This is belated, in more ways than one…
I’ve had many feelings about an artist with whom I only had a passing familiarity until the day after she died.
Lately when a famous musician dies, I have spent at least part of the evening playing their songs, as a small tribute and remembrance. Eddie Money got some love, though after his hits, I kinda lose interest; Tom Petty (I crank up "Won’t Back Down" every time I hear it on the radio); Dolores O'riordan’s death reminded me that while I used to really like the Cranberries, I think I only retain affection for a small number of their songs.
Kim Shattuck died a few days ago at age 56 after a long bout with ALS. And so I started listening to the Muffs, the band she fronted and a band I was only acquainted with thru Spotify playlists.
And now I have been listening to the Muffs (and nothing else) for 2 days straight.
Suddenly this band that I only knew for two great songs (Lucky Guy and Honeymoon) has taken on a spot in my heart. Starting with the 1993 self-titled album, and just playing the albums available on Spotify straight through, I have been blown away by this music that somehow previously escaped my attention. These catchy, short, pop punk gems that usually culminate with a fantastic scream (sometimes they begin with it…or sometimes she throws it in the middle) all have something to love. I have found myself singing the songs even though I’ve never heard them before, such is the simple structure of the songs. I don’t even say that as a bad thing. It’s awesome. (Even songs I maybe don’t like quite as much are short enough so I don’t have time to really dislike them.)
And I have belatedly come the inescapable conclusion that this band was something special.
In two days I know my favorite song is “Outer Space” from the “Happy Birthday to Me” album, and that many of these songs are as deceptively simple as they are brilliant. Like the Pixies (who she was in for a minute in 2013) and Daniel Johnston, the Muffs made honest music that was uncomplicated. There is not a truly bad song in the lot of them.
Kim Shattuck knew what the fuck she was doing when she wrote her songs.
And I am in it, nonstop. I don’t want to listen to anything else right now. This band that existed right under my nose and poked their head out into my life in the last year or two on Spotify, enough to make it on to a few of my playlists, is now finally receiving my full attention.
I am so sorry that I wasn’t on board with them before, when I could have gone to see them live. But in 2 days I have belatedly realized the true awesomeness that this band brought to the world.
Better late than never, right? And now I love the Muffs. And maybe you will, too.
Friday, October 04, 2019
Sunday, September 29, 2019
My Unofficial Ranking of MLB Playoff Team Preferences (and who I Will be Rooting for as an Orioles Fan who will probably be on the couch for several more years…)
There are ten teams going to the playoffs and alas, mine is not one of them. But just for fun, I am offering my ranking of my preferences, hopefully with a justification of my ranking.
Here we go!
10. The Yankees. Because they suck. If you need further proof, please consult this informative website. http://www.dotheyankeessuck.com/
9. The Nationals. Although they are geographically the closest team to Baltimore and would bring joy to people around me, I cannot live in world where the Nats are anything but a heartbreaking and soul crushing disappointment.
8. The LA Dodgers. You’ve had your chances. Don’t be the 1990’s Buffalo Bills. Just win. Or don’t. I am kinda sick of you.
7. St. Louis. See #10. Many of the same reasons.
6. Twins, 5. Athletics. (TIE) Neither of these teams offend me nor inspire me. I imagine MLB wants them both gone quickly for the same reason. My world won’t end if either of these 2 make it and I would probably like them more if they manage to upset the big boys.
4. The Astros. I like this team in part because they provide a blueprint for what the Orioles are trying to do. Their kind of success could be our kind of success in a few years.
3. The Rays. They have no fans, but they always have pitching. And they need the love.
2. The Braves. Because they have many old Orioles. I used to hate this team when they were good. Now they represent what we could have done with the same players. Plus, they have Nick Markakis, and dammit, he is a beloved former Oriole who deserves something for the years he was a shining star on a turd of a team like the 2006-2011 Orioles.
And finally….my hopes and good vibes all go to:
1. The Milwaukee Brewers. Because Milwaukee is kinda like Baltimore and I have some online friends who are fans and because I want to hear Bob Uecker call a World Series.
Ok! As each team gets eliminated, I will go down the list for the next one!
Here we go!
10. The Yankees. Because they suck. If you need further proof, please consult this informative website. http://www.dotheyankeessuck.com/
9. The Nationals. Although they are geographically the closest team to Baltimore and would bring joy to people around me, I cannot live in world where the Nats are anything but a heartbreaking and soul crushing disappointment.
8. The LA Dodgers. You’ve had your chances. Don’t be the 1990’s Buffalo Bills. Just win. Or don’t. I am kinda sick of you.
7. St. Louis. See #10. Many of the same reasons.
6. Twins, 5. Athletics. (TIE) Neither of these teams offend me nor inspire me. I imagine MLB wants them both gone quickly for the same reason. My world won’t end if either of these 2 make it and I would probably like them more if they manage to upset the big boys.
4. The Astros. I like this team in part because they provide a blueprint for what the Orioles are trying to do. Their kind of success could be our kind of success in a few years.
3. The Rays. They have no fans, but they always have pitching. And they need the love.
2. The Braves. Because they have many old Orioles. I used to hate this team when they were good. Now they represent what we could have done with the same players. Plus, they have Nick Markakis, and dammit, he is a beloved former Oriole who deserves something for the years he was a shining star on a turd of a team like the 2006-2011 Orioles.
And finally….my hopes and good vibes all go to:
1. The Milwaukee Brewers. Because Milwaukee is kinda like Baltimore and I have some online friends who are fans and because I want to hear Bob Uecker call a World Series.
Ok! As each team gets eliminated, I will go down the list for the next one!
Friday, August 30, 2019
Where am I?
I used to live in southwest Baltimore, in a neighborhood that was just north of the world famous B&O railroad museum…I didn’t know what the neighborhood was called (Hollins Hills is one candidate, though I never heard anyone call it that.).
But some people called it “PIGTOWN.” A neighborhood so named because of its role in the pork trade like 100 years ago. Every year there is a pig race. I know. I could hear it from my window: the notes of Chariots of Fire, a movie most kids wouldn’t know but for some reason I saw in the theater.
I can’t tell you how many times I argued that I didn’t live in Pigtown.
It’s not like I’m vain. I don’t care what the name of the place I live is. I’m not a New Yorker or something, lying about where I live because I actually live in New Jersey. No. I just don’t live in Pigtown.
Then years later, do you know what the city did?
They put up banners on the side of the road that represented Pigtown’s northern border, welcoming people to Pigtown.
Sigh.
Where am I?
Before all that, I lived in Catonsville. Which isn’t really all that different from Arbutus. But for whatever reason, I was happy for that small distinction. Catonsville is not Arbutus. Fight me.
Then I lived in Charles Village. But people told me that wasn’t Charles Village…Yes it is…
No….it can’t be….
Yes. It is the lower part of Charles Village. It’s on the same block as the Ottobar.
Where is the Ottobar?
Oh…that’s in Remington…
Sigh.
Then there was that corner store that set up in Remington, displaying a sign that said Hampden Corner Market.
Oh boy. Don’t get me started about Hampden. It’s the hottest quirkiest little place in town, and I love it. In fact, everybody who moves to Baltimore now says they live in Hampden. Which is actually kind of annoying. But hey, it keeps the masses out of my neighborhood, which is most definitely not Hampden.
Well…maybe it is.
Friday, August 23, 2019
Bootstraps. A rambling Essay.
Work hard, and you too can be rich!
I am one of those throwbacks from a generation that still has an underlying sense of responsibility and dedication to the task at hand. We Gen-Xers have always taken a bad rap for being overeducated slackers, with no ambition and working jobs that are beneath us.
I say, all work is beneath us.
Selling the concept of getting people to work hard for no reason was one of the more devious ideas the proletariat has ever been sold. Like this sort of neo Calvinism or the fiction that hard work was somehow interrelated with gaining entry into Heaven. (Man, Believers are so easy to manipulate.)
Morality is a construct and means nothing to those in power. I would argue that one cannot be moral and powerful at the same time.
Getting back to the “hard work” idea…There are many good reasons to work hard. But none of them should have anything to do with the glory or the betterment of the organization.
Work hard for your family. Work hard because the job requires you to work hard. Work hard because you love or believe in what you do. Work hard because you own the business and want to see it succeed. Work hard if working hard will earn you more money (i.e., selling things on commission.) But don’t work hard because you somehow believe you owe anybody anything. You are not being lazy if you are doing no more than what your job requires. You are being smart.
Allowing people to let us believe that we are lazy is the way that we are manipulated and led to believe that the idle man is not deserving of anything. Well, sure, when you put it like that. I just happen to believe that nothing that I’ve ever done has put me closer to the Promised Land. Trust me. I’ve lived my life and I’ve worked more than 80 percent of it. I’m comfortable (finally) but I’ll never be rich. I think I’m done thinking that I want to kill myself to make a buck.
