I Dream of Electric Pizza

My brain can only be described a deep fried, kinetic, David Lynch fever dream that is allowed to slow down once in awhile, and ONLY once in awhile. It has to think, ALL THE TIME. It’s never not thinking.

Even when you think I’m thinking about nothing I’m pulling some kind of Doctor Strange in my head, trying to see the possibilities, all fourteen million of them, and act them out in my head. It can be exhausting. It prevents me from sleeping, quite often.

That’s why it came as such a surprise this morning when I finally got an ounce of sleep that was worth a damn, and dreaming on top of it! I’m lucky I can sleep five hours a night, maybe six if I’m truly lucky. Sleep has become a luxury, afforded to those who aren’t as affected by stress, no less in a pandemic. It also doesn’t help that I live across the street from a construction site where heavy things are regularly dropped with gusto and the men wearing hard hats giggle and laugh like hyenas (I swear this is true). We’ll get to my dream in a second though.

But the dream was the simplest one I’ve had in a long time. And just to give you a brief run down on the types of dreams I’ve had before, let’s take a small tour of those, shall we?

  1. The first dream/nightmare I can ever remember is a Zantac 75 Commercial (what a throwback), that morphed into a nightmare where I was trying to escape The Blob, yes, THE BLOB, and it ate Mickey Mouse in front of my horrified, eight year-old eyes.
  2. Surrealist Dreams that often feel like something I’ve experienced before – a building I’ve been in before but actually haven’t – a conversation that’s been discussed.
  3. Having a nightmare where Russell Crowe came after me in the angriest way possible.

My dream this morning was the simplest one I’ve had in a long time, though it ends in a bit of a giggly “But, of course!”

My friend and I were simply going from place to place, eating pizza. Restaurants, store fronts, didn’t matter the place. We just went and got pizza. We ate it, we delighted in it. We ate the damn things like the hungry SOB’s we were. No frills, no wacky complications or David Lynch fever dreams. We just ate a lot of pizza.

It was wonderful, it was simplistic, it was likely a human response to missing out on the day-to-day functions of human life that we used to have before the pandemic. It could also just be my inner Anthony Bourdain, a yearning for social interaction over food and the bonds that it can bring. It could also just be a dream about eating some fucking pizza with one of your best friends, but I digress.

Of course the dream ended in the most ‘me’ way possible. After traveling to the last place in my dream before we departed our beloved pizza-filled dream world, I noticed it was a specialty pizza shop. We’re not talking about your neighborhood Dominos, or a Papa Johns, or some dude screaming at you to get a slice of pizza, but a fancier, cozier place with dessert pizza. It looked and felt like a chocolate shop with the fanciest and most gourmet of pizzas. It was the Fanny May of pizza.

So when the time came to delight and gorge myself on the delicacies in front of me, I stepped up, practically cleared my throat as if to announce the greatest pizza order of all time, and the trays of pizza in front of me were whisked away in one fell swoop like Wiley E. Coyote had pulled a magical cartoon lever, NO MORE PIZZA FOR YOU FUCK-O. I was stunned, taken a-back. My mouth was agog.

The magical pizza man in front of me grunted something about the day being over, and I was slightly saddened to hear such a thing, not even staying open long enough for me to stuff one piece of greasy-filled cheese & bread into my face at a Roadrunner’s pace. But the fix was in, the day was done, and then I woke up, much to my dismay. No pizza, no friends, just the cold silence of the morning, and the hum of the fucking construction crew across the street cackling like hyenas.

Of course not long after I had woken up, the very friend I had gotten pizza with in my dream started texting me some of the ridiculous shit Rudy Giuliani was doing to try and overthrow the election, and it was like we hadn’t missed a beat. Happy Thursday.


You can find Coleman on Twitter, where the pizza runs down his face like hair dye on Rudy Giuliani.

The NBA’s Storied Bubble Season Is Likely to Have An Incredibly Drunk, Sophomoric Follow Up

Well, here we are folks. The NBA managed to salvage their 2020 NBA season in COIVD times by instituting one of the most incredible (and yet unnecessary) things with their bubble-style playoffs that took place at Disney World, which resulted in no positive cases and no lockdowns. And now, the NBA is going full tilt into a semi-regular 72 game season, knowing full well it was going to come to this. Now they just released their schedule for the new NBA season.

