Welcome to Hack Mule Notebook #5! It’s been another busy week with Leviathan craziness, international intrigue, and an exclusive chat with The Great Lakes.
Enjoy and have a wonderful week!
Kristen
Overheard:
Saw a letter from my doctor’s office announcing that one of the partners is retiring after decades with the practice. The eminent doctor wrote that he’d miss many people, but, “Sadly, many of my patients have passed away.
Coming from anyone but a podiatrist, that might have been worrying.
Elevator Follies:
The Leviathan’s elevator culture means every errand can become a tiny cocktail party. Last week, I came back from the doctor’s office looking awful. My hair was sticking up, my T-shirt had a spot on it, and I’d been wearing the same pants for several days. In other words, I looked exactly as bad as I felt.
A party was already in progress when an elevator arrived carrying a man I’ve seen around for years—but don’t actually know—and a vaguely familiar woman who were laughing about the building. They quickly folded me into the conversation.
When we reached the man’s floor, he pulled a dozen roses from his cart, handed them to me and said, “Have a wonderful day, beautiful lady! You’re my laughing flower!”
I was so surprised I barely got out a thank-you.
After he left, the other woman looked at me. “Wow. All he gave me was a bag of oranges.”
I love the fact that men roam the Leviathan like knights-errant armed with roses to bestow. And oranges.
Milestones:
Dolly Parton and King Harald V of Norway both died last week, leaving behind millions of admirers. King Harald had his fans, too.
Their early lives could hardly have been less alike—she as one of 12 kids in a poor, rural Tennessee family, and he as the only male heir in a royal family. Later, while Dolly built her empire, Harald inherited his kingdom.
But their careers actually have a lot in common. Both led huge, high-profile, public-facing organizations. Both ran substantial philanthropic programs. Both worked with family throughout their careers—much to their occasional frustration, I imagine. And both developed reputations for being personally engaging and caring.
Connecting with people was in their job descriptions, and they were good at it. Harald was known for shedding tears with Norwegians after national tragedies, just as Dolly did in her community. They both even took stances in support of gay rights—a risky move for a hereditary monarch required to stay out of politics or for an entertainer whose country and religious roots tie her to the most conservative parts of society.
Maybe those human connections explain why both deaths have prompted such strong responses from the public. People seem truly saddened to lose them. Mourners have created impromptu floral tributes around the world for Dolly and throughout Norway for Harald. Strangers who never met them are popping up on news segments with tears streaming down their faces.
I’m not sure I entirely understand that “public grief” phenomenon. While I’ve been sorry to see many notable people die over the years, I can’t say I’ve ever grieved these strangers. In fact, 29 years ago today, I was as baffled as Queen Elizabeth to see people breaking down in front of Buckingham Palace after Princess Diana died. It was all a bit much.
But I am heartened to think that someone is touching the public’s heart by doing good works. Let’s just hope someone else jumps in to fill the void.
Own Goals:
Speaking of Norway, the new king, Haakon VIII, has been on the throne for only four days, but he is already showing either a stunning tone-deafness or breathtaking arrogance.
Monday morning, Haakon led his family in wheeling the late King Harald’s coffin through the palace, a solemn ceremony involving Harald’s descendants.
Plus one.
The pallbearers included Marius Borg Høiby, Haakon’s stepson who is a convicted rapist and drug dealer, currently on house arrest at the royal residence pending an appeal of his sentence. Borg Høiby received special permission from the police to attend the events.
Hopefully his ankle monitor won’t buzz at an awkward moment.
Borg Høiby’s presence makes me shudder from a comms point of view. Haakon is basically normalizing criminal behavior, which is an insult to the victims of sex crimes and an affront to the judicial system that now operates in his name.
Norwegians have a much more liberal view of the penal system than Americans do, so perhaps Haakon’s subjects don’t find it as appalling as I do. Time will tell, I suppose.
Just behind the casket were Harald’s widow, Queen Sonja, and Haakon’s wife, now known as Queen Mette-Marit. She made headlines earlier this year when the Jeffrey Epstein files showed that she had a much deeper and longer friendship with the pedophile than she had previously revealed.
Polls still favor a monarchy, but Haakon had better work on optics fast, or the next head of state may well be a president.
On the bright side, King Charles has a new scheduling option, since Andrew Mountbatten-Windsor would fit in perfectly as the UK representative at Harald’s funeral.
Listening:
Here’s the music that provided the soundtrack for my week. My Hack Mule playlist is available on Apple Music.
“Cairo FM,” Alewya—rocks so hard I was dancing while cooking dinner
“Your Love is Electric,” Leon Bridges—at Starbucks Potomac
“Love Potion No. 9,” The Hot Sardines—at the gym
“She’s Not There,” Neil MacArthur—on the Key Bridge in Georgetown
“Blue Yodel No. 9,” Jimmie Rodgers and Louis Armstrong—watching Ken Burns’ Country Music
“Things Can Only Get Better,” D:Ream—in the mechanic’s waiting room
“Me and My Arrow,” Harry Nilsson—on HomePod while I was in the shower
“Could You Be Loved,” Bob Marley & The Wailers—on the George Washington Parkway
“Saw Lightning,” Beck—walking through Park Potomac
“Isn’t It Time,” The Babys—waiting for a sandwich at Jimmy John’s
Special Mention: “Reza Braba” and “Rio Lua” from Brazilian singer Mari Froes’ new album Esquina del Sol—relaxing on the balcony. I’ve listened to it about five times this week.