A fiction sold to us working people is one where we are told to work hard and we too can be rich! I have been working hard for 30 years. I am not rich. I never will be. I didn’t start off rich. I don’t have any rich relatives. I probably won’t start a business or learn a sport that enriches me. My best shot might be to break into the entertainment business. I can hope. But let’s be realistic: I’m not that good at anything. I oppose those who subscribe to the bootstrap fantasy, that pulling yourself up and “making it” is all you, and not “making it” is your fault, and has nothing to do with poor circumstance, bad luck, or a game that is stacked against you.
I oppose this whole fallacy and anyone who subscribes to it.
Subscribe to my fallacy, instead!
I am one of those throwbacks from a generation that still has an underlying sense of responsibility and dedication to the task at hand. We Gen-Xers have always taken a bad rap for being overeducated slackers, with no ambition and working jobs that are beneath us.
I say, all work is beneath us.
Selling the concept of getting people to work hard for no reason was one of the more devious ideas the proletariat has ever been sold. Like this sort of neo Calvinism or the fiction that hard work was somehow interrelated with gaining entry into Heaven. (Man, Believers are so easy to manipulate.)
Morality is a construct and means nothing to those in power. I would argue that one cannot be moral and powerful at the same time.
Getting back to the “hard work” idea…There are many good reasons to work hard. But none of them should have anything to do with the glory or the betterment of the organization.
Work hard for your family. Work hard because the job requires you to work hard. Work hard because you love or believe in what you do. Work hard because you own the business and want to see it succeed. Work hard if working hard will earn you more money (i.e., selling things on commission.) But don’t work hard because you somehow believe you owe anybody anything. You are not being lazy if you are doing no more than what your job requires. You are being smart.
Allowing people to let us believe that we are lazy is the way that we are manipulated and led to believe that the idle man is not deserving of anything. Well, sure, when you put it like that. I just happen to believe that nothing that I’ve ever done has put me closer to the Promised Land. Trust me. I’ve lived my life and I’ve worked more than 80 percent of it. I’m comfortable (finally) but I’ll never be rich. I think I’m done thinking that I want to kill myself to make a buck.
A fiction sold to us working people is one where we are told to work hard and we too can be rich! I have been working hard for 30 years. I am not rich. I never will be. I didn’t start off rich. I don’t have any rich relatives. I probably won’t start a business or learn a sport that enriches me. My best shot might be to break into the entertainment business. I can hope. But let’s be realistic: I’m not that good at anything. I oppose those who subscribe to the bootstrap fantasy, that pulling yourself up and “making it” is all you, and not “making it” is your fault, and has nothing to do with poor circumstance, bad luck, or a game that is stacked against you.
I oppose this whole fallacy and anyone who subscribes to it.
Subscribe to my fallacy, instead!
Monday, August 19, 2019
The AlphaSmart NEO2: a low cost “Distraction Free Writing Device.”
Over the summer I had a schedule that conflicted with my usual afternoon writing time. It actually interfered with nap, snack, shower and any other time I enjoyed during the afternoon.
But I looked into solving at least one of those problems when I saw something advertised on my Facebook feed. It was a 349 dollar FreeWrite device, something that didn’t print or connect to the internet and was meant to be a lightweight and portable distraction free writing device. But…spending that much money on something I might break seemed like a non-starter.
Then my wife began helping me search for a low cost alternative. Her search led us to the NEO2, the very device upon which I wrote the bulk of this post.
The NEO2 doesn’t look like much, and I feel like that’s the point. The screen is tiny, the keyboard is small (but still full-sized), and it doesn’t do anything online or connect to any cloud anywhere. In other words, it’s perfect. It does what it’s supposed to do. And it costs way less than the other lightweight distraction free devices advertised.
Mine came in a blue bag with the NEO logo, along with a chord to connect to my laptop. You will need a small Phillips head screwdriver to change the batteries at some point, though I believe mine just came with them. It runs on Double As.
How I use the NEO2:
During what I refer to as my…"awful late off time" months, I fell into a rhythm of typing in idle moments and then putting the machine away, then taking it home at the end of the week to transfer all the files to computer. Then I would clear the device of all files and pack it back into my bag for next week. It was from these files that a number of my recent blog posts have come.
As for a distraction free device…well, it is just that. I can’t do anything but write on the NEO2. That doesn’t mean I can’t be distracted by my phone or by other people or by my own daydreaming. But I can’t claim that the NEO2 is responsible for any lapse in production. The NEO2 is a no-bullshit writing tool that satisfies my personal need to make the most of whatever time I have. It boots up quick, it shuts down quick, and it is easy to move everything over when I’m done.
Among other things, I am really looking forward to using the NEO2 for The National Novel Writing Month (NanoWrimo) this year. This lightweight, easy on, easy off device is perfect for slipping into my bag and taking with me. And the fact that it didn’t cost much and would not be psychologically crushing to lose or break doesn’t hurt, either. Certainly one of the things that has made me hesitant to write at the coffee shop or in any other public place was the fact that my life is in that laptop. One spill or poorly placed drop and it would devastate me. Not so with a device that outside of the 40 bucks it cost me (and the joy I experience in having it) is only as valuable as the material still committed to the device and not yet transferred to the laptop. But considering that I have been good about making those weekly transfers, that doesn’t bother me so much.
And another thing: I can only see the last 4 lines I’ve written. I can’t obsess over anything I wrote before that. In that way, it is the ultimate Zen writing machine. I can misspell freely (we’ll figure it out in Word later) and write with reckless abandon.
This is why I can’t wait for Nanowrimo. Because I want to write with reckless abandon. The NEO2 is perfect for just that.
Thursday, August 01, 2019
Keep calling it a hellhole, Motherfucker: My Baltimore Rant, Part 3 of 3.
Thanks for coming this far with me.
I can’t do a three part blog post without ending it with telling you about the things I love about Baltimore.
What we have here is a big wonderful city with lots of flaws. But the good things are what keep us here and keep us happy. I see it from a slightly different perspective from true blue locals because I am not native to this area. I grew up in a small city in Massachusetts where there wasn’t a lot to do and not a lot of opportunity (at the time) and when I was 18 I could have gone literally anywhere. I almost moved to Portland, Oregon (I did eventually move there for a few short months in 2003. I didn’t like it.) I could have moved to Florida. North Carolina. Boston. Northampton. Anywhere. Or at least, those places where I knew people who wanted me to live with them.
But for various reasons of circumstance and happenstance Baltimore drew my attention.
And while it was a rough place back in the ‘90s, I toughed it out. I rode public transportation at all hours of the night (not an option back home.) I walked everywhere at all hours. I explored. I took it in. I was excited. This was my new city, and I was enjoying being here.
It’s changed, as all places do. But within that change, there are those things that make living in this city which some label a hellhole worthwhile.
Great and abundant city parkland. My house borders one of the largest and in my opinion greatest park in the city, Druid Hill Park, where the third oldest zoo in the country is located, along with a mile and half reservoir loop (under construction at the moment), baseball fields, basketball courts, a pool, and it is one of my favorite places in all of Baltimore. There are a great many parks, many of which are connected by trails, but this one is my favorite.
I love the old buildings and the local history. The Bromo Selzer Tower, the B & O Railroad museum, with its distinctive dome that can be seen from miles away (clear view from the west side of Camden Yards. Beautiful.)
For that matter…Camden Yards is a national treasure, a retro ballpark in the heart of downtown. Hopefully one day we’ll have a good team again and the place will be rocking once more (the Billy Joel concert, the 1st of its kind to ever be held at the Yard was a great example of what it can be like when people show up.).
I love the people here. It was once described to me as “The Beginning of the south.” Ain’t that the truth, y’all?
Sure, sometimes people here can be dicks. Your town probably has some dicks. But most people are not dicks.
The neighborhoods, with their (sorry) quirky charm, the little moments that scream “That is soooo Baltimore”—guy coming out of his house to sing “I am everyday people!” or the ease with which people break out into unplanned dance moves, the guy who runs all over town at all hours every single day, the guy who dressed like Michael Jackson…and cheered people in some dark days.
I could go on. You don’t want me to.
This “quirky charm,” makes this a great city to develop your creative talent. If you have a skill or something to say, chances are there is a scene for you somewhere, or a stage to play on.
…point being, it’s not all hellhole…
But…keep calling it that. I’ll take a stranger’s word on the internet over my own observation any day.
Finally, it’s not about whether Baltimore is horrible or not (the answer: it can be. But not always and not everywhere.) Point being that once again, the president started something to distract everyone and now we are talking about the thing that he wants us to talk about. Hell, I’m doing it, too. It’s all very exhausting.
Get me out of this hellhole.
Thanks for reading.
I can’t do a three part blog post without ending it with telling you about the things I love about Baltimore.
What we have here is a big wonderful city with lots of flaws. But the good things are what keep us here and keep us happy. I see it from a slightly different perspective from true blue locals because I am not native to this area. I grew up in a small city in Massachusetts where there wasn’t a lot to do and not a lot of opportunity (at the time) and when I was 18 I could have gone literally anywhere. I almost moved to Portland, Oregon (I did eventually move there for a few short months in 2003. I didn’t like it.) I could have moved to Florida. North Carolina. Boston. Northampton. Anywhere. Or at least, those places where I knew people who wanted me to live with them.
