I believe, People!
Thankfully, I let the truth disassemble and crush those beliefs as soon as possible. Sometimes it takes longer than I like.
A little business up front here. The Dynasty Typewriter residency here in LA this month is mostly sold out. So, if you want tickets you better grab them. Same with the UK and Ireland dates in April. Get on them, if you want them. All ticket links at wtfpod.com/tour.
Back to the power of belief. I am always amazed at some people’s commitment to their beliefs over fact. Obviously, the line between fact and fiction is being intentionally blurred by the many brain-fuck machines engaged in the current agitprop insemination of the grey matter of angry lost ones. Beliefs are satisfying. Why not cling to them? They make sense of things that are complicated without having to deal with annoying facts and process.
Without getting political, I try to assess how things happen from my own vantage point. From my own experience. It’s the only way I can understand things most of the time. It’s how I engage my empathy. I had an experience with some wild steelhead trout that I’m a bit hung up on.
I bought a pound of the fish. I pan sautéed half of it the day I got it. It was amazing. A couple of days later I was looking forward to eating the other half. I spent the whole day thinking about cooking it up. It was actually all I had in the fridge for a protein for dinner. When I got home I pulled the fish out of the fridge and unwrapped it. I was heating up the pan simultaneously. Now, steelhead is the color of salmon. This piece had a definite grey spot on it. I was looking at it and, in my mind, I thought that’s probably a normal discoloring. I just didn’t notice it. Or it was fat. Yeah, that must be it, fat. There was also a spot of something on it that looked like it had grown there. Somehow in my mind it was a blemish. Natural thing. I smelled it. Smelled okay. The point was I wanted to believe it was fine. I mean, there was no way it was fine but, in that moment, I was bending this rancid piece of fish into something that was going be good and tasty.
I put the slab of fish into the pan and I actually sliced off the weird spot. It’s fish, NOT CHEESE. What the fuck was I thinking? And I cooked that thing all the way through, plated it, took a bite and I immediately spit it out because it was nasty as fuck. It was bad from the beginning but I wanted to believe, despite what I saw with my own two eyes. That’s a little scary. I could’ve eaten it, gotten some horrible food borne illness, then a fever that gave me brain damage and within a few weeks I’d be a believer in the ‘Pizzagate’ conspiracy.
Dodged a bullet.
Great week of talks. Today I talk to hip hop artist Anderson .Paak. I didn’t know much about him other than I once was hosting a show he was on an I brought him on stage as Andrew Paak. I felt bad about that. I listened to almost all his stuff and it’s great. It’s a really good talk. On Thursday I talk to director Yorgos Lanthimos about all his films including his latest, The Favourite. Good week.
Enjoy!
Boomer lives!
Love,
Maron