New Leadership: A Call To Action

I first moved to Los Angeles, California from NYC ten years ago because I loved all that the city and state had to offer. And for the first 8 years, I loved nearly every minute of it. I planted roots, started a family and a business, and became an active member of a community. But in the last two years, I have begun to question and regret the decision to move here. The city, in its current state and trajectory, is a mess.

While the decline in quality of life is surely multi-causal, one thing is certain: the current leadership, imbued with a naïve and noxious ideology, is burning through everything it touches like the fabled 'universal acid'. This ideology, well intentioned as most are, is woefully misguided, and juvenile in its conception. And this ideology is incarnated in our District Attorney Gascon, whose policies and messaging are at the root of the ubiquitous decay.

Since DA Gascon came into office, Los Angeles has deteriorated at an unimaginable rate. Streets are full of garbage, tents, human feces, needles, and open-air drug markets. Once thriving Los Angeles areas now look like an apocalyptic horror film, and every police officer questioned about this decay responds the same way: “our hands are tied by the DA”.

A brief glance at DA Gascon's website, https://georgegascon.org/, reveals his priorities and ideology–and both are not what's needed. The first priority on his website is accountability for police. Yes police do need to be accountable for their actions, but this ought not be the first priority on our city's to-do list. Making it a priority, and doing so in the way that he has done, discourages the exact people we should be thanking for their courageous service. It villainizes those who risk their lives to protect ours.

But rather than advocating for a vision of what government can be, and what an improved society might look like, the website and his messaging do the opposite, casting aspersions on the police. DA Gascon doesn’t acknowledge the risks they take going into situations of unknown risk, and thus incredible danger. Instead, he runs and is elected on a campaign that demonizes them. This messaging turns away talent. It dissuades enrollment and matriculation by the exact people we need to attract. And it thus enables and encourages crime. Is it a wonder that things have taken such a sharp turn for the worse?

The website states that "As Los Angeles District Attorney, I will make our neighborhoods safer".

Well, all evidence to the contrary. Allowing encampments on streets with drugs and needles is dangerous and foolish policy. Permitting petty crimes to go unpunished sets the example that crime is okay. Setting minors free with gun violations does not honor their youth, it motivates older criminals to use them as pawns, and sets violent offenders free with no penalty, no dissuasion from further offenses, and no meaningful punishment for current ones. It ignores all the true and valid reasons for punishment that are necessary to create a functioning civilization. And with the DA's stance against enhancements, multiple offenses are no longer evidence of a pattern worth disrupting.

Of course, punishment can go too far. Laws and their enforcement are imperfect, requiring meaningful checks and balances. But the pendulum has swung way too far at this point and we must get control of it soon or the damages could take decades to reverse.

Cities with dense populations cannot operate on laissez faire principles or libertarian ideals. Large, dense populations require more rules, and more importantly, strong enforcement of those rules, to function. Laws without consequences harm the society; when crime goes unpunished, the population loses respect for the law, and that is how civilizations are derailed. As an animal reigned in can be controlled, but once the reigns are lost, it is difficult to corral.

As priorities go, optics matter, and so do statistics. The evidence of the city's decline is everywhere and does not require further exposition. With respect to police reform, the problem requires some quantification to observe or understand. The basic stats are this: in the entire county of more than ten million inhabitants, yearly statistics indicate that each year, about 250 people are killed by police. Of this total, some are tragic missteps or abuses, and others are justified shootings. Of the 80k police officers in Los Angeles, approximately eighty are arrested per year for misconduct. This is 0.1%. These are hardly the statistics of a pernicious epidemic worth focusing on as the number one priority, to the exclusion of other more pressing issues. Further, by solving for their brutality, and focusing on limiting their power to enforce the laws using force and force multipliers, the policies enacted will cause the opposite problem: that police will be killed in increasing number on the job, and that all crime will rise as the police are handcuffed by anti-police-brutality policy.

Politicians like DA Gascon pretend that they are compassionate by targeting a problem that is statistically minor, but politically charged, to garner political power.  The strategy is effective, but the costs are substantial, as we are all witnesses.  The residents of Los Angeles are suffering from his misguided policies and ineptitude. Those that are homeless are suffering far worse fates under these policies as well. Living with impunity on the streets provides them no hope, and no impetus to make positive strides toward improving their lives. By enabling them to live in squalor, they feel ashamed, and left behind, and devoid of dreams. That is the irony of these so-called compassionate policies; they assume that homeless people are hopeless people, rather than seeing them as strong human beings capable of change. 

We need new leadership. We need it now.

Simon (the puppy) Friedland

When I met my wife 11 years ago, she had two dogs, Simon & Tobias. I had never owned a pet, and so the experience of first having one as an adult was something new, and wonderful. My wife comes from a family of dog lovers, and she is a caretaker by nature. Tobias she got at birth, and he fit in the palm of her hand as a puppy. A few years later, she came across a dog in the street, young but not a puppy, battered and emaciated. She took him in, and named him Simon. 