Obviously, it goes without saying, that trying to institute a season where things were normal and they would go out and about home and away is not going to work as planned.

Each NBA team will play the teams within its conference three times for a total of 42 games, while playing the teams from the opposing conference twice each (30 games). Within each team’s division, the league has already assigned which opponents will be played twice at home, and which will be played twice on the road. Each division within a conference will then play all five teams from another intraconference division twice at home, and all five teams from the remaining division twice on the road.

ESPN

Despite the fact that I don’t think they should be playing a 72 game season, which will continue to melt my brain into the ninth ring of hell, this was absolutely necessary. The more teams cut down on their exposure, the better. But all of it doesn’t mean a god damn thing if teams and players get reckless, trying to return to some “normalcy” by their extra-curricular activities. We saw this in the MLB, with Mike Clevinger and Zach Plesac, two knuckle-headed knuckleheads breaking COVID protocols. The NFL was no stranger to breakers of protocol, including having to fine Jon Gruden multiples times as well as his players for attending an in-person charity event held in a Las Vegas ballroom. Even the NBA wasn’t completely safe, despite no cases.

I simply don’t have enough faith that players, coaches, or personnel won’t do everything in their power to protect themselves and those around them. The cynic in me is running free. I would love to be proven wrong. I’ll let someone yell at me from a safe distance with a mask on, “Juicy” pants, and a bullhorn if the entire 2021 NBA season goes off without a hitch. But time and time again through COVID we’ve heard of people doing dumb shit. I don’t see that changing with a full season here. And that is why this 2021 NBA season is going to be an incredible drunk circus of a time. Even if everyone in the NBA does everything to protect themselves, a deus-ex machina could fly out of the ether to snatch victory from the jaws of defeat.

COVID rates are continuing to spike out of control, and we’re heading into what’s being called a ‘dark winter‘. Hospitals are filled to the brim. El Paso, Texas has multiple makeshift morgues stacking bodies upon bodies like electronics in a chain store. The health of our own physicians, nurses and hospital workers is reaching a tipping point. A change in the U.S. Presidential leadership isn’t on the books until January 2oth when an actual President that gives a shit about preserving the health of Americans will take over and even then it will take time to get an actual plan to contain this deadly virus.

On top of all this, the season yet to be’s Finals is butting up against the Summer Olympic Games of 2020. Literally one day separates these two between July 22nd and July 23rd when the flames will be lit. I feel like this too is a harbinger hanging over the NBA, its axe ready to swing, a bell in the distance waiting to toll. I’m ready for the NBA season to be patched and wonky and stop and start like an ‘L Train’. The question is not if but when, and how easily is that train fixable?

One can only hope that the NBA’s protocols become even more stringent, like obnoxiously stringent, with people’s health and so much money on the line. But that same money line which is driving all of this is exactly what’s driving everything to go full tilt into madness, tightening the cilice around our leg the more we twist and try to do what’s right. Obviously only time will tell, and I could end up being full of shit, I’ll be happy to ever be so and wish nothing but good health to all participants, but I have my doubts, Montresor, and for the love of god, the brick wall is getting higher.


At some point in time Coleman would like to feel optimism, and might do so at some point on Twitter.

Motherloving Human Dildo Mike Pence Let An HIV Crisis Break Out In Indiana, Now He’s Done The Same for Coronavirus, Never Elect Him Again

When Mike Pence was appointed as the head of the coronavirus task force, I shit a brick. Like an actual, brick-sized brick. Mike Pence, of all robot-stuck-in-a-human-suit people, was named the head of the task force?! Had people forgotten about Indiana? There’s only so many times since he was appointed as the corona czar that I could beat my hands against the wall so people would fucking remember that in his tenure as governor he did everything humanly possible to let an HIV outbreak in Indiana run rampant. I was reminded how feeble and evil Pence’s actions were when I saw a tweet alluding to Mike Pence fucking off to Florida this week for a vacation, he would later cancel it after an immense backlash, and opted to “stay in D.C.” so Trump could piss and moan about losing both the popular vote and the electoral college.

