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).

Monday, July 15, 2013

The Zimmerman Verdict ...

Amici:
 
 
 
Not Guilty ... the verdict in the George Zimmerman trial is reverberating around the country. Those who felt Zimmerman was guilty of “something” found no satisfaction in the judicial system, while those who championed Zimmerman’s right to self defense proclaimed victory. The rhetoric from both sides remains as vitriolic as it was leading up to the case. Who’s right? Who’s wrong? What happens next?

From the left were cries of civil rights violations. I’m as left as it gets, yet I don’t see George Zimmerman as a racist. I see him as a wannabe cop who found himself in a situation he couldn’t handle, whatever happened regarding a fight. Everything leading up to that confrontation was Zimmerman’s fault. Not illegal, but wrong. To my mind, the situation he put himself in was NOT a justifiable reason to use his licensed and registered gun to kill someone. To my mind, this was manslaughter.
 
That said, it wasn't my mind that counted. The law states it's what was in George Zimmerman's mind at the time he chose to shoot. Maybe he did fear for his life ... if we have to swallow that as "proof" of his being not guilty (the shooter's explanation), what a Pandora's box of future justifiable homicides that defense opens.

From the right were cries of victory, some so reprehensible, they beg the confrontation and riots they perhaps were hoping for. From SUFA (that conservative blog I recently left because they changed the text of my posts), upon the verdict, came these pearls from the lunatic running things there now: “NOT GUILTY! JUSTICE IS SERVED” ... followed by (the same moron typing): So will the barbarians riot?

Only on blogs, behind fugazy screen names, speaking from keyboards within the safety of their homes, can imbeciles like that act with such false bravado. I’m sure that same apparent champion of racism was fine with the Rodney King verdict, where there was a video showing a dozen cops watching two cops pound a black man (visually a lot harder than George Zimmerman claims he was being pounded, even though the lack of bruises on Trayvon Martin’s hands, as well as the lack of bruises on Zimmerman’s face, suggest nothing near a “pounding”).

So it goes.

My son Dustin and his girlfriend Madalynn spent Saturday night with us at casa Stella, and we were all glued to the television when the verdict was announced. I couldn’t help but feel sympathy for what Zimmerman and his family had to be going through waiting for the verdict, forgetting for a few minutes what Trayvon Martin's parents have had to go through since their son was killed. Yes, it was a tragedy for everyone involved, but as I’ve often stated, you don’t get to shoot someone because you “might” have been losing a fight. The "fight" itself was settled when Zimmerman shot and killed Trayvon Martin. No matter what happened during the fight (and it never appeared to be life threatening to me), Zimmerman and his weapon ultimately won the fight.

A gun versus Skittles and an Iced Tea is not a fair fight.

The fact it was all avoidable had Zimmerman done any number of things he was supposed to do (wait for the police he’d already called, identify himself, leave his gun in its holster, etc.) makes his not guilty verdict all the more difficult to swallow.

The letter of the law let him off the hook ... but that required ignoring so much of what preceded the actual shooting, as well as his inconsistent statements and out-and-out lies about what happened, I find it very difficult to accept the verdict as justice. Juries have been known to get it wrong in the past ... and yes, the O.J. Simpson verdict immediately comes to mind.
 
Pundits condemned the prosecution for pleading their case to the emotions of the jury, something Ayn Randers upchuck over (pleading to emotion). The problem those same pundits fail (or refuse) to acknowledge is this: The only words anyone had to go on were those of the shooter, the only one left to tell HIS side of the story (no matter how many different ways he told it). That assumes HIS version was absolute and correct. The prosecution was correct in pointing out how it was assumptions on the shooter’s part that brought the case to trial in the first place.

The Zimmerman precedent now permits people of any color to shoot one another when they’re losing a fight. I’m not a Mike Bloomberg fan, but his statement about the verdict was spot on: “One fact has long been crystal clear: ‘Shoot first’ laws, like those in Florida, can inspire dangerous vigilantism and protect those who act recklessly with guns. Such laws, drafted by gun-lobby extremists in Washington, encourage deadly confrontations by enabling people to shoot first and argue ‘justifiable homicide’ later. The tragic death of Trayvon Martin, an unarmed child attempting to walk home from the store, will continue to drive our efforts to change those laws.”

Having recently read Devil in the Grove: Thurgood Marshall, the Groveland Boys and the Dawn of a New America, a masterful non-fiction account of how four blacks were erroneously accused of raping a white woman ... where three of them were murdered by the authorities and the fourth survived being shot by the racist cop masterminding their persecution, it appears the dawn of a new America remains on hold.

The uglier aspect to all this is how people will react. Everyone prefers peaceful resolutions to the injustices anyone experiences, but in an America where 1% of the population calls the shots, does anyone really think writing their legislators will change things? Will voting for the two parties that have left us where we are now really change things? Have they?


I waited a couple of days to digest this verdict; to read what others had to say after discussing it with my younger son, his girlfriend, and my wife. We all feel the same way, essentially what prosecutor John Guy asked the jury at one point in his rebuttal closing regarding what George Zimmerman did by following Trayvon Martin and eventually killing him. “What is that? Is that nothing?”

My son Dustin answered it best. “But he killed someone.”

— Charlie

Friday, July 12, 2013

SNHU MFA Graduate: Shane Remer ... 2 Big Guys ... 2 Movie Reviews ... Hernandez/Zimmerman ... The Democratic Senate ... So Long SUFA ...

