The Explanation Is There Isn't One

 

My early morning walks—when I rarely see another person or sometimes not even hear a passing car, and deliberately avoid podcasts or music—make me unusually aware of each moment and every subtle change along my familiar two-mile round trip route. Recently, a raccoon lurking in the shadows startled me. (I've encountered bobcats before, which is considerably more startling.) Those wildlife sightings have led me to adopt perhaps the least intimidating defense ever devised: carrying a golf ball in my pocket.

 

My strategy is simple. If confronted by an aggressive animal, I hope to throw a golf ball hard enough at it to at least startle it, clap my hands like a deranged scarecrow, and, if necessary, sing God Bless America as loudly and as off-key as possible. Surely even a determined bobcat would conclude there are easier breakfasts elsewhere. Fortunately, the plan has yet to be tested.

 

Our community also warns residents about alligators in the ponds. As I walk along the golf course, I'm always aware of where those bodies of water are and how far I might have to run should a gator decide to give chase. Since they are said to reach speeds approaching 35 miles per hour over short distances, I comfort myself by deciding that the odds are overwhelmingly in my favor as I will be nearby homes and boldly step outside each morning around six.

 

Only a month ago, during the summer solstice, dawn had already broken when I left the house. Day by day the light has quietly retreated, and now, only weeks later, it is nearly dark when I begin my walk. If the laughably named "Sunshine Protection Act" (who dreams up these titles—AI?) ever becomes law, Florida schoolchildren may find themselves standing at bus stops in darkness, vulnerable to drivers who can't see, well before sunrise. As for me, I suppose I'll become even more attractive to raccoons and alligators, creatures that also seem to appreciate the hours before dawn. Apparently that's a small price to pay if it means the President can squeeze in another few holes of golf before sunset.

 

Some "sunshine protection."

 

Meanwhile, smoke from wildfires periodically settles over parts of Florida. And no, Canada isn't to blame for failing to rake its leaves in our case. We have our own climate-induced problems. Recently, a stretch of the Florida Turnpike south of here had to close because of wildfires. I haven't yet heard that the other forty-nine states intend to impose a 50 percent tariff on Florida goods as punishment.

 

These are the sorts of thoughts that accompany my morning walks. They also accompany the writing of this blog. There is always something to think about, something to observe, and something to puzzle over. Whether any of it ultimately matters is another question entirely. I write for much the same reason I play the piano every day. At this stage of life, I find my inner life more satisfying than the traveling, boating, and busy social calendar that once seemed indispensable.

 

During those early "go-go years"of retirement, I somehow found time to write even more frequently than I do now. Perhaps that reflected greater energy, or perhaps simply a different rhythm of life. Now, in what retirement experts cheerfully call the "slow-go years," solitary pursuits seem increasingly appropriate and reading whenever my mind can still settle into a novel. Ann, fortunately, remains a voracious reader, perhaps because fiction offers a welcome refuge from today's world.  We are trying to dance as fast as we can as we gradually approach the "no-go years," although I hope they remain comfortably in the distance.

 

Artificial intelligence has added another layer to these reflections. I'm fascinated not only by what it can do for me but also by what it may be taking from me. After nearly twenty years of writing this blog, I've accumulated what amounts to a substantial archive. Much of it concerns family history and personal opinions that probably interest very few people but some of my theater and book reviews are widely read.

 

Out of curiosity, I asked one AI system about a subject I knew was covered exclusively in my blog. Sure enough, it produced an answer largely drawn from what I had written years ago. Older posts are actually more likely to appear because Google once indexed independent blogs far more generously than it does today.

 

I pointed out that I recognized the material because, in essence, I had written it. As obsequious as these systems can sometimes be, it immediately congratulated me on being the author of the "venerable Lacunae Musing." Taking the bait, I mentioned that over twenty years I had probably written close to a million words. The AI replied that I was "a human large language model." Mutual admiration can become exhausting, so we politely ended the conversation.

 

For complete disclosure, I should add that an AI agent has reviewed this very essay for logical development and copy editing. The observations, opinions, and tone, remain entirely my own.

 

As I edge toward those "no-go years," I've begun thinking seriously about moving this blog to the Substack platform. I admire many of the writers there and already subscribe to several, but the technical aspects of migrating the content is yet another challenge to address.