The thing you have to remember about Mike Pence is that he’s a far more capable politician than Trump who just so happens to have a horrific soft spot for letting viruses cleave off portions of the human population. HIV first began showing itself in Indiana in November 2014, with a diagnosis in Scott County. By January of 2015, that number had exploded to 17. Indiana didn’t bother contacting the county until February.

One of the big reasons the crisis went full tilt was because Mike Pence was vehemently opposed to a needle exchange program. It wasn’t until March of 2015 (when cases reached 81) that Pence would allow needle exchanges to be established, but of course Pence did the Pence thing that Pence does which was giving permission to open one, but not funding it.

On the same day, however, Pence also undermined the effects of the new law, signing another bill that toughened the punishment for people found carrying needles. It upgraded possession of a syringe with intent to commit an offense with a controlled substance from a misdemeanor to a felony charge, subject to imprisonment for up to 2.5 years.

Politico

Every step forward in tackling the HIV crisis in their midst was met with a baseball bat wrapped in barbed wire to the face. Mike Pence did so little in tackling the problem it exploded to 215 cases by 2017. He was criticized by both the National Institute on Drug Abuse and the CDC criticized Pence, saying the crisis was preventable. Hence my brick-shitting anger crystalizing.

The coronavirus task force went from meeting several times a week, to once a week, and even excluded Fauci at one point. Trump stopped attending the meetings. They declared they beat coronavirus, but had to walk it back.

You would think if Pence had an ounce of amperage running through the particles in his brain he would have remembered the glaring response from his time as Governor, but the fact is he doesn’t care. If he truly thought it mattered he would have stood defiant in front of Trump and the nation, or at least caused a ruckus behind the scenes, vowing to do everything in his power to cut the virus down. He didn’t. He let it thrive. And listen, he’s the Vice President of the United States, which largely is considered a powerless, back-seat, Big Head cushy job that lets one spring-board to the next position of leader of the free world. But since Cheney, VP’s have grown more powerful.

He could have said he was doing it to preserve Christianity or something for fuck’s sake. But again, he didn’t. Because despite all his blow-hard knuckle tapping on the table talking about morality, abortion and Christianity, Mike Pence failed his way up to the top like so many white men in the world. He doesn’t have to do shit, because he IS THE SHIT. He’s in the most comfortable spot on planet Earth, and if he fails, he doesn’t have to truly take the fall for it.

The United States has started suffering staggering numbers of new diagnoses totally over 100,000 almost every day for the last week. Was all of this preventable? Probably not, but there’s definitely zero reason it should be totaling the sum number of entire cities day after day. The US, left to its own devices, unfortunately isn’t taking up the position to nurture itself, only piecemealing a response together that’s being offset by ripping its own stitches out repeatedly. A real statesman would take charge. It’s only because of Mike Pence’s failed leadership have we gotten to where we are.

Mike Pence won’t ride out into the sunset after he leaves office, because he’ll ride out in the dead of winter under a veil of darkness stacked with human bodies a mile high. He doesn’t deserve another day in office, and his failures will leave a permanent crack in the lives of Americans who will suffer long after he’s gone.


Coleman can be found on Twitter yelling about Mike Pence.

Rick Santorum Would Like You To Acknowledge GOP Feelings After 4 Years of Endless Cruelty – No.

Give people time….

Rick Santorum (11-6-20)

This morning on CNN, while attempting to navigate the new numbers of vote counts coming in, Rick Santorum attempted to make the case to allow the process to play out and for GOP voters to allow themselves some time and space to grieve over the what seems increasingly likely the loss of their beloved blank check and empty vessel Donald Trump in the Presidency of the United States.

I’ll readily admit I want Donald Trump to lose in the most agonizing position possible, but putting that aside for a second, I find the notion of Rick Santorum wanting to allow space for grief, frankly, hilarious. The same man who wanted to reinstate ‘Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell’ would like you give him a minute to the same party that enabled a Muslim ban within the first week of moving into the White House.

