The Return of the Bugbear

Your friendly neighborhood bugbear is back and thinking about Eastern Europe and American extremism

Greetings, fellow bugbears!

Did you miss me?

I’m sleep-deprived and literally bruised, but I’m back online as we finish up the final emptying and cleaning of the old apartment, after which we will continue to empty boxes here in the new place for an unfortunately indefinite period.

We remain in the same zip code, which is both good (I had it pre-memorized!) and annoying (Marie Gluesenkamp-Perez, aka the Kyrsten Sinema of the House, is still my congressional representative). In any case, this makes trips between the old and the new place easier, but on the downside, moving is one of those obnoxious tasks that expands to fill the time you allot for it.

It was one of those only in America experiences, finding out that your Soviet-era Estonian immigrant landlord adheres to one of today’s most bizarre right-wing American conspiracy theories.

Moving always places you into a liminal space. At least I think it does, though I wonder if it still feels that way if you have the resources to hire professional movers to handle the worst of it. On that note, I turn 45 soon—another milestone that is making me reflective (if you’re an optimist) or broody (if, like me, you’re a pessimist). I’m pretty sure it says in the Constitution of the United States itself, and/or in the Bible, that once you turn 45 you are henceforth forever exempted from having to carry heavy furniture up and down stairs.

What? That’s no weirder than the conspiracy theories far too many Americans actually believe (and I’ve got a story about that for you). The reflections that follow below are more personal than your usual Bugbear Dispatch fare, but you know me. I’m a systemic thinker, the personal and the political are intimately intertwined, and I’m rarely capable of writing personal reflections without bringing in some historical, social, and cultural analysis.