Cage Match Diplomacy

The struggle makes us stronger

A number of years ago, a friend invited me to join a women’s group on Facebook. This was long before the troubles (there have always been troubles, you know the troubles I mean). I wasn’t sure if this friend had anything to do with running the group, or if she simply thought I’d like it, but I liked her so I accepted, thinking I could always leave or mute if it wasn’t my thing. Believe it or not, I don’t like “social” media very much. I’d rather meet a friend for lunch. I know!!

At first I didn’t understand what the group was — it seemed like it was an off-shoot of another page that had been about travel, but after a while I realized it was fascinating, and a good place to do a little informal research about women I might never meet. There were roughly 35,000 women in this group from across the United States, from many different backgrounds. The topics were as far-reaching as you might imagine (these are not actual questions, but things like):

“I’m going to a wedding this weekend, should I wear dress A, B, or C? Please be kind, I had a baby six months ago and feel self-conscious. I am breastfeeding and my boobs are huge and I’m bringing a pump, and I hate pumping. This is the first night I’ll be away from my baby.”

Then there’d be 942 votes on which dress to wear, but not just votes, women saying, “You look fantastic! I can’t believe you just had a baby. Wear that dress, and I hope you know how beautiful you are!” And, “I hated pumping, too, but try to enjoy yourself, your baby will be okay! Dance, breathe, and have a fun night out. Also, your boobs look GREAT.” All supportive stuff.

There might be a parenting question that would get people riled up — “Would you let your seventeen-year-old daughter sleep at her boyfriend’s house if his parents are okay with it?” Or one where everyone would be supportive, and I’d feel relieved:

“My mom won’t accept my transgender daughter, and I don’t want to spend the holidays with her this year as a result. It makes my daughter so miserable, and ruins the holiday for her and for me. I have tried talking to my mom many times, but she refuses to listen. I have sent her books, podcasts, everything I can think of. I have broken down in front of my mom and tried to be patient with her, but I can’t do this to my daughter, it isn’t okay. Now all my grown siblings are upset we aren’t coming, the cousins are upset, my dad is upset, too, and my mom isn’t speaking to me. What would you do?”

There’d be design questions, “I’m redoing this room, do y’all like this paint color?” Or travel, “Hey, I’m heading to New Orleans for the first time, please give me all your tips!”

I used to like it. Once in a while a woman would post a recipe that was fast, easy and delicious, right as I was wondering what to make for dinner, or someone would post about the grief they were experiencing because they’d lost someone and didn’t know how to function — just as I was feeling knocked sideways by the intensity of missing my mother.

People would often share things they wouldn’t share on their personal pages because they didn’t want their close friends or family to worry, but they needed to tell someone. Cancer diagnoses, fear about their very depressed teen, a divorce they hadn’t announced to their inner circle yet.

Women were kind to each other, and if they weren’t, they got sorted from the bunch, quickly. If they didn’t get the warning the first time, they were removed from the group. I was impressed with the moderators. I liked that there was such a huge cross-section of people from across the country. There were women with husbands, women with wives, transgender women, women who were single, women who liked to swing with their partners, women who were divorced and dating again for the first time, women who were widowed.

There were women of every color, size, and socioeconomic background, as far as I could tell. Some posts were about sex toys, sex positions, sex questions. No one judged. If you weren’t into something, you moved on. No one seemed to feel the need to comment on posts that didn’t apply or appeal to them.

It felt like an online coven, and that’s what I started calling it, even though that is not the name of the group. In my mind, it’s “The Coven”, or it was. You could dip in and out, but there was always a little magic afoot. It was a small source of joy and support during the pandemic, and during the time my mother was dying and I didn’t want to burden anyone in my life.

There were by-laws when I joined the page. This was a good fifteen years ago, so I don’t remember all of them, but it was the basic stuff. Be kind, be respectful, don’t sell anything here, no politics. Fifteen years ago “no politics” meant something different than it does today.

Like everything, times have changed and most good things have frayed around the edges.

Now women post because their husbands are looking for jobs, but it’s been six months and they haven’t had any luck. Does anyone have any leads in the finance/tech/transportation/manufacturing industry? Someone will write back and say maybe your husband should run his resume through ChatGPT and see if it can be updated to highlight his skills in a more appealing way. Someone else will say Claude is better for resumes than ChatGPT. A third woman will respond that AI is horrible for the environment, and there are human beings who could look at his resume and advise.