Amici:

 

Shane received a B.A. in Communication in 2011, and an MFA in fiction from SNHU in June 2013. He currently works as a paraprofessional at Charlestown Middle School in Charlestown, NH. This will be Shane’s 5th year as coach of the Charlestown Middle School boys' soccer team. He co-authors a blog with Jon Stern and Darren Rome Leo called Three Guys and a Keyboard (click on the link). Shane is a devout Seattle Mariners and Seahawks fan ... for which most people in the MFA program forgive him.

His thesis, A Grave for the Living, finds two homeless men meeting a boy running away to save his mom’s life. The two men, Goose and Beans, must decide whether or not they should help the boy, Ten-Speed. Turning the kid in could mean abuse for his mother and him at home, and leaving him alone could mean leaving him to wander the drug-stricken streets of Bridgeport, CT. Even with that, Goose’s background hints at pedophilia, and Beans has schizophrenia and suffers from auditory hallucinations.

 
From his thesis, A Grave for the Living:

The kid with the camera jammed a foot into Goose’s gut and Goose coughed, blood spattered on his shirt and the room spun. The teen jumped on Ten-Speed and raised his fists above his head, struck Ten-Speed in a quick powerful blow. The teen raised them again. Ten-Speed threw the blankets off his face, blood on his nose, tears in his eyes, fast breaths void of air. The teen struck again – one fist against Ten-Speed’s nose, and the other against his collar bone.

Ten-Speed whimpered and his head rolled to the side, his arm fell limp on the outside of the mattress. The teen had his fists up near his head, loose, his mouth agape. Beans rocked himself against the wall. All of them in the room breathed in rapid breaths, thick clouds forming and disappearing in the silence. The teen’s fists loosened and trembled. He pressed them against the side of his head.

“Oh no,” he said. He shook his head. “Shit. It’s a kid. I just hit a kid. I think he’s dead.”

TK again: Shane is one of the funniest people I’ve met ... and is also a relentless ballbreaker (for which I give him props) ... most important, he’s one hell of a writer ... Big Ups to Shane!


 

Speaking of BIG ... last Sunday was a Big Guy Reunion ... Okay, so I have to amend my Facebook post about this reunion ... italicized words are the amended text ...

Howard Cosell voice: These two icons of perfect health once stalked the frozen tundra of Minot, North Dakota ... played in football games where the temperature was south of 0° Fahrenheit ... they terrorized backfields and quarterbacks alike (usually with threats about giving them flat tires after the games) ... and when they weren't playing football (or skipping class, or robbing the candy and soda machines in the dorms), they worked at I-Keating furniture store where they unloaded boxcars of furniture in blizzards (when they weren’t taking naps in the rug room) ... all for the American heartland ... oh, what would those farmers have done without their lazee-boys? Today they met up again for the first time in many years. Big Jim LaCugna, artist extraordinaire, and Charlie Stella, basically just obese and overweight (Charlie is) ... 800 pounds of beef between them ... neither can walk up or down a flight of stairs (using both feet, they go one at a time) two-at-a-time or tie their shoes without help. Is this what the game they loved so much did to them? Or was it the food neither could turn away with a gun to their heads?

It was great seeing Jim again ... and that picture he painted (the scene from Goodfellas) is one of the best gifts I’ve ever received. This guy has true talent as an artist but is too damn shy to admit it and/or sell his stuff. Mine is NOT FOR SALE.




Okay, so the wife and I finally watched DJango on cable ... oy vey, what a bomb. I still don’t get the hype on Tarrantino. He’s done three brilliant films in the past: Reservoir Dogs and Pulp Fiction and True Romance (my son and daughter-in-law had to remind me about True Romance) ... but Inglorious Bastards was a huge disappointment for me ... and Jackie Brown was “meh” ... the rest this viewer saw (not many), were garbage ... the blood spurting crap he insists on forcing down viewers throats and the absurd situations (one person taking on dozens) are too cartoonish (whether meant to be or not) ... the parody is neither interesting nor funny to this viewer. I know he has a following, but so does Marvel Comics ... and I’ll never understand how those cartoons not only make it to the screen, they keep coming back, over and over, in sequels and prequels ... like a really bad virus. Can he ever return to the stuff I can watch over and over (those three mentioned above)? I sure hope so.

Django Unchained, with its never ending slow motion shots and absurd one man versus the world of bad guys, eventually angered the wife and I to the point of swearing off all future Tarrantino movies once again ... and once Christoph Waltz and his clever dialogue (absurd as those situations he used them in were) was off the screen, it became a “when does this shit movie end?” question for us.

The wife also forced me to see The Heat (at the theatre) this weekend ... one of those guilty pleasure movies (for her) that put me to sleep twice in the theatre (to be fair, I was up very early writing that day), but I was awake for the funniest scene in the movie (also completely absurd) that took place in a bar. After that it was the standard absurd shoot’em up comedy that leaves one wondering how Hollywood survives vs. foreign movies ... I suspect the universal likeability of both actresses, Sandra Bullock and Mellissa McCarthy, are a guaranteed box office hit ... and even though I also like both actresses, at the exorbitant prices of theatre tickets today, I’d rather wait for them to come on television/cable ... so I can nap at home.
 


 
And in Charlie World ... Hernandez/Zimmerman

 

Aaron Hernandez texting one of his co-horts:

Lloyd did not respond. Hernandez texted again: "Waddup."

Lloyd responded: "Aite (meaning alright) where?" Hernandez responded: "idk (I don't know) it don't matter but imam hit you when I'm dat way like las time if my phone dies imam hit u when I charge it which will be in a lil."

At 10 p.m., Lloyd texted to Hernandez: "Aite idk anything goin on."

Hernandez replied: "I'll figure it out ill hit u on the way."

