Q3's Hottest Vibe Trends 🔥
It's all burning, time to roast marshmallows.
This week’s episode is brought to you by Donald Trump’s ear patch. I want to sign it at recess.
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Hi friends!
I take a little summer break from chronicling the madness and look where we’re at. Ay, dios mio. It’s Unhingement Christmas in July.
My longtime readers know that last year we had an Old Man Summer, but this year it’s become a straight up Old Man Bummer. The asylum is reaching peak occupancy and we’re going to have to hire more nurses to make sure everyone gets their pills on time.
In this fractured information ecosystem, I know there are only two people whose perfect political opinions you can trust — me and George Clooney. So, thank you for your patience. But unlike the millions of Americans who are about to meet their FBI agents, I shan’t be posting my incriminating thoughts on the internet. Lend me an ear and I’ll tell you and Homeland Security: Violence is never the answer.
I will, however, cautiously share my opinion that the Trump assassination attempt did, in fact, succeed — in overtaking Mike Tyson’s infamous ‘97 chomp to become the most unhinged ear moment in American history. If we’re going worldwide, though, Van Gogh will always reign supreme.
And worldwide we must go, because I spent last week with my family in Canada, and I have some bad news for my sweet American friends who like to think that their homeland owns mass derangement — everything is fucked in other places, too.
I’m going to make a bold statement and say that the traffic in Toronto is now worse than Los Angeles. I left town before the great “Espresso Martini” flood this week, but I can attest that the climate is extremely unwell up north. It was so absurdly, notably hot that I wondered if the devil, Kendrick Lamar’s spirit team, and the ghost of Mayor Rob Ford are all colluding in other realms to roast ‘the 6’ for eternity.
For those of you who don’t keep up with Canadian politics (lol), the Fords are actually a political dynasty and Rob’s brother Doug is the Premier of Ontario (Canada’s version of an unhinged state governor who gets to destroy the public health care system as a little treat). While I was in town, he made headlines for posting a video that touted a map of where to buy booze while 9,000 employees of the liquor stores run by his government are on strike, giving the people another reason to drink their dwindling supplies.
Prime Minister Justin Trudeau, a man whose nepo babydom is rivaled only by Kate Hudson’s, is so widely detested he skipped the Canadian rodeo this year. As of last week, he has been Prime Minister for 84 years. He has until October 2025 to call an election and right now his party is losing in the polls, badly.
Who’s winning those polls? Conservative leader Pierre Poilievre, who keeps changing his stance on abortion and might just be a graduate of the “Jordan Peterson School for Conservative, Canadian Creeps.”
But to my knowledge, there were no fascist former reality stars shot at in Canada last weekend. And the court system hasn’t been rebuilt by a shady, orange miscreant looking to get away with murder. And even though a sandwich now costs $35, the food scene in Toronto seems better than ever. So there’s always that to celebrate!
Baby, these vibes. What are we going to do with them? The news is noxious, Covid’s having a wicked Rumspringa, and now they’ve launched a major collab. Get well soon, President Uncle Joe. And everyone reading this who has Covid right now.
I don’t have Covid. And I’m in a decent mood. So, I feel it is my duty to at least wrangle a few vibes we can use to breathe our way through the rest of Q3.
EMBRACE CHAOS
Trying to predict the events of 2024 is a fool’s errand of the highest degree. We can already feel it, we’re in for the wildest season finale a year has ever seen. If you think that anyone has anything in the bag right now or that a particular narrative is the only way “it” will play out — you’re wrong. Sorry!
Sometimes when the world is burning you just have to give in and light your cigarette on the embers. I know chaos isn’t cozy. I know that we all would love to, like, politically chill for a minute. But lawless energy has a major upside in endless possibility. And if you can nurture your inner psycho to love the excitement or put it to work instead of freaking out about not knowing what’s ahead, you’ll have a much better time in this insanity prism we call life.
TRANSMUTE THAT SHIT
Kind of like how chaos makes way for possibility: When nothing makes sense, anything can! Work your magic and turn that water into wine.
Look at JD Vance, he once called Trump “America’s Hitler” and is now his running mate, a meteoric rise and a very cute transmutation of performative morality into GOP bootlicking.
I can’t watch the convention because I love myself too much but I believe Hulk Hogan is opening for Trump tonight. Someone text me if the Hulk wears an ear patch in solidarity. I will be out transmuting my anxious energy via power walking and doing crazy wrist weight exercises.
SPIRITUAL TRUTHING
My favorite current vibe trend reeks of collective desperation: tapping into other realms to predict the election.
There’s the TikTok rod lady. There are many, many astrologers posting up a storm. There are channels and mediums. And secondhand news from two psychics. There was also that one lady who read tarot on Fox News back in January (remember her?). Not a single one of them has said Trump will win.
And honestly, I find it so much more entertaining than the brain rot conspiracies or cable news meltdowns. Who wants to jump timelines with me?
THE COCONUT TREE
This is more of like a maladaptive fantasy than a vibe, but I retract my previous statement and now insist that Kamala Harris become the next President of the United States. Give it to her, Joe. Yes, she is high. But we could all be! On whatever she is taking added to the water supply.
I want a cackler in the White House. You know she would deliver one great meme or TikTok sound a week. She could cure the country of its contextphobia. All the old men could retire and go play their little golfy golfs. It’s what we need.
HOPECORE
Let’s not take this moment as anything other than what it is, a moment. A moment in a shifting, dusty world. We don’t know where the dust will land, maybe it will be better than anything we can currently see. So why not plan some fun things for the fall and have some good hangs and put down your phone and remember that we have more control over the vibes we create than any doom scroll would suggest.
Find something to get excited about — I am personally looking forward to the Paris Olympics being bizarre. The mayor finally took her dip in the poo river this week.
Before I go, housekeeping announcement — we’re moving to Thursdays. Let’s see if it sticks! And rest in peace, Richard Simmons, a true legend of proto-Unhingement. I will never forget watching him help an extremely obese woman clap her way to weight loss on VHS.
See you next week and go buy yourself something cute. You deserve to look good while every remaining shred of normalcy evaporates in this heat.
Less Lessons More Blessin’s™️
Liz
Oh, forget marshmallows—we can roast a fucking rhinoceros on this conflagration.
Lots to unpack here. Thanks for the food for thought!