A crowded patio at night.

The man has sturdy legs and broad shoulders. He’s handsome and looks comfortable in his own skin, like he’s very good at whatever it is he does for a living and is used to moving fluidly through the world. Behind him, holding his one hand with her two, is a blind woman. She is stunning in her beauty, radiant, even. Looking at her it feels possible that a mountain stream had assumed the form and flesh of a woman and appeared amidst us like a miracle. Those of us who are watching her have no conscious choice in the matter. There is something that pure and commanding about her beauty.

She’s blinking awkwardly into the lights above the bar as the man explains the topography of the patio she is trying to navigate through.

“There’s some uneven ground here, and then a slight step up. You okay?”

She nods wordlessly.

As they pass through the thicket of tables and chairs and people, every set of eyes are upon her. Conversations are falling silent, heads are turning and imaginations are sparking. Everybody is watching, trying to enter into the mystery of her life, trying to understand the uncanny sense of relief– of hope, even– we all felt in seeing a person so unable to apprehend her own powerful beauty, a person so unsullied. She moves through us like a saint through fire, and maybe she feels our eyes upon her, feels the hunger and predation that haunt a bar like this, but maybe, perfect in her own wilderness, she feels nothing. She moves closer to the man as the level of spatial complexity increases, dropping one hand from his and letting it idle in the back pocket of his jeans.

And just beyond them a red traffic light sways above the intersection while a bat swoops down through the night and across the clear, crisp moon. Each person there wanting to tell her about the moon, the beautiful moon, and how hopefully we’d throw ourselves into that unknowable night, just to touch it’s face.

In my imagination “The Internet” descended from the deep reaches of the universe and settled upon our planet like a mist. We began to interact with this powerful and mysterious entity without any real understanding of how it was going to effect us, or even if it was going to effect us. Most of us just assumed it was going to make things better, amplifying potential in a good, rather than harmful way.

However, it hasn’t exactly worked out that way. The astonishing gifts we’ve enjoyed have come with tremendous penalties, the primary of which might be a massive, unacknowledged mental health crisis.

I don’t know about you, but I have never seen as many declarations of anxiety and depression in my life as I now see on a regular basis online. It’s not at all uncommon for me to have multiple chat windows open at once, each one a conversation with a friend in crisis. This is highly subjective of course, and that people now have the means and social sanction to communicate their feelings might be something to celebrate, or, as my intuition suggests,  it could be something in the disembodied interactions we’ve been reducing ourselves to that’s causing this articulated spike in mental health problems.

It seems that the more we inhabit the abstracted realm of The Internet, the more certain we become of our beliefs. This is highly ironic to me, because we all know that amidst the spin and swirl of disinformation, fake news and uncanny algorithms, we should be as skeptical of claims to truth and certainty as we’ve ever been.

Take the White Power symbols that have been in the news.

As you may be aware, the symbol that you always thought meant “OK,” might now mean White Power.

This transition took place about a year ago on 4Chan, where it was conceived as a conscious lie. What I mean by that is that it wasn’t a White Power sign. The intent was to take an existing symbol and change it’s meaning, thus confusing the public and media and further eroding the idea of public trust.

Regardless, once this meme was in the blood stream there was no way to know what the use of the symbol meant. Did the person know it was a white power sign? Were they just saying “OK!?” Were they making a joke? Were they communicating racist ideology?

The first instance of this that I saw was of White House Advisor Zina Bash during a Supreme Court confirmation hearing.

Based on this image, people thought she was a White Supremacist.

Bash is of Mexican and Jewish heritage, and this photo that was widely circulated was a high resolution screen capture of a video, so she was in motion, not in a fixed, posed position. Claims that she was communicating a racist message seemed to me ambiguous at best. But people I know, like and respect saw this photograph, and others like it,

as crystal clear evidence of racist intent. Where I saw nothing but ambiguity, they saw none.

It felt like looking at the Neckar’s Cube, like some optical illusion was at play and the mechanics of our brains were prohibiting us from seeing the same thing.

There was simply no consensus on what was real. We were living two different stories when looking at the images. Where I was looking at what was directly in front of me, my friends were looking at circumstance, or perhaps subtext, seeing this single image as part of a much greater and evolving narrative.

Perhaps I am antique in my thinking, but when I see stories like these, I look for a kind of “courtroom proof.” If I have doubt, I am unwilling to prosecute the reputation and livelihood of the person being judged, even if they might still be suspicious to me. Maybe that makes me unwilling to act, and if so that is a sin I will one day have to answer for. Regardless, online a “thing” is true if it has momentum, if it supports the continuance of a passionately held belief, not if it meets some “clinical” standard of proof.

As our shared sense of truth and morality fall away– and disagreement leads to suspicion, if not flat-out contempt– we fearlessly share our certainties, but shamefully keep our uncertainties sheltered within, anxious that we’ll be attacked rather than supported by those whom we would love, and that, well that’s making us all feel a little jumpy and untethered.

