The mythical order of the 360 Club

Ship talk with Sailor Jim

Sailor on the seas of… hate?

After several whirlwind weeks I’m so happy to back in San Diego—at least for a little while. On Monday I went shopping at the grocery store, last night I went back to the boxing gym, and this morning I hibernated in my big blue robe.

I lose subscribers every week. I think people see MFTU land in their inboxes and are reminded that they meant to unsubscribe last week, last month, or last year. That’s what I tell myself to avoid the sting that comes from a slew of unsubscriptions after sharing personal news. But if you really want to lose subscribers, just tell your readers you’re on a cruise. They really don’t like that. I low-key approve of the pettiness. At least this didn’t happen to me.

Anyway, those people really aren’t going to like hearing I’m going on another cruise in May. It’s all part of a long story I’m doing about the company that runs these music cruises and what they’re like for outlaws, punks, and other passengers like you and me.

So stories about my adventures on the high seas will have to wait. Last week, I talked about hoping to get a chance to see the bridge. Well, that wish came true on the last day of the cruise.

When I was in the Navy, I was a Boatswain Mate, which basically means that when the ship was at sea I did all the nautical stuff: steer the ship, stand lookout, serve as Boatswain’s Mate of the Watch. It may seem strange that they let teenagers do the most important job on the shop, i.e. drive the boat, but they did, and I can assure you we abused that privilege to the max.

Those are stories for another day, but I will share this: There was something called the 360 Club whose members were able to turn the ship around in a full circle without the Commanding Officer, the Officer of the Deck, or the BMOW finding out, because if you got caught it was your ass, and the ass of everyone who should have known what was going on. You had to pick your spot very carefully, like late at night, when everyone was dog-tired, and we weren’t really going anywhere, just waiting to be on station at a certain time, and we were just trying save fuel until that time arrived. The 360 Club was probably bullshit, but it was also kind of mythical. It’s the kind of thing I was obsessed with when I was a deck seaman in the fleet, and it’s the part of the job I romanticized the second I got out in a Tim O’Brien-without-the-blood-and-guts kind of way.

So as the sun started to go down on my last evening aboard the Norwegian Gem, I got a message that read: Are you available for a bridge tour? You better believe I said yes.

Look at these gizmos

I’m not sure I can compare or contrast the bridges of the USS Meyerkord and the Norwegian Gem, because the difference was so striking. The bridge of the Norwegian Gem was like the lobby of a luxury hotel: sleek, streamlined, and slightly futuristic-looking. The bridge of my old fast frigate was like a mechanic’s workshop: cluttered and confined in a how-the-hell-does-anyone-get-any-work-done-around-here kind of way.

The biggest difference between the two ships (besides their size) was their power. Our frigate operated on the same principle as most boats: a single propeller mounted on the aft-end of the craft with a rudder to control the direction of the ship. The Norwegian Gem has five propellers and no rudders. How is that possible? Because the screws aren’t fixed in place and can be rotated in any direction.

That’s why those cruise ships can glide into port with very little assistance and warships a fraction of their size require tugboats.

I don’t want this to turn into Ship Talk with Sailor Jim so I’ll shut up soon, but I’ll say one more thing. We’ve all seen movies where sailors lash themselves to the helm, a big wooden wheel with spokes. In my day, the help was somewhat smaller but made of solid brass so it was still very imposing. When the OOD gave the order, “Left full rudder!” I had to lean into that sucker like l was spinning the wheel on The Price is Right.

Now? No more wheels. It’s all done with a joystick like you might find on the controller of a drone. I don’t think that’s an improvement, but I serious doubt anyone’s turning those giant ships around without the captain’s knowledge.

Crimes in the Desert, a photo of the event by Gabriel Hart & the Cathedral City Library

High desert drifter

I stepped off the boat on Saturday morning, took a taxi to the Miami International Airport, worked in the airport for several hours, and flew home. I arrived at a decent hour, but I was on EST so it felt a lot later. That’s when I started to feel mildly delirious. That’s when I realized I may have bitten off more than I can chew.

I had not one but two events the following day, and neither of them were local. One was in Cathedral City with the Starlite Pulp crew for a reading at the Cathedral City Library with Nolan Knight, Brian Townsley, and Tod Goldberg. Then, after a bite to eat, I was off to Joshua Tree. On both the way in and out of Cathedral City I drove through a haboob that reduced visibility and made driving dicey. Yep, after a week of smooth sailing in the Caribbean, I came back to a California dust storm.

