Six Months

It’s a common enough conversational piece: What would you do if you only had six months to live?

A lot of us in this country are having to adapt that consideration: What would you do if you only had six months left to live in a democracy? 

Gilead is at the door. We’ve talked about it in the abstract for decades now, while the 40-plus-year project to theocratize the Supreme Court took shape. That vision seemed theoretically plausible, but somehow remote, so long as our institutions held during the turbulent weather of the Bush II and Mango Mussolini administrations. 

But this year is different. The Beer Hall Putsch of January 6, 2021 taught the bootlickers and their masters where the holes in the bulwarks were. Project 2025 is their response, and it’s a thorough one. 

It is as if the goons read every dystopian fiction book of the last century and condensed them into a supervillain operators’ manual. The Patriot Act is a tinkertoy by comparison. 

All of this would be academic if it weren’t for the fact that there is a very good chance they will win. The shenanigans threatened over Biden being on the ballot in several key states will now catch fire even more now that the nominee is uncertain. And especially if they end up being a black woman. 

The misogynistic and racist meme factories have wasted no time. Masks held on by a thread are coming fully off, and white hoods dug out of attic storage. There will be no holding back. Being online in the next four months will be absolute trash, and don’t think for a moment you’ll be able to turn on the television without raising your blood pressure.

Yet this is only the road to the destination. What happens if we get there? I say “if” only to quell my own anxiety, for the “when” is close on our heels. When the undecideds don’t feel the right vibes, when the apathetics shrug and hand the levers to a madman. When it finally happens. 

January 20, 2025. 

What business does an individual need to conduct before then? What social media to scrub, what topical creative output to shelve? You might say this is not an issue for people who don’t make art. But what about people with a uterus? People with non-Biblical sexual orientations? People with non-Biblical anything, for that matter? People whose skin is not the hue of the ruling class? 

I hear voices saying don’t be hysterical. Sitting at the dinner table while the house fills with smoke. It’s okay, it hasn’t happened yet. But by the time it does, escape will be too late. Imagine the flood of applications for Canadian work visas on November 6th if the red wave washes over us. 

Because all of this flows downstream. The judiciary is already lost. If the executive is taken, and the legislature as well, recourse is beyond reach. 

The only hope at that point is the states. And not all states are created equal. The one I’m in is increasingly unlivable, and will only grow more so if its leaders are not checked from above. A mass exodus to bluer territory will create gluts in those states, exacerbating existing strains on the poor. 

Which I am, by the way. My assets are three cats and some guitars. Leaving what remains of my support network to find environs where the local government doesn’t seek my head is a potentially deadly decision, economically and otherwise. 

I understand the privileged place from which I am speaking. As a straight white man, I haven’t been in the right wing’s crosshairs nearly as much as many friends and loved ones. It wouldn’t take much to pass. Just keep my mouth shut and go along to get along. But when people I care about are threatened, that becomes impossible. 

So what will I do, if I have six months left to live in a democracy? Already I feel the flames at my heels as I work on the new album, one that has definite topical tones. I had been planning on spring of next year for a release, but is that too late? Or is earlier even worse, putting a target on my back before the doom goes down? Do I wait and see, pushing until next summer, when the lay of the land is clearer? 

More fundamental questions are raised as well. My current job gives me a good deal of time to spend on creative endeavors. If I have to pull up stakes and run, what kind of hit will that part of my life take? At fifty one, how will I weather a complete shake-up? And at fifty one, in the 21st century, will anyone be hiring a non-degreed button puncher? 

And run? Run where? How far is far enough? Will a blue state be an adequate sanctuary, or will the more draconian aspects of Project 2025 overrule local authority? Would somewhere like Mexico be preferable, as far as ease of emigration and cost of living? Would a move like that create yet more challenges than it solves? 

Six months. Six months until all of this is no longer hypothetical. And realistically, four months until we know for sure which way that cold wind blows. 

I am trying to use the time wisely. I hope it is not wasted.