 

One Substack author who particularly caught my attention is Tim Kreider, who amusingly describes himself as "a writer, cartoonist, and person in the world." Beginning as a political cartoonist seems almost ideal preparation for becoming a political essayist. Cartoonists have long understood that the quickest route to truth often runs through absurdity.

 

That brings me to Kreider's recent Substack essay, The Arbogast Fallacy: An Alternative Explanation for "Sanewashing."

I've argued before that Donald Trump's political mind is almost reptilian — reactive rather than reflective, impulse driven rather than deliberation. Kreider reaches much the same conclusion, but develops it with such clarity that I found myself nodding almost continuously as I read it.

 

The essence of "The Arbogast Fallacy" (its title drawn as a clever metaphor from the film Psycho) is that journalists and political commentators consistently overanalyze a man who requires very little analysis. Trained to search for elaborate strategies, ideological consistency, or hidden motives, they assume complexity where none exists. His behavior is more accurately explained by immediate impulses:  demanding attention, making as much money as possible in his position, and guaranteeing his self-preservation. As Kreider memorably observes, commentators keep "writing think pieces about a guy who doesn't." 

 

That simple observation explains far more than countless hours of televised political analysis. Every action and reaction seems ultimately directed toward those same goals, with self-preservation perhaps becoming the dominant one as the midterm elections approach.

 

Kreider persuaded me that perhaps the explanation isn't hidden at all. We keep assuming there must be some elaborate strategy because that's how we expect consequential leaders to behave. We search for depth because the consequences are so profound. But perhaps there are no hidden chambers to explore—only instinct, ego, and self-preservation played out on the largest political stage imaginable.

 

What remains unexplained isn't the man. It is us. How did a political culture, a Congress, and a Supreme Court entrusted with preserving constitutional government become so willing to normalize perpetual chaos?

 

Tomorrow morning I'll head out again with my golf ball in my pocket, keeping one eye on the raccoons and the other on the gathering darkness. Those are hazards I understand.

 

It's the human world that has become so difficult to explain.  Perhaps that is because the explanation is there isn't one.

Mike Luckovich Art of the Steal

Is Anybody There? The Foxes Multiply

 

As usual, a political cartoon encapsulates the truth—this one by Matt Davies in Newsday.

 

In February, I argued that the midterms may be a chimerical defense against autocracy, highlighting Kurt Olsen's appointment as Director of Election Security as a "fox in the henhouse." I said then that "putting a man sanctioned for spreading election falsehoods in charge of 'integrity' feels like a satirical plot point a novelist would reject as too preposterous." Rather than recapitulating everything, here is the link to Is Anybody There? The Systematic Dismantling of the Midterms.

 

The recent appointments of Bill Pulte and Todd Blanche reinforce that warning by suggesting a broader consolidation of political control over institutions traditionally expected to operate independently. Like Olsen, both men are widely viewed as unwavering political loyalists. Todd Blanche, nominated to serve as Attorney General, appears tasked with reshaping the Department of Justice by targeting political opponents while diminishing independent oversight. Bill Pulte, appointed concurrently as Acting Director of National Intelligence despite having no intelligence background, appears intended to exert direct political influence over the nation's intelligence community. In my opinion, these appointments undermine the integrity of elections (the Midterms in particular)—ironically, the very thing T***p claims he’s concerned about. 

 

In yesterday's Wall Street Journal, former U.S. Attorney General William P. Barr—once denounced by Trump as "gutless" and a "coward" for refusing to overturn the 2020 election and prosecute political opponents—appears to be seeking a return to Dear Leader's good graces in his op-ed: Confirm Todd Blanche at Justice—He Is Well Qualified and Will Run the Department as Well as Anyone Could Under President Trump.

 

Barr's principal argument is that, regardless of senators' reservations, rejecting Blanche would merely invite an even worse nominee. As he writes, "It wouldn't force the president to make a better choice. It will simply invite more chaos and a less desirable appointment." This line of reasoning not only indirectly admits to Blanche's lack of qualifications, but it also normalizes the idea that the Senate should confirm a nominee not because he is demonstrably independent, but because someone even less acceptable might otherwise be chosen. By that logic, every successive appointment merely lowers the standard further. Isn't it better to reject someone who fails even that diminished test, leaving Blanche to serve only temporarily?