But for various reasons of circumstance and happenstance Baltimore drew my attention.
And while it was a rough place back in the ‘90s, I toughed it out. I rode public transportation at all hours of the night (not an option back home.) I walked everywhere at all hours. I explored. I took it in. I was excited. This was my new city, and I was enjoying being here.
It’s changed, as all places do. But within that change, there are those things that make living in this city which some label a hellhole worthwhile.
Great and abundant city parkland. My house borders one of the largest and in my opinion greatest park in the city, Druid Hill Park, where the third oldest zoo in the country is located, along with a mile and half reservoir loop (under construction at the moment), baseball fields, basketball courts, a pool, and it is one of my favorite places in all of Baltimore. There are a great many parks, many of which are connected by trails, but this one is my favorite.
I love the old buildings and the local history. The Bromo Selzer Tower, the B & O Railroad museum, with its distinctive dome that can be seen from miles away (clear view from the west side of Camden Yards. Beautiful.)
For that matter…Camden Yards is a national treasure, a retro ballpark in the heart of downtown. Hopefully one day we’ll have a good team again and the place will be rocking once more (the Billy Joel concert, the 1st of its kind to ever be held at the Yard was a great example of what it can be like when people show up.).
I love the people here. It was once described to me as “The Beginning of the south.” Ain’t that the truth, y’all?
Sure, sometimes people here can be dicks. Your town probably has some dicks. But most people are not dicks.
The neighborhoods, with their (sorry) quirky charm, the little moments that scream “That is soooo Baltimore”—guy coming out of his house to sing “I am everyday people!” or the ease with which people break out into unplanned dance moves, the guy who runs all over town at all hours every single day, the guy who dressed like Michael Jackson…and cheered people in some dark days.
I could go on. You don’t want me to.
This “quirky charm,” makes this a great city to develop your creative talent. If you have a skill or something to say, chances are there is a scene for you somewhere, or a stage to play on.
…point being, it’s not all hellhole…
But…keep calling it that. I’ll take a stranger’s word on the internet over my own observation any day.
Finally, it’s not about whether Baltimore is horrible or not (the answer: it can be. But not always and not everywhere.) Point being that once again, the president started something to distract everyone and now we are talking about the thing that he wants us to talk about. Hell, I’m doing it, too. It’s all very exhausting.
Get me out of this hellhole.
Thanks for reading.
My Baltimore Rant, part 2 of 3.
Many outsiders take shots at Baltimore City. I usually defend it. But I'm not blind to our issues.
For the record, here are things I can’t stand about Baltimore city:
1. Crime and murder. Yeah, it’s out of control. With the new police commissioner, much like with the Orioles, I hope the rebuild is successful, as we are still an outlier in the overall crime trend that is down in this country.
2. Jury Duty. Combination of high crime and low population, plus the fact that the city is an island unto itself, and not connected to any county that would offer up its population to form a jury pool, we as city residents are called upon like clockwork every year or two for this odious task.
3. There is no good way to get anywhere. Our roads are crap and not equipped to handle the level of traffic we get. Public transit is primitive…my foray into trying to ride the light rail to my job in the county was instructive. Basically, no person who could afford to own and drive a vehicle would give it up for a system that goes down as easily as it does around here.
4. People look down on us and we fight with people and often don’t have good arguments to refute them. I like to quote my favorite Baltimore slogan (which never caught on) Baltimore: either you get it, or you don’t. Yeah.
5. I really wish people here would vote. This could be a solid block of Democratic votes and could wield real power, if only, if only…
6. Meter maids and parking enforcement in general is a predator/prey dynamic that makes life miserable.
And another thing…why the hell are people who don’t live here so damn comfortable in condemning it? I don’t come out with broadsides against Peoria Illinois or Topeka Kansas or Knoxville. I mean, I’ve never been to any of those places. Hell, even places I’ve been to don’t get the ire that other people direct to the place where I live. Live and let live, to each his own, whatever, ya know?
Anyway, that’s what I got.
Next: In conclusion, and…what I love about this stupid place.
Wednesday, July 31, 2019
My Baltimore Rant. Part one.
Recently my city has been under attack by the president and the people who like to pile on and dump on the city that I have made home for the last 25 years. It has been an informative discussion of things I surely have never heard before. I was never aware of our many shootings, our corrupt police force or even our rat problem.
But…all sarcasm aside, A couple thoughts…
• Read an editorial by a suburban visitor that listed the cities many woes and offered distorted takes on how we as residents feel about it. What caught my eye was the free admission that this person is not a city resident.
To which my not at all sarcastic self responds with “Then shut up.”
• Elijah Cummings by the way, is not the only representative who represents Baltimore. As it happens, John Sarbanes is the rep on my side of town. John Sarbanes is white. Elijah Cummings is black and investigating Trump. This whole thing has nothing to do with Baltimore. Trump doesn’t give a fuck about Baltimore. He never did.
• I do not live in a hellhole. My neighborhood is nice. There are many such neighborhoods in Baltimore. There are also many shitty ones. A unique feature of this town is that often the good and the bad are right next to each other. They alternate. I call it “good block/bad block.”
• I understand privilege factors in. I can’t help that. I will never completely understand others’ lives or problems. But I make the attempt to empathize, (which is more than I can say for some people.) I just don’t lose my mind over it.
Look…we know this place is fucked up. Many of us accept the challenge of living here and trying to make it work.
The difference between me and the suburbanite casually tossing “shithole” bombs at us is that I don’t use those things as a reason to hate on this city.
Next: What I hate about living in the city.
Tuesday, July 23, 2019
Cliff C. Cookson, RIP (2007-2019)
(Reposing this here for my non-Facebook followers.)
Today we say goodbye to our little buddy, Cliff, the cat who didn’t like us and didn’t really like anything but still hung around when he wanted. Oh, he was a tricky one. One minute he was aloof and staying just out of reach, the next he was rolling over and asking for pets…then biting your hand when you gave them up.
He mellowed out over the years as he came to realize we were only doing our best to give him the best life.
He became diabetic in his later years, which meant a lot of personal sacrifices for my wife and me. We each had to learn how to give him insulin after first poking him in the ear to check his blood sugar. This was twice a day, every day. (Michele got up at 4 am for almost 2 years to do this for him.) At first we were scared that he wouldn’t tolerate such close contact, but in time he came to a grudging acceptance of the whole routine.
By far Cliff’s best moments came as a companion to our other cat, Stella, when she got sick (partly why he earned the nickname “Buddy”). He stayed with her on her final night and day, not leaving her side until she passed. After this, he softened a little, even consenting to voluntarily hang out with us on the couch, letting us rub his belly while we were watching TV.
Oh, he was a pain in the ass. But he was also a good cat. He was a true friend, who kept watch over us and never once tried to escape the house. He was a favorite at the vet’s office, a place where he unfortunately spent lots of time…all the ladies there always complimented him on being so handsome.
He was a weirdo, preferring hard floors to beds, and old wallets to regular cat toys. Sometimes we wanted him to just be a normal cat who enjoyed normal cat things, but that was Cliff in a nutshell.
As I write this I can’t help but be sad that I will never see him again. But I will never forget him. Our little Buddy.
Love you, Cliff. Rest in peace.
Cliff C. Cookson, 2007-2019.
Today we say goodbye to our little buddy, Cliff, the cat who didn’t like us and didn’t really like anything but still hung around when he wanted. Oh, he was a tricky one. One minute he was aloof and staying just out of reach, the next he was rolling over and asking for pets…then biting your hand when you gave them up.
He mellowed out over the years as he came to realize we were only doing our best to give him the best life.
He became diabetic in his later years, which meant a lot of personal sacrifices for my wife and me. We each had to learn how to give him insulin after first poking him in the ear to check his blood sugar. This was twice a day, every day. (Michele got up at 4 am for almost 2 years to do this for him.) At first we were scared that he wouldn’t tolerate such close contact, but in time he came to a grudging acceptance of the whole routine.
By far Cliff’s best moments came as a companion to our other cat, Stella, when she got sick (partly why he earned the nickname “Buddy”). He stayed with her on her final night and day, not leaving her side until she passed. After this, he softened a little, even consenting to voluntarily hang out with us on the couch, letting us rub his belly while we were watching TV.
Oh, he was a pain in the ass. But he was also a good cat. He was a true friend, who kept watch over us and never once tried to escape the house. He was a favorite at the vet’s office, a place where he unfortunately spent lots of time…all the ladies there always complimented him on being so handsome.
He was a weirdo, preferring hard floors to beds, and old wallets to regular cat toys. Sometimes we wanted him to just be a normal cat who enjoyed normal cat things, but that was Cliff in a nutshell.
As I write this I can’t help but be sad that I will never see him again. But I will never forget him. Our little Buddy.
Love you, Cliff. Rest in peace.
Cliff C. Cookson, 2007-2019.