He required a lot of work to train, domesticate, and bring back to health. We do not know his backstory, but at the time Samantha found him, he was in bad enough shape that the doctors recommended putting him on bed rest. Samantha, the daughter of a doctor, did the opposite. She fed him, walked him and took him on hikes, and provided him with love. But much damage had already been done. When a young animal goes through profound traumas, the effects are felt for life.

As a newcomer to dog ownership, I was fascinated by the differences between the two of them. Tobias, who had never had a hard day in his life and who was protected by Samantha always, saw the world with great optimism. He was full of smiles, charisma, and playfulness, and at the dog park his confidence made him a magnet for attention. Tobias would create a massive game of tag with the other dogs, with all of them chasing after him. He was quick and shifty. It was pure play--delightful, innocent, and even hilarious.

Unlike Tobias, Simon's eyes had seen more. Growing up outside of the blanket of warmth and protection provided by a loving family, he had to survive, and we suspect he did so with mixed results. On the one hand, had managed to stay alive, but a part of his youthful innocence was taken away from him at an early age. He knew that people and animals were capable of kindness, and cruelty. His demeanor reflected this knowledge, and he lived his life with a somewhat circumspect outlook. While Tobias, the alpha, was frolicking in his raucous game of tag, Simon would walk on the outskirts of the park, rarely interacting with the other dogs and preferring to keep to himself. He hung his head, and I understood why: he didn't feel confident, and hanging his head allowed him to avoid interactions and conflict, while protecting the most vulnerable parts of his anatomy--his neck and chest. Humans do the same, while the victors walk around chest out, announcing themselves everywhere.

Unfortunately, animals can smell fear and weakness, and hiding alone is often not enough. Early on, while at the dog park, a pack of dogs attacked Simon, one of them biting off his ear. This was before I knew him or Samantha, but I could see that his ear had to be surgically repaired, and it never quite looked right. In all of the years since, people would often observe his quirky ear, and I would stay pretty much to myself on the subject, simply noting it along with them. I'd make a joke about it and laugh about it with good nature, subjugating the part of myself that wanted to explain its history in favor of a lighter exchange. 

The thought of this fight haunted me for years, making me sad and at times, angry--reflecting on how animals pick on the weak. Occasionally, I had fantasies about being there for that event, so that I'd have the opportunity to protect him. And then I'd wonder, would I have had the courage? Samantha did. She jumped right into the fray to protect Simon and broke up the fight. But would I? I wasn't sure how I'd have reacted, and it hurt me not to know this about myself. But, when these questions go unanswered for some time, they attenuate, and I eventually learned to let it go and live without the knowledge of how I'd react. 

Things returned to normal and we spent countless hours at the dog park after that. We took Simon and Tobias everywhere with our family and they were like children: the alpha, confident and charismatic, and the Omega. I was aware at the time that their opposite natures were healthy for me. As their father, I had to love and care for them both for who they were, not for how I wished them to be. In many ways, this redefined my understanding of the word love. In secular American parlance, the word love is most often meant to mean something like "feeling intense affection for". We love our favorite foods and movies and friends and all sorts of other things that give us what we want or need. But the more mature form of love is the way we treat a thing. To love something means "to tend to it with care and kindness by investing our effort into it". In this meaning, to love something references what we do to it, not what it does for us. As it turns out, by tending to things with love over time, the first type of love, how we feel about it, is an emergent property. And in this way, it is more lasting than our ephemeral and capricious predilections. By investing in a thing, we create something that has a piece of ourselves implanted within it.  

So we loved them every day, tending to all their needs. At some point early on, we decided to put Simon on Fluoxetine, an anti-anxiety medication. Without it, we could barely leave him alone, and with it, he was much better off and more comfortable in his own skin. With the medication, his family, and Tobias at his side, Simon flourished.  And that is how things went for many years--a happy family of five with two dogs that were like brothers to each other. If a dog every tried to pick on Simon, Tobias, his little brother, would step right into the fight. And even though Tobias was a small little puggle, other dogs backed down to his confidence and courageousness. That's how it is--confidence and security in oneself breeds respect. Many of those dogs could have taken Tobias physically--but none could beat his will. Simon was lucky to have him as a brother.