In Charlie world, Hernandez goes away for a) being a moron and b) texting ...

 

Zimmerman – the Defense … at first I figured this was going to be the “some of my best friends claims it’s me screaming” … but then I remembered that I not only misnamed Mark O’Mara’s last week (calling him Tim), I think I found a third name in one of my TK drafts. The point being, he’s a lot smarter’n me.

Then came the hired guns … so far (Tuesday) it’s the pathologist (who also testified for Scott Peterson, which means he’d probably testify for Hitler for the fazools and the publicity) … he says that the evidence supports pretty much everything Zimmerman claims … and let me just say that for $400 an hour, I’m sure he’d find whatever you want him to find … like wherever the fuck I lost my nail clipper.

So far the defense has put up GZ’s best friends … and a hired gun ... and yesterday the prosecution began its close (there's also a rebuttal to the defense's close to come) ... the pundits called it garbage ... I thought the guy did what he had to do ... prove Zimmerman embellished his version of the "attack" and everything else before it ... who wouldn't after killing someone? Establish he's a liar and maybe the jury doesn't believe his story (which is all anyone has because he killed the other guy).

The hearings in court without the jury had to be testing the jury's patience (they certainly tested mine) … and I have to wonder how many (if any) of the jurors have thought about selling their experience … how many may already have … and how many can’t wait for this trial to end so they can just go home and resume their lives.

We constantly tout “our system” as the best in the world. Maybe it is, I have no idea, but I can’t help but see the hypocrisy in all this. Hired guns … celebrity lawyers (or the chance to become one) … a privately funded defense fund from personal contributions as well as those with genuine interests in gun legislation … national television coverage … a cable television nightly bombardment, etc. … for one case that originally ignored by everyone until someone posted about it on Youtube … then a manslaughter charge (what it should've been to start with, trumped up to 2nd Degree Murder, to appease Al Sharpton and his crew of shit stirring seekers) ... one can only imagine the lack of legal support the average indigent SOB gets when they have to stand before a court of law … you got the money, you got the verdict ... it’s pretty much an American theme ...

Apparently we’ll know soon enough whether the jury is going to take Zimmerman’s words as gospel (even after being caught in out and out lies) and let him walk, or if they can look beyond the mountains of extraneous bullshit presented via hundreds of thousands of donated dollars, and do the right thing ... which in Charlie world is to convict Zimmerman of the least manslaughter charge possible (because I don’t believe he was looking to kill anyone that night--the 2nd degree charge was nothing but political appeasement). The problem is he did kill a kid that night and for no good reason on earth (no, I don’t believe his life was in danger for one second; his panic should not lead to an unarmed kid’s death). You don’t get to profile a kid, give chase against official advice, stick your nose where it clearly didn’t belong, and then shoot a kid to death for walking home from the store armed with nothing more than a cell phone, Skittles and an Arizona Iced Tea. I simply cannot get beyond what an acquittal means in this case: open season on ANYONE, but especially minorities wearing hoodies ... and for doing nothing more than walking home.


 

From USA today: Senate Democrats on Wednesday failed to restore lower interest rates on student loans, again coming up short and perhaps signaling that undergraduates might really face rates twice as high as the ones they enjoyed last year.

The proposal from Democratic leaders would have left interest rates on subsidized Stafford loans at 3.4 percent for another year while lawmakers took up a comprehensive overhaul. The one-year stopgap measure failed to overcome a procedural hurdle as Republicans — and a few Democrats — urged colleagues to consider a plan now that would link interest rates to the financial markets and reduce Congress' role in setting students' borrowing rates.

Nice ... the party of the people ... way to go ... a few scumbags (there’s always an excuse like this for the Democratic party that just fucked (there’s no other word for it) every college student in the country (no matter their age) ... and why the President of the United States isn’t hanging them out to dry publicly reminds me of his hiding behind his couch after ignoring his promise to put on comfortable shoes and walk a picket line for unions ... so remember, amici, VOTE GREEN ... because otherwise you might as well vote Republican—there’s no FUCKING DIFFERENCE.
 
Last Week I bid adieu to the conservative blog I haunted the last five years or so ... the bottom line is they change what you post. Literally change your text ... not prohibit it (although they’ll often do that), but LITERALLY go into your post and change what you wrote.

So what’s the point of posting there? Right, none.

Arrivederci, wingies ...


—Knucks


Some more tunes for the old man band possibly called:

 “Out of the Blue” ...

Allman Brothers, Trouble No More ...



And one more Allman Brothers tune ... Not My Cross To Bear ...


Friday, July 5, 2013

Congrats Merle & Tess ... Hysteria ... Student Loans ... Egypt Gone Wild ... The Zimmerman Trial ...

Amici:

Still waiting on more fellow graduates for their bios, etc., so in the meantime, it’s back to our regularly schedule programming ... but first, Congratulations are in order!

 
To the beautiful bride and her handsome husband ... Merle and Tess Drown ... Merle is the author of one of my very favorite novels, The Suburbs of Heaven ... Publishers Weekly wonderful review here ...

Hysteria ...



We’re big Maggie Gyllenhaal fans at casa Stella so it was a pleasant surprise for the boss and myself to finally see the second half of the movie, Hysteria. We were actually watching it when our lights and electric were cut off during Hurricane Sandy ... and I guess we forgot all about it. Although the ending didn’t quite fulfill us the way we both would’ve liked, it was a fun movie, apparently based on a true story about the invention of ... the vibrator?

Holy Orgasm, Batman!