Sunday, June 23, 2019
A week of Light Rail, summed up in tweets June 14, June 17, June 20-22
Taking the much-derided (by me) Light Rail to work today for the 1st time ever for this job. Don’t let me down. Might be needing you awhile.
Just recently my car has been declared “borderline dangerous” by a mechanic who quoted a price that finally exceeded what I was willing to spend on my 19 year old 200 thousand mile Subaru Legacy. Circumstances have led my wife and me to adopt a car sharing/walking/public transportation stopgap solution to our now one-car household.
To that end…
I have been taking the light rail to my job, over 10 miles away at BWI Airport. The light rail, for those who may not know, is a half-hearted but well-meaning attempt at offering a mid-sized city a way for suburbanites to get downtown for the baseball game. At least, that’s what it feels like. But since I don’t have a car and the damn thing is a 7 minute walk from my house, I feel obligated to give it a try. And since sitting for 45 minutes to an hour lends itself to idle tweeting and observation, I present many of them here.
Back to the light rail. Today is a good job for transit: work then back downtown for the O's game. Ticket kiosk took 3 swipes to work. That is a real problem. I have allowed a whole 8 to 10 minutes for this, but God help anyone who doesn't carry multiple credit cards.
Yeah, this was my first problem on the first bright and sunny day I had to take the train to work at 557 am to make my 730 start time. But I persisted.
I think @mtamaryland needs to work on getting the payment method up to speed for people who aren't technologically savvy or who don't have multiple cards to try at defective machines. #mytwocents
I made it that first day and I felt pretty good. I learned that it was a long walk from the light rail stop at the airport to my work area, but that in what I call a “motivated walk,” can do it in 6 minutes.
More light rail thoughts...I think public transportation in general has gotten better for wheelchair users at least in that most buses "kneel" and let the little ramp down so the person can wheel right on. Used to be this awful lift that always broke down. @mtamaryland
The next week, this happened:
Welp. Train broke down in front of my train. Train stuck. I bailed out. Taking Lyft for maybe my 2nd time by myself. #LightRailFail
Yeah, so that happened. It was kind of shitty, but I had to get to work. I went through the progression of options. I chose to use Lyft.
This is basically the equivalent of the "oh shit I'm late have to park in the expensive garage." Back up plans have to be part of any transit plans here.
And…
Anyway, Lyft driver Loretta got me to work, no bs, I thanked her, said "You're awesome!" and gave her a good tip and top rating. But damn...can't do that every day.
I had to take the light rail the next day and became aware of a situation that would impact my Saturday commute. So...stations being closed thru the weekend....does that mean we have to get off the train and take a shuttle? I'm going up to Cold Spring. @mtamaryland
Riding home on the light rail on my last Saturday for a while. There is a service change where we need to get off at Patapsco and ride a shuttle, then reboard the train at Convention Center. If it is as easy as the operator says, no problem. It'll factor into my report.
First Spoiler: this did not go well.
All right, well...I'm at Convention Center and...This whole "step back on the train" thing is not going well...will @mtamaryland reimburse me for having to use Lyft twice in one week?
And….
This one guy said he's been waiting "for a minute." He got on the southbound train which is supposed to turn back and be my northbound train...in another minute. MTA is turning out to be what I always thought it was. Where's that Denny Green gif? @mtamaryland
I'm not in a huge hurry...but my cat is gonna be a dick and I just want to get home.
Car just drove down the tracks like...for 3 blocks. People are so stupid.
And finally…
All right. Back on that train. On a normal day of this, woulda been home 10 minutes ago.
In summary:
It is nice to not have to deal with rush hour traffic. I like just sitting and listening to music and not having to do anything. I feel like I am being a responsible global citizen by doing public transportation like this. I mentioned the wheelchair accessibility. But… I have to give the whole experience at best a C minus. I had to use Lyft. The ticket machines are SOOOOOO shitty. The system is so small time that it only takes a small issue to mess up the whole route. If I had a working vehicle, I would not even think about taking light rail to work.
There is no way in Hell anyone in Baltimore should ever voluntarily give up a vehicle and trust the MTA. Stuff like what is happening now happens way too much for me just being a casual rider. And that is my week on light rail.
Just recently my car has been declared “borderline dangerous” by a mechanic who quoted a price that finally exceeded what I was willing to spend on my 19 year old 200 thousand mile Subaru Legacy. Circumstances have led my wife and me to adopt a car sharing/walking/public transportation stopgap solution to our now one-car household.
To that end…
I have been taking the light rail to my job, over 10 miles away at BWI Airport. The light rail, for those who may not know, is a half-hearted but well-meaning attempt at offering a mid-sized city a way for suburbanites to get downtown for the baseball game. At least, that’s what it feels like. But since I don’t have a car and the damn thing is a 7 minute walk from my house, I feel obligated to give it a try. And since sitting for 45 minutes to an hour lends itself to idle tweeting and observation, I present many of them here.
Back to the light rail. Today is a good job for transit: work then back downtown for the O's game. Ticket kiosk took 3 swipes to work. That is a real problem. I have allowed a whole 8 to 10 minutes for this, but God help anyone who doesn't carry multiple credit cards.
Yeah, this was my first problem on the first bright and sunny day I had to take the train to work at 557 am to make my 730 start time. But I persisted.
I think @mtamaryland needs to work on getting the payment method up to speed for people who aren't technologically savvy or who don't have multiple cards to try at defective machines. #mytwocents
I made it that first day and I felt pretty good. I learned that it was a long walk from the light rail stop at the airport to my work area, but that in what I call a “motivated walk,” can do it in 6 minutes.
More light rail thoughts...I think public transportation in general has gotten better for wheelchair users at least in that most buses "kneel" and let the little ramp down so the person can wheel right on. Used to be this awful lift that always broke down. @mtamaryland
The next week, this happened:
Welp. Train broke down in front of my train. Train stuck. I bailed out. Taking Lyft for maybe my 2nd time by myself. #LightRailFail
Yeah, so that happened. It was kind of shitty, but I had to get to work. I went through the progression of options. I chose to use Lyft.
This is basically the equivalent of the "oh shit I'm late have to park in the expensive garage." Back up plans have to be part of any transit plans here.
And…
Anyway, Lyft driver Loretta got me to work, no bs, I thanked her, said "You're awesome!" and gave her a good tip and top rating. But damn...can't do that every day.
I had to take the light rail the next day and became aware of a situation that would impact my Saturday commute. So...stations being closed thru the weekend....does that mean we have to get off the train and take a shuttle? I'm going up to Cold Spring. @mtamaryland
Riding home on the light rail on my last Saturday for a while. There is a service change where we need to get off at Patapsco and ride a shuttle, then reboard the train at Convention Center. If it is as easy as the operator says, no problem. It'll factor into my report.
First Spoiler: this did not go well.
All right, well...I'm at Convention Center and...This whole "step back on the train" thing is not going well...will @mtamaryland reimburse me for having to use Lyft twice in one week?
And….
This one guy said he's been waiting "for a minute." He got on the southbound train which is supposed to turn back and be my northbound train...in another minute. MTA is turning out to be what I always thought it was. Where's that Denny Green gif? @mtamaryland
I'm not in a huge hurry...but my cat is gonna be a dick and I just want to get home.
Car just drove down the tracks like...for 3 blocks. People are so stupid.
And finally…
All right. Back on that train. On a normal day of this, woulda been home 10 minutes ago.
In summary:
It is nice to not have to deal with rush hour traffic. I like just sitting and listening to music and not having to do anything. I feel like I am being a responsible global citizen by doing public transportation like this. I mentioned the wheelchair accessibility. But… I have to give the whole experience at best a C minus. I had to use Lyft. The ticket machines are SOOOOOO shitty. The system is so small time that it only takes a small issue to mess up the whole route. If I had a working vehicle, I would not even think about taking light rail to work.
There is no way in Hell anyone in Baltimore should ever voluntarily give up a vehicle and trust the MTA. Stuff like what is happening now happens way too much for me just being a casual rider. And that is my week on light rail.
Monday, June 04, 2018
The Rise and Fall of the Parochialist. CONCLUSION!!!
2008 started.
Unfortunately, the plan to make Davey G and the Keyboard a household name hadn’t gone as well as I thought. But I see the posts from January 2008 and I just wonder how the hell I ever got this angry. It wasn’t all about the City Paper. I had other things. The Parochialist morphed into more of a general complaints and grievances space, while still providing links to all the usual things. Then I began work on the story that killed the Davezine…which was (no small coincidence) all about a fictionalized version of the City Paper…Davezine 13….
Davezine 13 was a zine that contained Low Level Bureaucrats 3: the Rise of the Collective, which combined two of my axes to grind into one book. I was making fun of a local group that was popular at the time and popular with the City Paper. While it might have been a well written story, I don’t know what the hell my marketing plan was. I didn’t have a release party or any huge push beyond what I posted to my blogs. It didn’t receive the wide release of some of my other things. I have no explanation for that. You might be able to find one in a store in the area. I certainly have plenty left over.
