Melissa Chen Profile picture
Jun 8 15 tweets 4 min read
I've always abstained from explicitly cheerleading for a particular political party or candidate, until @ShellenbergerMD ran for governor. There are reasons for this.

Firstly, self-interest. I'm one more robbery away from moving out of CA. Second, I saw first-hand the
abject state of human misery on the streets of SF which had a profound effect on me back in January 2022.

I was in town to renew my passport and took the opportunity to meet up with my friend, the citizen journalist @JennyChachan. The plan was to meet at "the library," to
which I had mindlessly Uber-ed to. As I got out of the car, I realized that wasn't the place I was supposed to be at. I had been dropped off at a (closed) bar called "the library," quite a walk away from the actual public library.

I was in the heart of the Tenderloin & decided
to walk the remaining mile that separated me from the actual meeting point. The streets were conspicuously empty of cars and pedestrian traffic for a weekday afternoon, but on the side walks, there were makeshift tents and belongings strewn around haphazardly.

Characters roamed
around, spouting unintelligible soliloquies. Mid-way down Jones Street, I heard a commotion and saw a person poking out of a blue tent. He was yelling "does anyone have Narcan? Narcan! Narcan, we need Narcan!"

I had to google it. Before I could reply the cries turned into
"will someone call 911," which I did.

I'd just seen a man overdose and die right in front of me. Visibly shaken, I kept walking, texting Jenny about what had just happened and explaining why I was running even later.

Whatever expression I was wearing on my face prompted a
security guard standing outside a shuttered store on Market St. to stop me and ask, "hey, are you okay?"

I forced a smile.

I finally made it to the public library and gave Jenny and @SoledadUrsua a warm embrace. We went up to the higher floors and peered out of the window.
Nothing could have prepared me for the scene of depravity. A homeless encampment with what looked like more permanent structures occupying the open space between government buildings, framed by the grandiose dome of City Hall.
Mobile trailers plastered with the slogan "Showering Our Communities with Love" were on site. It gave me the creeps. This looked nothing like love.

Next door at the UN Plaza was a scene right out of the Walking Dead. Zombies with their eyes glazed over, teetering as they
lurched forward and then back; some brazenly, in broad daylight (~ 4pm) injected themselves, oblivious to everything.

All of this, by the way, exists in FULL VIEW of the leaders who oversee and run this town. I thought of the Getty wedding that took place in City Hall not
long ago, the one with ridiculous costumes and Nancy Pelosi officiating in the beautiful rotunda. The juxtaposition of that event to these displays of inhumanity and despair calls to mind The Hunger Games.

None of this is normal anywhere else in the world.
I have been to the favelas in Brazil, the townships in South Africa, and seen refugee camps. None of these experiences come anywhere close to the despondent state of the human condition that I witnessed on the streets of San Francisco that day.

San Francisco. What a beautiful,
naturally-endowed city buttressed by bays and hills, brimming with so much human potential, potential that was realized in so many ways as the wellspring of innovation that gave us a new world.

And yet.

After parting with my friends, I headed to the Singapore consulate
to renew my passport. How lucky I was to be holding this little red & gold book. How lucky I was to have grown up in a place where not a single human soul is subjected to a life of chemical slavery and physical debasement that has been normalized in California.
There's a children's section on the 1st floor of the SF library where you'd find titles such as Peter Rabbit. You can also see the homeless encampment from the window here.

Another book rests on the sill: "Vote For Our Future."

California, please. For yours and our children's.

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More from @MsMelChen

Apr 28
The student loan debate has brought up this idea that tuition should be based on future salary. Perhaps I'm naive but I still valorize the pursuit of knowledge that ostensibly has no practical value. Humanity's future depends on long-term thinking unguarded by market pressures.
This is not to say that education should not have any contact with reality. This is not to say that elite overproduction isn't a problem. What is woke culture if not the wrath of underemployed humanities scholars with fancy degrees and heaps of social capital?

And yes it is
a huge travesty that higher education ladens so many with monstrous debt.

Those not in favor of gutting higher education entirely should ask: why have costs risen dramatically while quality of education has stagnated or declined?
Read 4 tweets
Apr 18
It is crass to speak of a silver lining to the Russian invasion of Ukraine, but one of the consequences of this reality is that it makes the Chinese invasion of Taiwan less likely, or at least staves off the timeline of takeover.
China has seen the difficulties the Russians are having with what it assumed was a relatively straightforward invasion of Ukraine.

Structurally, Xi has every reason to fear that he too may face the same pitfalls that Putin did when it came to assessing the likelihood of success
of a military campaign. Then there's the matter that an invasion of Taiwan - an island - is a far more complex endeavor than Russia invading Ukraine, requiring coordination of air, naval and ground forces. It would also involve amphibious landings in addition to considerable
Read 5 tweets
Mar 30
Now that the WaPo and the NYT have authenticated the contents of Hunter’s laptop, don’t let them memory hole how the story was treated by the media a year ago.

Also, has anyone from @Twitter been held accountable for the “mistake” of banning the story & locking @nypost account?
“Talk about burying the lead—for 17 months. The New York Times has finally acknowledged that Hunter Biden’s business dealings are legitimate news. Implicit apology accepted.”

wsj.com/articles/all-t…
Read 4 tweets
Mar 16
Participating in the security kabuki theater here in Singapore is driving me nuts.

Every single time I have to scan the Orwellian-sounding TraceTogether app to enter a mall (and then enter a shop *inside* that mall), a part of my soul dies.

Various restrictions here just
really don’t make sense. The limit on groups dining at the same table is… 5. Why? The trains are packed but somehow once you reach the restaurant you have to split your group.

Imagine being stuck at this stage of the pandemic when in the West, it’s business as usual & mandates
are being dropped.

Not far from here, Hong Kong and China’s incessant pursuit of Zero Covid is just an excuse to continue the cruel and unusual punishment of strict and prolonged lockdown policies.

You really feel the trade-off between safety and freedom so explicitly here.
Read 5 tweets
Mar 15
Nothing is more jarring to processing death than witnessing the cremation of a loved one.

I saw a robot push my dad’s coffin into the furnace. My sister, in between sobs, turned to me and said “um, this is some Squid Games shit.”

They asked what I wanted to do with the ashes.
The crematorium offered an option to turn “my dad” into diamonds. I thought about it for a while before realizing that I had just seen the coffin go into the furnace, so exactly how many dad molecules versus coffin molecules would be in there?

I didn’t like the molecular
distribution given the relative sizes of the objects. And then there’s the matter of atomic replacement. Surely, over time, cellular/atomic turnover guarantees that the same atoms in dad’s body were previously part of someone else, maybe a heinous historical figure.

Maybe this
Read 4 tweets
Mar 11
I'm slowly easing myself back to normal life after the sudden and unexpected death of my father. My world has stopped and it feels surreal that it is going on without me.

Life, if I can even call it that, is simultaneously meaningless and overwhelming. I avoid the news because
this is what my dad and I bonded over the most: political banter. Our last conversation lasted an hour on Valentine's Day on Russia-Ukraine.

Today, I can’t read an article without feeling the urge to send it to him and ask him what he thinks. This pattern of behavior is so
ingrained that the nagging awareness that the impulse to pick up my phone and reach out to him will be met with dead silence just makes me want to avoid reality as if it's the only way to escape the void of his absence. I feel rudderless, like the bedrock beneath me
Read 25 tweets

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