 

Barr concludes: "The nation needs a serious, effective and competent attorney general. America's interests are best served by confirming Mr. Blanche." You decide.

 

Meanwhile, T***p is reportedly using Bill Pulte's controversial acting appointment and the delayed confirmation process as leverage to pressure Congress into passing the SAVE Act—a sweeping elections bill requiring proof of citizenship to vote, mandating photo identification, restricting mail-in ballots, and incorporating additional provisions touching on transgender issues.

 

A concise summary of the SAVE Act appears on the BBC, a source that, in my opinion, has become more consistently reliable than much of today's American media. As the BBC notes, "some Republican-led states have taken up the cause to introduce their own proof-of-citizenship bills. Democrats say the SAVE legislation disenfranchises eligible voters, while Republicans say it is necessary to prevent voter fraud."

 

It is hardly surprising that Republicans would champion legislation that may discourage participation by elderly voters, those in poor health, citizens who rely on mail-in ballots, and even many first-generation Americans who are fully eligible to vote but may find the new documentation requirements burdensome or even onerous. It erects considerable barriers to address what appears to be a minuscule incidence of voter fraud.

 

Taken together, Olsen, Blanche, and Pulte seem well-suited to reducing independent oversight while strengthening executive influence over the institutions charged with enforcing the law, gathering intelligence, and protecting the electoral process. So, regarding the prevention of elections from being "stolen"—long their boss’s pet screed—one must ask: from whom, and by whom? They also divert public attention from unresolved questions surrounding the administration's handling of the Epstein files—an issue that only days ago dominated the national conversation.

 

Democracies rarely disappear in a single dramatic moment. Just look at how the January 6th insurrection of more than five years ago has been swept under the rug of history, the perpetrators either not being called out or, for those arrested, pardoned. It all happened before our eyes, as are these appointments. But history teaches that by the time we recognize a pattern, it has already become the new reality.

 

Postscript:

Yesterday, Mike Johnson, the Speaker of the House, spoke at the ultraconservative Faith & Freedom Coalition’s 2026 Road to Majority Conference, pledging a “protection program” for Trumpublicans… “heaven forbid, these Democrats, y’all, impeachment is not even the big concern. They will turn every committee of Congress into an investigative body, and they’ll go after the president’s family, the cabinet, his donors and friends. Half of you in this room will be targeted. I run the protection program. I’ll take care of you. Okay? We’re gonna win. We’re gonna win the midterm.” 

 

 

The "Anti-Weaponization Fund," a Grafter Government Unhinged, and the Final Arrival of ‘1984’

 

 

It’s been reported on, but from my perspective without the glacial shock wave it deserves: the so-called “slush fund” ostensibly targeted toward January 6 perpetrators. The act itself feels almost like trolling by this “president,” but more than that, a smokescreen while potentially making him and his family millions of dollars richer by granting immunity from past and present IRS scrutiny.

 

I begin with my favorite political cartoonist’s take on the subject. Mike Luckovich not only points out the hypocrisy of it all, but, more subtly, the press’s lack of focus on the real issue. It is not merely the contrast with the relatively minor transgressions of prior administrations, but the failure of the Fourth Estate to shake its own foundations loudly enough to affect change. At least we still have independent journalists metaphorically riding as Paul Revere, such as Paul Krugman.  In “The Looting of America; MAGA corruption reaches the point of no return,” he writes that “few things shock me these days, but this development — in which a Justice Department that works for Trump is paying a vast sum to ‘settle’ a lawsuit brought by Trump himself — is a new nadir in self-dealing, further revealing Trump’s utter contempt for the American people.”

 

His is only one of many similar voices one can now find on Substack, independent historians, political scientists, ex-government officials, and even perceptive humorists. While the traditional news media may report the same facts, few institutional voices seem willing to say so directly. Heaven forbid Dear Leader be offended or, especially, be laughed at.

 

The broader normalization of conflicts of interest surfaced again when Andrew Ross Sorkin of The New York Times, on a related issue, wrote in his newsletter: “…thanks for all of your notes regarding President Trump’s 3,700 trades. I’d love to hear your thoughts on what trading policy for federal officials should look like. For example, should trading be banned entirely? Restricted to specific windows? Managed through blind trusts? Furthermore, should public disclosures be immediate or delayed, and how should the policy address family members?”