(file photo)
As it turned out, I never hit the high level I was aiming for. You could certainly suggest that I could have tried plying my trade in a better market. I could have gone to New York or LA or something and just gone for broke as a performer, far away from the parochial concerns of a lowly alternative weekly. But it’s not what I wanted, it was never what I wanted. In one of the last posts, I (ironically) tried to get people to vote for The Parochialist for best blog in the City Paper. This time I wasn’t serious. I knew there was no chance of this, and the readers obliged by not voting for me.
The last post of The Parochialist was on December 31, 2008. All in all, it had about 31 posts, a fairly meager output considering. Still, it gave me something to focus on from week to week, and provided a small outlet for at least a handful of dedicated readers. But I just didn’t have it in me anymore, and New Years’ Eve of 2008 seemed as good a time as any to say goodbye, which I did with this post:
Wednesday, December 31, 2008 2008... It's over. Thank God. Parochialist out...for now.
Aftermath.
The City Paper ended its run just this past year after a 40 year run. As much as I goofed on it and hated it at times, the fact that it is gone has made a huge hole in this city.
I was already on to the next thing after I finished with The Parochialist. I started up with the National Novel Writing Month, writing 50 thousand novels in a month. Writing like this for one month a year has made me more prolific than I had ever been before. Starting with The Best of Thunder Johnson and then most recently with Pain Center: the Novel, NaNoWriMo has stretched my writing muscles in a way that nothing else ever had, and given me raw material to work with for the rest of the year. To date, I have 10 of these novels in one form or another, plus a memoir and a novella.
And about a year and a half after The Parochialist folded, I quietly put down my keyboard and walked off the stage.
Check out my latest zine. Davezine Number Fourteen: the Bad Roommates Issue!
Unfortunately, the plan to make Davey G and the Keyboard a household name hadn’t gone as well as I thought. But I see the posts from January 2008 and I just wonder how the hell I ever got this angry. It wasn’t all about the City Paper. I had other things. The Parochialist morphed into more of a general complaints and grievances space, while still providing links to all the usual things. Then I began work on the story that killed the Davezine…which was (no small coincidence) all about a fictionalized version of the City Paper…Davezine 13….
Davezine 13 was a zine that contained Low Level Bureaucrats 3: the Rise of the Collective, which combined two of my axes to grind into one book. I was making fun of a local group that was popular at the time and popular with the City Paper. While it might have been a well written story, I don’t know what the hell my marketing plan was. I didn’t have a release party or any huge push beyond what I posted to my blogs. It didn’t receive the wide release of some of my other things. I have no explanation for that. You might be able to find one in a store in the area. I certainly have plenty left over.
(file photo)
As it turned out, I never hit the high level I was aiming for. You could certainly suggest that I could have tried plying my trade in a better market. I could have gone to New York or LA or something and just gone for broke as a performer, far away from the parochial concerns of a lowly alternative weekly. But it’s not what I wanted, it was never what I wanted. In one of the last posts, I (ironically) tried to get people to vote for The Parochialist for best blog in the City Paper. This time I wasn’t serious. I knew there was no chance of this, and the readers obliged by not voting for me.
The last post of The Parochialist was on December 31, 2008. All in all, it had about 31 posts, a fairly meager output considering. Still, it gave me something to focus on from week to week, and provided a small outlet for at least a handful of dedicated readers. But I just didn’t have it in me anymore, and New Years’ Eve of 2008 seemed as good a time as any to say goodbye, which I did with this post:
Wednesday, December 31, 2008 2008... It's over. Thank God. Parochialist out...for now.
Aftermath.
The City Paper ended its run just this past year after a 40 year run. As much as I goofed on it and hated it at times, the fact that it is gone has made a huge hole in this city.
I was already on to the next thing after I finished with The Parochialist. I started up with the National Novel Writing Month, writing 50 thousand novels in a month. Writing like this for one month a year has made me more prolific than I had ever been before. Starting with The Best of Thunder Johnson and then most recently with Pain Center: the Novel, NaNoWriMo has stretched my writing muscles in a way that nothing else ever had, and given me raw material to work with for the rest of the year. To date, I have 10 of these novels in one form or another, plus a memoir and a novella.
And about a year and a half after The Parochialist folded, I quietly put down my keyboard and walked off the stage.
Check out my latest zine. Davezine Number Fourteen: the Bad Roommates Issue!
Saturday, May 19, 2018
The Rise and Fall of the Parochialist (part two of three)
Looking back…I never had a shot at this. I know this now. But at the time, it was a huge labor that I spent quite a bit of time trying to make happen. I’m not above putting my energy behind a stupid or hopeless cause. After all, what is the point of living if you aren’t willing to do something pointless at a 100 miles an hour once in a while? I made flyers, I blogged about it, I posted to my Myspace page (because that was still a thing at the time), I told all my friends from the Pub where I worked, I shoved ballots in front of people to get them to vote for me…it was a push like I’d never pushed before. I tried so hard, in fact, that when I didn’t win so much as an honorable mention, I just said “to hell with it.”
And while I can’t say it was the whole reason for project, it was at least a catalyst.
The First post included this explanation for what I was attempting to do:
"There are things in the CP that I do like to read, such as Savage Love, Political Animal, This Modern World, etc. Not to mention that CP is a free source for what’s going on in Baltimore on any given week. How can I still get this information without having to resort to picking up the paper that irritates me so much?
Well, here’s where my plucky resourcefulness comes in. I am making my own bastardized version of the City Paper, for my own personal use, (minus their snotty, annoying commentary) and you can too! Print it out for yourself, add your own columns!"
Since City Paper came out on Wednesdays, The Parochialist came out on Thursdays. The rage that led me to that first post kept up for several weeks, and by the end of the month I stumbled across a hook that kept the fans into it for several weeks. It was my top 5 reasons why I was boycotting the City Paper. For the record, here they were:
5. The Handling of a local club’s closing. I didn’t like the way they smeared someone in the way they did. 4. They reviewed a Weird Al show in a very snarky manner. Which REALLY upset me. 3. Their “Short Fiction Contest” after-comments…which were typically snotty. 2. Their Borat Movie review. Admittedly, I never saw that film. But this review was typical of their style at the time. Unhelpful to simply call a movie bad and offer no explanation. 1. They ignore me. Yeah…this one was the driving factor.
In retrospect…I think at least 4 of those reasons were valid. I’ll let you guess which 4. That might have been the highpoint of the blog’s run. Towards the end of that year, I had called off my boycott. It didn’t make sense for me to dedicate time to making fun of a paper that I wasn’t even reading. I played a CD release party, to relative success. My girlfriend and I flew to Vegas over Christmas to get married in secret…
The First post included this explanation for what I was attempting to do:
"There are things in the CP that I do like to read, such as Savage Love, Political Animal, This Modern World, etc. Not to mention that CP is a free source for what’s going on in Baltimore on any given week. How can I still get this information without having to resort to picking up the paper that irritates me so much?
Well, here’s where my plucky resourcefulness comes in. I am making my own bastardized version of the City Paper, for my own personal use, (minus their snotty, annoying commentary) and you can too! Print it out for yourself, add your own columns!"
Since City Paper came out on Wednesdays, The Parochialist came out on Thursdays. The rage that led me to that first post kept up for several weeks, and by the end of the month I stumbled across a hook that kept the fans into it for several weeks. It was my top 5 reasons why I was boycotting the City Paper. For the record, here they were:
5. The Handling of a local club’s closing. I didn’t like the way they smeared someone in the way they did. 4. They reviewed a Weird Al show in a very snarky manner. Which REALLY upset me. 3. Their “Short Fiction Contest” after-comments…which were typically snotty. 2. Their Borat Movie review. Admittedly, I never saw that film. But this review was typical of their style at the time. Unhelpful to simply call a movie bad and offer no explanation. 1. They ignore me. Yeah…this one was the driving factor.
In retrospect…I think at least 4 of those reasons were valid. I’ll let you guess which 4. That might have been the highpoint of the blog’s run. Towards the end of that year, I had called off my boycott. It didn’t make sense for me to dedicate time to making fun of a paper that I wasn’t even reading. I played a CD release party, to relative success. My girlfriend and I flew to Vegas over Christmas to get married in secret…
The Rise and Fall of the Parochialist, Part one.
In an old version of my zine, I was going to put this out as a feature, but I've decided to let it rest here, on the blog. My new zine, Davezine Number Fourteen: the Bad Roommates Issue is available here. http://davecookson.tripod.com/DavezineNumber14.html
On October 11, 2007, partly based on a whim but partly based on some real grievances I had built up against the local Baltimore City Paper, I launched a little blog known as The Parochialist…a cheeky little poke at CP that billed itself as an alternative to the alternative, including links to many of the same syndicated columns as well as my own “bully pulpit” take on the many issues of the City Paper. The Parochialist got its name from the ideals on which it was founded…dedicated to the idea that possessing a narrow view, with blinders to all distractions was the way I would proceed with this project. I was single-minded, I was hungry, and I was FOCUSED. To understand the forces that led to my launching of such a ridiculous project (I mean, who is trying to take down a lousy Alternative Weekly all by himself? A Quixotic quest at best) I have to tell you a little about my mindset back then....
