alibi_shop: Mr. Punch, Broadstairs, England (Default)
(This is a slight edit of some posts I wrote on Bluesky four months ago, before the confirmation of RFK Jr. It's still relevant so I figured I might as well put it together in one place.)

I'm glad to see Robert Kennedy's bullshit about HIV get some notice; still, when the HIV denialism is brought up, many comments are of the blank stare/"wtf, how is that even a thing" kind. I get it too; vaccines and transgender healthcare are more on people's radar.* But let me tell you about the horrible legacy of the man that Kennedy has called a "heroic healer": Peter Duesberg.



Duesberg, unlike Kennedy, had actual scientific knowledge in one field. And early on in the history of AIDS, scientists pursued all kinds of wild-ass guesses about what might be going on; Duesberg wasn't the only one who thought certain drugs, like poppers, might have a role. But he latched onto that idea early on—with some hedging about how maybe other recreational drugs and other STDs could be involved, all stuff he could ascribe to people's behavior, anything except a new viral pandemic—and did no research, and paid no attention to any progress after that.

Duesberg was immediately, and obviously, a crank and an egomaniac. No legitimate scientist ever behaves the way he did. A non-crank would ask themselves questions like "Does my work on retroviruses related to cancer really make me an expert on immunology?", or "Is it risky for me to tell everyone to ignore HIV?", or "Do I know enough about the people who are dying of AIDS for me to portray them as all wildly promiscuous drug abusers?", or "If my insight is so valuable, maybe I should do some research?" Instead he just kept doing interviews. And even though he did get public pushback, the press was still way too generous in describing him as a contrarian, a rebel, etc.—because that's a cool story. Also, some people latched onto the few sane things he said, like "the world isn't doing enough against malnutrition in Africa," and shut their ears to the rest, not unlike willfully ignorant fans of RFK Jr. now who focus on stuff like "well he's in favor of healthy food and doesn't like Big Pharma" as if those are bold new stances.

Of course, Duesberg himself did nothing to help people in Africa. Really less than nothing—since, like Kennedy, he gained influence over the highest elected official in a country: Thabo Mbeki, whose implementation of his advice in South Africa killed hundreds of thousands of people. Effective anti-HIV drugs were already available by then, far better than before; Duesberg didn't care. He also sadly convinced an actual AIDS activist who had HIV, Christine Maggiore, to forego treatment for herself and her child. Maggiore spent the next 14 years spreading the same gospel, even after her child died of AIDS; she only stopped when she herself died of AIDS, in 2008. Duesberg didn't care. His focus was entirely 1. I am right, 2. everyone is against me. And why was everyone against him? Because, in his view, The Establishment was too deferential to activists and minorities—who were the real causes of their own problems; the right-wing aspect of his views was never far under the surface.

The first time I heard Duesberg actually speak was in 1993 or '94, when, for my job, I had to listen to and transcribe an interview with him. He sounded exactly like what he was; he was even less charismatic than Robert Kennedy, but he knew the right phrases to use to appeal to people who fall for cranks. About seven years after that, I entered into the field of HIV care as a nurse (I'm not one now). Most of my co-workers had been in the field since the early years of total horror, and they could've retired, but they were so happy to be there now at a time when treatment generally worked. And that's why HIV denialism is much less of a thing people are aware of these days: people talk and think a lot less about AIDS in general, because it's not as huge a problem as it was (though, to be clear, it's still a bad problem, not over by any means).

But the cranks don't go away. There's no reason for people like Duesberg or Kennedy, or people who give them credence, to change their views just because they're overwhelmingly discredited. The evidence doesn't matter to them, it never did. It's about the personal legend of the contrarian. Kennedy calls Duesberg a healer not because his work ever had any positive effect on anyone's health, but because he wants to see himself that way, and because there's a great appeal in thinking you can be a hero in a way that involves never having to learn anything ever again. Crankism is incoherent in terms of ideas, but consistent in its ability to bring together people with the same personality flaws, imperviousness to evidence, and ability to dismiss the harm they do. There are many, they haven't gone away in 40 years, and giving Kennedy any governmental authority will bring them all in.
alibi_shop: Mr. Punch, Broadstairs, England (Default)
Listening to this well-done episode of the Conspirituality podcast about RFK Jr. and how he's managed to unify New-Age-flavored apocalypticism with nostalgia for an idealized America, I suddenly realized where that kind of thing is so familiar to me from: The X-Files! Specifically the less good parts of the show, usually written by Chris Carter, where:

