Are you a good witch or a bad witch?

A voting guide, sort of

One of the most important lessons I ever learned was in a stand-up comedy class. 

This was 2003. It was my first year of undergrad at UCSC, which—for a boy from Utah—was a culture shock. People swore! In class! And we were getting grades for it. I had never imagined transgression and subversion of this nature could exist in an academic setting. 

Nearly every day, our teacher—San Francisco comedian Doug Holsclaw—would give us a taste of one of his polished routines, which if I remember correctly, were often about the absurdity of being a gay comedian teaching his craft to undergrads, and we loved it. 

But as the quarter wore on, a meanness creep into the class. It didn’t matter what the assignment was, there were always a few people who twisted it into something cruel, vile, or offensive. Before long, students seemed not just unafraid, but emboldened to throw racist or homophobic slurs into their bits. We were being edgy! It was comedy. We were joking. 

Then one day, Holsclaw, without fanfare, announced he was going to show a video.

He put on a clip of Andrew Dice Clay.

It started out with some crude observations about women. We dug it. Misogynist, sure, but you must remember, this was after weeks of being conditioned to laugh at this type of stuff. Racist, sexist jokes often did well in that class, but it was okay because we all knew they were just jokes. (Right?) 

But the clip got meaner, more racist, more cruel. Gradually, our class fell silent as the Diceman relentlessly mocked Asians and Middle Eastern people (“they’re not even people”). The clip could’ve been 10 minutes or 20, but it felt like an eternity. 

When the video was over, nobody spoke. Holsclaw walked on stage and said something along the lines of: 

When Dorothy arrives in the Land of Oz, Glinda the Good Witch asks her, “Are you a good witch or a bad witch?”

***

I thought about writing an election guide this year, but really, what’s the point? If we’re this far into election season and you haven’t found the motivation or diligence or, yes, compassion to learn about the candidates, propositions, or anything else on the ballot, then I don’t know what to say. I’m sorry if that sounds scolding or smug, but I already have enough students who want A’s without having to learn, so my patience is a little thin.

We’re living in increasingly mean times. Every day brings a new reminder of how far we’ve fallen. Whether it’s the continued belief that the eradication of Palestinians is somehow justified, or San Diego’s mayor’s vilification of homeless people, or the countless other affronts that make headlines, I feel like we’re cooked.

I will not be surprised if Donald Trump is elected again. Just the fact that he can remain on the ballot, or that the race is this close, or that we’ve directly or indirectly allowed him to remain prominently in our lives for the past nine (NINE) fucking years a testament to how broken we are. Considering all that, I sometimes feel like we deserve him. 

And by “we,” I don’t mean the immigrants, women, the LGBTQ population, Black people, brown people, teachers, librarians, scientists, children—all whose lives will become very difficult under a Trump presidency. 

By “we”, I mean the people who’ve “done the research”, who troll on social media, who are Very Online, who are unwilling to learn pronouns, who compare BLM protests to January 6th, who will spew “Kamala is a cop” ad nauseum but who don’t know who their city council representative is, who are “Never Trumpers” and yet remain unmoved by videos and pictures of dead children and Palestinians burning alive and rounded up like cattle. 

They keep saying that democracy is on the line in this election, and that we must vote to save it. But at what point does that begin to feel like not a call to action, but a slogan? An advertisement? A superfluous act of performative outrage by media who not-so-secretly love to keep Trump in the news? 

Because after 250 years of refinement, and this [gestures sadly] is what democracy looks like? 

Not a very good argument for saving it.

***

I could tell you how to vote, but why waste a lot of words on what boils down to: 

• Vote Democrat

• Vote to fund schools

• Vote to fund infrastructure

• Vote against endorsements by taxpayer associations

Housing propositions are always confusing. Yes, more housing is the only way to solve the homeless crisis, but (and this always annoys me about density proponents) what good does a new apartment complex do if it costs $4,000 a month to rent? Politicians, lobbyists and developers love to throw around the term “affordable housing” but what does that mean? What qualifies as affordable housing? Affordable to whom? If it costs more than $1,000 a month to rent, it’s not affordable. If only someone—say, the person in charge of running the city—could explain it. 

If you’re at all confused by housing items on the ballot, just vote “no”. This just lets the people in charge know that their shit is confusing and to try again with more clarity. Editing and revision are the keys to better writing. 

I’m happy to vote for Harris/Walz, especially Walz. It’s about time we got someone who’s worked in public education to help lead the country. 

I know that annoys internet leftists, but all the atrocities that we’re witnessing overseas are not the work of a president or even an administration—it’s the work of an institution. The institution is the United States. Doesn’t matter who is president. Voting is a strategy, not a personality.  If the ballot is at odds with your morals, don’t vote. It’s America, baby! We’re free to do whatever we want (well, for now. This could change depending on who is elected). 

On that note, I did not vote for mayor. I left that circle blank. I used to respect Todd Gloria, but the way he’s tackled homelessness in San Diego—that is, making it illegal—is such a disappointment that I can’t support him any longer. He’s running against a former cop who is not even supported by cops, so Gloria doesn’t really need my vote. He’ll win. But that doesn’t mean I need to tolerate the everyday cruelty of his decisions. 

And that’s what we’re up against when we talk about good witches and bad witches: the meanness that has infected nearly every aspect of modern life. Every day, we make decisions that can make someone else’s life easier or harder. When it comes to politics—a game that forces people to pick sides—practicing compassion, empathy, and joy is a hard sell, and often a losing move. 

But when it’s all over, which one do you want to be: a good witch or a bad witch?