Rick Santorum would like you to give him a minute for the party that didn’t care about the psychological damage of children when they knowingly separated them from their parents with no potential way to reunite them later. Rick Santorum would like you to give him and his party some space like he gave the Kurds when he threw them to Turkey and just left them without a support system.

Rick Santorum would like you to give him the time of day so he can grieve for the party that took away civil service protections and LGBTQ+ protections. Rick Santorum would like you to give him a minute to the party that claimed Barack Obama was a nefarious Muslim bent on destroying America.

Rick Santorium needs a modicum of protection for a man who gassed protestors so he could take a photo op in front of a church, holding a bible upside down.

Rick Santorum would like sixty seconds for the party of a man who still wants the Exonerated Five (formerly known as the Central Park Five) dead.

Rick Santorum needs thousands of milliseconds for the party that sought to protect Donald Trump after being impeached.

Rick Santorum desperately wants a moment to lament the falling of a man who admired dictators, and talked about ‘very fine people on both sides‘ at a KKK rally.

The list is endless. The cruelty is infinite. The only thing that stood in its way was a chamber of Congress being flipped to the other side, a planet being knocked out of alignment, but even that was limited in its capacity. Had the House not been flipped blue, the thoughts of what could have been – linger like snowflakes in the wind.

The amount of damage that will have to be raized and exercised will be enormous. It will take decades to heal structural, spiritual, and philosophical wounds.

Rick Santorum needs some time to choreograph his better angels. The man whose party did everything to alienate, overtake, and overwhelm wants a safe space to think about what will no longer be. He’s free to do that on his own time, but we don’t have to give him anything.

The White Sox Hiring Tony La Russa Is Nuclear Grade Bullshit

On Friday the White Sox dropped the bomb that they were hiring, much to the chagrin of literally every person I know who is a White Sox fan, a secretly seething White Sox general manager Rick Hahn, Chicago sports media, and whoever else was within earshot of me yelling loudly in my own apartment, Tony La Russa.

The rumors had started just days earlier, it was a choice between him and former Astro’s manager AJ Hinch, who had been banned from baseball for a year due to his roll in the Astros cheating scandal that involved banging on barrels just the year prior. But seemingly by Friday, the fix was in. A.J. Hinch hadn’t even been interviewed, let alone been given a ceremonial bang on the barrel. It was La Russa’s position to lose.

To understand the hire, you have to go back. La Russa managed the White Sox from 1979 to 1986. It was his first start as a baseball manager. When La Russa was fired in 1986, the White Sox had been off to a horrific start, going 26-38. He was fired by none other than noted White Sox homer Hawk Harrelson (you gotta be bleeping me). Jerry Reinsdorf, the owner of both the Chicago Bulls and the Chicago White Sox, would go on to reveal later that he regretted letting La Russa be fired, despite the screaming dumpster fire record that lay before him at the time.

To me, the Tony La Russa hiring is a perfect, text book example of cronyism. La Russa hadn’t managed a ball club since 2011, since retiring from the Cardinals after winning a World Series. He hadn’t been in serious contention for any managerial position in 9 years. Suddenly, without warning, without the expressed written consent of his own general manager (snickers incessently), the man who should have been making the hire – Jerry Reinsdorf leaned over the steering wheel and yanked out the keys, leaving Rick Hahn grasping the power steering as the car tumbled down the hill. The mere fact that Rick Hahn’s head didn’t explode Scanners style at the press conference was astonishing. Reinsdorf was here to say essentially, “Hey, big whoops about the firing back in 1986, want a job?”

The press conference itself was a shit show. Hahn glazed over the announcement with as much enthusiasm as a hostage victim in a Saw movie. He did as much as robotically was required in five minutes from a general manager, and then quickly abandoned ship to give La Russa the mantle. La Russa then quickly asserted himself over the role of manager.

Look, is La Russa qualified to coach a team? Certainly. He has the experience. He’s coached teams to the World Series. He’s in the Hall of Fame. He can coach a team. But is a man who has espoused views for players kneeling four years ago right for an exciting, young, and boisterous team? La Russa has since gone on the record to say his views have evolved.