It’s ironic that someone is suggesting her husband use the tool that is very likely responsible for his firing in the first place, is what I’ll be thinking, but I won’t write that, because I’m sure it’s considered “politics” — as it should be. Everything is political.

Then someone else will say “Her husband is OUT OF WORK and it’s insensitive to suggest he pay someone, he can’t afford it, and ChatGPT is free!” Another woman will like that comment and respond, “IKR?! Google uses water, too [eyeroll emoji].”

And yes, it does, especially now that Google has made it a lot harder to opt out of AI Overview — a thing many of us find aggravating enough to find alternatives. I switched to Ecosia, where you can turn off the AI feature in settings, and they plant trees every time you search. Is it going to solve everything? I wish. But there are ways to be mindful, even with the search engines we’re using, and why wouldn’t we use the one that plants trees?

There are people who don’t want to think about the icky part, though. They want to pick up their devices or open their laptops and do what they need to do in the most expedient way, and so be it if that makes huge AI data centers inevitable, because AI itself is inevitable. The horse has left the barn, they’ll say, so just deal with it and let Claude write your grocery list, or plan your vacation, or tell you how to talk to your monosyllabic teenager, or have it summarize the complicated story you’re trying to tell. Why tax your brain trying to think too hard?

One reason might be that people who live near those gargantuan monstrosities like Musk’s Colossus in Memphis, have horrifying, undrinkable, unusable brown water coming out of their taps, and they listen to massive explosions underground for months — the kind that leave cracks in the foundation of the houses they worked for years in order to buy — and they hear a constant buzzing noise, and the lights from these AI data centers stay on all night, glowing ominously.

Their energy bills have tripled because electric companies pass on the costs to working class customers, and the local water supply is compromised — when we are already facing droughts across the country. Far too many of their children suddenly develop asthma, while their parents suffer from COPD or other lung disorders. They can’t open their windows anymore, because the air quality is so awful, because xAI is using an insane number of unpermitted methane turbines.

These data centers get pitched to local governments by corporations owned by billionaires. They head for marginalized communities first, or communities they know are hurting, as if the marginalization happened the way rain happens, like it wasn’t by design.

Then they head toward communities that are in trouble. As if farmers can’t afford diesel and fertilizer, and who knows why?

They promise millions in tax revenue and jobs, at a time when these communities are desperate. The majority of the jobs are construction jobs, though — they last until the centers are built. The billions invested by the corporations are easily recouped when they lay off thousands of employees they can now replace with robots. Who cares if the community is full of people with cancer, asthma, and COPD when the project is complete? You don’t think the corporations care, do you? The board members? The billionaires? Erin Brockovich is on the case, thankfully.

I don’t say this on The Coven, and I don’t go there much anymore. It no longer feels magical to me, and I’m on screens enough when I write. The only people I want to talk to on screens are my actual family and friends who are far away, and those include the people who read my stuff and want to engage. I’d rather see my family and friends in person given the choice. Other than that, I’ll talk to my dog. He’s very smart.

Just for fun, I’ll show you something. It’s the current word count of my memoir. I have an entire draft in a drawer. I really started writing the book I’ve been wanting to write after my mom died. It’s going to need a monster edit. I know that. I know exactly what I want to do. A lot more than half of what I’ve written won’t make it into the book, but I need to write it the way I’m writing it first. I’m sure there’s an “easier” way. I could not be less interested.

No, I do not want the word count displayed while I type.

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When did we forget — the struggle makes us stronger? I’ve had to work my ass off for pretty much every worthwhile thing in my life; certainly for my peace of mind, and definitely to get to a place where I know who I am, and don’t chase after love or approval. I don’t want to struggle all the time, but don’t you know people who’ve had everything handed to them just a little too easy?

Pete Hegseth comes flying to mind, and my facial muscles do a thing when I write his name, like I’ve smelled something that’s gone bad. The president comes to mind, too, and he makes me so ill, I never write his name, and I never capitalize president.

They’re the kind of people who expect to get what they want all the time, because that’s how it’s always been. When things don’t go their way, it isn’t pretty. I’m sure you’ve seen the Meet the Press interview by now. There’s the president, spouting his lies about the 2020 election for the eleventy millionth time, and there’s Kristen Welker saying no, you have no evidence of fraud. You’ve never presented any evidence. The election was certified. There were recounts. None of them changed the outcome. Joe Biden won. The end.

He doesn’t like that at all. He talks over her, and starts in about California — and the thing that is deeply upsetting as someone who lives here, is the absolute disregard he has for the harm he could cause. He’s done it before, as we all saw. Actual human beings could get hurt (again), and he does not care. He knows how to incite his base. That’s what makes me furious.

