As someone on Twitter put it:

Obviously, this is going to be one of my political opinion posts, so if you’re not into that, skip along.

Trump said some truly outrageous things tonight. He talked about illegal immigrants eating dogs, cats, and pets. He claimed that Harris wants to perform transgender operations on illegal immigrants. Trump had a lot of unsubstantiated things to say about immigrants. Harris rightly called Trump weak to his face, but in such a way that she still maintained Presidential poise.

Trump’s Gish gallop didn’t work that well tonight. The moderators fact checked him occasionally, though not all the time. As usual, Harris had to work harder and was under higher scrutiny and pressure, but she did it with dignity. She came across as the candidate of hope and the future, while Trump… couldn’t complete a sentence as the crazy voices in his head compelled him to say outlandish, foolish things.

I’m relieved to see Harris do well in this debate. It’s still going to be a close fight, but it’s not because Harris is the weaker candidate. It’s close because too many people in this country are unwilling to put country over party. It’s this close because too many people aren’t listening to the words coming out of their chosen candidates intolerant mouth.

Listening to Trump speak for so long gave me an outrageous headache. When the debate ended, I sat back, sweating and nauseous from the head pain, and I mused over how we as a country arrived at this point. There is a clear candidate that is actually decent and good. There is another that is a clear and present danger. And yet, the race is close.

Brace yourselves, because I’m going to say something controversial: I think our country is teetering on the precipice because Bill Clinton couldn’t keep it in his pants.

I will explain.

As President, Bill Clinton did some amazing things for the US economy. For the first time in ages, we had an economic surplus. We were enjoying peace, to the point where our military shrank to its lowest size since the 40s. His legacy should have been impeccable, and it should have been easy for Gore to succeed him, based on record alone.

But, Clinton abused his power and position, took advantage of a White House intern, marring her reputation and destroying her privacy and her name. Clinton’s horniness created a public spectacle. This empowered people like Grinch and Star, and it distracted us from his actual policy wins. It led to the 2000 election, in which the Supreme Court handed the election to George W. Bush, a man that has publicly stated that he believes humans and fish can coexist together.

George W. Bush looked at this incredible economy and budget he inherited and thought, “You know what? Instead of using this money to keep advancing America’s interests, and maybe investing in health care, how about I give it all away and screw around with tax breaks, setting us up for future financial ruin?” So that’s what he did. And very briefly, his policies received scrutiny for being stupid, short-sighted, and not in America’s best interests.

Then September 11th, 2001 rolled around and we lost our damn minds. Republicans shifted harder into patriotism as religion. Low-brow red voters put a giant flag in the back of their truck and drove through the streets, because the way we were going to get to the other side of this national tragedy that killed just over 2000 people was by putting up flags. This is also when we had folks like Toby Keith sing about America putting boots in asses, conflating racism with patriotism in ways that I’m not sure we ever really cleared up.

Patriot Act, War on Terror, a newly created Homeland Security agency, and racism pretty much stayed in fashion throughout Bush’s presidency. Kerry was a relatively weak candidate that Bush narrowly beat. But during Kerry’s run, at the DMC, we caught our first glimpse of Obama. He spoke, people listened, and Democrats started wondering how he would do as a candidate.

Meanwhile, Hillary Clinton, after weathering the embarrassment of her husband’s behavior in the White House, after becoming a senator and continuing her service to her country, looks at returning to the White House as President instead of as First Lady. She runs a good campaign, but sexism gets in the way. Also… she’s a huge nerd, and comes across as a huge nerd when she speaks. This detracts from her presence. Whenever Obama speaks, people claim their acne is cleared up, their posture is better, and they keep finding loose change in the couch cushions.

The fight to become the Democratic candidate could go the distance. It could be Clinton, or it could be Obama. If one does not relinquish, though, McCain the war hero could take the presidency.

So, Obama goes to Clinton and makes a deal. Drop out of the race, and Clinton can become Secretary of State and get setup for 2016. Biden is in on this deal, and doesn’t run in 2016. Clinton agrees, McCain’s VP candidate turns out to be a crazy woman with “good foreign policy experience” because she can see Russian from her house, and Obama wins.

Fox News becomes the mouth piece of a conservative movement. We had Rush Limbaugh for forever, but Fox News stepped up their game and fomented the Tea Party, which gives us fart smellers like Ted Cruz. People willing to shut down the government from a minority position in order to force issues. Obama takes Romney’s state medical plan, tweaks it a little bit, puts it forth as the Affordable Care Act, and even with a Democratic majority in the House and Senate, it barely passes. It does some good things, but it is not a great plan. It remains as the law of the land, to this day.