As long as it’s peacefully protested and sincere – and what I’m learning more and more with like the Players’ Alliance and especially the White Sox, when your protests actually have action-oriented results, the way you’re going to impact to make things better, I’m all for it.”

Tony La Russa

But the telling part of his bullshit is the glimmer it is sheathed in. Using words like “peacefully protested and sincere”and “action-oriented results.” It’s the same assholes who start pointing at riots and then blaming the entirety of Black Lives Matter. Let’s revisit his statement from 2016.

“I would tell [a player protesting the anthem to] sit inside the clubhouse,” La Russa told “The Dan LeBatard Show.” “You’re not going to be out there representing our team and our organization by disrespecting the flag. No, sir, I would not allow it. … If you want to make your statement you make it in the clubhouse, but not out there, you’re not going to show it that way publicly and disrespectfully.”

Tony La Russa

He said that about Colin Kaepernick, who was ceremoniously ousted from the NFL for kneeling and protesting. Now is it to say that yes, sure he may have evolved a little bit, but it’s the ticks and glimmers in speeches like his that tell us he’s still not all the way there.

Tony La Russa is the kind of manager that once he gets his hands on a team, it becomes HIS team. It’s his way or the highway. And if you get in his way, you best get out of the way. I know these types of people. My father is one of those types of people. And those people fall the hardest.

If a player is trying to be sincere, how, with La Russa as the arbiter suddenly gets to decide what is and what isn’t sincere, to be trusted? What about La Russa’s past statements gives you the window to say that he’s evolved? Why was he singling out players in the press conference?

“I’m going to look for action, and not just verbage”

Words backed by actions are of course great, but words today are powerful. They just are. And to say otherwise is ignorant as fuck.

It’s very possible that La Russa lets everything go by and doesn’t start any fights. I sincerely* hope he does. I hope he doesn’t restrict this team in any way. I hope he lets the team BE the team that they are. Because they’re fun. They’re exciting. Some of them are wacky and goofy. And it’s hard not to be concerned about an iron hand coming down between all of that and saying otherwise.

If they had at least interviewed A.J. Hinch maybe I’d be less upset, or if they had at least interviewed a FEW candidates before settling on La Russa I’d be in a ‘whatever’ phase. I suspect that this is going to eat me for the entirety of his tenure, even if he manages to take this club far.

I was listening to the Laurence Holmes Show on 670 SCR from Chicago about all this, and his Thursday and Friday shows were pretty much everything I had in my own brain. This feels like a step backwards for a bright team. It’s not the right move. There’s nothing about this team that screams Tony La Russa. Laurence put it pretty succinctly, after going into great detail about La Russa’s past, his comments, and the hiring process for all of this, “This sucks…”.

It doesn’t just suck, it’s nuclear grade bullshit.


You can find Coleman generalizing about sports on Twitter.

5 Days To The Election – So Here Are 5 Times I Raged on Jedi: Fallen Order

There were a few times I raged on Jedi: Fallen Order. Here they are in no particular order. And yes, I am bad at parrying. (I enjoyed the game).

1. The entirety of Kashyyyk

2. The god damn GIANT SPIDERS.

3. Kashyyyk again (and anything gross & gooey).

4. The fucking battle arena map with all the monsters/spiders (fuck you) and the Boba Fett jackass. Designed by some kind of Star Wars – Saw character/sadist.

5. Seriously Fuck Kashyyyk.

Love you, Respawn Entertainment.


You can find me on Twitch raging, raging against the dying of my own stream. You can also find me on Twitter raging about literally everything.

The One Time I Tried To Be Alexandra Petri And Failed Miserably

Alexandra Petri is a humorist for the Washington Post, who writes articles that parody current reality or just out-right pokes at a current event in a funny, amusing way. I envy her. What a gig! It’s like if the Borowitz Report were actually funny. I’ve enjoyed her columns on the regular, and even went on to buy her funny and amusing book ‘A Field Guide To Awkard Silences‘. She’s written columns like the perspective of the fly that was on Mike Pence‘s head to people who feign about how they’re being forced to vote for Donald Trump to the dangers of weaponized soup. She’s a walking Onion article dispenser at the ready. I once made the mistake of trying to emulate her.