When Republicans win, the elections are perfect. When they lose, elections are rigged.

Heads I win, tails you lose. That is a game children play.

This man is stomping his feet and turning red and storming out of interviews, because the very Blue city of Los Angeles rejected a preposterous MAGA d-list reality tv star — to be mayor. Shocker! Almost like we knew how that would turn out. If he’s going to get that upset over something so small and obvious, he’s too emotional for the job. He should try smiling more.

He does know how it works out here. He’s confused about many things, but he’s not confused about this. This is how we do it in California every election.

We’re to believe the president thinks our election was rigged, but only for mayor of Los Angeles? The governors’ race where Hilton came in second was not rigged, but the mayoral race where Pratt did not advance, was rigged? What a very specific and odd kind of rigging we’re doing!

I have lived here since 2001. When I moved, I had to go to the DMV to get a new Drivers’ License, which is when and where I registered to vote. They use your Drivers’ License number, your address, your signature, and the last 4 of your Social Security number.

If I’d grown up in California like my kids, I would have pre-registered to vote like they did. You can do that at 16 or 17. At 18, every citizen born in California is automatically registered to vote, using their Social Security number, and the DMV if/when they get their license.

We have voter ID requirements, and we have a very thorough, painstaking backup system (which is slow but accurate). What we don’t have is people who understand the voting laws in California, but that’s because they don’t live here.

Los Angeles did not want that Prattdaddy, crystal-selling, Sandy Hook denier/ conspiracy theorist running the city. It was never going to happen, and it isn’t a mystery.

I wanted to share all of that about our voting system here, because now the president has demanded Republican senators pass the “SAVE America Act” which is even more “Handmaid’s Tale” than the SAVE Act. So the House passed it, and now it’s heading to the Senate. It’s about how “only Americans should vote” — and funny thing, only Americans do vote. Which they know.

Here’s something else everyone needs to understand. He cannot cancel the midterms. They are going to happen. He knows sane, alert Americans are FURIOUS and unhappy. He knows if he loses control of the House and Senate, the grift of the century is over — and that’s the best case scenario for him. He spends the last two years as a lame duck president, watching all the bs he’s done come undone.

No more coverup of the Epstein files, and who knows what happens, then? They sure seem worried, so it can’t be good. No more ICE terrorizing the immigrant community. No more pay-to-play presidency. No more pardoning his cronies. No more backdoor deals and Nvidia trades.

Worst case, he’s impeached, convicted, and hauled off to federal prison. They’d probably put him near Ghislaine, but he doesn’t want that. It’s not like he’d go to Pilates class.

He does not want to die in any jail. The people around him do not want to go to jail. Their motivation to avoid that scenario is hard to quantify. Everyone needs to be meeting this moment with the same level of desperation they would if they thought losing in November would land them behind bars. Not theoretically, literally. How would you behave? Please do that, because whatever freedom you think you have is very much on the line.

If he can’t cancel the midterms, what can he do? Exactly what he’s doing. He can keep screaming “Crooked!” and pretend we have a problem with free and fair elections in this country, when we do not. He can send his DOJ to sue states for their voter rolls if they don’t want to lose access to mail-in ballots — even though the Constitution gives STATES the right to control and manage their own elections. The federal government is not entitled to demand state governors turn over voter rolls. Please note, this means the state would send the DOJ your name, address, DOB, Drivers’ License number and/or last 4 of your Social Security number, and more.

I want you to think about Musk and the DOGE boys for a minute. “Big Balls” and the five other twenty-somethings he sent into the U.S. Treasury with flash drives, who took everyone’s most sensitive financial information, and walked out the door. Then those same six kids ran code to find “fraud and abuse” and also cancel funding for anything that had to do with “DEI” — and as a result, hundreds of thousands of people DIED, because along the way they canceled USAID.

They also canceled countless programs we needed, funding for cancer trials, and tens of thousands of essential, highly-trained, irreplaceable human beings. Then they desperately tried to re-hire them weeks later, and wreaked havoc we are still paying for all the time. Maybe you’ve heard about the screwworms?

Aside from the fact that they are not legally entitled to it and want to use the information for nefarious and disgusting reasons (i.e. to remove eligible voters from voter rolls, to scream fraud when there isn’t any, to cast doubt on elections when that is perhaps the only thing we do really well in this country), these people cannot be trusted with our personal information.

