Ed. Note: The Gen Z’ers have gathered around a crazy fake conspiracy theory. They needed to laugh and poke fun at all the “real” conspiracy theories out there. I listened to the NYT Podcast “Today” and found it remarkable that one man’s sardonic action has grown into hundreds of thousands chanting “Birds Aren’t Real” at rallies that have nothing to do with birds! Yes it is crazy–almost as crazy as the many crazy conspiracy theories out there. If Gen Z can laugh, let’s laugh along.
In Pittsburgh, Memphis and Los Angeles, massive billboards recently popped up declaring, “Birds Aren’t Real.”
On Instagram and TikTok, Birds Aren’t Real accounts have racked up hundreds of thousands of followers, and YouTube videos about it have gone viral.
The events were all connected by a Gen Z-fueled conspiracy theory, which posits that birds don’t exist and are really drone replicas installed by the U.S. government to spy on Americans. Hundreds of thousands of young people have joined the movement, wearing Birds Aren’t Real T-shirts, swarming rallies and spreading the slogan.
It might smack of QAnon, the conspiracy theory that the world is controlled by an elite cabal of child-trafficking Democrats. Except that the creator of Birds Aren’t Real and the movement’s followers are in on a joke: They know that birds are, in fact, real and that their theory is made up.
What Birds Aren’t Real truly is, they say, is a parody social movement with a purpose. In a post-truth world dominated by online conspiracy theories, young people have coalesced around the effort to thumb their nose at, fight and poke fun at misinformation. It’s Gen Z’s attempt to upend the rabbit hole with absurdism.
“It’s a way to combat troubles in the world that you don’t really have other ways of combating,” said Claire Chronis, 22, a Birds Aren’t Real organizer in Pittsburgh. “My favorite way to describe the organization is fighting lunacy with lunacy.”
An eyesore in the making? View from waiting room on 1. Tall gray column is at right.Looking down from 4th-floor Glacier Lounge windows. So, we are going to have a windowless four-story concrete-block “air shaft” standing offset to the west of Skyline East, with an “L” at the top into the Glacier Lounge. Ugly.
You are invited to a viewing of a lecture given by David Domke in early December
February 8th at 7:30pm in the Sky Lounge of on the 24th floor
Seating is limited to 30 and MASKS ARE REQUIRED. If there is an overflow another viewing will be scheduled. Please make reservations with Karen Knudson email: kandeknudson@comcast.net phone 206-914-0491
Thanks.
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“The door led me into another universe. People were shouting. Typewriters clattered and chinged. Beneath my feet I could feel the rumble of the presses. In my whole life I had never heard such glorious chaos or seen such purposeful commotion . . . By the time I had walked from one end (of the newsroom) to the other, I knew I wanted to be a newspaperman.”
Carl Bernstein was a 16-year-old wayward kid in 1960 when he opened a door to the Washington Evening Star newsroom. The “kid,” who years later would team with Bob Woodward, was interviewing for a copyboy’s job at what was known as “a reporter’s paper.”
Weeks later he landed the job. What sealed the deal? Despite his lousy academic record, Bernstein had demonstrated his ability to type nearly 90 words a minute. (He’d taken a typing class to escape going to wood shop.)
In his new book, Chasing History: The Kid in the Newsroom, Bernstein describes in rollicking detail his five-year apprenticeship at the Star. He ascended from copyboy to “legman,” then dictationist (taking stories by phone), to city desk clerk and pinch-hitting (but never gaining full status) as a reporter. His last summer, he spent two weeks editing the church page, assigning stories, laying out the page, writing headlines, choosing pictures and editing copy.
During those five years, 1960-65, days before he was old enough to vote Bernstein covered momentous events. He helped the D.C. paper cover stories during the 1960 presidential election, Kennedy’s inauguration, Bay of Pigs invasion, Cuban missile crisis, Kennedy assassination, school desegregation, the MLK March on Washington, D.C., and the growing Civil Rights movement.
Bernstein was one of the last of his kind: a national reporter without a degree. After barely scraping through high school, he enrolled at the University of Maryland. He spent three years as a freshman, collecting more than a hundred parking tickets and managing to dodge the draft. After being called up in 1964 he escaped deployment by snagging a hard-to-find spot in an Army Reserve unit.