I had been doing a little musical project called Davey G and the Keyboard, which I billed as “Weird Al on a 3 dollar Budget.” In reality, it more closely resembled the late Wesley Willis, with me playing along with keyboard pre-sets and making up funny songs. I’d been doing this off and on since 2000, but I’d had a renewed interest in 2005 that led to a series of live performances. I’d had at least a small amount of success doing this, playing at small clubs in town and releasing a few CD’s. In 2007, I set about recording my masterwork: a polished and well produced album of new work.
I know it sounds stupid now, but in 2007 I really thought this would be my ticket to…whatever the hell it was I wanted. I had fans, I had shows, and I had momentum. People liked what I did, even if it wasn’t a large group of people. It had cult appeal. A well-produced and well-distributed album would go a long way to achieving that larger success I hoped for. So with the help of Reverend Alex and C. Camp, as well as the photography studio at Sears, I made the most polished Davey G album to date. That was “Chairman of the Keyboard.”
Long story short, this effort to push my musical “career” at the exclusion of all common sense led to my quixotic effort to try something I had never seriously tried before: I wanted to win City Paper’s Best Musical Artist....
Monday, April 02, 2018
Roseanne is a performer. Stop taking her so personally.
Allow me to broach the topic of something that I’m pretty sure most of my friends and generally liberal leaning people will probably hate and unfollow and unfriend me immediately because it’s 2018 and we are all very, very sensitive. (Just be aware of these three things: I am creative, I am basically a free thinking moderate/liberal, and like many of you, I also can’t stand the thought of Trump as our President.)
Roseanne.
I am not planning to watch her new revival series. It is not for political reasons. I never did watch her show when it was on in the past. My family never watched when I was growing up, I never bothered to watch and after all these years I can honestly say that I have never even seen one episode. I’m not especially crazy about her comedy, her voice…just her in general. But it’s not political. It never was.
Yeah, I know: she likes Trump. And as much as I also can’t stand Trump (see my above disclaimer), it so happens that I do in fact have a few random friends and family who do. Should I stop talking to them? Have we gotten to that point where someone supporting someone you don’t like is reason enough to not talk to them? Aren’t there other things to talk about? But I am hating something on her behalf, because frankly it wounds me as a writer, performer, and comedic minded person, namely, the inability to separate performance from performer.
Yes, real life Roseanne supports Trump. She’s allowed to. If that is your only reason for hating her, well, that’s your right. Yes, she has done some crass routines in the past (the “Baked Jew” cookies thing has popped up). And I’m not defending her lousy rendition of the National Anthem (though why Trump singles out black football players for kneeling yet says nothing about this speaks volumes. I even tweeted about this recently and got more “likes” than I have ever gotten, so color me hater). But holy fuck, you pick any comic who has been doing his or her thing for as long as she has and you are going to find something off color or crude or questionable. It’s called having a career. I have done songs and stories in the past that were questionable that I probably would not be doing today. I shudder to think if I somehow came out on the wrong side of any one of you and you brought these up in your attempt to ruin me. But I own every bad piece of writing and music I have ever done. Without them, I would not have learned how to do better.
I’m sorry if this sounds like a cop out, but it happens. You try stuff, you try to push the limits, push the boundaries, and sometimes you push too far, sometimes you piss off groups of people and if you really go too far, you apologize. I understand your view that supporting Trump is supporting racism, xenophobia, sexual assault, homophobia, and whole host of other terrible things. And as I always say whenever I post something like this, I hate him, too. But also realize that the people who voted for him are also Americans. And somewhere in there is someone you love.
Be a bigger person. It starts with thinking for yourself, and separating real life from the performance. I know it’s hard. But we have to. We already let Trump ruin football. Let’s not let Roseanne ruin everything else.
Roseanne.
I am not planning to watch her new revival series. It is not for political reasons. I never did watch her show when it was on in the past. My family never watched when I was growing up, I never bothered to watch and after all these years I can honestly say that I have never even seen one episode. I’m not especially crazy about her comedy, her voice…just her in general. But it’s not political. It never was.
Yeah, I know: she likes Trump. And as much as I also can’t stand Trump (see my above disclaimer), it so happens that I do in fact have a few random friends and family who do. Should I stop talking to them? Have we gotten to that point where someone supporting someone you don’t like is reason enough to not talk to them? Aren’t there other things to talk about? But I am hating something on her behalf, because frankly it wounds me as a writer, performer, and comedic minded person, namely, the inability to separate performance from performer.
Yes, real life Roseanne supports Trump. She’s allowed to. If that is your only reason for hating her, well, that’s your right. Yes, she has done some crass routines in the past (the “Baked Jew” cookies thing has popped up). And I’m not defending her lousy rendition of the National Anthem (though why Trump singles out black football players for kneeling yet says nothing about this speaks volumes. I even tweeted about this recently and got more “likes” than I have ever gotten, so color me hater). But holy fuck, you pick any comic who has been doing his or her thing for as long as she has and you are going to find something off color or crude or questionable. It’s called having a career. I have done songs and stories in the past that were questionable that I probably would not be doing today. I shudder to think if I somehow came out on the wrong side of any one of you and you brought these up in your attempt to ruin me. But I own every bad piece of writing and music I have ever done. Without them, I would not have learned how to do better.
I’m sorry if this sounds like a cop out, but it happens. You try stuff, you try to push the limits, push the boundaries, and sometimes you push too far, sometimes you piss off groups of people and if you really go too far, you apologize. I understand your view that supporting Trump is supporting racism, xenophobia, sexual assault, homophobia, and whole host of other terrible things. And as I always say whenever I post something like this, I hate him, too. But also realize that the people who voted for him are also Americans. And somewhere in there is someone you love.
Be a bigger person. It starts with thinking for yourself, and separating real life from the performance. I know it’s hard. But we have to. We already let Trump ruin football. Let’s not let Roseanne ruin everything else.
Tuesday, January 23, 2018
"What the Hell Do You Want?"
“What the Hell Do You Want?”
In the early 90’s, When I was a teenager back in Massachusetts, me and couple of my friends were in the studio audience of a local cable access show called “What the Hell Do you Want?”—a novel show that featured a middle aged man who went by the name Bob Bitchum. He sat in a bathtub and took phone calls from people watching at home and would answer every call with his trademark greeting: “What the Hell do you want?”
It was a classic in the old days of Pittsfield Cable Access Television. As a man befitting the name BOB BITCHUM, Bob was a total crank. Terrifically opinionated and not afraid to tell the truth as he saw it, his opinions carried a lot of weight with the blue collar working class of my hometown. To this day, I believe that his constant hammering on the Mayor, a woman he referred to as “Queen Anne” almost single-handedly brought her down.
One day, as a member of the audience, my friends and I were asked to sing the national Anthem for the audience at home. For whatever reason. It was just part of Bob’s free format, which featured bands, phone calls, diatribes, and this that and the other. He asked us to sing the Anthem. Which we did. Badly. Very, very badly. We were young and stupid and all of 14 or 15 years old. But even so, I never thought we were deliberately trying to disrespect the Anthem. We couldn’t help it if we had spiky hair, safety pinned jackets, (I think I was wearing a sleeveless raincoat indoors and my railroad hat...) and looked like grubby little freaks. We were grubby little freaks. It was just how we dressed back then. However we sang it, not long afterward, one of Bob’s callers called in. “What the hell do you want?” After which the caller took us all to task for our disrespect for the National Anthem in what he felt was a lackluster performance, where we did not do it justice…
Let me tell you one thing about Bob Bitchum: he was a bulldog. A warrior. You want him in your foxhole. Because HE WENT OFF on this guy.
“I WENT TO VIETNAM AND I GOT SHOT AT AND I SERVED MY COUNTRY AND I CAME BACK SO THAT THESE KIDS CAN SING THE ANTHEM ANY DAMN WAY THEY WANT TO!!!” I don’t know how long he went off on this person, but it came from somewhere deep inside that little man…
And at that moment, we erupted in cheers at the man who had defended us while tearing the caller a new asshole.
I’ve never forgotten it.
For on that stage of that odd little cable access show, Bob Bitchum in his own profane and rough way, defined what it means to be an American. Maybe we were stupid kids, punks who didn’t know any better, but Bob was not going to stand for his kids being attacked. Because this was America, and that meant something to him. Right or wrong, he felt that in America, kids had the right to be stupid and sing the Anthem badly. Just a thought.
One day, as a member of the audience, my friends and I were asked to sing the national Anthem for the audience at home. For whatever reason. It was just part of Bob’s free format, which featured bands, phone calls, diatribes, and this that and the other. He asked us to sing the Anthem. Which we did. Badly. Very, very badly. We were young and stupid and all of 14 or 15 years old. But even so, I never thought we were deliberately trying to disrespect the Anthem. We couldn’t help it if we had spiky hair, safety pinned jackets, (I think I was wearing a sleeveless raincoat indoors and my railroad hat...) and looked like grubby little freaks. We were grubby little freaks. It was just how we dressed back then. However we sang it, not long afterward, one of Bob’s callers called in. “What the hell do you want?” After which the caller took us all to task for our disrespect for the National Anthem in what he felt was a lackluster performance, where we did not do it justice…
Let me tell you one thing about Bob Bitchum: he was a bulldog. A warrior. You want him in your foxhole. Because HE WENT OFF on this guy.