Watching:
YouTube has inflicted a new trend on me: videos about people who live in vans (by choice). I’m now following the odd and weirdly compelling travels of NomadBrad, who lives in a tricked-out box truck that he drives around the West. Took the poor guy hours to find a campsite in Oregon last week. I was riveted. And insomniac.
It has left me with many questions. How many people actually belong to Planet Fitness just for a place to shower? Doesn’t it feel strange to cook dinner in the Walmart parking lot? Can you sleep soundly at a rest stop without a gun under your pillow?
With my property taxes coming due next week, it’s all looking pretty appealing.
Playing:
TimeGuessr
I got hooked on this online game recently where you have to examine a photo—some famous, some utterly obscure—and figure out where and when the scene took place.
Finally a lifetime of useless trivia has an outlet!
Old men in guayaberas playing dominoes while a radio sits nearby? Miami in 1963. Guys in red caps looking tough on a train? The Guardian Angels in New York in 1979. Soldiers raising a Soviet flag over a half-collapsed German building? Berlin in 1945.
It’s an excellent way to feel like you’re doing actual work while accomplishing absolutely nothing.
Nerd News:
Live Science ran a story last week debunking the practice of tapping on the top of a soda can to prevent it from exploding when you open it. Citing researchers from Brown (a lesser Ivy), Rutgers (a state school with pretensions), and Madrid’s Carlos III University (not an impressive king), the story claims that tapping on the top of a can does not work.
It’s an urban myth, they conclude.
But here’s the thing: it does work. After spending a childhood filled with road trips where my brother gleefully shook my Coke in the back seat of my mother’s car, I’m positive it works.
Had it not worked, my mother would have ended up driving a syrup-covered anthill, and my brother and I would have been deposited on the side of I-95 somewhere in the Carolinas.
So, I urge Hack Mule readers to try it themselves and report back. (Disclaimer: Hack Mule “urges” you only rhetorically and assumes no responsibility for any resulting damages, injuries, sticky upholstery, ant infestations, sibling violence, or abandonment along I-95. Even though I know I’m right.)
Transitions:
Hack Mule Talks to the Great Lakes
Hack Mule: Thank you all for meeting with me. President Trump signed a declaration last week changing Lake Ontario’s name to Lake America. I’d like to get your reactions.
Lake Ontario: I’m…rippling with excitement.
Lake Michigan: I’m surprised. I’d make a much better Lake America. I’m bigger, I’m deeper, I touch more states.
Lake Ontario: President Trump said I was HUUUGE.
Lake Erie: I just want to point out that I also touch more states than Ontario.
Lake Michigan: Not as many as I do! Plus, I’m named for a state!
Lake Ontario: It’s really not that cool. I’m going to have to get all new signs, and I’ll be on Zoom calls with National Geographic for days.
Lake Huron: I hear that I may soon become Lake Canada.
Lake Michigan: Total bullshit. No one told you that.
Lake Superior: Agreed. If anyone became Lake Canada, it would be me. I’m Superior.
Lake Michigan: Name one major city on your shores.
Lake Superior: Duluth.
Lake Michigan: Boring!
Lake Superior: You have an inferiority complex, Michigan. I suppose it comes naturally, since you’re below me.
Lake Erie: I’m the shallowest.
Lake Superior: Yes. We’ve all seen The Real Housewives of Lake Erie.
Lake Erie: Jerk.
Hack Mule: Lake Superior, are you really in talks to become Lake Canada?
Lake Superior: I have been for years. Ever since Gordon Lightfoot sang about me. He’s Canadian. 🎶 Superior they said never gives up her dead…🎶
Lake Michigan: Enough, Gitche Gumee!
Hack Mule: Lake Michigan, it sounds like you’re annoyed that President Trump didn’t pick you.
Lake Michigan: I’m hurt. I mean, if he wants to make a splash, pick me.
Lake Huron: Why you? I’m a lake. I can make a splash.
Lake Michigan: You’re my overflow.
Lake Erie: I’m the farthest south.
Lake Michigan: You’re a puddle with good marketing.
Hack Mule: I sense some competition among you lakes.
Lake Superior: They’re all very tedious. That’s why I’m Superior.
Hack Mule: Right. Well, back to Lake Ontario—
Lake Ontario: Lake America, please.
Lake Michigan: No one calls you that.
Lake Ontario: Google Maps changed my name this morning.
Lake Michigan: Apple Maps didn’t.
Lake Ontario: Can I help if it’s Tim Cook’s last day? They’re busy!
Hack Mule: Listen, lakes, you’ve been great, but I have an interview with the Gulf of America right now.
Gulf of America: ¡Buenos días, muchachos!
Lake Superior: Hmm. Someone hasn’t changed his branding.