From Wikipedia: Manual genital massage of women had been a medical remedy since antiquity, and hysteria was a recognized malady until the American Psychiatric Association discontinued this term in 1952. Joseph Mortimer Granville filed the first patent for an electromechanical vibrator termed Granville's Hammer in about 1883. Granville, however, did not apply his invention in the treatment of hysteria; rather, he used it to treat muscular disorders. Other physicians started to apply the vibrator for the treatment of hysteria.


 
Student Loans ... Happy Birthday, America ... most of yous get to make a HUGE choice that will impact the rest of your life. To wit, attend college and hope you can find a job that will help pay off your student loans and/or take a good old American blue collar job (if you can find one) and quit your squawking. Got a beef, look back to the founding fathers and how hard they worked (but ignore the fact some owned slaves, because that’s painting too ugly a picture for 4th of July celebrations).

Oy friggin’ vey ... why is it when someone points out an inconvenient truth (to borrow a phrase), some on the right feel the need to upchuck their red, white and blue blind faith oatmeal and assault those pointing out the truth? Don’t ask me ... but also don’t tell me that I hate America ... I don’t ... but I don’t believe in nationalism anymore than I believe my beloved New York State Buffalo Bills will win the Super Bowl this year. I think the world would be a far better place if people dropped their need to belong to a country and maybe tried belonging to the human race ... but you know how us bleeding hearts are ...

So it goes (to borrow another phrase) ...

With Congress allowing student loan rates to double via inaction, we have taken yet another step toward the third world finish line, where those without the means get to slide through the cracks and not attend college because of the prohibitive costs of doing so. Now, not only do some graduate with student loans akin to mortgages and nothing more than minimum paying jobs to pay them off with, they can look forward to doubling the interest rate costs of paying them off. Oregon seems to have come up with a partial solution called Pay It Forward ... read about it here.

So let me amend that Happy Birthday, America above ... Happy Birthday, 1% ... soon we can all look forward to eating cake ... and Third World here we are ...


 

Egypt Gone Wild ... Holy Military Coup, Batman ... or is it just another changing of the guard? Hey, who cares ... the people spoke (a lesson this country can sure learn from) ... they were getting pissed on and they changed things Old School style ... nobody knows what comes next, but you know what, if it doesn’t work for the benefit of the people, they can always change it one more time. Here, too many conservatives upchuck their Hors d'oeuvres over revolutions ... they seem much more comfortable with us supporting dictators who act in our best interest, no matter the consequences to those who suffer under such dictatorships ... it's a list way too long to list here (so click on the link to be astonished) ... but the bottom line is too often conservatives aren’t amenable to change ... (unless it’s to increase private profits, like destroying unions and doubling the rates of student loans).

Oy vey ...


 

The Zimmerman Trial ... Okay, so nobody knows what actually happened the night George Zimmerman killed Trayvon Martin. The only facts we have are the phone calls, embellishments from both sides of the aisle, the investigation interrogations, and a dead kid. We can either believe the shooter’s story or not.

So here are my issues with what’s been showcased thus far: Zimmerman claims he was hit in the face 25-30 times ... his head was being slammed against the concrete sidewalk and that Trayvon Martin was covering his nose and mouth, cutting off Zimmerman’s breath.

Aside from the fact Zimmerman’s injuries don’t seem to come close to that kind of attack, there’s this: how the hell does somebody scream for help during that kind of battering. If you’re getting hit in the face 25-30 times, your head is being bashed on the sidewalk and you can’t breathe.

The prosecution’s opening statement claims there was no blood traces on Trayvon Martin (none of Zimmerman’s DNA was found on Trayvon Martin). How is that possible if you’re getting hit in the face 25-30 times, your head is being bashed on the sidewalk and the kid is supposedly covering your mouth and nose (the one you claimed he broke with his first punch)? How are his hands not covered in blood?

Obviously, Zimmerman’s story has been embellished in several areas, but claiming he didn’t know the Stand Your Ground law was pretty damning ... the professor covered the law extensively, even providing handouts ... and Zimmerman received an A in the course ... but his ability to laugh in court when responding to Defense attorney West’s question: “Do you have to wait until you're nearly dead to respond with deadly force?” "No, no, you don't," Carter (the professor) said, and several people on Zimmerman’s side of the courtroom laughed (as did Zimmerman).

 
Ouch.

The autopsy report shows a single abrasion on Trayvon Martin’s ring finger. Really? After he punched Zimmerman’s face 25-30 times?

The fact Zimmerman never ID’s himself, something he could’ve done several times, suggests to me he was into this chase (the way wannabes tend to dream about catching bad guys). I also have to wonder why Zimmerman didn’t shoot his “attacker” in the leg ... or fire a warning shot.

At one point, to offset his following Trayvon Martin, Zimmerman says he wasn’t following, he was just moving in the same direction. Oy vey.

This is the problem with the shooter having the ONLY say. We have to assume he’s telling the truth? Really? He jumped from behind the bushes ... he came up from behind me ... he was about five feet away ... he was about fifteen feet away ... he ... he ... he’s dead.

Pundits, after the two interrogators were on the stand Monday, claim the prosecution’s case was flushed down the toilet. That’s not how I saw it. Lead defense attorney, Tim O’Mara, is an excellent attorney, and he did a masterful job of playing a game of words with both cops, but he did nothing to offset Zimmerman’s own words, and he can do nothing about the injuries Zimmerman claims were life threatening (or the way he was “attacked”).

Nobody knows what happened that night and nobody knows what this jury will do with whatever else is presented in court. A second degree charge seems over the top. I doubt George Zimmerman was looking to kill anybody that night. On the other hand, George Zimmerman contributed mightily to everything that happened. At several points during his pursuit, even after being told not to pursue, he could’ve identified himself and/or waited for the police. He didn’t. Nor did he have to shoot the kid in the chest (I don’t think). If “the suspect” (Trayvon Martin) was on top of him, the way Zimmerman described how he reached for his “firearm”, why didn’t he shoot the kid in the leg? Or better, why not fire that warning shot?