In the “Agreement” the administration is demanding states sign if they want to continue to have access to mail-in ballots, there’s a whole section about how the voter rolls will be transferred to the Civil Rights Division of the DOJ (they surely aren’t protecting anyone’s civil rights these days) using their “secure portal” and only a “small number of employees” will be able to access it, and they’ll have to use 2-factor authentication, and oh, if there is a security breach it will be rectified asap.

Sounds as good as getting a case of Athlete’s Foot. I can already see the letter offering a free year of security monitoring on the dark web after the data breach. No doubt the free monitoring will target you for ads when you sign up.

Additionally, in a move that is so abhorrent I barely have the words to describe it — after actively and successfully gutting the VRA, these despicable creatures are now citing the Civil Rights Act in their legal case to demand this information. They have no shame, not that this is anything we didn’t know. To me, however, it is an ever new low.

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“It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of light, it was the season of darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair.”

― Charles Dickens, A Tale of Two Cities

Photo by Massimo Virgilio on Unsplash

These really are the most Fuckery of Times, but this is the moment to dig deep, friends.

What else can we do in the face of people who come up with a term only they could?

Cage Match Diplomacy

I am astounded to report “cage match diplomacy” is a Memo of Understanding — which sounds like a concept of a plan, but is actually a formal, but not (yet) binding agreement that Marco Rubio signed with Dana White, CEO of the UFC (Ultimate Fighting Championship) today. Rubio called the UFC “The United Nations of Fighting” which sounds super diplomatic. Maybe — and this is just a thought — but maybe someone should tell the Secretary of State what “diplomacy” means?

“The MOU signing will mark a new public-private partnership to enhance sports diplomacy initiatives and collaborate on the global growth of mixed martial arts,” the State Department said in a press release.

Cool, cool. Totally get why this would be a priority and wouldn’t be rife with conflicts of interest. It has something to do with making seven different mixed martial arts part of our “new diplomacy outreach policy” with other countries, and y’know, finding common ground. Things we all enjoy doing together, like watching two grown men beat the ever-loving shit out of each other in a cage.

So strange, but you could not pay me to watch, and that’s the kind of thing I would never have let my children watch when they were little, and not-so-little — and it’s the kind of thing I’d hope they would choose not to watch now (and feel sure they would not enjoy). They’re also selling VIP packages for $1.5 million dollars! Who needs health insurance? As long as the president and his family are happy!

Maybe Iran will send a fighter since the president cannot seem to end the war he started that no one wanted or asked for. Maybe the Iranian fighter can duke it out with Stephen Miller until gas is back to Biden-era prices, could we do that?

One thing we can be sure of, in all of this manosphere-style diplomacy, billionaires will make more billions.

I can see it, can’t you? There will be some kind of Paramount+/CNN/CBS/Skydance streaming package “proud patriots” can buy to watch the fights, and I feel certain they will build this insatiable beast a throne and give him a crown and let him decide who wins.

American fighters will enter the White House Lawn Diplomatic Cage Match dressed in gold “presidential” merch ($99.99 on the UFC site, no doubt), and fighters from other countries will enter after kissing the ring and kneeling at his feet, and the last fighter standing will be the winner. This display will lead to greater diplomacy, somehow, and other words I can’t make my brain formulate because it’s such a mindbogglingly bro-stupid idea, but I’m sure his supporters will defend it. Even the ones who call themselves Christians. Who cares about rules, lies, grifting, or violence if the right person is doing it, I guess. I didn’t think that’s what Jesus said, but maybe I missed that verse.

Perhaps when the president gets angry with his Cabinet members, or when Republican senators don’t lick his boots enough, that’s where they’ll have to go to be humiliated. Head to the Diplomatic Cage like real men! That would probably clear them out, fast, actually. This really is their Roman Empire, and I think they should all stew in it. You want to know why I’m not too far off with any of this? If you go to the UFC website right now, you can buy a presidential medallion in honor of the United States of Corruption. Price? $12,000.

Me? I’m opting out wherever possible. Maybe just like AI, we can type -Roman Empire in the search bar. -Idiocy. -Violence. -Lies. -Corruption. -Fuckery.

I want to +Love. +Art. +Kindness. +Good friends. +Digging my toes in the sand. +Compassion. +Poetry. +The Night Sky. +Holding Hands. +Time together. +Laughter. +Say fuck no to all of the nastiness.

I know we can struggle through this together and come out stronger, and not in the cage match way, in the way of the heart.

Who wants to meet for lunch?

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