One night I was out walking the two dogs around the block. I saw up the road a car pull into a driveway and thought nothing of it. Two dogs emerged from the car and ran to greet us on our walk, or so I thought. As they ran toward us, my perspective shifted quickly from "they are coming to play" to "they are attacking". They were off leash, and I didn't know what to do with my two dogs on leashes. Do I let the leashes go so they can run? With no time to decide, instinct took over, and in the middle of the street I got down on the ground and fought the two dogs with my hands, trying to protect my boys. Tobias held his ground and fought with me. Simon, predictably, was off to the races and ran down the block. Within about thirty seconds the attacking dogs' owner came and got them off us, but it was a moment that I'll never forget. I retrieved Simon from down the block, and we were all okay. The boys licked each other and made sure the other was okay, and life went on. I can't say for sure whether this encounter answered any questions I had about myself. Although, looking back, I certainly do not feel any regret about my reaction--perhaps that's good enough.

There are countless stories and memories--too many to tell. Last summer during COVID, Samantha and I decided to get out of LA for the summer. We rented an RV and drove across the country to Providence, RI, where we stayed for two months; it was an incredible adventure, seeing this glorious land with nothing but family and time along for the ride. Simon came with us--part of the family as always.

About three months ago Simon started vomiting quite regularly. We took him to the vet and got him meds that worked a little, but it never stopped. He started to develop a limp in his back legs, and about two weeks ago this limp turned into an inability to use his back legs altogether. The vet said it was likely a slipped disc due to the bilateral effects, and to try resting him for two weeks to see if things improved. Instead, he atrophied and took a major turn for the worse, losing 8 lbs over the period, or about 20% of his body weight. 

Two nights ago he needed to go outside in the middle of the night, so I took him. This wasn't so abnormal; it's a part of having dogs-- that sometimes they need to relieve themselves in the middle of the night. But this time, Simon couldn't make it back up the stairs. Typically he did not like to be touched or lifted, but I reached down to carry him up the stairs. He allowed me to do this with no fight or fidgeting at all, laying in my arms like a baby. It was sweet. I didn't want to let him go and spent a while with him laying in my lap, something he'd never done before. It felt amazing to care for him and to tend to his most basic needs. But at the same time I knew. I knew that his comfort in my arms was his resignation from life. There were no good days ahead.

Yesterday we said goodbye to our beloved dog Simon. He was a complicated character. But ultimately, he was full of love for Samantha, me, our children, and our whole family. I will miss so much about him, especially his loving greetings at the front door.

His life left its body yesterday around 2PM, but it will remain in our hearts forever.

In & Of Itself

Over the past few days, friends have been contacting me about Derek Delguadio's show, In & Of Itself, which played in New York several years ago for more than 500 performances, and which is now available on Hulu. Everyone wants to know whether I've seen it, and what my reaction to it is, so rather than answering everyone individually, I thought I'd process my thoughts here as one collective response. Maybe in so doing, it will become clear how I actually feel.

Let me start by saying that I met Derek about ten years ago when I first arrived in Los Angeles. Words and adjectives that come to my mind about meeting him: extremely serious, quite intelligent, highly skilled, a tad crass, and not especially friendly. This is pretty common in the magic community so I don't want it to sound like a dig on DD, it's simply the nature of a craft built on secrets and on the fact that I was not someone who could advance his career. Some magicians do not mind sharing with others, while other magicians guard their secrets jealously, or worse, with ferocity. Derek handled cards expertly and could even do a few moves I'd not seen anyone else do before--things that were original, and that was cool to see. He did not smile easily. 

While I showed up to the Magic castle on a periodic basis to have a good time and meet colleagues, Derek was there virtually every night. He had moved to Los Angeles into an apartment complex across the street from the Magic Castle, part of his master plan to meet the right people and build his name in the magic community and elsewhere.

At the time, I espoused having similar goals as his. But looking back, I don't feel being a famous magician is what I wanted. Certainly I had spent most of my life honing a craft, and it's nice to be appreciated and to give people a gift of magic. But I never saw it is a viable way to make the kind of living I wanted for myself. Don't misunderstand--there are magician's that make very nice livings doing magic, and indeed the field of magic is an entire industrial complex. But the only place I could see myself within the complex was as a performer, and for reasons that are difficult to articulate, pursuing magic as a career was not natural to me. Business is in my blood, and I always knew I wanted a business that endured during good times and bad times--where I was selling something that was necessary; this proved extremely prescient in the last year during COVID-19, where my business never shut down and has remained busy throughout. I'll leave that for another time.

Lady Gaga sang "I live for the applause". Well, after years of singing in a cappella groups and performing magic for audiences since the age of 12, eventually I realized that I don't live for the applause. I love applause. It's terrific. Everyone loves to be appreciated, and approved of, and to be received well. But in me, there was, and remains, no void to fill. And I wonder how much that motivates the average Hollywood actor or performer--filling the void, or not having other options, running to something, or running from something.

When I first moved to Hollywood, I lived in an apartment building above Ian Kessner. Ian, a cool Jewish guy from Toronto, was married to Israeli actress Bar Paly, and one day I found myself hanging out with him at this apartment. I gave him a bit of my story, and he informed that in his early twenties he was close pals with Leonardo DiCaprio & David Blaine, and that the three of them used to hit the town together regularly. I mentioned that I knew David from my time doing magic in NYC as a teen, and that in some respects I wanted to follow along in his path.

