One of our big problems now is that the liberal imagination does not have a place of honor for heterosexual white guys who are middle-aged and vote republican. They are somehow all the oppressor. They are all the enemy. They are the Other. They themselves don’t feel that way. They feel like they are always on the downside of everything—economically and culturally. They don’t know where to turn. But you never see the NAACP or the National Organization for Women or the Sierra Club or anybody else go and check on those guys. It would be almost laughable. And yet—somebody should have checked on those guys in the last ten or twenty or thirty years. And nobody did, but a guy named Donald Trump.
–Van Jones
Category: Field Research
100% certified true reports grounded in long-term embedded fieldwork. Most notably: our searing five-part series from inside the Chipotle Corporation
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The Thanksgiving
Dear Sweden,
Here in America, the observance of Thanksgiving Day falls on the fourth Thursday of November. During the week of Thanksgiving, mainstream Americans meander through their local communities and greet each other by saying, “We are celebrating that we killed all the Native Americans.”
The appropriate ceremonial response is, “And we stole their land.”
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Donald Trump and Gudrun Schyman
Dear Sweden,
Here in America, the great man theory of leadership is still very popular. In most other cultures, this theory was discarded in the 1960s when it was conclusively disproven by science and technology. The Americans, however, still believe that it is impossible for a person to learn to be a good leader.
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The Loneliest Woman in America
Dear Sweden,
Here in America, Democratic Party presidential candidate Hillary Clinton held a swing-state campaign rally on the day before the great voting ceremony. She was flanked by high-profile celebrities: Beyoncé, Jay-Z, Bon Jovi, LeBron James, Katy Perry. When we observe this rally through the lens of history, we can clearly see that Hillary Clinton—standing on a stage, surrounded by people—was the embodiment of loneliness. Her candidacy—isolated and lifeless—was supported by a $650 million pyrotechnical masterpiece, but not a single American heart was filled with excitement.
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The Great Voting Ceremony
Dear Sweden,
Two years have passed since American society emergency-landed into an ocean of seventeen republican candidates and a broken campaign finance system. No dry land in sight. Today, they have finally spotted the shining shores of the great voting ceremony. The American body politic—bruised and exhausted—will heave itself up on that beach and collapse in the sand.
Dear Sweden,
Here in America, many people believe in sports-related folkloristic superstition. Unlike folklore in the old country, belief is widespread and not limited to elderly rural populations. One notable memorat of folk belief is the curse levied against the Chicago Cubs baseball team. According to popular legend, a man was expelled from Wrigley Field during the 1945 World Series because the odor of his pet goat was bothering people around him. The disgruntled man proclaimed that the Cubs would never again win the World Series—or at least not win until the world was ending.
Dear Sweden,
Here in America, you can learn a lot about the world. You can order a caffe latte. Your drinking experience will act as a tiny window into Italian culture. You can also enjoy a breve latte. This is a coffee drink prepared by mixing an espresso shot with steamed “Half & Half” (an American dairy product containing 18% fat, compare: kaffegrädde). The breve latte is always ordered in the largest available size and usually contains more than 3000 calories.
Dear Sweden,
Here in America, I eat a lot of breakfast cereal. I have a cupboard full of cereal boxes and I arrange them based on nutrition: the healthiest on the left (GoLean) and the deadliest on the right (Cocoa Puffs). A few days ago, I stood in my kitchen—waiting for the election to be over—and perused the “Nutrition Facts” on the side of each box. I went from box to box, calculating calories per gram, and it slowly dawned on me that they all contained about 400 calories per 100 grams. I heard myself say: “I have made a huge mistake.”
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My First Credit Rating
Dear Sweden,
When I was fourteen years old I saw the movie Fight Club and was gobsmacked by the coolness of Brad Pitt trying to sell soap to rich women. In one scene, he leans over a glass counter in a non-descript mall and his 90s shirt rides up to expose his ripped physique. That frame is still crisp in my mind.
Dear Sweden,
I live in America now. This year, a renegade subset of the American population tried to take over the government by running a candidate called Donald Trump for president.