Obama inherited a tanked economy, and he turned it around. After 8 years, it’s booming. And it’s now Hillary Clinton’s turn.

But, there are other contenders. Bernie is buoyed by his Bros, which forces Clinton into positions she is not entirely comfortable. Obama endorses Clinton, but there’s only so much he can do. Bernie keeps his campaign going long past its viability, which does irreparable damage to Clinton’s campaign.

Trump, after tricking the Genie into giving him another wish, is the Republican candidate, running as a hateful, ruthless, businessman. He’s a bigot and a monster, but he’s not a politician like anyone has seen before. He gets billions in free advertising from the news media, because he’s good for ratings. At that point in time, I don’t think people really thought he’d do as well as he did.

Clinton, still a big damn nerd, tells people to Pokémon Go to the polls. She is absolutely correct in her assessments of Trump and his basket of deplorables, but she had a weird affectation that put people off. Clinton wins the popular vote, but loses in the electoral college.

And so, we get Trump, the worst president this country has ever endured. He loses to Biden, incites an insurrection, and continues to pollute the air with his terrible voice and his terrible lies. Biden and Trump were our oldest candidates in 2020, and then they were our oldest candidates in 2024. We nominated Biden in 2020 because he was the “safe” choice. And we kept ridin’ with Biden because of the power of the incumbency and his very effective results, but because of a remarkably terrible debate performance, combined with the courage to put country over party, Biden dropped out, delivering us into this Harris versus Trump world.

All this history lesson was to say that if Bill Clinton had kept his Little Willy under control, George W. Bush might not have become president. Even if Bush did win over Gore, Gingrich wouldn’t have been empowered, and Gingrich’s political stylings wouldn’t be in play today, which is where much of Trump’s playbook comes from.

If Gore had been president instead of Bush, we probably wouldn’t have invaded Afghanistan or Iraq. Hell, the tragedy of September 11th might not have happened at all. We might have focused more on climate change. We might have even expanded Medicare so that we have a single-payer option and better healthcare for everyone.

Without Kerry running in 2004, we wouldn’t have had the introduction to Obama. If Obama did not run when he did, then Trump wouldn’t have been carried up in the news media with all of his birtherism bullshit.

Anyway, the game of what-if is fun, but it focuses on the past while the present is where it’s at. In this moment, this timeline, we have a clear speaking candidate in Kamala Harris, and we have an incoherent buffoon in Donald Trump, a monster that in tonight’s debate, said he’d be fine with going door-to-door with the National Guard and local police to deport 3% of our population. Maybe let’s not do that.

Recently, I went to my friend’s house to play some board games. I love board games, almost as much as I love tabletop roleplaying games. However, heading out and trying to be social might not have been a great idea. I was still dealing with the wave of emotions from Chris’s accident, and when I’m feeling that raw, I’m not always the best person to be around.

I did my best. I told everyone what was up, and we did a little bit of a vibe check on the games. I said I was hoping for something cooperative, or at least, not exceedingly cutthroat. They all got it, though I could tell there was this one Dune game they all really wanted to play which was counter to my stated needs.

For those that don’t know me that well, I can be exceedingly competitive. I think it’s a trait I picked up from my mother. We’d play scrabble and she would absolutely trounce me. I was in my early to mid teens and she had forty years of experience on me. She could have chosen to keep it a friendly game but instead she cackled over her immaculately recorded score.

Sometimes when I play games, I become my Mom. It’s not an entirely bad thing, but there’s a time and a place.

I knew on game day that the competitive asshole inside me was just beneath the surface, and I really didn’t want to let him out. That’s why I requested we go light on the competition and avoid some of the cutthroat. My competitive edge can be razor sharp, and I didn’t want it to cut any bonds of friendship.

Unfortunately, there was one guy at the table that was absolutely the competitive asshole I was trying not to be. By the end of the evening, I “won” but maybe at the expense of getting invited back, and I feel bad about that.

I’m not going to name names. I’ll refer to the other asshole at the table as My Rival. The first hint that things were going to go hard in the paint was during the first game, Scythe, when every time My Rival’s turn came up, he’d salivate and take on this tone of, “Now watch THIS” and then do some weird mechanic in the game to give himself advantage. He won the first game, and while we mostly had fun, it felt kind of icky to me, like I just watched this guy jack off on the table while he made us watch.

