While a federal judge considers President Ashleigh Grantham Jr.’s petition to keep the congressional commission investigating President Rudy Ruiz’s death (and supposed resurrection) from exhuming the contents of Ruiz’s grave here in Gallum County, the country seems to be going various levels of insane. (Content warning here for reports of self-harm.)
On the lightly insane spectrum: tattoo parlors are offering all kinds of specials on grim reaper and other death-adjacent flash. The Red Or Dead Ink Factory here in Turner Falls, famously the “official” tattoo parlor of the Rud Boys “militia,” a more-than-usually-armed faction of the LibertyNow! movement, is literally giving away palm-sized tats that mimic old-timey shipping or travel suitcase stickers that read: “IN CASE OF EMERGENCY / DO NOT RECUCITATE / DELIVER DIRECTLY TO REVTECH.” And before you ask: yes, I — and many others, especially on social media — have informed them about the correct spelling of “resuscitate.”
In fact, when I stopped by Red Or Dead’s storefront on the town square yesterday, shop owner Freddie “The Fash” Briggum told me that “spelling is some liberal brain-worm shit.”
Briggum was famously expelled from Turner Falls High School in 2014 for attempting to set off a homemade bomb in a boys’ restroom, and has since lost two close races for state senator to the local GOP incumbent. He said the tattoos are the “least” he can do for “his” president.
“The Rud Boys report to no one except Rudy Ruiz, dead or alive,” Briggum said. I asked if this meant he genuinely believed the man who took the stage at the GOP debate last week was a risen Ruiz, recovered fully from a fatal plane crash.
“It sure does,” he responded, before adding — with what I can only describe as an unkind smile — “not that I expect a woke liberal media bitch to get it.”
Duly noted.
On the moderately insane spectrum: I feel squicky even reporting this, because I know it’s probably contributing to the wider problem, but it’s relevant. According to press releases from United Tobacco and Vape 4 America USA, the two biggest lobby groups representing their respective industries, nationwide sales are skyrocketing — and not where you’d necessarily expect. Or, at least, not where I would have expected. They’re reporting sharp rises in cigarette and vape sales in the country’s few remaining “blue” urban centers, specifically Seattle, Los Angeles, Minneapolis, and New York. They’ve been careful not to directly attribute the sales increase to the emergence of revival technology, but they’re clearly hoping buyers are feeling … optimistic … about their health futures.
On the absolutely batshit and legitimately terrifying end of the spectrum: police and emergency responders across the country have reported a handful of serious, and sometimes fatal, self-harm incidents involving people who are actively seeking out opportunities to be RevTech’s next client. It’s possible there are many more of these than we know — once the first stories hit the news, health care and psychology experts warned members of the media against further publicizing these incidents in hopes of curbing “copycats.”
These incidents appear to be what’s finally prompted RevTech to fire up a Twitter account to reach the masses. Emoji were involved, if that tells you how seriously they’re actually taking this.
Which brings me to this: I’ve never been inclined to share much of my personal perspective in my work. Minne Moves Home was originally intended to be a lighthearted chronicle of moving back to my hometown, cheerfully persevering against the odds, and doing whatever reporting I could on local issues amid the last gasp of local journalism. I had in mind to write local food reviews — there’s a stellar barbecue spot not 20 minutes from the house I grew up in — and spend my nights visiting school board meetings and hanging around East Texas city halls.
I wanted to show the reality of my hometown — Rudy Ruiz’s hometown — and illustrate for the country that this geography was more than the origin story of the man who divided the nation even more than his idol, Donald Trump. I wanted to show that Gallum County wasn’t just a hotbed of fascist politics and right-wing rage. That there were good people here — people who think deeply and critically, people who ask hard questions, and especially people who have been silenced and shut out amid attacks on queer and trans communities, on reproductive rights, and on Black, Indigenous, and people of color. That the place I left 15 years ago for the bright lights and the big city had more going for it than I thought, and certainly than the national narrative made it out to have.
I wanted to show the humanity of this place.
But now I wonder what it means to be human at all. We obviously don’t know for certain that the man currently claiming to be President Rudy Ruiz is the same man who was killed in a plane crash on July 4th. We may not know the answer for sure for many days or weeks, depending on the outcome of President Grantham’s petition to keep Ruiz’s grave off-limits to investigators. But I am starting to question whether the truth of that really even matters. I understand why Grantham wants to seal off that coffin for good — he’s always been afraid of the power of Rudy Ruiz, even as Ruiz’s VP — but if enough people believe the “new” Rudy Ruiz is the “old” Rudy Ruiz, what difference does it make?
I’ve spent more time over the last week with Mitch Carter, the Turner Falls meat plant worker and Treetops resident who says he was dead for 87 minutes before RevTech brought him back in the early hours of July 5th. He believes his own story, no question, and he has plenty of evidence to back up what he claims — and lacks explanation for just enough of his story that I have to think he’s not bluffing. (The smell alone!) I also have every reason to trust Linda Lyle, a serious-minded woman, deeply respected in Turner Falls, who herself trusts Carter’s account. And even though I have every reason to suspect Carron Nielsberg and Pastor Kathy Donaldson of being united in a grand grift about the end of death as we know it, I can’t get rid of the nagging question: Why go to all this big, public, potentially deeply embarrassing trouble if it’s all destined to go wrong?
What I am afraid to admit is that in addition to feeling afraid and horrified, I feel a little hopeful. And I mean that in the smallest, most minuscule, almost infinitesimal kind of way. Hope is not a feeling I have been accustomed to for a long time, and I’m betting a lot of my readers feel the same way. But if RevTech can do what they’re promising they can do, we really are entering a new era of the human experience.
Of course I have concerns. I’ve seen the RevTech pamphlets. Nielsberg and co. intend to charge a steep price for their services — I suspect this treatment, if it’s legit, won’t be available to many more Mitch Carters. But it’s only a matter of scale, really, considering the cost of health care in the U.S. already. I’ve already heard rumblings from certain anti-abortion factions — my mom is the secretary of Gallum County Right To Life — about an emerging divide in their movements about what regenerative biotech (which they’ve long opposed) could mean for pregnancy policy going forward. We don’t know, or at least the public doesn’t yet know, how early RevTech treatments work. My mom said a Gallum RTL meeting nearly came to blows last week over an argument about whether revival tech means pregnancy-capable Americans should have to show a negative test more or less recently when we apply for Fertility Clearance Travel Cards. And the past few weeks have seen real moments of upheaval in faith communities — particularly when it comes to international religions with strong representation in the U.S. (Pope Francis, for example, has yet to issue public guidance, and polls seem to show that American Catholics are sharply divided on what any of this means.)
But I keep thinking about what it was like to be in the room with the president-apparent, and spending time at Treetops with Mitch Carter. If these are RevTech’s ambassadors — even if they are accidental ambassadors of opportunity — they aren’t bad ones. They don’t act like mindless, brain-biting zombies, or evil, thrall-inducing vampires. They’re a little frail, maybe, and look a little wan; Carter certainly smells awful. But they mostly just seem like regular guys … just, reportedly resurrected.
Anyway, I’m keeping an eye on the courts — when we get a ruling on the Ruiz exhumation, I’ll be right here (well, in your inboxes) with an update.
What else I’m reading right now:
“Pentagon UFO office unveils official website for US government personnel to report sightings” (Space.com)
“Inside the New York Times’ trans coverage: ‘I wonder if people at the top fully believe in trans people’s humanity’” (San Francisco Chronicle)
“Alabama can prosecute those who help women travel for abortion, attorney general says” (AL.com)
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