With the help of some loud ’80s synth bangers, I made it in time to Art Trap for an event sponsored by Mil-Tree about the intersection of punk rock and the military. I had the pleasure of reading with Gabriel Hart, who emceed the event, and a couple of jarheads: Brian O’Hare and old friend Renee Asher-Pickup.

In JT, I read an old favorite, a disgusting true tale called “Beef” that I’m sure many people wished I’d retired a long time ago. In Cat City, I read from a new short story that I’m very excited about because it was 1) just picked up for publication and is 2) set in the world of my novel-in-progress, Black Van, which is coming together very nicely. More on all of that soon…

Photo of the readers by Tim Paul Gray, Art Trap, Gabriel Hart

That night I drove to Anaheim and after all that driving I was caught in a traffic stop after an accident on the 57 less than ten miles from my destination. After sitting on the freeway for half an hour, I eventually caught up with Nuvia at the tail end of her conference where she was facilitating events and wowing people with her intelligence, preparation, and kindness. The next morning we slept in, lounged around the hotel, and caught up on all that we’d seen and done that week. I love traveling with Nuvia but reuniting is so sweet it makes the time apart worth it.

State of the Disunited

It would be easy to get the impression that with all the travel I’ve been doing that I haven’t been paying attention to world events. That’s not the case. While I’m much more selective about the media I consume, SNL skits notwithstanding, I’m just as invested and concerned as everyone else.

To me, the havoc being wrought feels like a huge overreach on the part of the Trump administration. The extent to which it is unpopular and/or illegal remains to be seen, but I believe it to be both. But what do I know? I’m an old Gen X punk who thinks the world would be a better place if the threat of getting punched in the mouth every time you opened your mouth was real, because it sure as shit felt that way when I went to your schools, I went to your churches, I went to your institutional learning facilities…

Sorry, I got a little carried away. I am, however, heartened by the actions and/or writing of two people:

Senator Chris Murphy from Connecticut has emerged as one of the most outspoken Democrats in 2025. I’ve been contributing to Murphy’s campaigns since 2012 when in the wake of the murders at Sandy Hook he responded in a way that was profoundly decent and humane, and he has been a tireless advocate for gun control since. Murphy even wrote a book about it. Every year he walks across the state of Connecticut and talks to his constituents. When he travels abroad, which he does as part of bi-partisan trips, he writes extensively about what he saw, who he talked to, and what he learned. Part of the reason he does this is to get to know legislators across the aisle and try to find common ground away from the partisan circus that is Washington. He is a smart, articulate, seemingly indefatigable public servant.

Since Musk has infiltrated the White House, Murphy has been one of the loudest voices condemning the actions of this unelected official whose actions done in the name of “savings” and “tax cut” are theft, plain and simple. Yes, every email Murphy sends has a donation message, but his emails are substantive, informative, and inspiring. He almost uses his messaging like a Substack. Last night, he did not attend the POTUS SOTU, but was one of the voices offering a fact check and counterpoint to Trump’s nonsense on MoveOn’s live stream of the SOTU. That’s the kind of leader that gets me excited.

The other writer I read religiously is

Hamilton Nolan

, who writes about labor issues at his Substack How Things Work. Because he doesn’t write for legacy media, his prose is sharper and more sarcastic than most writers in this very wonky space. I find his insights extremely valuable, like this piece he wrote about how Tesla is much more vulnerable than we think. He wrote this last week and some of the things he wrote about are already happening now that Tesla’s stock is cratering. Here’s the opening to his piece about last night’s shit show:

In the Smithsonian Museum of Natural History, you can learn that the first animals with backbones evolved during the early Cambrian Period, 525 million years ago. Outside of that museum, few backbones can be found in Washington, DC. As you wonder why, muse on the fact that all of the information on life’s history is contained in the museum’s David H. Koch Hall of Fossils. When Koch died in 2019, he had amassed a fortune of $50 billion. There was a time when that was considered real money. Not any more.

How’s that for an opening? It’s enough to make you a little crazy.

Thanks for reading! If you liked this newsletter you might also like my latest novel about healthcare vigilantes Make It Stop, or the paperback edition of Corporate Rock Sucks: The Rise & Fall of SST Records, or my book with Bad Religion, or my book with Keith Morris. I have more books and zines for sale here. And if you’ve read all of those, consider checking out my latest collaboration The Witch’s Door and the anthology Eight Very Bad Nights.

Message from the Underworld comes out every Wednesday and is always available for free, but paid subscribers also get my deepest gratitude and Orca Alert! on most Sundays (but not last Sunday, but definitely this Sunday). It’s a weekly round-up of links about art, culture, crime, and killer whales.