I’ve tried about a few times – as a writing exercise, to write humor and parody columns. I thought I could do it! I’m from Chicago (suburbs)! I read The Onion regularly on my train rides to Second City (I never made it past level A)! I watched Conan growing up! It turns out I was wrong. I could not hip flex with invisible strings and will humorist columns into existence. And not only was I wrong I was also horrifically under-motivated to do so.

I set up a Patreon account! I bought a website (this very one in fact)! I emailed people! I made a Facebook post! I was ready to go. I was ready to put keys to the screen, pedal to the medal, and whatever allegorical hutzpah and go all out. Nothing came out.

And when I say nothing came out, I mean literally nothing. I wrote a few other articles that weren’t parody, but that was it. It was bad. I said I would get to it next week. Then the next week came and went. And nothing. The dread began to set in. What the hell was I doing. I have ideas! I had thoughts, ideas, and would even jot a note down in my phone that made me chuckle. And still, nothing produced. It was like watching J.D. in Scrubs laugh/daydream at thoughts in his own head that no one else heard.

I even embarrassingly emailed my hometown newspaper, thinking maybe after they wrote an article about me because I had put out my debut feature film ‘Lost Signals‘ that they would give me the time of the day maybe one a week to let me write a column. They of course, rightly, did not answer my email. I got really bummed. What the hell was wrong with me?

The answer in fact, was really simple. I am not Alexandra Petri. I am not a humorist columnist who can do this weekly. I can write a comedic script, I can write a column with a funny anecdote or a one-off joke and poke fun at myself relentlessly, but I am not an Alexandra Petri. I cannot write a column about ‘Person, Woman, Man, Camera, TV‘ the way she can. I can not write an entire chapter about going to a pun contest like she did in her first book.

It turns out the more I read, and the more I consumed content on websites like the website formerly known and forever blacklisted in my heart Deadspin (subscribe to Defector), GQ, and SFGate that my bullshit column wanna-be writing style nonsense is much closer to Drew Magary – if a drunk penguin spinning in an office chair wrote it.

You might have an idea or two here or there but you necessarily don’t have to follow through on every idea, not all of them succeed. But it’s also OK to fail! I learned a miserable lesson there. And it’s also not to say that I can’t write a one-off parody column here or there, but I just know that that is something I can’t do on the regular.

My writing is of course, ever-evolving. It may always be that way. But I’m happy to know one thing that I’m not, and it’s great to watch the people that can be the way that they are continue to do so with gusto! It’s great to watch a Lebron James be a LeBron James, or an Alexandra Petri write things no human can write! It’s great to read Drew Magary say all 32 NFL teams suck!

Perhaps one day I’ll figure it all out and we’ll be truly in peak Coleman writing territory, but that won’t be for me to say. And I’m OK with that, just like I’m OK not being something I’m not.

In the mean time, let me load up this entire post as a series of tweets that will bork out halfway through because I’m a boomer who doesn’t know how to use technology. And if you’re not interested in that, then perhaps just follow @petridishes on Twitter.


You can follow me on Twitter here and watch me play video games mediocrely on Twitch.

AOC’s ‘Among Us’ Stream Was A God-Damn Delight

There’s not a lot of joyful, unabashed good times out in the world right now. The closest thing I’ve truly gotten to just disappearing into and away from the world is ESPN’s ‘The Last Dance’, the 10-part docuseries on Michael Jordan’s time with the Chicago Bulls that lead to 6 championships. The Last Dance was pure nostalgia, a shot in the arm of when things were at the peak of entertainment, and notably for me, as a Chicago fan and ex-patriot.

I’ve seen a few posts here and there that serve as reminders that we shouldn’t revere our politicians too much because they’re human, and can fuck up and do bad things, which is true, but since we’re capturing a moment in time here during a fucking pandemic with what little joy there is to have in here, I’m making an exception.

On October 20th (what one may call a Tuesday), Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez fired up a Twitch stream for the first time ever in a fit of joy to encourage people to register to vote or make sure they were already registered, and let me tell you folks, it was one of the best times I’ve had in a long time.

