower taxes on the rich and assurances that climate change is a liberal conspiracy to undermine economic progress. During this current election cycle, both Ben Carson and Marco Rubio made appearances in the community to do just that. And in 2012, after having secured the Republican nomination, Mitt Romney and his then-running mate Paul Ryan made a few stop-overs on their quest to actively destroy the world by way of deliberate political negligence.
So, for me, it's a novel experience to explore a truly gated community... one that is not only gated in action, but in theory as well. The kind of place that proves the maxim that if you've got more, you've got more to lose. And thus, more to fear. Of course, in gated communities like this one, crime is a truly rare occurrence. The only recorded murder I could find from the last two decades occurred in 2006, during what appears to have been an armed break and enter. By all logical evaluation, this area is extraordinarily safe, but only as a component part of a much larger problem that endangers the existence of the entire human race.
Libertarian socialist polemics aside (and I apologize for any sweeping generalizations, I do want to point out there are Democratic voters in The Villages that complain of the distinctly Republican tilt, tho we do have to admit that the binary split between Republicans and Democrats can't be the only two visible demographics in the area and that we must also admit that the breakdown is based on who people vote for, not necessarily their genuine political disposition), my whole experience here has been one very conducive to writing. Perhaps because I've felt more troubled than I usually do. Travel does that to a wuss like me (a wuss who says to himself, "yes, you're gonna be terrified, depressed, and confused at times, but perseverance through such discomfort is just part of the adventure!").
So, what, does that reveal me a wuss? Or does it reveal a particular kind of bravery? Either way, weathering myself to acceptance of potential discomfort doesn't make said discomfort any more comfortable. Perhaps it does give me something to grasp on to when I'm freaking out, though. It's also just a sign of my slowly getting to know myself better and better as the years roll by.
Once again, here I am, staying back at our rental timeshare in the heart of The Villages' suburbia, writing like it's what I'll one day do for a living. At the very least, I can hope. But at the very most, I can keep writing, and it just might occur as a happy side-effect of my belatedly embraced passion for the Word. (My Word, not God's).
In rather distressing but lugubriously unsurprising news, 22 year old Christina Grimmie, a woman just a year younger than me and a past winner of The Voice, spiritual successor to American Idol, was senselessly shot to death yesterday after a concert she held in Orlando. While signing fans autographs, a boy (or man, I'm not enlightened to particular details) whipped out a gun and quickly unloaded on her before the singer's brother tackled him to the ground, then prompting the assailant to turn the weapon on himself. Needless to say, he was successful in killing both her and himself, adding to a list of recent and not-so-recent murders endemic in America thanks to a continued misinterpretation of the Second Amendment via the powerful NRA lobby in Washington.
Coming from Canada, my observer's logic is painfully simple. Guns at Wal-Mart, gun shows free of background checks, and just basic Grand Theft Auto-style gun outlets equals only one thing: a whole bunch of criminals empowered by their intrinsically greater lethality (I mean, come on, what kind of gang feels 'empowered' when all they've got are a bunch of sharp objects? The only time gang violence is a notable problem in Vancouver is when said gangs smuggle guns in from across the border), and a whole bunch more people who would not have otherwise become criminals or committed suicide were it not for the acquisition of these weapons being close to as simple as getting a six-pack of beer. But hey, it's one of those logical observations that's so close to most Americans noses that it's become entirely invisible... save for when one looks in the mirror. A metaphorical mirror. No, Donald, I'm not suggesting that if you look in the mirror there will be a gun below your nose. And yes, Donald, that one movie where Harrison Ford lands the plane is, well, just a movie. I know you're disappointed.
Saturday, June 11, 2016
Friday, June 10, 2016
On My Trip to the Sunshine State, Bernie Sanders, Third Party Candidates, and Being Humiliatingly Destitute for my Girlfriends Parents
Thursday, June 9th, 2016
"The Villages," Sumter County, Florida
United States of America
I sit awkwardly hunched over a TV stand I've made into an impromptu table / desk for the dual purposes of both writing these words in my pocket Moleskine journal, as well as finishing the last half of a decked-out Publix sub sandwich, apparently a favorite snack here in Florida.
