My dad come home one night when I first started high school in an atypically upbeat mood. Apparently he had had a private moment with his union shop steward who he would occasionally tag along with to bust bars for illegally serving minors alcohol and his colleague told him that they had been in meetings with New York State officials and they were confident that significant raises would soon be forthcoming. He took his friend’s word as gospel and we actually starting looking at actual homes to purchase on Staten Island, which after years of garden apartmenting in a rapidly decaying part of Queens seemed about as countrified and rural as we could have hoped for.
Then just as summer approached the State, under the new and far more conservative regime of its new governor Hugh Carey, reversed course. His union went out on strike. And in retalliation the state furloughed dozens of employees, my dad being one of them. Not only were we no longer moving, my dad fell into a massive and increasingly manic depression. Every time he’d see Governor Carey on the TV news bragging about some other accomplishment he’d go into a rage, spitting at the television and cursing nonstop, always referencing him as “The Lunkhead” in his tamer moments. He’d then go into deeper rants about political hacks and liars, becoming increasingly detached and unavailable. And at a time when I actually wanted to reach out to him for help when I was going through my first series of heartbreaks in adolescence as I finally realizing being a 240-pound nerd wasn’t a great start to puberty, he chased me away, chastizing me mercilessly for not caring about “the important stuff”.
So believe me when I tell you I recognize the symptoms of derangement syndrome, because I experienced it daily and first hand long before the rich entitled schmuck who grew up 15 minutes away even thought of entering the public eye, let alone politics. And it’s anything but a good look no matter what name is attached to it.
Hence, when I’m barraged by people who literally can’t stop themselves from sharing and posting whatever moronic or incendiary behavior that rich entitled schmuck may be guilty of, with incredibly detailed and increasingly consternated reactions, I get the point where I can’t help but sigh and say “Enough’s enough. Not a damn thing you or anyone else does on social media, or any attempt at rallying grassroots support is going to matter one whit. Maybe you may personally feel better by venting, but you’re literally pissing in the wind when you think you’re actually reaching anyone of consequence with your desperate cries for help”.
Harsh? Hell, yes. Judgmental? Debatable. But with the exception of the social media piece, since it didn’t exist a half-century ago, my admonishing pretty much mirrors what my dad’s friend and colleague would tell him as he went through round after round of negotiations. Staying strong in solidarity with a union is one thing, but shrieking and falling down a rabbit hole of despair does no one any good.
Yes, I’ve seen what he posted on social media as Memorial Day greetings. Yes, I read about what effectively was a cross between a stand-up routine and “locker room talk” that was the gist of his speech to graduating cadets at West Point. Yes, yes, yes, he’s far more of a schmuck and “mentally insane” (as opposed to those of us who are “physically insane”, I suppose?) than ever. I’m not gonna defend such behavior because, again, I recognize it for the illness that it is more than most.
But I’m not going to join you or any of your fellow ranters in piling on until someone, somewhere, offers up a viable and potentially impactful alternative in the form of an impactful spokesperson with reach and resolve, or at the very least can attach a legitimate game plan to even the most out-of-the-box thought of how to counterattack. Assuming, of course, you’re still capable of discerning the difference between real and fake news yourselves.
So many seemed to react to the news that dominated social media over the holiday weekend that the likes of NETFLIX JUNKIE’s Yusra Miraj Khan enthusiastically shared:
A recent social media post reveals Taylor Swift and Bruce Springsteen’s surprise duet aimed at Donald Trump—fans are buzzing, desperate to uncover the full story behind this unexpected alliance.
Trump’s attacks prompted Facebook posts in mid-May 2025 from accounts like Rock N’ Roll Mania and Rock & Roll Universe claiming that Springsteen and Swift banded together in a performance in “defiance” of his criticisms. The posts stated:
When Bruce Springsteen and Taylor Swift took the stage together, it wasn’t just a duet—it was a statement. As the two icons stood shoulder to shoulder, the arena erupted in thunderous applause, drowning out the noise of viral criticism that had trailed them online. Backed by the full force of the US Musicians Union, who declared their “solidarity” with the artists, this moment became about more than music—it was about unity, defiance, and respect for artistry. Fans wept, cheered, and held up signs reading “We Stand With You,” turning the performance into a powerful rebuke of negativity. In that electric moment, Swift and Springsteen didn’t just sing—they roared back with grace, grit, and soul.