The next game was Codewords, and I was thankful because I see it as a very light and fun game. Our host had to step out for a little bit, so the four of us that remained paired off in teams of 2. There was a mechanic in the game I forgot, so I blundered a little during the first round, but I didn’t see it as a big deal. At one point when I was on the guessing side, the other team missed a clue, and in the course of talking about it, I gave him the answer. My Rival said that’s what “cost me the game,” which hit me as weird because until he said something, I hadn’t felt like I’d “lost.” We were just playing.

“What do you get for winning that game?” I asked.

“What do you mean?” My Rival replied.

“I mean, is there some prize for winning a game of Codewords?”

“Well, no, but–“

“You say I lost, but I felt smart for catching the clue, and it felt good to talk about it. I don’t feel like I lost at all.”

He didn’t like my response. I was getting the impression from him that the only reason he saw to play a game was to win.

The final game was Dune. It wasn’t Dune: Imperium. I don’t know the exact name of this Dune game, but it had a big map that unrolled onto the table, and it reminded me strongly of Cosmic Encounter. Each player takes on a faction which breaks the game in a unique way. This was the competitive game that they all wanted to play from the beginning. I went along with it because I didn’t want to get in the way of the group having fun.

After about a half hour of setup and rules explanation, we started the first round. Because I had never played the game before, I did not play optimally. As the Space Truckers, I should have been able to go last, or whenever I wanted. My Rival took advantage of this. My Rival sat back while everyone kind of floundered. Then he declared, “I win” and explained how he won by taking advantage of our ignorance.

After most of a day of build up and anticipation of playing this game, then thirty minutes of setup, it was truly unsatisfying. No one had fun at the table, except My Rival, because the only thing he was interested in was winning.

We agreed to run it back so that we could actually play the game, and I replayed my turn more in accordance with how it should have been played, which kept My Rival from winning on turn one. We continued playing, but My Rival kept repeating how he won the first game, and this was sort of a victory lap for him.

After the second or third time he said something like that, I broke bad. I didn’t shave my head or start a meth lab. Instead, I unchained the competitive asshole within me. It was time to live up to my terrifying potential.

I looked at the game, the board, and My Rival. There was no path to victory for me through regular game play. My Rival, who knew the game, had picked an imbalanced faction from the beginning and it really wasn’t possible for anyone to win but him. Unless I played a little bit differently. If, instead of going for a victory of my own, I played every turn to minimize his gains, I wouldn’t technically win the game, but he would never be able to get ahead of the other people at the table.

I said, “I know my win condition.”

“What do you mean?” My Rival said.

“I know what my win condition is now.”

“The rules are the rules. You either win or you don’t.”

“I’ll follow the rules, but we always get to choose our own win condition.”

He did not like me saying that.

The game continued, and I kept playing to prevent him from advancing. When an event happened that allowed alliances to be formed or broken, I revealed my strategy. My Rival did not like it, and thought I was an idiot for playing in such a way.

“You can’t win playing that way, and I already won the first game–“

“Did you win the first game, or did we have a mulligan? It can’t be both.”

He really did not like me saying that.

A few turns went by, and My Rival finally saw the merit in my gameplay. As the Space Truckers, I had passive income, and it was cheaper for me to deploy troops. I would always have money to deploy and create fights. Since I kept deploying in such a way as to keep him from getting income, he could never gain any advantage. He would win every single battle with his broken faction, but he could never win the war as long as I kept impeding him.

He rage quit. He got up and left.

“Okay, see ya!” I said. “I’m never playing with you again!”

“You’re an asshole!” he said, in the same tone. He might have added some other expletives.

I talked to the host and the remainder of the group. I apologized. They said it was okay, and laughed a little bit.

“If you never invite me back, I completely understand.”

“No way, man. You’re crew.”

Still.

As always, there are some lessons that can be taken from this. We can talk about “Know thyself,” which I did, but chose to go the dark path anyway. We can talk about doing things too soon after a trauma. We can talk about the pros and cons of a competitive nature.

I mostly want to focus on this: You can always choose your own win conditions.

It’s taken me a while to learn this, and even though I applied the idea in a semi-destructive way in this story, there are positive applications in other areas of our life. Let’s talk about how it can help a writer.

The typical “win” condition for a writer is to get published, quit their day job, and live off their labor of love. That’s the dream. Unfortunately, there are a lot of moving pieces that the writer has no control over, so they really have no way of guaranteeing such a “win.” Statistically speaking, almost no one wins that game.