This trip, even when of a particular subjective discomfort, has been plenty worth it. I'm not sure if it's just basic anxiety, or if all the rent and tenancy drama back home in Victoria has made me as moody as I have been at times throughout. It may also have something to do with the seizure, as brief as it was, that I had in an Orlando Disney World resort hotel room shower just under a week ago. Jen's parents have been so consistently sweet and assistive with me, even though I showed up on their doorstep deadbeat broke. The fact that they have covered 90% of this trip for me makes me feel like I am potentially being ungrateful any time I either want or need time to myself. I know, as a previous and long-term sufferer of anxieties both social and general, that this is likely more perception then it is reality, but it gnaws at me quite often nonetheless.
Jen's father, Bill, was kind enough to provide me with some analytical and summary work related to his profession as a forensic toxicologist. I essentially just combed through a binder of documents on a case involving alleged intoxication and workers compensation eligibility following a catastrophic on-the-job accident in which an electrical lineman contracted to work on live transformers along a back-road in St. Augustine, Florida, removed one of his protective rubber gloves, ostensibly to perform a particularly delicate operation, and slipped, only to accidentally electrocute his entire right arm and have it amputated in the emergency room. Though I couldn't claim to know all the variables of the case, the impression I got was the one Bill communicated to me: that, because he was a recreational marijuana user with trace metabolites in his blood, the company he worked for used the pipe found on his person and the trace metabolite readings from his post-accident urine sample as presumptive evidence. That is, guilty until proven innocent. And a very convenient excuse to allow them to break the already broken back of this broken man by refusing any health coverage or subsidy.
As if this one-armed man, now presumably out of most work forever, could use the extra bad news that the company he was employed with was now going to toss him out like a tainted piece of meat.
Alas, this really is the unadulterated logic of neoliberal capitalism. And the United States has been sick with this cancer for decades. They've even often "been down with" (as in, assenting to) "the sickness."
There are truly no real upsides to dirt-cheap liquor in a land already so systemically neglectful of health. I mean, with my epilepsy, mood issues, and, at times, horribly debilitating eczema, I would have been a long-lost cause were I born American (and I am truly thankful I wasn't, though I do not say that in a resentful sense... nor do I say it with a boyishly naive sense of Canadian nationalism).
I say it because I know what I need, at least insofar as I've always had it. Were I to dedicate myself to the pursuit of a more horizontal social order, egalitarian healthcare would still top my agenda for everyone's sake.
Writing all this has already imbued me with some psychic release. As I started this entry, I had been sipping on a fine Portuguese vinho verde. I rather insensitively finished the bottle, and am now sipping at a cold bottle of Yuengling amber lager, a beer which claims to be from "America's Oldest Brewery," established in 1829. It's a favorite down here, and one you can't find in my neck of the Canadian woods.
Since I've been down here, history has reached a few new milestones and points of interest, as it always does. In particular, I refer to Hillary Clinton's "clinching," as so many news sources put it, of the Democratic Presidential nomination (surprise, surprise). Bernie, of course, is going to keep his word and not be a "spoiler," as he himself calls it. After a rather notable meting with President Obama, Bernie has pledged to support Clinton and assist in the effort to defeat Donald Trump.
I'm not going to start throwing around revolutionary credentials and claim Bernie is assenting to an iron will, of sorts, or that he has somehow revealed himself counter-revolutionary (I mean, that sort of baseless claim to a sole revolutionary legitimacy and the arrogant name-calling tit-for-tats are what I dislike and disrespect so much about Karl Marx and his inner circle, and we all know the 19th century ended 116 years ago), but I will be honest about what I think is possible for Bernie, and the potential outcomes, both good and not so good, I can foresee.
First off, the Green Party nominee for President, Jill Stein, has been suggesting both her and Bernie team-up on the same ticket for months now. With Hillary securing the Democratic nomination, she has once again extended that olive branch to Sanders' and his supporters. I would be silly to call it the "best" option Bernie has, but it's not a bad one, and would be noble in the attempt alone. The "spoiler" argument, first levelled on Ralph Nader as the American left looked for someone to blame for the neoconservative victory of Bush Jr. in 2000, is not a truly valid argument against third party voting when held-up to the expounded democratic rhetoric of American ideologues.