Except they didn’t. As party-pooper Nur Ibrahim shared on SNOPES:
Swift and Springsteen did not perform a concert together in response to Trump’s criticisms or for any other reason. The photographs in the above post don’t show a real concert where they were onstage at the same time, but rather show the singers performing on separate occasions, including one of Swift performing in Buenos Aires, Argentina, in November 2023, and two of Springsteen performing in November 2022 and April 2023. As such, we rate this claim as false.
A simple search of major newspapers and magazines showed that Springsteen and Swift did not perform together in the aftermath of Trump’s comments. Had they performed together as an act of “defiance,” it would have made headline news. The claim originated from a Facebook page known for posting incorrect stories and AI-generated images of famous musicians.
I’ve had fever dreams of my own. In my case, drugs and a near-death experience were what caused it. I suppose that may have also been true among the 140,000 reactions and more than 7000 comments that Ibrahim referenced.
But maybe there were a few good ideas there. Maybe an anthem that can message the emotions and frustrations of millions funneled through talented performers with brand affiliations from impactful global companies open to throwing their financial support behind it might be a better way to reach those capable of influencing these morons than what so many of y’all have been suggesting.
Such a game plan seemed to work 40 years ago when one couldn’t escape WE ARE THE WORLD. The first months I spent in Los Angeles I was frequently entrapped into an impromptu joining of hands from strangers in malls and restaurants, doing our best to emulate that ubiquitous music video. Maybe someone like Springsteen or Swift could put their mind to penning an actual song such as the NO MORE SILENCE that was referenced by those fake stories. People will pay for the download. Every penny over and above covering production costs could be put toward targeted and strategically chosen purposes. Advertising to folks being directly affected by cuts to Medicaid and social security in areas more proportionately affected on channels and platforms they are more inclined to watch, including red-appeal media. Plenty of them need money, and money always talks louder than anything else. Contributing to campaign efforts of folks running actual elections for open house and senate seats this year, and in battleground states during the midterms. Fish where the fish are and in ponds and lakes that actually can make a material difference. The data’s available for anyone who wants to look hard enough and who has a little bit of financial support to dig into proprietary databases to uncover it. I’ll yet again throw up my hand as someone more than qualified to do that under those circumstances, assuming you’re actually capable of paying attention.
I’ll concede my idle thoughts might need some finessing. G-d, I’d love to actually collaborate with like-minded intelligent people on such a path, as opposed to “debating” on social media whether or not someone should be impeached or, worse yet, have to face the likes of Jasmine Crockett and her shtick in the chambers of Congress. She actually dropped into one of her own recent diatribes her desire to be president herself. Have at it, Jazz. Your act is already wearing thin, and I’ve got a better chance of becoming Pope–all the more neglible since we just hired a healthy American-born guy for the task.
But rather than focus on rage and performance art politics, some of you might actually want to get serious about using data and a little corporate pressure to win your end game.
Incidentally, that’s pretty much what my dad’s union did. They represented the loss in revenue from enforcing license fees to the state that the layoffs had precipitated. A number of the owners of the bars and grills, particularly the corporations that owned multiple locations, contacted their elected officials. Eventually a settlement was reached and Dad was rehired. Yes, on their timetable, not ours. But you take what you can reasonably get, not what you emotionally dream of.
I’d like to say we lived happily ever after but the damage had already been done. We never fully recovered financially and he never fully recovered emotionally. And he never left the apartment he thought he was going to escape until he died.
But at least we were still fighting for a while, sometimes making enough progress to afford a trip or two that, from my selfish perspective, at least opened up a path for me to move. And again, some progress is better than none.
For once, let’s try to be smarter than the people and ideologies we are quick to admonish and castigate. Don’t be like those that I dredged up the last time a musing had this clickbait title. And, most of all, please don’t be like my Dad.
Until next time…