Here are things a writer can do that can constitute a win:

• Write 2000 words a day in the month of November (I’ll talk about NaNoWriMo in another post)
• Attend 4 conventions or retreats in a year
• Submit 1 query or submission every 6 weeks
• Read 1 book a month outside your typical genre

Pick any or all of these things, do them, and consider it a win. Or pick something else that’s in your control that positively leads towards the dream.

When you choose something to focus and make that your win condition, there is nothing outside your control to keep you from winning. This works everywhere.

• Maintain your diet for 4 days in a row
• Get all of your work tasks logged by the end of the day
• Spend 15 minutes a day researching that project you’ve always wanted to do

Anything can be a win condition if you need it to be.

Finally, if you set yourself up some goals as win conditions and you fall short, it’s okay. Don’t beat yourself up, because you can go again. And the next time, you can win.

It is another Sunday morning, and like last week, I’m sitting in Pachamama’s, writing a blog post before jumping back into The Psychic Out of Time. It has been an eventful week. There’s been a lot to process.

Last week on Sunday, as Melissa and I enjoyed our time in the coffee shop, Chris laid his bike down. He, a novice, rode with a group of bikers on a very technical route. His friend Nico rode ahead of him and went down first. Chris didn’t know Nico crashed until he went down himself. Chris got a little bit of road rash on his right arm and some deep bruising on his shoulder, but was otherwise unharmed. Nico sustained much more serious injuries. Nico died in the ambulance. Chris was the last person Nico spoke to.

Melissa and I didn’t find out until later that evening. Chris went to the hospital, and they gave him fluids. He didn’t call us. The accident occurred around 9:30AM, and Chris walked in the door at home a little after 9PM. He didn’t want to talk about it. He definitely didn’t want to talk to his Melissa, because she has been critical of his decision to get a motorcycle the entire time. He went outside to call his boss. I went out after him, hugged him, and gave him an opportunity to grieve. He told me he hadn’t been able to cry about what happened until that moment.

The next day, I had some processing to do myself. I almost lost my son. He was fine, physically, but it could have gone the other way. Chris walked away from the accident, but his friend died. Somewhere out there, a father that lost his 21 year old son. There is no denying that I could have lost Chris.

Tuesday and Wednesday, I went into the office and worked. My boss was in town, so I met with him. We had a couple of new people join Trimark, and I needed to train one of them. I navigated some unnecessary drama concerning where I was going to sit while in the office. Mostly, the normal stresses of work helped me deal with the abnormal stress of a near-death experience of a loved one.

I continue to process, but Melissa struggles. She had to go to the place where the accident happened and see it herself. She questions details of the story. Chris said he didn’t see Nico until after he went down. The other people riding with him and Nico kept going because they didn’t see Chris or Nico on the ground. Melissa can’t wrap her head around that. She’s having trouble getting to the other side. She doesn’t seem to want to feel relief from the fact that our son is alive and still with us.

Chris’s motorcycle sustained some damage. One of the front spokes is bent and will need to be fully replaced. There is quite a bit of cosmetic damage. With some money and some TLC, I think the bike will function again. Chris wants to ride again, and that also bothers Melissa.

How do you deal with a trauma like this? What’s the right thing to do?

There may not be a right or a wrong answer here. The way I see it, getting a motorcycle was Chris exercising his ability to be an adult. He did the research, bought the gear, took the courses, and made all of the decisions on his own. He picked something and exercised a little bit of ambition and free will to make it his thing. He found a community of people enthusiastic about riding and he joined them. He chose to make this a part of his identity. As a parent, isn’t this what I want my children to do?

Melissa thinks that he shouldn’t ride again. He could have died. Motorcycles are dangerous. How can he go back to it?

I think he should continue making adult decisions. I don’t think he should let fear control him. He should acknowledge the fear, learn from his mistakes, and evaluate what’s best for himself. He could have died, but he didn’t. He wore protected gear that helped him. I’m sure that when he was going down, he followed his instincts and training, preventing the situation from getting worse.

Choosing the safest way isn’t always the best choice. Letting an accident define your choices and redefine who you are isn’t the best way to handle adversity. Chris chose to become a biker, sort of how I chose to be a writer. He now has to choose whether or not he wants to keep that identity.

There is still more processing and healing to be done. Chris doesn’t have complete mobility in his right arm yet, and needs a doctor to sign something saying he can go back to work. He still needs to deal with the loss of his friend. Melissa still needs to process the shock of nearly losing her son, and to a certain extent, deal with the loss that comes from one of her children growing up and choosing their own path, even if it’s a path she disagrees with.

I probably still have some processing to do, too. This isn’t the blog post I meant to write, but I think it’s the one I needed to write.