Charlie's Books

Charlie's Books
Buon Giorno, Amici!

Our motto ...

Leave the (political) party. Take the cannoli.

"It always seems impossible until it's done." Nelson Mandela

Right now 6 Stella crime novels are available on Kindle for just $.99 ... Eddie's World has been reprinted and is also available from Stark House Press (Gat Books).

Wednesday, November 25, 2009

Talk Radio … Chris Matthews … Coach who? … The Rock of the week …DOC's Turkey Day Story


Talk Radio ... on the advice of our favorite right wing loon (the DOC), I gave a few listens to Mark Levin on the way to picking up the boss from her nursing class … this half a chrome dome I had pictured as a little dweeb yelling at his radio as if he’d just caught his oinker in his zipper.

Seriously, at the top of his lungs: “Don’t lecture me! Obama and his socialist agenda are ruining this country! What would our forefathers think?”

Let’s take this one at a time. Lecture? The person he cut off after one or two sentences hardly lectured him. Obama and his socialist agenda? If Obama is a socialist, then I’m one skinny MoFo. What would our forefathers think? Frankly, I think they’d be too busy watching porn, but assuming they were around today, I’d think they’d think it’s pretty cool to wipe oneself with toilet paper rather than leaves. It is irrelevant what our forefathers would think. 200 plus years have come and gone. Things have changed (like free internet porn) … seriously, enough with our forefathers. Laws are interpreted and then reinterpreted for a reason and depending on whose ox is gored, the interpretations are welcomed or abhorred. Get over it, Mr. Levin … it really is 2009.

Although it was fun hearing Imus again (not so much Imus but crazy Bernard McGuirk—I’m not sure if they still do the Cardinal routine (below), but that was some of the funniest shtick I ever heard (or saw when they were still on MSNBC). I heard about two minutes of Curtis Sliwa and turned that right off and I have been spared (working during the day) from listening to Limbaugh and Beck. The choice between 8-9, during my drive back to Manhattan to retrieve the Principessa, is Levin or Sports Radio—but both are boring. At least I can laugh at Levin’s losing his mind and ranting 1950’s propaganda). Obama a socialist? Try Bush-light.

Chris Matthews ... not to let the left off the hook, last night I watched Chris Matthews broadcasting in such obvious denial it was painful. He wanted to discuss Obama's first year accomplishments. He named our greatly enhanced prestige around the world as one accomplishment. Tell it to the 17.5% under and unemployed here at home, but whatever the rest of the world thinks of us, they sure aren’t showing it in supporting our absurd “necessary” war. Mathews also gave Obama credit for saving the country from a worse depression than 1929. After that one, I was starting to think Chris masturbates to an Obama doll. If he’s going to give credit for the bailouts, he forgot to mention the guy he continues to castigate throughout his nightly shows (as if Bush is still in office). Those unemployed and those about to be (including myself—I’m lucky enough to fall in both categories having already lost one job) aren’t anywhere near thinking either Bush or Obama saved anything other than Goldman Sachs, et al. I’m curious as to when Chris will discuss Obama’s failures (since he refuses to stop mentioning Bush’s failures). I had to turn off the television after the accomplishment nonsense because dealing with people in denial (and nobody is in more denial than liberal democrats insisting that Obama has a clue what he’s doing other than following Bush’s lead) is like pissing into a hurricane and I was wearing my favorite PJ’s and didn’t want to soak them.

Coach who? ... my beloved new york state buffalo bills are discussing their next head coach. Obviously, anybody worth two cents isn’t interested. Mostly because our organization sucks but also because the rumor is once Good Old Mister Wilson croaks, off go the Bills to Toronto, Canada. Now, I’m still debating speaking to that country and lord knows I’m not flying up there ever again (I had gone once for a crime writing conference and those were the longest three days of my life), but if the Bills become a Canadian enterprise, the tattoo gets removed and/or covered. Simply put, I disown the bastards. Bill Cower, a great coach, was discussed the other day but Cower’s response was a more than obvious “Thanks, but no thanks.”

I’m not a big Shanahan fan and I really doubt anybody can do anything with my Bills so long as the greedy Ralph Wilson survives. Until the issue of where they play once the old miser goes is settled, the likelihood of finding someone good to coach my beloveds will remain in serious doubt.

The Rock of the week ... well, amici, all good things have to come to an end sooner or later and last week, although my beloveds lost anyway, they managed to do it in the last few seconds of the game and thus covered the spread (for you nons out there who bet with my pick, you lost). My lock of the week is back to being a rock of the week. But that too will change: Take the Carolina Pantherless over the Y-E-T-S, Yets, Yets, Yets and reverse it with the Dolphinations of Miami over my beloved new york state buffalo bills and find the financial freedom you've been dreaming about.

Happy Thanksgiving to all of yous and yours!


And the DOC has a story for us all ...
Hey Chaz,

I thought I would tell you this story from back in my less than illustrious past. I occasionally hung out in Irish taverns, so naturally I played darts. One night in some strange gin mill, I was playing a game and stepped over a philosophical line in the sand. I'll be completely honest. I'm a "point shooter". It's completely legal. It's in the rules, but it evokes severe disdain from traditional dart shooters.

Having revealed myself as a point shooter the local denizens revealed that upon my exit they would open up an industrial-sized can of whoop ass on your best buddy. Being grossly outnumbered and particularly adverse to ass whoopings I called up my local bar and explained my predicament. After about 45 minutes, three of the largest, ugliest, tatooed individuals you've ever seen showed up at the saloon, gave me the old slap on the back and surrounded me. I had an over-the-road truck driver, an honest-to-god junk man and another compatriot that with one look you knew would not live another year without wearing a strait jacket. I bought a few rounds for friends and foe alike. My enemies got absorbed in other distractions, my goon squad and I left the bar and I lived to annoy uncounted people for decades to come.

Well, in August, General McChrystal made that frantic call to the home bar. It is now three months and Commander in Chief, Fredo is still ignoring him. The plans for tonight's state dinner for 300+ are progressing nicely, but McChrystal is sitting under-gunned in enemy territory. Bring him home or give him what he needs, but make the decision before the champagne corks start popping.

Happy Thanksgiving to you and the Amicis

PS: There was a sizeable amount of cash involved in the dart game, but I didn't deem that relevant to the spirit of the story.