2025: Chapter 20

November 23rd:

I’m convinced the second season of Nathan Fielder’s The Rehearsal is the best TV series of, at the very least, the last year. I’ve recommended it to enough people (as in, like, three) to know it isn’t everyone’s bag. That Fielder’s comedic style isn’t everyone’s cup of tea — assuming that’s a better way of putting it. I happen to think the guy is something of a genius and that he is hilarious, but that’s only part of what makes The Rehearsal 2 so excellent.

What I’ve gleaned from the show is essentially that practice makes perfect, or at least gives someone their best chance of succeeding. We all have had those internal conversations with ourselves, in an effort to be at our bests, whether it involves a job interview, or talking about something important to somebody we love. We try to prepare ourselves for how we will be received, and then practice coming up with responses to the pushback. Generally we make an attempt to account for every possible permutation.

Behind the financial backing of HBO, The Rehearsal takes this process to absurd and particularly obnoxious lengths which, to me, makes up so much of Nathan Fielder’s unique appeal. He really knows how to lean in when the time calls for it, twisting the proverbial knife as deeply as it goes before taking it out… only to plunge it back in. He does it in a way no one else does, or can.

Anyway, I was thinking of the show the other day because I had an appointment at 7:00 A.M. Pacific Standard Time to take my car in for service at one of the local dealerships, and instead of doing that thing I always do and drive around aimlessly the morning of — not knowing where I’m supposed to be whether I’m following the directions or not — I did a practice run the night before so that I wouldn’t be burdened by feeling so dumb and awkward the next day. It was a minor and not-at-all time-consuming endeavor to undertake, but somehow it made me feel a lot better.

It’s such a bitch having to take my car in, for anything, but especially so given the mental math of dropping the car off, getting a Lyft, waiting around at home for the bad news, getting another Lyft to take me back, and so on. The waiting is the hardest part, as they say. The idea of it is more draining than the actual going-through with it.

And I hate being uncomfortable. Feeling uncomfortable. Preparing for so many things that never end up happening. My car has been off and on giving me problems for the last few months and I assumed I would need a new alternator, or whatever, and that the damage would come out to a couple thousand dollars. After they ran all the tests and texted me saying it was just the fucking battery, I was obviously elated.

It wasn’t until I felt the relief of it all — having got my car back and only spending a couple hundred bucks — that I realized days such as those are what my life has been missing. Being uncomfortable. Feeling uncomfortable. Practicing in my mind for situations of any sort of consequence. I’ve always felt that those were the moments that brought the best out of me, and thus make me feel better about myself in the aftermath. (This car shit is a bad example, but you know what I mean.)

Being an adult who’s established in the labor force is great. It crosses off a lot of boxes that otherwise bring worry to individuals and families. That has never been lost on me, how fortunate I am. Depending on business my paychecks can vary considerably, but at the end of every year I am more or less in the same range. I can count on so many things that limit my propensity to stress.

Yet, at the same time, I think the last prolonged instance I felt truly uncomfortable was when I learned (and inevitably began dealing) craps — which was in 2015. Ever since then I haven’t really, like, worked at anything. I haven’t dedicated any time to learning something new. I haven’t had to prove anything, whether to others or, more importantly, myself.

My professional life is such a stark contrast to every teacher who thought I was worth a damn, or so many of my coaches in youth sports who went hard on me because they understood I either possessed a little talent (which I actually did at one point) or had some influence on the temperature of the team, or my teammates. Even when I broke in on craps, as a 24 year-old, one of my bosses was from Atlantic City and it was still a time (unlike present day) where he was able to motherfuck me out loud and give me a legitimately hard go of it.

My thing is, I never minded it. What some of my teachers and coaches and, yes, even that old curmudgeon from Atlantic City, understood about me was that I had a pretty high tolerance for getting coached aggressively. I’ve never been one of those to cry to my parents or run to Human Resources at the slightest hint of constructive criticism. The authority figures who knew (or know) me best could dance with me on that thin line, and even if I hated it while it was happening it undoubtedly always got my juices flowing.