Bernstein dedicates Chasing History to “those who put me on a path. And to Lance Morrow (a former deskmate and close friend).” Not only did he fall in love with the newsroom but with the quirky one-of-a-kind cast, an extended family of friends, teachers, lovers and mentors. He writes affectionately about many of his co-workers, including some noted Star bylines: David Broder, Mary McGrory, Miriam Ottenberg, Haynes Johnson, and (briefly) Mort Kondracke. Bernstein worshipped his city editor, Sid Epstein, and tried to model himself after that consummate newsman.
In the book’s epilogue, Bernstein reminds us: “it’s important today to remember what Sid’s work was about: putting out five editions a day of a great newspaper whose reporters routinely beat the hell out of the Post in that day and age, and did it with standards style and honesty and a kind of esprit and joy I’ve never seen since in journalism.”
His book is a vivid recounting of the days of hot metal type, composing room mishaps, and roaring presses. It’s also a primer on how to cover the news: doing meticulous research, cultivating sources, keeping files on subjects of interest, agonizing over just the right lede and finding a way to put context into a story. He defines good reporting as “the best version of the truth that you could come up with.”
After discovering the Star would never hire him as a reporter without a college degree, Bernstein left the paper in 1965 for the Elizabeth Daily Journal in Elizabeth, New Jersey, and later the Washington Post. He concluded: “I loved the Star, but it did not quite love me back.”
Editor’s Note: Freeway Park is a much-admired design by one of America’s most revered landscape architects, Lawrence Halprin. The 5.2-acre park, which bridges the I-5 Freeway, recently earned a $10-million donation from the expanded Convention Center nearby. Both authors have been members of the Freeway Park Association, a neighborhood support organization.
David Brewster:
Mike, I know you live right by Seattle’s Freeway Park and are active in supporting it, so I’d like to understand how the Park is going to use the $10 million windfall gift from the Convention Center expansion. Will it be exciting and magnetic, or will it be, as I fear, all spent on repairing neglected features like those rarely-active fountains?
Mike James:
I’d say your fears are well-founded. The perennial reality of city infrastructure, parks included, is an endless catch-up to restore and maintain, rarely to re-invent. Take that windfall $10 million, subtract all the design/planning/development/permitting costs, and you get just $6 million for actual construction. In Freeway Park now that dictates a focus on plantings, repair of benches and other furnishings, restoration of pavement and the several fountains, better lighting and signage, and perhaps even an actual working bathroom.
To the extent there’s any enhancement beyond basics, we might also see a children’s play area, better storage facilities, and a staffed information booth. Don’t even ask where we’d be without that Convention Center money. I always compare the park’s needs to the endless pothole game along our streets. We fill in the holes again and again, but hardly ever get to the repaving.
All that said, the thrust of the planning is to whip the park into shape, make it easier to find with better lighting and wayfinding, add enough event programming to lure people back inside — all meant to help people discover or re-discover an iconic urban space.
David:
You make a good point about the city’s chronic problems in funding infrastructure and maintenance. But I also have the feeling that Freeway Park is punished as an orphan, left to scrape up its own money. One problem is that it straddles First Hill and Downtown, so neither really thinks it has responsibility. That straddle used to bedevil police responses to gangs and crime, since the dividing line between the East Precinct and West Precinct was I-5 (right down the middle of the park). Another problem is the internationally famous design of the park by Lawrence Halprin and his associate Angela Danadjieva — a fame that makes alterations of the hidey-place architecture likely to become an international act of war. Lastly, some of the features such as the waterfall are very costly to keep operating. You usually don’t put a water feature right underneath trees that shed needles and big leaves. I will say this, however, none of these factors has stopped the Parks Department from lavishing attention on the landscaping. I greatly admire the replanting that was undertaken by that gifted landscape architect, Iain Robertson of the University of Washington, now sadly deceased.
Ed Note: This commentary from Heather Cox Richardson points out that Trump is now openly saying he was trying to overthrow the election–somehow thinking that by admitting the crime it might make it sound acceptable. Can his shield of self-serving narcissistic dishonesty ever be questioned by his own sycophants? Or more bluntly, does anyone in his party have the guts to say the emperor has no clothes?
Ed note: Our Health Care Committee has ordered 100 KN95 masks which should arrive in the next week or so (hopefully). You will be notified when they’re available (for $1.00/each) at Skyline’s resident run Corner Store.
From Al: “We just picked up the free (taxpayers paid) N95 masks at Bartell Drugs this (Sunday) morning. It might be worthwhile to notify residents that they are available now – (they may go fast).”
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