Ian responded quickly, and in no uncertain terms, that this would not happen. "You're not going to be anything like David Blaine Michael." I asked why, and he followed up with a series of questions: are your parents still married? Yes, happily. Did you go to college...earn a degree? Yes, Philosophy & an MBA. How about brothers and sisters...are they okay? Yes, very well thank you. You had plenty of money growing up...yearly vacations kinda thing? Yes, we did not want for anything. And how about you...you have some money, doing okay? Yes, I've been fortunate for sure.

"Right", Ian said. That is NOT David Blaine at all. David never knew his Dad. He slept on his mother's couch and they had no money. His mother had a hard time keeping herself together and could not support herself let alone David. From the time he was 14, he's been hustling every day and night to make a living for himself and take care of his mother. He has no back up plan. He's not going to switch to real estate if magic doesn't work out. He thinks all day and night about magic. When he's figuring out where to eat, it's based on who may be there, and what he will do if he sees someone famous. Every thought, every action, every motivation, is curated around the singular premise of being a famous magician. There is no home base, no place to rest, nothing to fall back on. Everyone he meets wants something from him and he can never let down his guard.

In an instant, my desire to be anything like David Blaine vanished. It is much easier to me, and rather than running from that fact, I gradually learned to accept it, and more, be thankful for it. Extremes breed extremes. Sure, the sword that has been endlessly steeped in fire and annealed into fortitude is strong, but that process is violent and unpleasant. It is easy to admire that fortitude and to think oneself less than someone who has endured what it takes to achieve it, but few healthy people would choose it. 

Last night I watched Derek's Delguadio's show. In many ways, his theme was similar to a show I wrote and performed years ago in NY called ADD-Lightful, about the challenges of articulating an identity when none of the words seem to fit. Magician? Nope. Conjuror? Bad branding. Sleight of hand Artist? Come again? Transcendental artist? Thesaurus please. And this struggle is not inconsequential when we live in a society that often asks us to define ourselves by what we do. Derek's show does an excellent and poignant job of examining this question, and the magic is truly wonderful. His acting was also terrific and a bit of a revelation.

Nothing is a pure accident. In my show, years ago I toured audiences through various chapters of my life. At one point I thought I would be a magician, then a singer, then a life coach, then a real estate developer, then a guitarist, and so on. The goal was to tell personal stories of hardship, joy, exploration, and revelation. Derek's tail, again similar in thematically, is more painful. His father ran off before he was born out of wedlock. His mother supported them and he longed for the day when he might meet his dad. One night, he tells, he awakens to find his mother on the couch kissing another woman. Sadly, a community of homophobes turns on them, slanders her to his face, and eventually leads to their relocation. 

Hearing the story was painful, and Derek appears in pain throughout the performance, almost as if his belief, rational from his perspective, is that the journey of self exploration MUST be fraught with pain. This is where we diverge. To me, the existential sadness of identity crisis is nearly synonymous with the human condition, a basic ennui that we all feel from time to time but do not let define us. My tail was full of jokes, and moments of magic that dazzled and delighted as I worked to provide my audiences with a vacation from their problems. Derek's tail indulges the part of ourselves that falls pray to a destructive inner voice, without providing a coherent hope that there is light at the end of the tunnel, or a corresponding to joy that offsets the pain. Perhaps this is the case, and certainly the show has resonated for so many that saw and loved it. And I enjoyed it as well. It is only a matter of stylistic difference that I bring it up here: until I have transformed or transmogrified the pain that often motivates art into something uplifting, I do not perform it. It happens to be my artistic sensibility to spread light, even while I value artists that expertly mine the darkness.

All told, I unequivocally recommend seeing Derek's show. I hope that it provided him joy, remuneration, and a modicum of catharsis.

Michael Friedland

January 25th, 2021

Lessons on Life

Greatness describes the intensity or magnitude of a thing.

Greatness is not intense Goodness.

Lessons on Life

 Do not ascribe malevolence to that which is explicable by self interest.

Lessons On Life

History is replete with tales of hubris.

The Tower of Babel--God punishes humankind for trying to reach him.

Icarus--The Greek myth teaches not to be too arrogant or greedy.

The Gulag Archipelago: Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn teaches us how a large, benevolent ideology can create the ultimate evil of human history.

Do not try to fix the world according to your ideology. Fix yourself. That's hard enough. And if we all fix ourselves, the world will be improved.

Lessons on Life

"For it is true we can seldom help those closest to us. Either we don't know what part of ourselves to give or, more often than not, the part we have to give is not wanted. And so it is those we live with and should know who elude us. 

But we can still love them - we can love completely without complete understanding.”

-Norman Maclean

A River Runs Through It