Manslaughter ... or negligent homicide ... or whatever lesser charge than 2nd degree murder they can make stick seems appropriate. And hopefully wannabes everywhere will never play cowboy again, but with a stand your ground law in the background, I can see this type of tragedy happening again ... and again.

One more fact that we know about this case is had George Zimmerman remained in his car and/or stopped pursuing Trayvon Martin, Zimmerman is never in court for killing the kid ... and the kid probably makes it back to his father’s girlfriend’s home to deliver and/or enjoy the Skittles and Arizona Iced Tea.

For those so protective of Stand Your Ground and or George Zimmerman’s future, take a moment and imagine it was your kid who was killed that night ... first for being profiled (or why did Zimmerman tell the non-emergency operator “this kids up to no good ... these assholes always get away ... fuckin’ punks” ... etc.) ... he was also killed for having the audacity of walking home from the store with an Arizona Iced Tea and a bag of Skittles.

And for those who defend “Stand Your Ground” ... understand it has already been used to acquit gangbangers in street gang shootouts ... From the great state of Florida its own bad self ... click on the link and read ...

FRIDAY MORNING TRIAL UPDATE: I’m watching the live stream of the trial (because I have no life?) this morning and the medical examiner seemed to be doing a great job of frustrating the defense team ... perhaps too good a job. The way this guy started to nervously smile (AND SWEAT), I’m thinking he just buried himself and his testimony with the “personal notes” he brought to the trial in anticipation of what the defense might ask. Only the medical examiner knew what was in those notes ... but I have a feeling we’re all gonna know after lunch ... and it looks like it may get really ugly ... and wouldn't that suck for the parents of a kid killed seeking nothing more than justice?


—Knucks

We’re still trying to find a name for the blues band ... Past Prime was looking good, but we’re not settled yet ... in the meantime, here’s some of the new tunes we played last week.

Buddy Guy ... Feels Like Rain ...



Howling Wolf ... Killing Floor ...



Blind Joe Reynolds (with Cream performing) Outside Women Blues ...



Big Maybelle ... That’s a Pretty Good Love ...


Friday, June 28, 2013

SNHU MFA Graduate: Rebel Sowell … Movie Review ... So Long DOMA … My Time Out … Zimmerman vs. Life Threatening … Aaron Hernandez …

Amici:

 

Rebel Sowell … This Southern Belle hails from Texas and has a B.A. in Literature from The University of Texas of the Permian Basin. She has published several poems and short stories in local literary contests. While working on the university newspaper, she received two awards through the Texas Intercollegiate Press Association. She was an elementary school teacher for thirteen years and then became an adjunct writing instructor at Midland College. Married with two daughters and two stepsons, Rebel lives in Midland, Texas.

 

That’s Rebel with the Godmother of the MFA program, Katie Towler ...

Rebel’s thesis, Daughter of the Bride, is a historical YA novel about Ellen Cook, whose recently widowed mother marries a young farmer after answering a newspaper advertisement. Ellen fights her infatuation for her new step father, but some emotions are unstoppable. As she blossoms into a young lady she deals with circumstances and negative judgments of the townspeople forcing her to make difficult decisions. The setting is in the 1890s in Texas hill country.

Here’s Rebel reading from her thesis, The Daughter of the Bride.



Rebel is a genuine sweetheart … and her family is wonderful. Great Texas people. We’re honored to know her and her family.

 
 

Killing Them Softly ... See the ad above? They got the “Brutal” part right ... it was Brutal (as in bad) ... and I can’t say I wasn’t warned. The Godmother, Michelle Turlock Isla, told me it was one of the worst movies she’d ever seen. So did a few other people, but there it was on our pay per view Dish TV (or whatever it is we use) for $5.99 (probably because of James Gandolfini’s untimely death) ... the Principessa Ann Marie said, “It looks terrible” from the previews ... but I’m a George V. Higgins devotee and had to watch it eventually.

Man was everybody right. Cogan’s Trade was one of Higgins’ first 3 masterpieces.  It is often filled with better dialogue than The Friends of Eddie Coyle. Frankly, it’s just brilliant ... and funny. I’m surprised at Brad Pitt for letting this one see the light of day. Horrible ... truly horrible ... an Aussie? Really? McCain vs. Obama TV ads in the background every ten minutes? Oy vey ... what a bomb. Ann Marie was out cold ten minutes into the thing. I suffered through to the end, cursing under (and over) my breath every so often, often repeating: “Are you fucking kidding me?” It’d be nice if someone took the last of the three masterpieces (The Digger’s Game) a bit more seriously and produced something closer to the movie version of Eddie Coyle (which was wonderful).


 

So Long Doma … Defense of What Act? Consider this country having moved one small step closer to all men being creating equal … and there are plenty more steps to go … good for the gay community, of which my sister was a part, but this NEVER, EVER should’ve been an issue …


 

Time Out … I’ve been given a Time Out from the conservative blog where I often visit, debate, argue, accuse, get accused, etc. (although this time I really tried to restrain myself). It’s a place to kill time when I’m bored and to engage in some debate when I feel like doing so. I do have some fun there, as well as enjoy some of the debates (and some of the people there are actually very nice), but it’s been taken over by a lunatic (in my opinion), and he didn’t seem to enjoy my pointing his apparent racism out to him in my most annoying way (without calling him names). So it goes … here’s the Zimmerman trial exchange that kind of did it for me … although telling him to Go and fuck himself later on is what seemed to banish me from the world of make believe back into the real world …

Me: The issue in the Martin case is pretty obvious, I think … an unarmed black kid was profiled by a wannabe cop, told not to pursue, followed anyway, and things got out of hand real fast … and the kid with the skittles was dead and the guy with the gun said his life was in danger.