 

I dashed off my response, recognizing that he is perhaps walking on institutionally mandated eggshells: “Andrew, the fact that you can even ask whether there should be a trading policy for federal officials shows the erosion of the core principles on which this country was founded. Of course they should be banned from trading individually, or at the very least required to place investments in blind trusts, as other officials have done in the past. It goes without saying, or once would have. The potential conflicts of interest are simply too numerous, and the temptation too great, as we have witnessed time and again with the current administration.

 

“And what has happened to the rule of law, with the arbitrary establishment of a $1.776 billion ‘Anti-Weaponization Fund’ to ‘compensate’ individuals involved in the January 6, 2021 Capitol attack? This is American justice at work?

 

“It is bad enough that an entire political culture seems increasingly comfortable with graft. The mere fact that we are now publicly debating whether elected officials should trade stocks while possessing inside knowledge and the ability to influence day-to-day market movements, not to mention accepting lobby money to favor industries or causes, makes me lose hope.”

 

In spite of being one of Trump’s most obsequious supporters, perhaps this “Anti-Weaponization Fund” was a bridge too far even for Pam Bondi who resigned as AG. How convenient, then, to have Todd Blanche step in, without Congress now having a further say to block his becoming Acting AG (not that they would if they could). As Trump’s personal lawyer, Blanche represented him in criminal cases including the New York hush money case, which ended with convictions on 34 felony counts, as well as the federal cases brought by special counsel Jack Smith, now abandoned. Apparently Blanche works tirelessly to satisfy his direct report, the President of the United States and not the Constitution.

 

On to other dystopian developments, arriving with such rapidity one can hardly hold them in one’s head long enough to think about them. Among the latest architectural impositions proposed for the White House and Washington, D.C. is the “United States Triumphal Arch,” supposedly commemorating the 250th anniversary of American independence, though in reality seeming more like a monument to Trump himself.

 

It immediately recalls George Orwell’s 1984 and its “enormous pyramidal structure of glittering white concrete,” bearing “the three slogans of the Party: WAR IS PEACE, FREEDOM IS SLAVERY, IGNORANCE IS STRENGTH.”

 

Might this be just one of others planned? In 1984 “scattered about London there were just three other buildings of similar appearance and size. So completely did they dwarf the surrounding architecture that from the roof of Victory Mansions you could see all four of them simultaneously. They were the homes of the four Ministries between which the entire apparatus of government was divided. The Ministry of Truth, which concerned itself with news, entertainment, education, and the fine arts. The Ministry of Peace, which concerned itself with war. The Ministry of Love, which maintained law and order. And the Ministry of Plenty, which was responsible for economic affairs. Their names, in Newspeak: Minitrue, Minipax, Miniluv, and Miniplenty.”

 

And there it is again: the fusion of power, propaganda, and intimidation disguised as patriotism in massive concrete. Orwell understood that authoritarianism eventually expresses itself physically. Not content merely to dominate language and thought, it seeks permanence in gigantic buildings, and endless spectacles celebrating the Leader and the State.

 

What once seemed satirical exaggeration now arrives incrementally, proposal by proposal, outrage by outrage, each one quickly replaced by the next before we have time to absorb it. One becomes exhausted not only by the events themselves, but by the sheer velocity of them. That, perhaps, is part of the strategy, essentially a Gish Gallop applied to governance itself: a torrential inundation of events, too many to process.

 

Anything is now possible with this administration. So, as a citizen, I turned to my two Senators and Representative, sending them the New York Times Op-Ed piece “Trump Just Took Us Somewhere the Country Had Never Been Before.”

Not that I expected them to actually read it, but at least to register my concern. I did get one reply. It was 1984-ish in its own small bureaucratic way:

 

“Delivery has failed to these recipients or groups: Senator Rick Scott (receipt@rickscott.senate.gov); The recipient's mailbox is full and can't accept messages now. Please try resending your message later, or contact the recipient directly.”

 

Instead I heard:  “The Party told you to reject the evidence of your eyes and ears. It was their final, most essential command.”