Which kind of brings me back to the point: That I’ve been missing that feeling. Whether it’s pressure, or consequence, or simply being uncomfortable, I’ve been craving something worthy of my effort and care. Over the last decade I have certainly been guilty of replacing such a void by entangling myself in various dramas with the opposite sex, and chasing the highs of drugs and alcohol and gambling. Without a clear goal or, like, image of the future, I manufactured my sensation of discomfort through the art of self-sabotage.

November 24th:

I am not a New Year’s Resolution kind of guy in the same way I don’t really care about my birthday: These are just arbitrary dates that come and go. They shouldn’t thwart anyone’s agency to make meaningful changes in their lives. I do get it — resolutions are cute. It’s more fun to have one than to not. I’ve just always found the idea silly that it could be, like, the middle of August and opting to wait until January 1st to start going to the gym, or whatever.

With that said I am going to wait until the first of the year to start anew at studying (although that may be a generous description) law. Why that is is more symbolic than anything else: 2025 has been such a dreadful year that I don’t want to contaminate it with something positive, such as my earnest ambitions for 2026 and beyond. It feels, to me, much more clean to leave this past year where it belongs. All by itself.

And I loosely kind of decided which aspect of law I want to practice — labor law. Being an attorney involves such a vast universe that it has, at times, made me dream of more exotic roles, such as being a defense attorney and representing all my favorite characters in the gangster movies that I grew up watching with my dad. It’s made me picture myself as an agent like Ari Gold (from Entourage) or, even better, a sports agent like Arliss Michaels (from Arli$$). Being one of those flashy, money-making, lifestyle sorts of lawyers and/or agents is fun to envision.

But then I realize that I’m not flashy, and I don’t want to be flashy. I just want to be good. I think working the last decade for the so-called Man, in an industry as predatory as casinos — where the games aren’t rigged, like literally, but they do exist on the whole to generate significantly more losers than winners — has had an impact on me. I’ve done it because I enjoy the work, and it necessarily has paid my bills, but I’m nonetheless aware that it provides a negative value to society. Being part of the team that never loses, I mean.

Labor politics have long been a preoccupation of mine, more specifically the ongoing, perpetual struggle between workers and capitalists. Ever since I realized how I feel about my own politics, and economics in general, I have been fascinated by unions and collective bargaining. Aside from my love for sports there isn’t anything that offers me the genuine, like, excitement that I receive whenever I see workers of any field going on strike for an increase in pay and/or benefits.

In my opinion, it is the peak of romanticism: The idea of people (specifically workers) of all backgrounds coming together to achieve a common goal. You can feel however you want politically, but they call money a universal language for a reason. Once the capitalists take it away from workers, or refuse to give them enough to survive, it doesn’t matter if they (being the labor) are conservative or liberal or anything in between.

I’m not going to insult your intelligence and tell you that a major part of my interest in studying law has nothing to do with making more money than I am currently. That’s obviously why I want to challenge myself and get on with it. I’m really just arguing that labor law allows me to kill two birds with one stone. I can theoretically earn more money while at the same time providing a positive impact on ordinary, working people. Rather than being a dealer and quite literally taking money from regular people, I would be working to extract that money from the ownership class and put it into the pockets of ordinary folk.

It’s almost poetic when I think about it.

November 25th:

It’s not like I hate wealthy people, or the capitalists as a whole. My feelings about both politics and the American economic system in general revolve around fairness, but more poignantly the lack of it. I believe it’s neither fair nor moral that the hardest working people in the United States are routinely the lowest paid, and that oftentimes the individuals paying the least amount in taxes — as in a percentage of their income — are the wealthiest people in the country.

Many of those close to me think it’s silly that I am an unabashed and unapologetic socialist. They tell me that if I was a billionaire, I would be using the same tax-dodging tricks, and that I would suppress labor costs at every turn to ensure I made as much money as absolutely possible. To this they are correct. But here’s the fact: I’m not a fucking billionaire. So why would I support them?

I’m aware as a white heterosexual man that my political priorities differ not only from most of my own kind but minorities, too. I don’t understand what it’s like to be black, or hispanic, or gay, or lesbian, or transexual, though I do — through my particular brand of politics — empathize with their plights and everyone else’s.