He’s been Donald Trump’s personal physicians for the last dozen years or so, and is responsible for declaring Trump to be the healthiest man ever elected to the Presidency. He took a lot of flak for that, as you might imagine, and for the way he looks, too, so the transition from private to public life has been pretty traumatic. Consequently, Dr. Bornstein started to see a psychiatrist. What follows are some fragments from their hacked sessions:

**************************************

Bornstein: I had a dream a few days ago where I was in the Oval Office and accidentally walked in on President Trump and German Chancellor Angela Merkel. They were having sex in the hovering butterfly position. I had a vision of the earth consumed in flames, and then all of my teeth started falling out.

********************************************

Psychiatrist: You seem bothered, Harold. Is there something on your mind?

Bornstein: Don’t get me wrong, I LOVE that America is great again, and I LOVE being the Surgeon General, but I’m starting to have some doubts about the Flesh Wall we’re building along the US/Mexico border.

We have no idea what sort of biological reactions are going to take place within that wall, and those reactions could be just as grave a threat as ISIS.

Psychiatrist: Have you spoken up about your feelings?

Bornstein: No.

Psychiatrist: We’ve had this talk a few times already, (about 90 seconds of inaudible talking)

Bornstein: I know, I know, I know, dammit!! THERE ARE NO SUCH THINGS AS PROBLEMS, ONLY OPPORTUNITIES!! THERE ARE NO SUCH THINGS AS PROBLEMS, ONLY OPPORTUNITIES!!

***************************************

Bornstein: In this dream Ivanka and I are beamed up into into a flying saucer. The aliens want us naked. We look at one another and understand.

Words are not needed. Our clothes fall away and we are naked and beautiful. Children of the universe. The aliens want us to couple. They need our beauty and fertility. My desire for Ivanka is almost overwhelming, and I can see that her desire for me is equally matched. As I pull her naked body to mine, I could see the earth, a distant blue jewel through the window just past her honey perfect shoulder. And then suddenly– due to something I knew her father had done– the earth just exploded, and as the UFO cartwheeled away from the shock waves, I was ejected naked and erect into space, where I spun alone for cold eternity.

********************************************

Last night I dreamt that a Mexican had shot the President.

I was working feverishly trying to save his life, but there was just so much blood! It was everywhere, even in my nostrils, but I keep working and working and then just when it looked like he was going to survive, I started to stab him until he was nothing more than meat for the Flesh Wall, and then I paused, took a deep breath, and then just keep stabbing.

This year, in an effort to be a little more sensitive to those who might be upset by the images, Sports Illustrated hired me to write Trigger Warnings to precede each photograph:

Trigger Warning:

Viewing of the following image of totally inaccessible supermodel Tanya Mituyshin may trigger traumatic memories of the time you saw high school goddess Marie-Therese Vitzhum in a bikini at a pool party when you were in grade 10. You might recall how out of your league she was and how she seemed like she might have been from Europe, or some angel galaxy that was as far from Ottawa as anything could possible be. You might recall feeling bony, insufficient and pale, watching as she sat piggyback on the shoulders of the muscular Randy Rafter, her breasts pressing against the back of his head as she leaned forward laughing. This image of Tanya Mituyshin could trigger such memories, creating a constant, deeply haunting reminder that you never mustered the courage to speak to MT– as she was known to her friends– and how regardless of the status and success you might achieve, you will always feel like that overlooked and scared 14 year-old boy.

Trigger Warning:

Viewing of the following image of supermodel Hannah Davies may trigger traumatic memories for people who have had difficult relationships with fishing nets in their past. This photograph could spark a deeply repressed memory of the time your friend, as a “prank,” threw a fishing net over you down by the boathouse while attending a cottage party, and instead of fighting to escape from the net, you lay in a fetal position and quietly wept for your mother, certain that you were about to be murdered, as you had always had premonitions of death by fish net.

Trigger Warning:

Viewing the following image of supermodel Gigi Hadid may trigger feelings of profound resentment and homicidal rage in people with a history of despising life in a society where Gigi Hadid, a glittering, young celebrity, is considered an achievable model of feminine beauty. Recollections of unreasonable and cruel demands may flood over you as you navigate the aisles of Shopper’s Drug Mart, your mind flashing red to every cultural message that has ever helped make you feel that you were somehow just not enough. You’re just trying to get some shit done after a long, grinding day behind your desk at the Ministry of Transportation, and then there’s Gigi, smoulder-glowing out at you from the pages of a stupid magazine, and suddenly, before you know it, you’ve kicked the hell out of an entire display stand of kale-and-beet-infused shampoo and punched-out a pharmacist, Club Optima points be damned.

As it turns out, Rob Ford, Toronto’s embattled, fiscally conservative, crack-smoking mayor is amongst those who have applied for this one-way ticket to the future.

This is his application.

Tell us a little about yourself:

My name is Rob Ford and I’m still mayor of Toronto, one of North America’s largest cities and greatest sport’s towns!! You might have heard of the Toronto Maple Leafs, the CN Tower or maybe some lies that the media made up about me. We’re pretty big-city here.