Of course there should be a plurality of parties to choose from. Is it not neoliberalism that thinks of competition as virtue? Or is that an older version of capitalism I'm thinking of?
Regardless, competition in the public eye forces more comprehensive change, as each party will always be guaranteed to try to appeal past its base and offer something meaningful to further flung demographics. Sure, it's all still marketing, but it's time the American voting public started using these usually manipulative political marketing strategies to theirs (and the worlds) advantage. With a more plural and fractured political class, the efforts of a greater range of people can begin to be felt in elite circles. Even if Bernie ran on the Green ticket, if he could succeed in the minimal sense of throwing the Greens upward to 15% of the popular vote, this would guarantee that, during the next election cycle in 2020/21, the Green Party nominee would be mandated to debate on an equal footing and in the same live mass broadcast venues as the two main party candidates. In this sense, it might be a more worthwhile objective to break the two-party system than it is to keep the Donald out of the White House (though I still struggle with the thought myself).
- - -
Breaking from the political rant, I feel it may be important to return to myself.
My note-to-self on this Florida overture for future adventures would have to be: don't come without at least a few hundred bucks next time. Though I love Jen's parents and truly appreciate everything they've done for me, travel when it isn't at least possible for some self-direction some of the time makes me feel bonded to other's circumstances, for better and for worse. At some point in the next decade, I would love to return to Florida with a few of my Canadian friends in tow. It'd be a fantastic opportunity to see the much weirder parts of the state, fabled on the internet for surrealism and excess. It's too bad, at this point, that I'll neither ever attend a Bernie or Trump rally, both of which would have been fascinating from a historical point of view.
Not that I ever made it to a partisan rally in Canada during our last election cycle, however.
"The Villages," Sumter County, Florida
United States of America
I sit awkwardly hunched over a TV stand I've made into an impromptu table / desk for the dual purposes of both writing these words in my pocket Moleskine journal, as well as finishing the last half of a decked-out Publix sub sandwich, apparently a favorite snack here in Florida.
This trip, even when of a particular subjective discomfort, has been plenty worth it. I'm not sure if it's just basic anxiety, or if all the rent and tenancy drama back home in Victoria has made me as moody as I have been at times throughout. It may also have something to do with the seizure, as brief as it was, that I had in an Orlando Disney World resort hotel room shower just under a week ago. Jen's parents have been so consistently sweet and assistive with me, even though I showed up on their doorstep deadbeat broke. The fact that they have covered 90% of this trip for me makes me feel like I am potentially being ungrateful any time I either want or need time to myself. I know, as a previous and long-term sufferer of anxieties both social and general, that this is likely more perception then it is reality, but it gnaws at me quite often nonetheless.
Jen's father, Bill, was kind enough to provide me with some analytical and summary work related to his profession as a forensic toxicologist. I essentially just combed through a binder of documents on a case involving alleged intoxication and workers compensation eligibility following a catastrophic on-the-job accident in which an electrical lineman contracted to work on live transformers along a back-road in St. Augustine, Florida, removed one of his protective rubber gloves, ostensibly to perform a particularly delicate operation, and slipped, only to accidentally electrocute his entire right arm and have it amputated in the emergency room. Though I couldn't claim to know all the variables of the case, the impression I got was the one Bill communicated to me: that, because he was a recreational marijuana user with trace metabolites in his blood, the company he worked for used the pipe found on his person and the trace metabolite readings from his post-accident urine sample as presumptive evidence. That is, guilty until proven innocent. And a very convenient excuse to allow them to break the already broken back of this broken man by refusing any health coverage or subsidy.
As if this one-armed man, now presumably out of most work forever, could use the extra bad news that the company he was employed with was now going to toss him out like a tainted piece of meat.
Alas, this really is the unadulterated logic of neoliberal capitalism. And the United States has been sick with this cancer for decades. They've even often "been down with" (as in, assenting to) "the sickness."