“I WENT TO VIETNAM AND I GOT SHOT AT AND I SERVED MY COUNTRY AND I CAME BACK SO THAT THESE KIDS CAN SING THE ANTHEM ANY DAMN WAY THEY WANT TO!!!” I don’t know how long he went off on this person, but it came from somewhere deep inside that little man…
And at that moment, we erupted in cheers at the man who had defended us while tearing the caller a new asshole.
I’ve never forgotten it.
For on that stage of that odd little cable access show, Bob Bitchum in his own profane and rough way, defined what it means to be an American. Maybe we were stupid kids, punks who didn’t know any better, but Bob was not going to stand for his kids being attacked. Because this was America, and that meant something to him. Right or wrong, he felt that in America, kids had the right to be stupid and sing the Anthem badly. Just a thought.
Thursday, January 18, 2018
Goodreads Giveaway, redux.
(THIS MIGHT BE A WORK IN PROGRESS. I'M NOT PROMOTING IT, I'M JUST PARKING IT HERE.)
Because I am a writer and all I ever really want is to be read, and because all I ever need is one person to care, I am writing this expanded blog post to accompany my blog post of the other day…in which I tried to tactfully explain my displeasure with the new GoodReads Giveaway program…all because one person asked….
First off, I have to say that I love Goodreads. I have been using it for 9 years, both as a reader and as a writer. It is a great place to find new books, connect with other readers, leave reviews, and (as an author) find new readers of my own work. Goodreads, however, is owned by Amazon, the company that is taking over the entire world in a very frightening manner. That means it is a business, and business does what business does: operates at a profit motive above all else.
And to that end, it has begun a revision to their Giveaway Program, one that I had been using to great success over the past year, as detailed in a previous post. https://www.goodreads.com/author_blog_posts/16253196-i-love-you-goodreads-giveaways-but
I read through their blog post announcing this, I read what the new features of it were, but what really popped out at me was the whopping 119 dollar charge for a standard giveaway, and 599 for a Premium Package. (!) Ok. It’s easy to simply say that this is a lot of money for a simple writer to give away his/her hard work. But I wanted to get into the nuts and bolts of the program and why it irks me so much.
From their post: • (NEW) Everyone who enters your giveaway automatically adds the book to their Want-to-Read list, promoting your book via updates in their friends’ updates feeds, and building an audience for your title.
• (NEW) The author’s followers and anyone who has already added the book to their Want-to-Read list get a notification, letting them know there’s a giveaway starting. This helps generate even more entries, creating more stories in the Goodreads updates feed.
• About eight weeks after your Giveaway ends, winners receive an email from Goodreads to remind them to rate and review your book. This will help other readers discover and decide to read your book too.
Ok. These things are available and they are…nice…but let’s be honest: it’s only marginally different from what they had been offering all along FOR FREE. But somehow being able to add your book to a person’s TO READ LIST, notifying their followers, and then notifying the winners to read and review the book…does ANY of this make it worth 119 bucks?
And What about Premium?
• (NEW) Exclusive placements on the Giveaways homepage on Goodreads with tens of millions of visitors each month, giving your giveaway significantly more visibility and more entrants.
• (NEW) Everyone who enters your giveaway automatically adds the book to their Want-to-Read list, promoting your book via updates in their friends’ updates feeds, and building an audience for your title.
• (NEW) The author’s followers and anyone who has already added the book to their Want-to-Read list get a notification, letting them know there’s a giveaway starting. This helps generate even more entries, and creates more stories in the Goodreads updates feed.
• About eight weeks after your Giveaway ends, winners receive an email from Goodreads to remind them to rate and review your book. This will help other readers discover and decide to read your book too.
• Giveaways are shown in the Giveaways section of Goodreads and the book page,allowing readers to discover new books.
Honestly, it sounds like more of the same. And this costs a whopping 599 bucks.
Here’s the thing: Sending these books out already costs me. Before I’ve even put the Pain Center book in an envelope, I spent roughly 4 months with countless hours assembling the books myself. It all comes out of my own pocket. When I make a sale, I am ecstatic. But because I am still an unknown author, no one is lining up to buy my book. But with the giveaways, I was building an audience. I was gaining traction. Yet not one of these giveaways has actually led to any sales. Now they are making people PAY for this???
I understand they gotta make money. But couldn’t there be a compromise? Maybe a cheap option for the rest of us? There has to be some way that these things can be done without fleecing the authors!
Curiously, and apparently singularly, this blog post announcing this change has been closed to comments. Maybe I wasn’t the only one upset by paying so much for something that used to be free.
Because I am a writer and all I ever really want is to be read, and because all I ever need is one person to care, I am writing this expanded blog post to accompany my blog post of the other day…in which I tried to tactfully explain my displeasure with the new GoodReads Giveaway program…all because one person asked….
First off, I have to say that I love Goodreads. I have been using it for 9 years, both as a reader and as a writer. It is a great place to find new books, connect with other readers, leave reviews, and (as an author) find new readers of my own work. Goodreads, however, is owned by Amazon, the company that is taking over the entire world in a very frightening manner. That means it is a business, and business does what business does: operates at a profit motive above all else.
And to that end, it has begun a revision to their Giveaway Program, one that I had been using to great success over the past year, as detailed in a previous post. https://www.goodreads.com/author_blog_posts/16253196-i-love-you-goodreads-giveaways-but
I read through their blog post announcing this, I read what the new features of it were, but what really popped out at me was the whopping 119 dollar charge for a standard giveaway, and 599 for a Premium Package. (!) Ok. It’s easy to simply say that this is a lot of money for a simple writer to give away his/her hard work. But I wanted to get into the nuts and bolts of the program and why it irks me so much.
From their post: • (NEW) Everyone who enters your giveaway automatically adds the book to their Want-to-Read list, promoting your book via updates in their friends’ updates feeds, and building an audience for your title.
• (NEW) The author’s followers and anyone who has already added the book to their Want-to-Read list get a notification, letting them know there’s a giveaway starting. This helps generate even more entries, creating more stories in the Goodreads updates feed.
• About eight weeks after your Giveaway ends, winners receive an email from Goodreads to remind them to rate and review your book. This will help other readers discover and decide to read your book too.
Ok. These things are available and they are…nice…but let’s be honest: it’s only marginally different from what they had been offering all along FOR FREE. But somehow being able to add your book to a person’s TO READ LIST, notifying their followers, and then notifying the winners to read and review the book…does ANY of this make it worth 119 bucks?
And What about Premium?
• (NEW) Exclusive placements on the Giveaways homepage on Goodreads with tens of millions of visitors each month, giving your giveaway significantly more visibility and more entrants.
• (NEW) Everyone who enters your giveaway automatically adds the book to their Want-to-Read list, promoting your book via updates in their friends’ updates feeds, and building an audience for your title.
• (NEW) The author’s followers and anyone who has already added the book to their Want-to-Read list get a notification, letting them know there’s a giveaway starting. This helps generate even more entries, and creates more stories in the Goodreads updates feed.
• About eight weeks after your Giveaway ends, winners receive an email from Goodreads to remind them to rate and review your book. This will help other readers discover and decide to read your book too.
• Giveaways are shown in the Giveaways section of Goodreads and the book page,allowing readers to discover new books.
Honestly, it sounds like more of the same. And this costs a whopping 599 bucks.
Here’s the thing: Sending these books out already costs me. Before I’ve even put the Pain Center book in an envelope, I spent roughly 4 months with countless hours assembling the books myself. It all comes out of my own pocket. When I make a sale, I am ecstatic. But because I am still an unknown author, no one is lining up to buy my book. But with the giveaways, I was building an audience. I was gaining traction. Yet not one of these giveaways has actually led to any sales. Now they are making people PAY for this???
I understand they gotta make money. But couldn’t there be a compromise? Maybe a cheap option for the rest of us? There has to be some way that these things can be done without fleecing the authors!
Curiously, and apparently singularly, this blog post announcing this change has been closed to comments. Maybe I wasn’t the only one upset by paying so much for something that used to be free.
Monday, October 16, 2017
Giving Your Cat her Meds in liquid form
Any of my friends out there with cats, I just wanted to share this.
My wife and I have 2 older cats, both with medical difficulties: Cliff (age 10) is a diabetic and requires an insulin shot twice a day, along with checking his blood sugar which is done with a poke to the ear with a little needle. He has been like this for a year, but otherwise he has been fine.
Stella (age 12) is dying.
She has cancer, was given about 30 days to live about 90 days ago. We have made peace with this and are just trying to make her final days as comfortable as possible. And to that end, we have been giving her Prednisone, a steroid, as prescribed by our vet. It has done wonders for her, almost to the point where we forget that she is sick. It has improved her appetite and her energy, and while on this she has even gained weight. We believe it has helped extend her life and made her much happier than when we first got the diagnosis.
