Not-So-Tall Tales of a So-Called Wild Child, v1

It apparently snowed last night. You wouldn’t know it – it’s just wet and rainy now. Sort of feels like summer in San Francisco! I think I spent six months soaking wet, riding through puddles halfway up the bike rims. It was El Ninõ, and being a messenger in that kind of stuff makes you feel invincible, but soggy.

Of course, that was before unionization, so you had to ride or you had no money, no matter what got in your way. I got hit by six cars, and each and every time I got back up and kept delivering somebody’s divorce papers, or contracts, or whatever was so important it had to be there a.s.a.p.

I remember riding in an elevator with a woman, probably a few years older than me, maybe the same age, who can tell? Most of the suits ignored us, moved as far away as possible so as not to get the city streets and sweat on their thousand-dollar suits.

“I used to be like you,” she said, turning to talk to me.

“Really?” I asked, curious.

“Yeah, I was a messenger for a while, but now…” she looked down. You could tell she’d rather be huffing fumes up and down Market than sitting in some cush office.

“It’s the best job in the world,” I said, and I meant it. Of course, the unsaid sentiment was that it was also the worst, like living a manic-depressive episode ten hours a day. Continue reading


Was J-School Worth It?

Interesting HuffPo piece to mention: dude writes about getting a journalism school – or, j-school – master’s degree and whether or not it’s worth it.

I read it, thought it was okay, if a bit short of much more than personal stuff, and then started thinking.

“Sooo, am I glad I got my j-school master’s?” I asked myself.

Well, let’s see – there’s the stuff in the piece, and its comments, about going to this or that school and therefore having connections. Yeah, I got connections, lots of ‘em, with my fancy Syracuse University S.I. Newhouse School of Public Communications piece o’ paper, which currently resides in storage, incidentally, along with the equally schmancy BFA from SFAI.

Thing is, the news industry has changed so much – far worse than anyone could’ve imagined – that if I’d ever gone to school, undergraduate, graduate or otherwise, with the thought of the big bucks shining in me peepers, I obviously got it very wrong. Continue reading


Oh my god! I feel like I’ve been in exile, and in a way I have thanks to my sad little internet connection. It’s spring here, so that means rainy and miserable, which only makes me want to watch useless stuff on TV. But, seeing as I have no TV, my other option is to watch stuff online. And that uses megabytes, gigabytes, whatev…

Short and boring story to the point: I’ve been cutoff from the Internet since about the Ides of March. Could I have hit up the Panera or Starbucks a few miles out? Sure, but you drive a gas beast and it’s raining, last thing you want to do is go anywhere.

So I’ve sort of been listening to what’s going on in the big, bad world … but not really.

I know everyone’s gone on and on about the fact that the U.N. started bombing Libya on the same day, diff year, as the U.S. went into Iraq.

Which time, huh?

That’s why I’ve decided to just hunker down in these here mountains and plant some stuff. I know… black thumb and all. But, hey, I got a potato to make new eyes! (It did it in the cupboard … but still… )

I’ll think of something interesting to say eventually… gotta’ head to the news pages to really get the blood boiling! Ha!

Gadhafi Must Go

Maid of the Seas

The cockpit of Pan Am flight 103, found across the street from Tundergarth church in Scotland

On December 21, 1988, 259 souls were torn from the cold night and thrown six miles to the terra firma of Lockerbie, Scotland, as the 747 they were in was blasted to pieces. Part of the fuselage with 60 passengers inside landed between houses, a jet engine crashed to earth on the other side of town, while a wing vaporized three houses and its 11 occupants after bursting into a fireball, leaving nothing but a crater.

In Lockerbie, they’ll describe that night as hell on earth, a nuclear-seeming holocaust. One woman nearly vomits at the smell of leather – she was a child, and her mother carried her, screaming, through the flames and raining fuel while wearing a leather jacket.

Bodies, body parts, contents and pieces of the plane, luggage, presents, teddy bears and jet fuel rained down, covering an area of more than 800 square miles. Rescuers describe dead found clutching handfuls of grass, others with arms wrapped tight around each other.

According to Libyan ex-justice minister Mustafa Abdel-Jalil, Libyan dictator Moammar Gadhafi gave the direct orders to bomb Pan Am 103 from the sky, according to the Associated Press. Continue reading

How to Stop an Oligarchy, v2: Madison, Wisconsin

What the hell is going on in Wisconsin, huh?

Tom Morello - Rage Against the Machine guitarist

"Mubarak of the Midwest" is the name Rage Against the Machine guitarist Tom Morello - who will play as part of a concert for the protestors - has given Wisconsin Gov. Walker.

Democratic Senators fleeing the state en masse, 40,000 people, as of Friday, taking to the streets to protest, and the tea party shipping in good conservative souls from all points to counter.

It almost sounds like the Middle East, with one glaring exception: we have the constitutional right to gather and make our voices heard without repercussions.

Apparently some of the protestors have signs decreeing non-violence. Let’s hope it sticks.

Because the fact is, these public employees have a just cause that goes well beyond the land of cheddar.

Straight and simple, the budget cuts the state is trying to vote on, which would cut health and pension benefits, are not the core issue.

Included in the vote is something that is very important to anyone currently holding, or hoping someday to again hold, a job. Let’s cut the bullshit and call it what it is:

Wisconsin Governor Scott Walker is union busting.

Continue reading

Pissed off the Trailer Park

So the trailer park’s pissed at us. Yep, the whole park.

Okay, let me rephrase: the trailer park’s pissed at me. Allow me to give credit where it’s due.

See, we’re parked on the edge of the so-called overnite park, which just happens to be on the other side of the street – more like dirt road – from an actual trailer park.

So imagine big tin can, six-or-so feet of grass, dirt road then trailers. We’re talking actual trailers, with the sheet-metal skirt wrapped around to cover the wheels and flower pots on the big iron front hitch.

Eighteen wheeler-sized trailers. Extended clan-sized trailers with porches all crammed in one-by-one as far as the eye can see.

For some reason unbeknownst to us, the bus stop for the entire park happened to be smack dab on our little patch of grass.

Which means, after falling into fitful sleep at 3 a.m. following a harrowing all-night drive from Delaware, I was awoken five hours later by the sound of teenagers.

the former trailer park bus stop

The former bus stop, thanks to these purty signs!

Continue reading

Silly TV News

Very important things happening right now in the U.S. and, of course, abroad.

This budget bullshit has me spitting bullets, but more on that political clusterfuck of ego-driven inanity later.

For the moment, I’d like to focus on something potentially entertaining, not to mention downright fun for anyone who likes to watch TV every now and then.

Fillion says he'd give up overbloated role on Castle to play this guy. Who wouldn't?

Seems Firefly is coming to basic cable … um, whatever that means nowadays. I watch all my TV online sans commercials because I am strange.

Continue reading