My take is that the issue of our time is not white v. black, or LGBT v. straight, but rather… income inequality. How so few have so much v. how so many have so little. My privilege as a straight white guy who would technically be considered middle class, if that was still a thing, would theoretically make it very easy for me to sell out and become a Republican. It’s what’s expected of me, even. That I’ll be one of those who was extremely liberal in my younger years who turned out ultra-conservative as he got older.

The truth is, my feelings have only strengthened over the last decade (since I realized my political tastes). Ironically, my wages have escalated consistently during that time. I now make more than I ever have and I am as radical about worker issues — i.e. the workingclass, or poor people — as I have ever been. This feels like one of those things where the opposite ought to be true. On the surface it doesn’t make sense.

It only computes when one stops looking at their own trivial position in life and begins to think in terms of large numbers. Right now tens of millions of Americans are going through hard times — and I don’t have to cite any of the statistics since they are so embarrassingly blatant for anyone to research — so much so that we (being the U.S. of A.) have basically killed off an entire class of people who no longer have the disposable income necessary to gamble two or three hundred dollars a month at the casino, or go shopping here and there for pointless clothing items, or take their families out to dinner every week or two, etc.

Historically, the United States economy functioned at its best when both (a) the wealthiest individuals were getting taxed up the fucking ass while simultaneously (b) working people had more money in their pockets. The two go hand-in-hand. As always, when poor people have more money they spend it; when wealthy people have more money they stash it away in offshore tax havens — so that that money never makes its way back into the economy.

What I’m saying is: If poor people have more money, then I would be seeing some of it (via tips), and in turn I would be spending more of it in the economy. It’s a trickle-up effect. Ipso facto, what is good for poor and working people is automatically good for me, too. It is good for everybody.

November 27th:

While I may not be flashy, or have a desire to be a flashy attorney (or agent), that doesn’t mean I don’t want to leave an imprint. I’m not allergic to at least a little bit of attention, which going through courtroom procedures offers. I guess since I was young I have simply always had an affinity for the underdog. (We can dismiss the fact that I grew up a fan of Duke basketball and currently happen to be a fan of the most successful NFL franchise of the last decade.)

The current economic climate renders working people not only as the underdogs, but the gap is widening by the day as to how much of underdogs they truly are (in comparison to their corporate overlords). Politics are a zero-sum game, and whether we like it or not the workplace is extremely political. What is financially beneficial for workers is inherently detrimental for owners, and vice versa. This is why so many industries have gotten rid of pensions in lieu of tying retirement benefits into 401K accounts, and why a major swath of the American economy considers so many workers as so-called independent contractors — because companies such as Uber and Lyft and DoorDash, and so on, do not want to pay benefits to their workers.

It’s also why private industry goes to such great lengths to squash their employees from unionizing. What was once such a regular thing — union participation — has become, like, taboo to even discuss. Companies such as Wal-Mart and Amazon have become something of a monopoly unto themselves, and are incredibly omnipresent throughout the country, such that if enough of a credible threat arises of a union forming they have no problem simply closing shop on the whole fucking store or warehouse. It would be truly monumental if either, or both, had all of their workers create a union nationwide — because then and only then would the hands of Wal-Mart and Amazon have their hands tied — but it doesn’t appear that will happen anytime soon.

And, honestly, even if it did happen it’s already probably too late. Billionaires are and have been dumping so much goddamn money into Artificial Intelligence that, in a matter of time (not decades but, like, years), they will have very little use for the vestige of American labor. We’re already witnessing it with self-checkout lines and robots taking our fast food orders and self-driving cars and drones delivering packages. They will continue investing as much money as it takes into AI if it means they’ll be able to save a couple pennies. Everything the capitalists do is to retain their, well… capital. Even — and especially — if it is at the expense of working people.

Because people are messy. People live complicated lives. People get pregnant and aren’t able to work. People get sick and aren’t able to work. People die and aren’t able to work. People require health benefits that come straight out of the pockets of their employers. People have to be paid for vacations that they take. People have to be paid unemployment. People are fucking expensive, man.

That is why the time is nigh for people — workers — to band together. It’s our only hope for any kind of vibrant or healthy or even acceptable future. And I will be here, carrying with me this philosophy, or outlook, or worldview, into my next occupation. Where I will be representing the people, and challenging the capitalists, as my calling in life. I will be there.