But the reason I am writing this is the share something that we learned. While Stella is a very sweet kitty, she is terrible about taking pills. We were stymied by having to do battle with her twice a day for something that was supposed to make her feel better. On top of our other diabetic kitty, Stella’s obstinance was creating a real source of stress, especially at 3:45 in the morning when I am trying to get out the door.
So we asked our vet for help. And she gave us a solution: getting the medicine in a liquid form so we can more easily shoot it in her mouth. We were referred to something called a compounding pharmacy, which we’d never heard of before.
Her meds are now easy to give to her in the morning, as all I have to do is pick her up while my wife shoots the dropped into her mouth. If one of us is not there, it is possible to do it alone. Either way, it is so much easier and Stella continues to do well under the circumstances.
We hope to have a few more months of a healthy Stella. But I just wanted to pass long that information for anyone out there having trouble. Here is a link to the Veterinary Pharmacies of America site, which can help you find a compounding pharmacy in your area.
Hope this helps someone!
http://www.vparx.com
My wife and I have 2 older cats, both with medical difficulties: Cliff (age 10) is a diabetic and requires an insulin shot twice a day, along with checking his blood sugar which is done with a poke to the ear with a little needle. He has been like this for a year, but otherwise he has been fine.
Stella (age 12) is dying.
She has cancer, was given about 30 days to live about 90 days ago. We have made peace with this and are just trying to make her final days as comfortable as possible. And to that end, we have been giving her Prednisone, a steroid, as prescribed by our vet. It has done wonders for her, almost to the point where we forget that she is sick. It has improved her appetite and her energy, and while on this she has even gained weight. We believe it has helped extend her life and made her much happier than when we first got the diagnosis.
But the reason I am writing this is the share something that we learned. While Stella is a very sweet kitty, she is terrible about taking pills. We were stymied by having to do battle with her twice a day for something that was supposed to make her feel better. On top of our other diabetic kitty, Stella’s obstinance was creating a real source of stress, especially at 3:45 in the morning when I am trying to get out the door.
So we asked our vet for help. And she gave us a solution: getting the medicine in a liquid form so we can more easily shoot it in her mouth. We were referred to something called a compounding pharmacy, which we’d never heard of before.
Her meds are now easy to give to her in the morning, as all I have to do is pick her up while my wife shoots the dropped into her mouth. If one of us is not there, it is possible to do it alone. Either way, it is so much easier and Stella continues to do well under the circumstances.
We hope to have a few more months of a healthy Stella. But I just wanted to pass long that information for anyone out there having trouble. Here is a link to the Veterinary Pharmacies of America site, which can help you find a compounding pharmacy in your area.
Hope this helps someone!
http://www.vparx.com
Tuesday, April 04, 2017
Today's the Day! Pain Center: the Novel! is out!!!
Many years from now, when people ask you, "Where were you on April 4, 2017, when Pain Center: the Novel! was released?" what will you tell them?
Pain.
Lost Love.
Betrayal.
And most importantly…
Coffee.
When Kyle's headaches drive him to seek the help of the Hartsburg Holistic Pain Center for Hartsburgers with Holistic Pain, he is reunited with a lost love from his youth. But what is the deal with his roommate with the stuffed animal that he uses to take notes after his midnight treks? Why do they make the patients do jumping jacks and pottery? And why do they force them to eat bean bowls and abstain from coffee? As he begins to question his situation, he soon finds that there is a deeper conspiracy that will rock the coffee loving town below...
PAIN CENTER: THE NOVEL!!!, By David G. Cookson!
Available through my web page:
http://davecookson.tripod.com/PainCentertheNovel.html,
atomic books in Baltimore,
Quimby's Bookstore (Chicago area only, for now)
or through the good, old fashioned US Postal Service, by sending 8 US dollars to :
David Cookson
PO Box 23568
Baltimore, MD
21203.
There, I hope you seek it out at one of these fine establishments, more to be added in the future. This is a good book, I hope you check it out!
Pain.
Lost Love.
Betrayal.
And most importantly…
Coffee.
When Kyle's headaches drive him to seek the help of the Hartsburg Holistic Pain Center for Hartsburgers with Holistic Pain, he is reunited with a lost love from his youth. But what is the deal with his roommate with the stuffed animal that he uses to take notes after his midnight treks? Why do they make the patients do jumping jacks and pottery? And why do they force them to eat bean bowls and abstain from coffee? As he begins to question his situation, he soon finds that there is a deeper conspiracy that will rock the coffee loving town below...
PAIN CENTER: THE NOVEL!!!, By David G. Cookson!
Available through my web page:
http://davecookson.tripod.com/PainCentertheNovel.html,
atomic books in Baltimore,
Quimby's Bookstore (Chicago area only, for now)
or through the good, old fashioned US Postal Service, by sending 8 US dollars to :
David Cookson
PO Box 23568
Baltimore, MD
21203.
There, I hope you seek it out at one of these fine establishments, more to be added in the future. This is a good book, I hope you check it out!
Thursday, March 09, 2017
Pain Center: the Novel! Available April 4th!!!
Pain. Lost love. Betrayal. And most importantly...Coffee. Pain Center, the Novel!, the new book from David G. Cookson, Available April 4th.
Tuesday, December 15, 2015
Last Call at a place where I think Bill knew my name....
A week ago I heard the news that Dougherty’s Pub was closing its doors, after 30 plus years in business. I worked there for ten years, years of my life that I count among the best. It’s not an exaggeration or some teary eyed thing to say just because it’s all now coming to an end. It’s because of what the Pub meant to me that my heart continues to hurt days after hearing the news and will no doubt hurt long after it is all finally gone and the doors close early Sunday morning.
I first came into the Pub about 20 years ago with a girlfriend. Before even ordering food, before even getting a drink, I said, “Let’s come here when we don’t know where else to go.” Which, in retrospect probably sums up my feeling toward the place that had become my second home. There was no place anywhere outside of my home that I felt more comfortable. The vibe, the simplicity, the good feelings that came from here; the Pub was a lot of things to a lot of people. When I got hired in 2000, it was kind of an off-handed transaction, the kind that would typify the next ten years there. No applications, no rigorous background checks: if you were a friend of someone who worked there, you were okay. When you came there, you were already family. If you knew somebody, you had a chance to be part of something, to work in a place that would keep you as long as you needed it, as long as you did your part and tried your best.
Bill and his family supported me in times of need. I can’t count the number of times when he came through for me in some way, as a boss or as a friend. It was the best feeling in the world to know that someone had my back. The Pub was truly a special place, where artists, musicians, black, white, Latino, Latina, construction workers, teachers, lawyers, doctors, nurses, soldiers, bureaucrats, students, and countless others could come together and eat and drink in peace. It was truly unique: a melting pot of Baltimore, once praised by The Baltimore City Paper as the Best Place where White and Black Baltimore Meet. I was always proud of that fact, that it was a place where everyone could go, where everyone could feel comfortable, no matter who they were. It was a neighborhood bar that was not really in a neighborhood, somewhere in that nether region between Mount Vernon, Martin Luther King Boulevard, and the Cultural District. This was the Pub that Never Changed. Even 4 days before it closes its doors and I enjoy it for one of the last times, it is still the same Pub that I remember.
I will always love this place. And now we say good bye. I already miss you.
I first came into the Pub about 20 years ago with a girlfriend. Before even ordering food, before even getting a drink, I said, “Let’s come here when we don’t know where else to go.” Which, in retrospect probably sums up my feeling toward the place that had become my second home. There was no place anywhere outside of my home that I felt more comfortable. The vibe, the simplicity, the good feelings that came from here; the Pub was a lot of things to a lot of people. When I got hired in 2000, it was kind of an off-handed transaction, the kind that would typify the next ten years there. No applications, no rigorous background checks: if you were a friend of someone who worked there, you were okay. When you came there, you were already family. If you knew somebody, you had a chance to be part of something, to work in a place that would keep you as long as you needed it, as long as you did your part and tried your best.
Bill and his family supported me in times of need. I can’t count the number of times when he came through for me in some way, as a boss or as a friend. It was the best feeling in the world to know that someone had my back. The Pub was truly a special place, where artists, musicians, black, white, Latino, Latina, construction workers, teachers, lawyers, doctors, nurses, soldiers, bureaucrats, students, and countless others could come together and eat and drink in peace. It was truly unique: a melting pot of Baltimore, once praised by The Baltimore City Paper as the Best Place where White and Black Baltimore Meet. I was always proud of that fact, that it was a place where everyone could go, where everyone could feel comfortable, no matter who they were. It was a neighborhood bar that was not really in a neighborhood, somewhere in that nether region between Mount Vernon, Martin Luther King Boulevard, and the Cultural District. This was the Pub that Never Changed. Even 4 days before it closes its doors and I enjoy it for one of the last times, it is still the same Pub that I remember.
I will always love this place. And now we say good bye. I already miss you.
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