1. we find out once again that we're utterly screwed because the conspiracy of aliens and federal dudes (and the UN) has been controlling everything for our whole lives, and all kinds of medicine and technology that we take for granted are part of this scheme, and every kind of authority is totally corrupt, and everyone who finds out about any of this will almost immediately get killed;

2. but then Agent Mulder finds some evidence, and at the end of the episode he testifies in a hearing where he goes on and on trying to sound like Kevin Costner in JFK, and unfortunately he can't really show any proof just yet, and they're all against him anyway, but they'll never get around to actually shutting him up or killing him, and ultimately if he can just get The Truth and get the truth Out There, then... I guess the system will work and the villains will be fired or arrested or something, and then it'll be like the good old days before the villains took over, some time in the 1950s or 60s.

I mean, ultimately Mulder is a simple guy who just wants people to be honest and also enjoys finding out about weird monsters, and he has to believe that America basically works because otherwise there's no point in him working for the FBI and testifying in hearings. But the story also requires this massive level of world-crushing evil that can't be reconciled with that at all. Similarly, RFK Jr. will go on about how the vaccine brainwashing conspiracy has almost totally destroyed freedom and poisoned us all... and then he'll say that all we really need to do is elect a guy who's "not afraid to ask questions" etc., and then it'll be like the good old days when America didn't have terrible problems (or at least not the kind of problems that RFK Jr. cares about), some time in the 1950s or 1960s. Is Chris Carter writing his campaign?!

There's a specific Kennedy connection too, because in the X-Files episode where we get the life story of the main villain in the conspiracy, the biggest revelation isn't that he did all this alien coverup stuff—it's that he shot JFK. And it's the most simple-minded version of the assassination legend from a liberal angle, where Kennedy had to be killed not because of the aliens or the Mafia, but because he was supposedly thinking about de-escalating the Vietnam War and the Cold War. (The same villain also shoots Martin Luther King, after explaining that the conspiracy's problem with him isn't actually about civil rights, it's about the Vietnam War. Because what really mattered in US history, in this version of "where did we go wrong", was Vietnam and JFK.)

Of course, since that episode is written by Glen Morgan and not Chris Carter, it's actually enjoyable and more funny than preachy. But it still fits with the show's idealization of the past, which also fits with RFK Jr.'s worshipful treatment of his uncle and his dad as the two guys who would've saved America, if only.
alibi_shop: Mr. Punch, Broadstairs, England (Default)
Watching the current shockingly well done TV adaptation of The Sandman*, I figured a lot of things would have to be reworked to set it in 2022 instead of 1989; those were mostly handled in pretty reasonable ways. Only one thing has really made me feel old though, and it's this: in episode 9, the creepy serial-killer-fan dude now writes a blog instead of a zine.

It's not that that makes any real difference; it's just that that particular brief subplot always stuck out in my mind due to a combination of two things, which are really one thing:

1. I got very grossed out as a teenager in 1988 by running across a copy of Adam Parfrey's Apocalypse Culture anthology—a mishmash of transgressive outsider art and horrible edgelord bullshit, which was framed by pseudo-scholarly ruminations about what it all means, even though Parfrey pretty clearly just thought the horrible edgelord bullshit was cool.**

2. This subplot in The Sandman—where fascist incel ultra-creep "Philip Sitz", author of Chaste, manages to finally meet some real monsters and regrets it very much—is the only bit I know of in the series that's a gleeful Dante-style personal attack on a contemporary writer. That's Peter Sotos, who put out only two issues of Pure in the '80s and then got busted for possession of child porn, but got a worshipful profile and interview in Apocalypse Culture (so it's possible Gaiman found out about him the exact same way I did) and some ironic art cred out of it. Gaiman was clearly not amused.

I'm aware (due to the Internet) that other people figured this out too of course, but in 1990 I felt like that comic book was aiming this inside joke directly at me, in a friendly way, like: "Hey, sorry you had to find out so dramatically early on that there are a lot of unbelievable assholes mixed in with the kind of art-weirdos you're curious about. Would it help if I make one of them ironically die?"



alibi_shop: Mr. Punch, Broadstairs, England (Default)
I'd rather not give Rush Limbaugh another moment of attention and even now I feel like just saying "that guy who died" instead of his name. But the unpleasant fact is that he did a lot to shape the world I live in; I do remember a time before he slimed his way into the spotlight (in fact I remember when Morton Downey Jr., his immediate predecessor in California radio, seemed like the grossest media presence you could imagine)... but once he was there, it was pretty clear that this was going to be a thing from now on. Sometimes it's hard to remember that social media wasn't the only incubator for all this poison—plenty of people were happy to shoot an angry bigot's voice straight into their veins instead of listening to a pop song or the weather or whatever, even without any Like buttons.

