Choosing optimism out of sheer spite

Fuck these pricks, I want to believe in a better future.

This weekend, totally against my will, I learned things about Elon Musk. I do not like learning about Elon Musk. I do not like even thinking about Elon Musk. The fact that I live in a country where there are people who admire Elon Musk fills me with disgust. And this isn’t some “oh, he does Nazi salutes, what a jerk,” flash-in-the-pan contempt: disliking Elon Musk is one of the few places in life where I can claim hipster cred. I thought this man was a moron before it was cool.

My contempt for the part of this country that admires gigantic flapping asshole conmen has long been balanced out by the fact that this country is also full of people, including many friends and former classmates, who have dedicated their lives to helping others in the non-profit sector. One old classmate lost his job with USAID this week: he spent time making sure kids in sub-Saharan Africa had access to mosquito nets. USAID was gutted by Musk’s moronically named Department of Government Efficiency, or “DOGE” after a juvenile meme of a dog making a silly face that Musk has appropriated as part of his brand. Children will die of malaria, dengue, and other mosquito-borne illnesses without those nets, but I am sure they will be happy to know their sacrifice is being done for the Very Good Reason of “making liberals cry again.”

I also happened to learn about how Musk’s cronies in the DOGE may have illegally accessed the federal payment system at the U.S. Treasury, meaning that the worst man in the country — can you imagine how bad of a person you have to be to be the worst man in the country right now? — basically has the nation’s checkbook in his hands, as well as our social security numbers.

I understand why people are freaking out right now — this is all really fucking terrible. But I have made a decision, and I’d like to share it with you all in case you’d like to make a similar one: I’ve decided to be an optimist. I’m going to still believe that there are nicer days ahead of us. That we may yet turn a shitty situation into something better. I believe that the world that my kids, or perhaps a generation or two beyond them, will inherit is a rad solarpunk world, an anarchistic utopia where nanobots break down oceanic plastic and turn it into green energy and where we all have 10-hour workweeks and spend the rest of our time playing music together and telling stories under the stars.

Furthermore: I know there will be days where I can’t find the love or softness in my heart to truly believe that this could be the case. And on those days, when I can’t move forward with love and compassion for all things, I will allow myself to be motivated by spite. The people in charge right now can’t imagine a world that they are not in control of, and they don’t want us to imagine that world ever. Fuck them. I want something better. I want a world where, if I don’t want to think about Elon Musk or Donald Trump, I won’t have to. I want their names to be forgotten.

That spite is almost bottomless: used sparingly, it should keep me going to my dying day.