Great law, Stand your ground … shoot first and claim self defense later …

Him: Yes, Charlie, Stand Your Ground is a perfect law! It tells criminals they are no longer in charge and cannot just terrify people with their actions. I love it, know why? I’m not a criminal. I’m not going to attack anybody, so those that chose to attack a weaker person should meet a bullet, head on.

If it were up to me, I’d whack every gangbanger out there and put their heads on posts at the entryways to each city with a sign that says, “This is what gangbangers get in this city”. Add a few more heads that say “this is what happens to wife beaters and pedophile’s too”

They are barbarians, the only way to stop them is to kill them, they are no better than a terrorist Jihad killer. Fuck them all!

Me: Spoken like a true lunatic, __ … be proud … But please wear your hood when commandeering the troops so your friends know not to shoot you too

Him: I don’t wear hoods, I’ll leave that to the criminals like Martin

Like I said, so it goes … now that all the lefty pinko commies like myself have either ran for the hills or been banished from the site, wingies like this one are forced to play with those willing to tolerate him … all 6 or 7 or 8 of them … mostly the site has become a whining festival aimed at Progressive Statists and their evil plans to redistribute the wealth, take over the world, kill all the babies and what else? Bring back disco?

You can’t make this stuff up …
 
 
Zimmerman vs. Life Threatening … okay, so here is what I call life threatening, this animal beating some women for God only knows what reason (click on the link and scroll to the bottom for the video--this is an affluent New Jersey neighborhood)  The guy in this video (link) ... they could shoot him and/or put him through a meat grinder an inch at a time and I wouldn't have a problem with it. The beating this poor woman took was a life threatening situation. I just don't see the scratches on Mr, Zimmerman below as the same level of life threatening. Frankly, I've been marked up worse in fights that I won. These scratches below could've been made after he shot the kid--something we'll probably never know.
 


I guess my issue with the Zimmerman case has more to do with the "Stand Your Ground" law than the specific case. I don’t like a law that permits one person to kill another and then claim “self-defense” ... and then the victim/state is required to prove it wasn’t self defense. Huh? There’s already a self-defense law on the books … why invite people to use a “fear for their life” defense when they may have started the fight and maybe lost something as simple as a fist fight/shoving match. It’s way too subjective: one person’s fear of life and limb can far outweigh another person’s same fear.

As to the specific case, I find it way too hard to believe Mr. Zimmerman’s life was actually in danger … he just didn’t have enough bodily harm for me to digest his side of the story. And, of course, Trayvon Martin can’t give his side of the story. Add to the circumstance the fact that Zimmerman was a wannabe cop who felt the need to carry a gun everywhere is a little too much for me to believe “his” life was the one in danger.
 
 
 

Aaron Hernandez … he’s gonna need those muscles up above now ... but what’s to say about this moron? Anybody this stupid (yes, I’m prejudging) deserves the maximum the state can toss his way. Yesterday there was talk about tying him to a drive-bye killing (2 more victims) in Boston a year ago. Then there’s the guy in Florida who claims Hernandez shot his eye out. Oy vey ... I can’t help but wonder if he’ll do one of his dopey TD celebration dances in the prison yard end zones if/when he gets to play there …



Think he was digging his own grave?

—Knucks

Angela Gheorghiu, singing O mio babbino caro, from Gianni Schicchi. I was searching for the scene in Serpico when Al Pacino sings the title aria (a horrible high C) in his car, but no luck.




Friday, June 21, 2013

The Graduates, Part I: Daniel Mitchell and ... A very weird/sad week ... Rangers new coach ... NBA... my Graduate speech ...

Amici:

 
Last Saturday we flung our hats (first adding our initials inside) ... we’re officially out of the bubble ... Go us!



Daniel Mitchell ... MFA Graduate, class of 2013 ... Seduced by the book mobile at an early age, Daniel Mitchell grew up in a family made up equally of outdoorsmen and teachers. He later became a public school teacher of both English and Science in Oklahoma, Australia, and Alaska. He is married and the father of one (soon to be two) unexplainably attractive and intelligent children. He holds a BA in English from Southeastern Oklahoma State University and an MFA in Fiction from Southern New Hampshire University. His novel, Arbuckle, describes the struggle for sanity and survival of a teen hiding in a cave after witnessing the murder of his best friend. Fearing for his life as the only witness of the crime, he discovers a grisly connection between himself and the reclusive man living across the river, as they work together to overcome the men who have destroyed both their lives.

 

That's Daniel's wife and son above ... and here's a scene from Daniel’s novel that he cut ...

She

One of the best things about living on a dirt road was that Joseph could leave the truck in the shade and ride his 4wheeler the ten miles to Dougherty, when he had the urge for something besides his own cooking or just needed to pick up a few things. Today he was on a beer run.

It was one of those fall days that sometimes grace Oklahoma between late September and early November, what the old folks called Indian Summer. Most of the leaves were still on the trees in a crazy quilt of colors, a cool breeze was flowing down from the northeast and dandelion clouds chased each other across the sky. He gave the Rancher its head and slid around the curves on gravel and red-orange dirt all the way to town, only letting up when he came in sight of Jan’s Country Store. He knew from experience Jan was likely to refuse him service for a week if he threw gravel in her parking lot.