I think often about a bit in the 1966 Robert Stone novel A Hall of Mirrors where the protagonist, an educated bohemian smart-ass with basically good intentions but a bad drinking problem and vague ethics, tries out for a DJ gig that turns out to be an early form of modern right-wing talk radio: his job is to comb through news wire services for stuff that he can describe in an inflammatory way for an audience of Klansmen and Birchers. He's a quick study and immediately finds out that even though he hates these people and knows it's all horrible crap, he's great at this job. "How did I do that?", he wonders after the first time he does it. But it's not hard to know what angry bigots want—we're all soaking in it; any American with a little writing and acting skill and a willingness to do wrong can be Limbaugh. So I guess we're lucky that most people either don't want to, or have a little shame.
alibi_shop: Mr. Punch, Broadstairs, England (Default)
"She says she 'prays for the President.' I don't believe her, not even close."some dude who was recently lucky to have a jury of which 52% were, alas, his peers, and who prays all the damn time I'm sure, something like this


"Hey, here I am, solemn occasion, big prayer, the best.

"You know I'm a fan... I always tell people what a good job You're doing... You'll see they're catching on... we love it. [sniffs]

"You know, I prayed before my inauguration. Big day, lotta people, the greatest, everyone says it's the biggest ever. Couldn't have done it without you, although they say I do it all myself, and they're wrong, I do do a lot of it myself, not all, but some, a lot. [sniffs]

"Some people don't like it, and you might hear some people saying some evil, terrible things about me, they said I did this and that, and I'm here to tell you not to worry about it. I mean, don't believe you hear— and what you hear, too.

"And you know they can't help it, so of course you'll want to be merciful with those people, they're beautiful, we love them, nothing bad needs to happen to them, although if something happens, who knows. [makes surreptitious "slaying of the firstborn" gesture, sniffs]

"OK, I have time for one more question."
alibi_shop: Mr. Punch, Broadstairs, England (Default)
The Wall, stage performance by Music for the Apocalypse and guests - seen on 11/16/19 at The Chapel, San Francisco
The Wall, Pink Floyd (1979)

For me and a lot of people born within about 10 years of me, The Wall was an important piece of culture in ways that weren't necessarily about our taste in music—a fact that tended to annoy older Floyd fans, who weren't shy about reminding us that the earlier albums were cooler. It wasn't exactly due to the story; despite not exactly having a plot in the sense that "rock opera" might imply, it does paint a somewhat specific picture of a guy who is born in the 1940s, grows up fatherless due to World War Two, is emotionally stifled by his mother and verbally abused in an archetypal English boarding school, becomes a massively famous rock star resulting in rock-star ennui, loses his marriage due to mutual infidelity, has a dramatic breakdown in a hotel room while on tour, is propped up with drugs by his manager, and gets so freaked out by the adoration of his fans that he imagines himself leading them on a fascist rampage... and I for one couldn't honestly identify with any of that. But the emotional arc of it—a creeping feeling that you've been going wrong step by step for your whole life and are at risk of never being able to relate to people in any healthy way, for reasons that are partly individual and partly a symptom of the world at large—unfortunately was very relatable. The music definitely helped: it's all over the place, from quiet loveliness to grating discomfort to plain old pop energy, and Roger Waters is a pretty expressive singer who clearly had strong feelings about this material even if he wasn't exactly on the same page as the rest of the band. Once you know how much of a mess the production of this thing was, it's easy to see the messiness of the end result as the kind of partial failure that can happen in any group creative effort—but for a young and confused listener, I think the way it fails to quite fit together actually makes it more compelling: that is, I could tell that whatever this was, it clearly wasn't the way albums are supposed to be (even weird prog-rock albums), it didn't even have the kind of consistent focused unpleasantness that other kinds of angry-young-man music had, and that was part of the feeling I was connecting with.(*)

I was a little apprehensive last week about the prospect of seeing a new "tribute to The Wall" performance with a cover band and some kind of new topical stage show, described like so: ExpandRead more... )
alibi_shop: Mr. Punch, Broadstairs, England (Default)
This interview with anti-neo-Nazi counselor Christian Picciolini, on his own past experience of joining a white-supremacist group and his view of what's going on with them today, is optimistic in terms of the plain fact of this guy existing and doing the work that he does, but he's pretty clear on how horrible the situation is.