I hate to pull the ‘I’m a streamer’ card but as a streamer *Holds for massive-eye rolls and applause* not only was AOC doing all the RIGHT GOD DAMN THINGS, she was doing them very well. She hid her ‘Among Us’ code, which was smart because she was playing with incredibly high profile Twitch streamers like Hasan, Moist, and Pokimane. Secondly, she did push-to-talk! As one Twitter user put it….

Use your push-to-talk, assholes! AOC out here making you dumbfucks look… fucking dumb!

Now, I didn’t tune in for 100% of the stream, I cut off the beginning because it was a lot of setup, but of the actual gameplay up until the ending, I was actually surprised by the lack of politics that was in the stream. There were interstitials here and there, telling people to register to vote, to make a voting plan as that makes them more likely to actually vote, with maybe a zinger or two at Mike Pence about who can call her ‘AOC’. But AOC came to play.

Most notably what was fun about this was the pure innocence about what it was like to play a game for the first time ever, with a large group of people that were not bent on cursing her out if she happened to not complete her tasks or just kind of lollygagged around the map. There was no animus to any of this.

She started out hoping that she wouldn’t be an impostor on the first round, and then immediately was made an impostor within seconds of that wish. Oops! And also she self-reported, and somehow got away with it.

As an impostor, she also killed notable streamer ‘Pokimane‘. She was reticent to do it at first, with a, “I can’t kill Poki, Poki’s so nice!” before driving a knife into Pokimane’s back in Security. A lot of people have already made the comparisons that this is what it’s like to be in Congress, and it’s true! So why not play the game!

The other fun thing to watch unfold was her counterpart, Ilhan Omar, who secretly was really good at playing the Impostor role, and was also running a STUPIDLY stacked PC. As a rule now all politicians must disclose what kind of disgusting hardware they’re running because it puts a lot of our own machines to shame. Jesus….

I had an observation minutes into this, because I wanted to be weary at first at just enjoying what AOC already does, because obviously this could have implications for how much Congress becomes a part of the platform.

There’s gonna be a swath of people that come out and decry politicians for being an increasing part of the platform but the truth is they’re already here. Most accounts are now on EVERY platform imaginable to get the word out to vote or to find a place to make their case for their causes. AOC just happens to be really GOOD at it.

Ocasio-Cortez also SMASHED records, making her stream the third most viewed stream of all time. While she was getting jump scared by an O2 alarm, she peaked at 439k viewers behind the liked of Ninja and Shroud’s return to Twitch.

It felt like a cultural shift. You could see it in the tweets. EVERYONE was tweeting about it, from journalists I follow, to normal Twitch users, to people not on Twitch, and also… former GOP and now politically homeless Justin Amash?

Even Chris Murphy, who – next to Brian Schatz on the Democratic side, is also extremely online, wanted in.

It’s truly bizarre to watch one game that came out two years ago, not only surge, but surge so much our politicians are now playing it and with gusto! But now they have another way of connecting with constituents. For anyone who wants them to purely legislate and stay offline, you’re in for a rack of trouble here.

AOC has an immense well of power here. And if by having a good time playing Among Us helps get out the vote, by all-fucking-means, DO IT! AOC not only picked up the game fairly quickly, but also created hilarious moments like panicking trying to call a meeting, walking mere inches by the button in the center of the cafeteria, and came so close! She got by! She had FUN. I had FUN.

It’s of course good to be weary of your politicians, no one is infallible or perfect, AOC’s voting record is subject to scrutiny but she’s also allowed to participate in some of the other things out here in society, but there’s no doubt in one of our lowest points of this generation we were able to find something to come around on together.

It’s clear how much of an influence this was. And of course Twitch will run with this. It was a hit! There’s no telling just yet if in time before Sen. Patrick Leahy is playing War Zone or Tim Scott is playing Jedi: Fallen Order to get out the vote. Not all will do it will, some will fail miserably, but undoubtedly the younger generations will want to jump on opportunities like this, especially if they’re charismatic.

I felt a lot of my stress, my anger, and a lot of problems kind of melt away during her three hours of streaming. It was nice to just enjoy a moment for once. Of course those problems won’t disappear, and will need work, but it was nice to let off on the gas for once.