There are truly no real upsides to dirt-cheap liquor in a land already so systemically neglectful of health. I mean, with my epilepsy, mood issues, and, at times, horribly debilitating eczema, I would have been a long-lost cause were I born American (and I am truly thankful I wasn't, though I do not say that in a resentful sense... nor do I say it with a boyishly naive sense of Canadian nationalism).
I say it because I know what I need, at least insofar as I've always had it. Were I to dedicate myself to the pursuit of a more horizontal social order, egalitarian healthcare would still top my agenda for everyone's sake.
Writing all this has already imbued me with some psychic release. As I started this entry, I had been sipping on a fine Portuguese vinho verde. I rather insensitively finished the bottle, and am now sipping at a cold bottle of Yuengling amber lager, a beer which claims to be from "America's Oldest Brewery," established in 1829. It's a favorite down here, and one you can't find in my neck of the Canadian woods.
Since I've been down here, history has reached a few new milestones and points of interest, as it always does. In particular, I refer to Hillary Clinton's "clinching," as so many news sources put it, of the Democratic Presidential nomination (surprise, surprise). Bernie, of course, is going to keep his word and not be a "spoiler," as he himself calls it. After a rather notable meting with President Obama, Bernie has pledged to support Clinton and assist in the effort to defeat Donald Trump.
I'm not going to start throwing around revolutionary credentials and claim Bernie is assenting to an iron will, of sorts, or that he has somehow revealed himself counter-revolutionary (I mean, that sort of baseless claim to a sole revolutionary legitimacy and the arrogant name-calling tit-for-tats are what I dislike and disrespect so much about Karl Marx and his inner circle, and we all know the 19th century ended 116 years ago), but I will be honest about what I think is possible for Bernie, and the potential outcomes, both good and not so good, I can foresee.
First off, the Green Party nominee for President, Jill Stein, has been suggesting both her and Bernie team-up on the same ticket for months now. With Hillary securing the Democratic nomination, she has once again extended that olive branch to Sanders' and his supporters. I would be silly to call it the "best" option Bernie has, but it's not a bad one, and would be noble in the attempt alone. The "spoiler" argument, first levelled on Ralph Nader as the American left looked for someone to blame for the neoconservative victory of Bush Jr. in 2000, is not a truly valid argument against third party voting when held-up to the expounded democratic rhetoric of American ideologues.
Of course there should be a plurality of parties to choose from. Is it not neoliberalism that thinks of competition as virtue? Or is that an older version of capitalism I'm thinking of?
Regardless, competition in the public eye forces more comprehensive change, as each party will always be guaranteed to try to appeal past its base and offer something meaningful to further flung demographics. Sure, it's all still marketing, but it's time the American voting public started using these usually manipulative political marketing strategies to theirs (and the worlds) advantage. With a more plural and fractured political class, the efforts of a greater range of people can begin to be felt in elite circles. Even if Bernie ran on the Green ticket, if he could succeed in the minimal sense of throwing the Greens upward to 15% of the popular vote, this would guarantee that, during the next election cycle in 2020/21, the Green Party nominee would be mandated to debate on an equal footing and in the same live mass broadcast venues as the two main party candidates. In this sense, it might be a more worthwhile objective to break the two-party system than it is to keep the Donald out of the White House (though I still struggle with the thought myself).
- - -
Breaking from the political rant, I feel it may be important to return to myself.
My note-to-self on this Florida overture for future adventures would have to be: don't come without at least a few hundred bucks next time. Though I love Jen's parents and truly appreciate everything they've done for me, travel when it isn't at least possible for some self-direction some of the time makes me feel bonded to other's circumstances, for better and for worse. At some point in the next decade, I would love to return to Florida with a few of my Canadian friends in tow. It'd be a fantastic opportunity to see the much weirder parts of the state, fabled on the internet for surrealism and excess. It's too bad, at this point, that I'll neither ever attend a Bernie or Trump rally, both of which would have been fascinating from a historical point of view.
Not that I ever made it to a partisan rally in Canada during our last election cycle, however.
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