Anyway, I’m an alpha male, big and powerful, like a lumberjack or a white football player who ferociously protects his QB; loyal, not stubborn. I’m a straight-shooting son of gun who tells it like it is, and I like to have a good time. Let me tell you, you’ll always know when the Big Dog is in the house because there’ll never be a dull or non-confrontational moment! I will bring the energy and flat-out RAWK the Martian Mansion! I am a walking exclamation point!!! Think Snooki times six!

I’m also straight. The idea of guys kissing grosses me out. They can do what they want underground or wherever, but when it’s in front of me, I need them to show some respect.

I’m really into the ladies, am likely still able to father children and would be totally open to any romantic entanglements that might develop on Mars. I think everybody should have a shot at love, even if it’s on a different planet far away from your wife that you’ve been married to for a like a billion years. Personally, I like blondes the best, blondes like Seven of Nine from Star Trek: Voyager and Jessica Simpson. Hell, I don’t care that Jessica Simpson went out and put on some weight from drinking and having a baby! She was under a lot of stress, which I completely and totally understand, so if Jessie put on a few, big whoop, it just means there’s more for me!

Favourite movie:  A Clockwork Orange

Favourite city: Chicago

Favourite band: Triumph

Tell us why you’d like to go to Mars:

My favourite colour is red. LOL!! I’m just kidding. (I have a really good sense of humour and could really boost the spirits of the other pioneers, and keep our massive viewing audience laughing.)

But seriously, Commander Chris Hadfield, the Canadian who was up in the International Space Station Tweeting back to earth, has inspired me to want to become an astronaut. I could totally do what he did.

Here are some of my sample Tweets:

“From space, Chicago is an intricate tapestry of partying lights.”

“Who let the dogs out? Rob! Rob! Rob!”

“The Earth, small and blue and beautiful in eternal, floating silence.”

“Quietly, like a night bird, floating, soaring, wingless, I can blot you out with my thumb.”

Anyway, Hadfield is like a saint around here and can’t do anything wrong. The media, who tell lies about me and hunt me like I was a big, beautiful wild animal, think that everything he does is right and everything that I do sucks and instantly turns to crap. They’re trying to tackle me, the media, and that’s not fair. Earth people are negative all the time, and just don’t get Rob Ford. I think I’d like to get off this little blue bean and take on the challenge of colonizing a new, media-free planet.

I’m not scared to kill things with my hands if that’s what it takes to live on Mars.

If I can quote, “I’m not the man they think I am at home

Oh, no, no, no, I’m a rocket man.”

Also, I believe very strongly in free enterprise and would friggin’ love to start a brand-new economy that has no bureaucrats and very little municipal governance. That would be a dream, that and coaching football again. I would LOVE to be the greatest football coach in Martian history, and one day, I would hope to become mayor of Mars, too, or rather, my district of Mars.

I was built for space.

Rob Ford

PS: The rumors that I was rejected for “Celebrity Apprentice” are ridiculous.

As everybody knows, December 21^st, 2012 is the date the Mayans predicted as the end of time. Some are interpreting this to mean the apocalypse is upon us, while others see it as a time when the consciousness of the world is elevated and we move into some sort of different, perhaps even enlightened, phase.

Ridicule and nervous laughter abounds.

But could we actually be reaching a kind of tipping point?

The Information Age has accelerated our world in unprecedented ways. I think it’s fair to say that our civilization has changed more in the last 15 years than in all the millennia stacked before it. And as I sit at home in front of my computer with streams of information flowing through me from limitless channels, I find myself in a perpetual state of cognitive dissonance. It seems that almost all of the inherited cultural beliefs that shepherded me into the mainstream of North American society seem tragically flawed, even deceptive.

There are simply too many examples to cite, but after the murders in Connecticut, who in their right mind could possibly oppose stricter gun control laws? The only reason a rational (if selfish) person would do so was to protect a financial interest above a human one, or because they valued the reassurance and confidence they received from having their weapon of choice at the ready over the proven actuality that innocents are going to be slaughtered in order to achieve this (perceived) liberty. (Adam Gopnik put this much better in the New Yorker)

http://www.newyorker.com/online/blogs/newsdesk/2012/12/newtown-and-the-madness-of-guns.html )

As far as I’m concerned, anybody who trots out the 2^nd Amendment as rationale for owning an AK-47 is mad and should be seeing a mental hair care professional. And really, shouldn’t people who feel a need to own guns (without any obvious necessity for them) have to see a psychiatrist every week? Isn’t there something delusional and potentially destructive in that desire to be armed, something that suggests an anti-social character waiting to emerge in the worst possible way?

We all know that guns are not just part of American culture, but bound and smothered by politics are a part of the economic machinery that governs the nation. Politically, such elephants in the rooms as Global Warming and Gun Control, matters that need to be addressed with utter urgency and sincerity, weren’t even spoken about in the US Presidential debates. Is that not crazy?

Still, the fact the President Obama went on TV and spoke about gun control is a good sign. Hopefully, this suggests a tipping point may be at hand, and what is truly important will no longer be held hostage by political and economic interests. Maybe something like the Overview Effect is happening to all of us, and we’re starting to realize that not getting shot is a civil right and that all living things are mysteriously bound, obliging us to serve the whole rather than the self.