But AOC managed to hit the right buttons here. She of course got her point across, and talked about a few major issues, but kept it to the sides of the gameplay, she had fun, and she was great at it! Now someone just has to explain to Nancy Pelosi what the fuck just happened.

I too stream video games but who’s counting? Or you can just follow me on Twitter.

And Then There Were None

Late last night I had the thought about calling my father, but seeing the time, I decided to wait until the next morning. I hadn’t spoken to him in awhile. We don’t chat often but when we do the conversations last at least twenty to thirty minutes. I was going to see how things were holding up because my grandmother just weeks earlier had been placed in hospice. I knew the end was coming, but these things have no rhyme or reason as to when they end. They just … end. She died this morning. The last of my grandparents have faded away.

She was in her 90’s. She lived a long, full life, and now the end had come. I didn’t get to say goodbye. As the descent was coming, she become less communicative, unable to operate things with her hands, and spoke less. She had lived in a home, and trying to call her was unfortunately a no-go.

When my grandfather died, we thought things for her would decline quick, they were one of those old-time couples who did everything together, my grandfather waited on her, hand and foot. But she held on, for a half-decade, it wasn’t her time yet. But after my grandfather died she was placed in a home, she was immobile, and needed care we couldn’t give her.

She was a good person, and every visit with Grandma Ranahan was always a good one. Dinner, coffee, conversation, television, laughs. I’ll remember those visits with fondness. I didn’t get to know my mother’s side of my grandparents that well, so much of my memories of familial authority come from my father’s side.

When the pandemic hit, I thought of her often. “Please for the love of fuck don’t let it be COVID that ends it…” I thought. The restrictions on nursing homes made it difficult for family to see her. The months since, she had few visits. Her decline accelerated, by what I can only imagine, was a combination of her old age, and the lack of familial sights. She did not die of coronavirus, but the looming specter of it all accelerated and exacerbated the situation.

I’ve stared at the same four, white, close walls for the last several months. I’ve seen coworkers once. I ran into a friend at the grocery store. But largely my interactions have all been online. My grandmother had next to none of that, sadly. My grandmother had her time, but I can’t help but think of the few more months she could have had if we hadn’t fucked this entire virus response up. It makes me angry. She deserved better, she deserved to see more than four white walls and the nurses and orderlies who kept the facility running. I understand why she was in the situation she was in, there was no avoiding it, but she still deserved better. My father and aunts and uncles had one last chance to see her, luckily for them. And I’m at least grateful they had their shot.

She was my last living grandparent. In the latter half of the 2010’s they slowly fell one by one, each marked with a return flight home, reminiscence, and family. This year that’s not happening, at least for me. There won’t be a flight, no camaraderie with cousins, aunts, uncles, there won’t be any Catholic services for me to attend (even though I’m non-religious) because my family was largely Irish-Italian-Polish Catholic. There won’t be a dinner, coffee, or conversations. I’ll only get to imagine it.

COVID, and the lack of response to it, has left some of us on opposite coasts, with little recourse, or motivation to chance the trip with no time for quarantine before service. I don’t trust my own body to not betray me, and with a father who has lung issues, I’m unfortunately not returning. I won’t be a swinging scythe to drop on the family .

She didn’t die of COVID, but I won’t get a chance to grieve in person. The last of the grandparents, the last familial titan, is now gone. Considering how much worse other families in the US have had it with this wretched wraith of a virus, I suppose I should count my lucky stars it wasn’t worse. I hope my cat doesn’t mind me babbling to her about the good times that were had, about how my grandmother’s sense of humor sharpened with time, and more.

There’s something strange about the door closing on a generation of family, I can’t exactly put into words right now exactly what that is, I can only meet it with ponderance and silence, and maybe some alcohol too.

My grandfather died from cancer, my grandmother died in seclusion, I take solace in the fact that any suffering is now alleviated. Part of me is also is saddened that this is the way it is, but so it goes…

When this is all over, when we can finally be around each other without worrying that the air we breathe is also trying to kill us, our family will be able to have that dinner, that coffee, and that conversation. There will just be one less chair occupying the table.

LaVerne Ranahan, you will be missed. We love you.