The Three Fights
Puck, man. Just... puck.
Cassidy Steele Dale writes to equip you with the forecasts, foresight skills and perspectives, and tools you may need to create a better, kinder world.
And one of those ways is to talk about things I don’t wanna do but I have to do but I don’t wanna do but I have to do.
So I’ve been thinking about three fights — two that happened this week and one that’s coming up soon — and how I need to get my mind right and my Strategy Board right for what’s to come.
The First Fight: This week I took my 9-year-old son, Dervish Dale (not his real name) to his first class in Whoop-Assery (Brazilian Jiu Jitsu). I want him to start learning principled ass-whooping — but also some humility from being taken down a peg by someone on the mat. The first part happened; the second part did not.
The instruction phase went fine but during the sparring/practice session the coaches paired him with another very early beginner and Dervish pinned him to the mat immediately. Then the coaches paired him with increasingly difficult baby-opponents and Dervish’s magical-Dervish-fu outbeat them all. So finally the coaches paired him with this wild-haired little girl who was already an Ass-Whooping veteran. She had a torn-up uniform, a mouth guard, and laser-beams-on-fire for eyes. She made it very clear through the mouth guard that she would TAKE NO THIT FROM NO MAN. From where I was sitting it looked like she pointed straight at Dervish’s nose and said, again, around the mouth guard, I GOWWA PUCK YOU UP, PREWWY BOY.
And he is, in fact, a pretty, pretty boy.
Side Note: I should explain that I married a stunning-hot-brilliant-funny woman who is 112 years younger than me and who I’m deeply smitten with and we have two gorgeous babies. And all their gorgeous-brilliant-funny is from her and all their Sass of Righteousness is from me.
I’m not kidding. See these actual photos of us which, if you know us in person, you know are exactly accurate:
My wife:
Our kids:
And me:
Where was I? Oh, yes.
Wild-haired-wild-eyed-beauty-with-a-mouthguard was about to puck Dervish up.
She did not puck up Dervish. There was no pucking-up. Dervish unleashed epic untrained Dervish-kung-fu fury and wrestled her to a draw all three times.
Immediately afterward she looked across the room at me with a look of deep, utter confusion on her face like GOBBAMMIT WHAB HABBENED and then — two beats later — CAN I MAWWY WIS PUCKING PREWWY BOY BEFORE FOURF GRADE?
Dervish is clueless. He has no clue he is a pretty, pretty boy. This will become a problem. And it’s an inherited trait: Mama still has no idea she’s a pretty, pretty woman.
The Second Fight: One guy this week got his gumption up to gloat at me but before he could Launch His Gloat I cut him off at the knees by saying, You can’t tell me to eat crow when you just ate shit. Which shut him the fuck up and shut him the fuck down.
The Third Fight hasn’t happened yet but it’s on the way — and it will be no surprise to me and you and everyone else when it happens — but the sides in that fight are going to change and we need to get used to that now. We need to get used to that ahead of time.
This Thanksgiving is going to be easy for all of us compared to next Thanksgiving, so enjoy it while you can. Love your family and friends as best you can this Thanksgiving because next year’s is probably gonna be really tough.
See, as I’ve been putting together my chart — the Strategy Board I told you about last week (more on that next week) — something became immediately evident: I needed a target. I needed somewhere for the ramifications column to land. And I decided it shouldn’t be on a big abstract like “the economy;” that instead it should be on the kitchen table.
After all, isn’t that the increasingly-consensus-answer? That Democrats didn’t advertise what they’d done for kitchen table issues and that they’d done too much macro fixes to the economy and not enough micro for the kitchen table even though saying they didn’t do enough on the latter is bullthit.
Next Thanksgiving his tariffs will make everything on the kitchen table (and in the house and the car and Walmart) far more expensive rather than far less. And because if he implements his policy/revenge plans for health and for people and for immigrants and if more families are driven apart by political and religious and who-should-have-rights disagreements then next Thanksgiving at many folks’ tables there will be some empty chairs. And some even-worse things will also probably happen along the way.
And there will be a lot of Trump voters who will be deeply confused and livid and livid and confused and looking at us like GOBBAMMIT WHAB HAPPENED FISS ISN’T WHAB WE BOATED FOR!
And a lot of my friends are gonna be like Yes it WAS what you boated for and you were really pucking stupid, now, weren’t you? And some are already throwing up their hands and saying Puck it: Let them hurt and learn. And later, while the urge to Schaden our freude will be Once-in-a-Lifetime-mighty, I know myself and I know what I’m going to do:
I’m going to go outside and stomp around in the alley with my mouth guard in and I’m gonna scream THIT PUCK GOBBAMMIT THESE MOTHERPUCKERS DON’T KNOW PUCK ABOUT THIT AND THEY PUCKED ALL THIS THIT UP AGAIN AND NOW WE’VE GOTTA PIX EBBERYPING AGAIN. JUST LIKE LAST PIME. AND THE PIME BEFORE. AGAIN. ALL THE WAY BACK TO GEBBYSBURB AND BEFORE.
And then I’m going to go help and pix some thit. And we’re going to become the kitchen table people again — but with an eye toward making sure everyone has their own adequately full and safe kitchen tables along the way. Because it’s the right thing to do and it’s the Christian thing to do. And because it’s right where the Democrats need to land anyway.
See, the third fight is going to be a legal and morals and policy fight. And it isn’t going to be against them; it’s going to be for them and for the less fortunate and for us. And it’s going to be alongside them.
Which I won’t like because I’m angry with them right now.
So.
Just… puck, man. Just… deep-down, man…
Puck.
You are a better human than I because everyone who voted for Orange Anus and against my rights as a woman and a lesbian is on my permanent sh!t list. I have always been the one everyone runs to for help. My standard response to them will be "Go ask your Orange God to fix your problem. I intend to use the dollars you so desperately need to fund Democratic and LGBTQ+ causes. Have a lovely day."
This nothing compared to Gaza and Lebanon. Get some perspective! My first act in response to my next door neighbor’s flag and 3 Trump banners was to get my own flag and flying proudly. The flag belongs to all of us. Puck him! Next was to double down on my volunteer efforts and fundraising for our 19 libraries in our public library system. Libraries are truly “Palaces for the People”. Find where your heart of service is and put your efforts in. Head down and push and stop thinking that activism is endless political scrolling. It isn’t. It’s boots on the ground. No flip flops or athletic shoes.