Jan was one of those crusty crones who seemed convinced all men were actually disobedient boys, desperately in need of a good switching, and wasted no opportunity in taking them down a notch or two. Joseph always made a point of smiling and complimenting her beauty every time he came in. The more she snapped, the more he flirted. They both knew he did it on purpose. That was what made it so much fun.

“Afternoon, Miss Jan.”

“I ain’t been a Miss in forty years and you know it,” she said.

“Miss Jan, you can’t be much more than fresh out of high school with such a lovely smile and figure.” She glared, but there was no real heat in her eyes. Joseph suspected she enjoyed his visits as much as he did.

“They fired you yet?”

“No ma'am. They tried, but the place dang near shuts down every time I take a pee break. Just can’t make it without me,” I said.

“Boy, you’re more full of it than my daddy’s back pasture.”

“Why thank you, Miss Jan. That’s what my Momma always used to say too.”

“She sounds like a smart woman. You want something or did you just come in to ruin my day?”

“I came to raid your beer supply and bask in the glory of your presence.”

“Get on with it then and get going. I got better things to do than listen to your mouth flap.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Joseph grabbed a case of Busch from the cooler and a bag of chips from the shelf. Then he took his time looking around as if he’d forgotten something, mostly to irritate Jan. When he finally walked up to the counter he read her faded t-shirt that said, “Protected by Smith and Wesson” across the breast.

“You looking at something?” she said.

“Just admiring that shirt, almost as much as the loveliness it’s hiding.”

“Boy, don’t make me call the dog,” she said. She meant too. Not that it was much of a dog. Joseph glanced to where the half toothless basset hound lay stinking in the corner. By the time it got up, he could be probably be long gone, but if he really wanted the beer, Jan would take her time ringing it up, making him stand there while Prince Albert slobbered all over his leg in senile fury.

He was outside, using bungee cords to secure the beer and chips in the ice chest on the back rack of his Honda, when he heard the light crunch of gravel under boots and heard a voice like silky heaven say, “Nice 4wheeler.”

He glanced up into the most amazing brown eyes and was caught like a rabbit in headlights. He realized his mouth had been hanging open for some seconds after she laughed and walked inside, brushing him with a swaying hip as she passed.

He glanced to the gas pumps and saw she had arrived on a new Honda Foreman with chrome rims and Mud Gator tires. It was glossy black and exactly the 4wheeler he would have wanted if he hadn’t been too cheap to buy new.

She came back out, and he took a quick glance at her left hand. When he saw no ring, his left knee buckled slightly. Raven hair was tied back in a long tail over blue flannel and dark skin. Her high cheekbones left little doubt about her Native blood. Every thing about her was grace and beauty.

“That’s uh, a nice Foreman. If you ever want to go riding by the river, I’d be happy to keep you company or whatever,” Joseph said so fast even he could barely make out the words.

She smiled and he swore he could hear music coming from someplace. “I’ll tell you what. You pack a picnic on that thing and I’ll meet you in the woods above your place tomorrow at noon.”

“Done,” he said. “Wait, what’s your name?” She just started up her 4wheeler, smiled like a new dawn and drove away.

He dropped his keys twice trying to start his Honda. Just before he got it right he caught Jan smirking at him from the door.

“Who was that?” He asked her.

“Boy, I believe you’re about to find out,” she said. “Yes, indeed.”


Dan is already catching anticipated looks from agents and publishers alike ...


A very weird and sad week ...
 
 
 
James Gandolfini ... very sad news about the sudden passing of James Gandolfini (51), but it affirms what I truly believe: Gandolfini’s passing is a sobering reminder of how short this life is ... make the best of it ... put nothing you want aside ... make the best of what you have ... and RIP Mr. Gandolfini ...

 
Vince Flynn ... another sad story, one of my wife’s favorite authors also passed this week ... Flynn wrote a number of best sellers and was just 47 ... Flynn wrote 14 books (with a total of 15 million copies sold in the United States) ...
 
 
Dave Jennings ... and then punter and analyst, Dave Jennings lost his long bout with Parkinson’s at age 61 ... a rough week all around ...


 
Alain Vigneault will be the next coach of the New York Rangers. The cup is ours, baby! I know nothing about this guy (I’m still a novice) except he’s put teams in the playoffs 6 out of 7 years ... and that’s good enough for the ugly Knuckster ... Go Rangers! I can’t wait until November!
 
 

NBA Championship ... oy vey ... Manu Ginobli obviously went to the Fitzpatrick school of turnovers ... too bad he took his lack of passing (talents) to Miami ... the Heat deserved the series for what they did in game 6 (not that I want to mention Ginobli missing a critical free throw in that one) ... but there’s no denying James’ greatness ... he’s a phenom ... oy vey, vey iz mir ...

Lebron James was the hero ... and Ginobli?

 

—Knucks

The intro from our MFA Program Director, Diane Les Becquets (Leh-Beck) ... a correction to the speech: I attended and played college football at a small school in North Dakota (Minot State College/now Minot University) ... UND was way over my head and abilities ... once again big ups to Dave Gresham (my original writing mentor) for allowing me to pester him with really horrible attempts at writing crime novels through my 20’s, 30’s and early 40’s ... and check out my Rangers bling shirt at the end of the speech ...


Wednesday, June 12, 2013

Graduation Weekend … Momma Stella and My Speech … MFA Graduate, Rob Greene … Happy Fathers Day …

Amici:

 

Well, it’s just about over … two fun years of reading and writing and some very wonderful times. Tomorrow morning the Principessa Ann Marie and I head up to New Hampshire for the graduation ceremony … and my daughter and son-in-law will be there Saturday night for the festivities, and to record some of the evening (for your entertainment in about a week or so).