It struck me especially because of the time frame: he went Nazi about 30 years ago. That's pretty much when I first became aware of these subcultures. I had been pretty sheltered with only a general understanding of racist violence, but when I was 15 or 16 my parents were doing a lot of (pre-Internet) research for a play about a small-town guy watching his lost friend drift into the Klan. In the setting of the play, this is related to a labor dispute and the bosses are egging on the racists as a means to an end—which is historically based, and is still the entirety of how some strictly class-oriented leftists view racism—but the Klan recruiter character is more of a true believer, and he has a speech toward the end about how the future of the movement is in the kind of paramilitary groups that had been gaining ground in the '80s. And I was a morbid kid so I got into reading all about these creeps. Even though they'd been in the news a bit, like with the murder of Alan Berg, they were generally seen as a fringe curiosity specifically because they weren't tied to a huge established group like the Klan, and it didn't seem likely that random suburban white kids would find them very compelling. A few journalists kept saying "No I think we should take this pretty seriously," and James Ridgeway's book Blood in the Face got some press in 1990, and you started to hear more about "militias" but usually in an overly cautious way that was reluctant to suggest that the militias weren't just clubs of paranoid doofuses but were terrorist incubators. Then Oklahoma City happened and some people were still in denial. I had a lot of creeping dread, especially after the Idaho militias got a seat in Congress, but I still didn't understand how the Web was going to amplify everything... and never in my wildest dreams did I think I'd see their open sympathizers in the White House.

I can't imagine how a guy like Picciolini could witness all that, through those years, and not have his head be exploding every day. Focusing on individuals, I guess. As a former nurse with no ability to make people stop getting sick, I guess I can understand that.
alibi_shop: Mr. Punch, Broadstairs, England (Default)
It may not exactly be news when The New Republic publishes some hideous bigoted bullshit, but I have to say I was a little surprised that they pulled Dale Peck from the back bench of bitter hatchet-job artists to write a piece about how Pete Buttigieg is the wrong kind of gay (which they've since removed from their site after nearly everyone said "WTF"). This really takes me back.
ExpandRead more... )
alibi_shop: Mr. Punch, Broadstairs, England (Default)
Today the President made some threatening noises about Iran shooting down a drone—that is, a machine that does not and cannot have a pilot on board—and then he tried to back down a bit (at least maybe that's what he was trying, who knows) by saying this: "...there was no man in it, it was in international waters but we didn't have a man or woman in the drone, we had nobody in the drone. Would have made a big, big difference."

I'm sure I'm not the only one who immediately thought of the 2010 motion picture drama Iron Man 2. It's safe to say Iron Man 2 does not get a lot of respect and while I enjoy it, it's kind of silly; but it does have a memorable performance by Sam Rockwell as Justin Hammer, who I think is seriously underrated as Marvel villains go. Hammer is a well-connected arms manufacturer who is very ambitious, very unethical, and very very stupid. He also thinks he's funny. Sam Rockwell is very funny; but Justin Hammer is like the numb horror of watching your pathetic boss flounder around boasting and bullying and cracking himself up, when you don't know whether he'll destroy you or himself first. And he's smaller and nerdier-looking than certain presidents, but we know this guy has killed people, or at least had them killed.
ExpandRead more... )
alibi_shop: Mr. Punch, Broadstairs, England (Default)
On Directing Film, by David Mamet (1991)

It makes sense for cartoonists to read On Directing Film; at its core it's about visual storytelling, conveying meaning through juxtaposition, and interpreting a text that was written to be performed or illustrated rather than read as-is. Many comics, like most plays and movies, start with a script which is then interpreted by an artist or artists; the artist is in effect directing, and also acting. I say "many" and "most" because a comic, play, or movie can be a solo effort and/or unscripted; but even if the writer and illustrator/director/performer are the same person, visual storytelling can still be broken down as a collaborative process between the story-generating point of view and the story-rendering point of view. Mamet's main concern is how to communicate with an audience on an intuitive level.

I want to say right away that the book is often annoying and badly reasoned, ExpandRead more... )