The Game Is: Cultural Roulette

Tracy Chapman, Taylor Swift, and King Charles (walk into a bar?)

Hi friends!

Great news — we made it to the end of another “where am I, what is this” week. Go get yourself a nice coffee, $9 with tip. After all you’ve been through, you deserve it.

The skies above California have finally stopped torturing us and though madness did threaten to set in, I survived both the historic storm and the drivers who need their licenses revoked following their vehicular misbehavior in the rain. Inclement weather is not for me and that’s problematic considering our planet is now firmly in its villain era. Just got word that Toronto is currently warmer than LA so let’s all put that in our pipe and smoke it.

Speaking of misbehavior and villain eras, where do I even begin with the last 24 hours in the life of President Uncle Joe Biden? Give the Special Counsel their flowers because “well-meaning elderly man with a poor memory” is a sick burn. Was it all a political hit job? Maybe so, but the surprise press conference last night did Biden absolutely no favors — mixing up Egypt and Mexico is wild — and even though he got one decent joke off, the overall vibe was old man yells at cloud.

Whether misnaming world leaders or scaring the shit out of Elton John, this man is an octogenarian and an 81-year-old does not have the same brain they had at midlife, that’s just biology. Trump is a mere three years younger than Biden but his supporters prefer to overlook his memory gaffes and filter his demented behavior through a lens of unwavering, cultish support.

Thinking about this all makes me want to lay down and place cucumber slices over my eyes. A truly compelling week for “none of these candidates” to be the winning option.

me after hitting the edibles multiple nights in a row.

The grim reaper has been spotted lurking in London amidst the news of King Charles’s mysterious cancer diagnosis. With the abrupt announcement, the helicopter action, and an immediate visit from estranged Prince Harry, will this king even make it on the money?

When a friend texted me that King Charles dying was not on her 2024 bingo card, I had to ask how she still has a bingo card going when less than six weeks into the year everything is so batshit that we must now be playing a completely different game. Who needs the steady build of bingo when you can spin the wheel for a high-stakes, unpredictable game of cultural roulette? 

Here’s just a sampling of the twists and turns this past week thrust upon us: Tucker Carlson interviewing Putin (be warned that reading the comments will lead to derangement), a remarkable Aubrey Graham dick clip, so many Taylor Swift plotlines (my favorite of which is her suing the student tracking her private jet), and a watchable Grammys anchored by a surprise performance from Tracy Chapman so pure and true that it healed the soul of America, if only for a moment.

When the spinning wheel of our busted culture lands on Tracy Chapman — a queer, Black woman making a triumphant comeback because Luke Combs, a very straight, white, male country singer respectfully gave new life to Fast Car and was as genuinely moved to be performing with her as we were to witness it — you allow the hope to filter in.

be healed and watch it again.

Tracy Chapman appeared like a radiant offering from another time (though barely marked by the passing of it) and the sound of her voice was magic, taking us all back to anywhere else but here. Nostalgia is a potent drug and when it aligns with divine, timeless artistry there will be no dry eyes in the house.

Music in this era is defined by TikTok tracks and parasocial relationship marketing and nobody has mastered the art and commerce of it all quite like Taylor Swift, a star born of MySpace who is as slick as she is brilliant, promotes her work in riddles, and wields a power and influence over her audience so great that Trump supporters are convinced she is some kind of psyop.

Is that to say there’s anything less “authentic” about her music since it’s coming from a self-described mastermind who knows how to work each and every platform? Not in an era where everything is happening in every place all at once. She is an innovator of the form and has the Swifties to prove it.

But almost a week later, I’m still moved thinking about the look in Tracy Chapman’s eyes when the social media-less artist who hadn’t toured in 15 years felt the love of an audience she’s not in constant conversation with. How could she have possibly known her fandom was this desperate to receive her gifts? We have been listening to her music, subconsciously waiting for her to reappear and mend our hearts. There are millions of us, the Chapmaniacs, and our ranks are growing.

When everything else feels scary and broken, there is still art. This new life for Fast Car is a beautiful reminder of the enduring power a great song has to bring us together — across decades and all of our differences. There will always be people brave enough to sing their truth with such an open heart that the vibe of the entire planet is better for it. Here’s hoping that in this unhinged era, more of them grace the stage.

Before I go, seems we’re getting perilously close to Valentine’s Day and I have a question for my fellow singles: what are we doing this year? Should we keep paying Raya too much money to swipe through five creative directors a day? Are we giving a chance to the gargoyle that Hinge has kindly selected as most compatible? These apps suck and should go out of business so maybe we can figure out a way to identify ourselves in the wild since approaching IRL is extremely out of fashion? Might sound crazy but anything is possible inside the spinning wheel of it all.

Have a great weekend! Can’t wait to see where that little roulette ball lands next, my money’s on the Las Vegas Super Bowl where the brand activations have already embraced Unhingement and I’ll be rooting for the only team that counts, Usher Raymond IV.

Less Lessons More Blessin’s™️

Liz