It’s a scary thought, but I’ll be giving the student graduation speech … I’ll have props (like movie props—a lesson I learned from Marketing Research whiz, Steve Roth) … I’ll not talk about the 25 pounds I’ve gained since the program started (4 of which I’ve lost back this past week) … or the fact that the Boston Brunettes won the Stanley Cup during my first summer residency and are poised to win it again (starting tonight) … I will not discuss the see-through coffee on Shutter—I mean Star Island … I will not mention falling off the ten step cussing wagon due to the long drives to and from New Hampshire alongside the Divine Miss Potty Mouth Mae Caldwell (you cannot believe the mouth on that woman …), nor will I discuss trying to follow Steph Mario Andretti Milligan up Mountain Roads at 95 MPH … and I will never bring up the hustle my third semester mentor, Rick Adams, handed me on the basketball court on Botany Bay—I mean Star Island. I’m sure Rick is taking good care of our Volvo …

It’ll all be program-related with some nicknaming (no more clues) … and of course, Momma Stella has some advice for me …

MS: Watch your mouth, you.
Me: Ma, I already told Diane, I’ll be cool.
MS: Who’s Diane?
Me: The program director. She warned me too.
MS: Oh, she must’ve read something you wrote.
Me: Ma, she was my final semester mentor.
MS: The hell is that?
Me: She was my teacher.
MS: And she didn’t smack you?
Me: Of course not. You gonna miss me while I’m away?
MS: How long you going for?
Me: Three days of fun and music and nothing but fun and music.
MS: The hell are you talkin’ about, you stupid ass?
Me: Three days. I’ll be gone for three days. You gonna be alright?
MS: I’m 84 years old, you moron. I think I’ll survive.
Me: I’m gonna mention you in the speech.
MS: I’ll say a prayer.

I love my Mommy!

Speaking of Momma Stella … it may’ve taken me some extra time to join the graduate crowd, but the real Don of the Stella familgia did alright (with absolutely ZERO help from her ex-husband) … my sister earned her Masters in English a long time ago … getting my MFA will seal the deal … both her kids finished what they started … and we both owed (and owe) just about everything to her.
 
So here she is with her great granddaughter, my granddaughter, Evelyn Amelia Stella ...

 

Here’s to my Mommy!





 

Charles Thomas (the Dad) and Evelyn Amelia Stella

And for all a’yous Fathers out there, especially my oldest boy (who also has his masters, an MBA he earned while working full-time), HAPPY FATHERS DAY …

—Knucks

Next weekend, we’ll be playing some blues at Casa Stella … here’s some of the selections for our first get together …

Sweet Home Chicago …



Hoochie-Coochie Man …



Roadhouse Blues …


Friday, June 7, 2013

8 Days to Graduation ... James Seals ... my Maestro and the Pulitzer ... Hockey Playoffs ...

Amici:

 
Next Saturday, June 15th, the class of 2013 graduates from the Southern New Hampshire University MFA program. I can’t tell yous how much fun I had in this program ... whether it related to writing or finding authors I hadn’t read (or heard about) during my 55 year coma ... my fellow classmates are a very cool group of writers (and people) ... and starting the week after June 15, I’ll be posting here about my classmates and some of their writing achievements and samples ... so here’s to us, the class of 2013.

 
The last two years absolutely flew ... but they were two very good years.


 


 
 
Devil in the Grove: Thurgood Marshall, the Groveland Boys, and the Dawn of a New America, by Gilbert King (review next post) … a compelling read about Thurgood Marshall and the absolute insanity he had to deal with as a young lawyer seeking justice for African-Americans. I’m reading this book not only because it was this years Pulitzer Prize winner for General Non-fiction, but because the editor of all my published crime novels (and a few short stories), Peter Skutches, also edited this compelling account of a true national hero.

 
Frankly, I’m not able to put this baby down. It is an incredibly compelling (can I use that word a few more times?) read ... and how cool is it that Peter took the time to deal with my silly stuff? This Pulitzer isn’t Peter’s only prominent achievement. He’s edited other Pulitzer Price and National Book award nominees and winners ... not to mention a few books he’s authored and/or co-authored ... get it here:
 
 

Not too shabby, Maestro.


 
Hockey Rocks, Rolls and Rules!

Dana King sent me this article the other day … the morning after his team lost a heartbreaking game to the Boston Brunettes in double overtime (one I stayed up to watch until 12:20 a.m.) … probably because my hockey love affair is just two years old, I thought the game Wednesday night was the best hockey game I’ve ever watched … and for almost all of the reasons listed in this article about the TOP TWENTY REASONS HOCKEY RULES …

And then there was this ... talk about tough ... Gregory Campbell’s broken leg ... incredible ... check the video out.

Right now it’s looking like the Blackhawks and the Brunettes for the cup. Two years ago, when I showed up for my first semester in the SNHU MFA program, the Brunettes won the cup ... and all those silly Brunette fans on campus kept flaunting their favorite team garb. Isn’t it silly when people do that, wear team t-shirts and sweatshirts until you can see what they ate the last few weeks on them? Being a member of the fashion police since I was sixteen, I had to restrain myself from giving out fashion tickets ...

I thought the semi-series would be much more exciting than it has been, but it looks like the final match-up should be a wild one.

Go Blackhawks/Kings ... anybody but the Brunettes ...


—Knucks

Victory/Joy ... for the SNHU MFA class of 2013 ... and whichever teams wins the Stanley Cup ... even if it is the Brunettes ...