Rogue Warrior update
Because readers asked:
The next Rogue Warrior is being published by Tor/Forge and is coming out sometime this fall, though for some reason the actual pub date seems to be a state secret which even the authors are not allowed to know. It'll be called Dictator's Ransom. (Unless it gets changed again by the title gnome, or whoever the F it is who's in charge of picking titles along with their nose.)
As usual, the hook mixes a lot of fact with fiction. There's a lot of Dick's over-the-top and very non-PC humor in this, kind of like the very first book he did (with John Weisman, not me. An excellent book, by the way. And you should check out Weisman's solo stuff as well.)
There's a lot of bs secrecy attached to the book because much of it is set in North Korea. Since the series is known for being based (sometimes more, sometimes less) on real life, with a lot of things that really happened and a lot of "on-the-spot" research mixed in, the lawyers are having fits. They say that Dick is not supposed to have gone there, being that he's an American citizen (according to rumor; I've never seen the papers myself).
So the official word is that he hasn't gone there, and neither did anyone else connected to the book, including moi.
I'm also not supposed to say that anyone was hurt making the book. The official thing there is some sort of formulation along the lines of "any injuries, damages, etc., that may have occurred, were incidental."
I love the etc.
WTF, right?
Anyway, the publisher has screwed around with the pub date for various reasons. The general date they've been using - early fall - "happens" to coincide with the general date for the planned release of the new Rogue Warrior game which, by "coincidence," is also set in Korea. No one went to North Korea for that either. And I don't think any of the dweebs - uh, exalted and honored technical experts - got hurt. That's for real, since I know they weren't there.
Questions?
The future of publishing (part four)
So why will authors need publishers in an all-electronic, all-digital world?
First of all, I think physical books will continue being sold for a long time, just as CDs are. While paperbacks won't last once a good ebook reader comes along, hard cover books will continue to be important for a number of reasons. Still, their sales (and the profit from them) will pale compared to the cheaper and more easily produced ebooks of the future. And for publishers, this is an enormous problem.Individual authors can set up their own web sites and, in an environment where the ebook dominates, cut their own deals either with the customer directly or retail channels. Stephen King essentially did this several years ago. Most analyses of his experiment grade it a failure, and in one sense if clearly was: King could have made more money by going through traditional channels.
But that experiment shouldn’t necessarily be judged by that standard alone. King couldn’t achieve mega-author status on the internet alone – but he could still sell a significant amount of “product” at a time when the technology was far from perfect, and the tools for exploiting the technology (marketing on the web, etc.) were not yet (and are not yet) fully developed.
I don’t think that authors working alone will be able to reach mega-sale status, and that’s one area that traditional publishers can continue to leverage. They can also still deliver some amount of prestige and, at least in theory, increase the quality and therefore value of the book by careful editing. (Of course, if they're not doing these things to begin with - but that's another topic . . .)
But those are things that publishers can offer to writers – what can they offer readers?
1) A convenient place to acquire books. To do that, they have to control the distribution – their websites, etc., have to be the only place to get the product.
2) When they’re selling a book, publishers are really selling an experience. That experience is not just that one story, but the feeling of belonging to a community of readers that has experienced that story, and wants to experience similar stories or adventures. By collecting a number of authors together, the publisher enhances and expands the experience and community – and not coincidentally, sells more books. The web offers publishers a chance to create mini-salons and cyber cafes that complement and add to the experience of reading the book.
3) Publishers can use their resources to enhance e-books, adding to the virtual experience. While authors can do this on their own, the ability to finance better productions and thus raise the readers’ expectations can benefit the publishers, marking their product as more professional and therefore desirable.
Note that none of these things necessarily help writers, at least not directly. Even if they were all done successfully, the changes in technology are so fundamental that publishers may not be successful. But if they don’t at least start thinking along those lines, I think they’ll all be out of business by 2020.
* * *
The interests of publishers and writers are not precisely parallel, but they don't have to be diametrically opposed. One often gets the feeling these days that they are - not so much from the editors, but from corporate-centric decisions that harm the product and the industry in general.
As traumatic as the changes in technology have been and will continue to be, people will still want a good story, will still want usable information, will still long for the sort of reality-suspending experience books currently provide. The question is, how and who will provide them in the future.
Rogue Warrior
The new book and the game are coming out together (well, almost together) this fall. There's supposed to be some sort of press stuff and information in March (??) and a regular promo campaign and all that crap, but wtf. Bob Gleason is the editor at Tor/Forge who's now shepherding Rogue Warrior . . . as much as anyone can "shepherd" Dick . . .
There was a typo in one of the titles on this vid that no one picked up on for, I don't know, a month? . . . I musta missed it a million times myself. Finally the video got around to one of our agents, who pointed it out right away. Obviously it pays to have someone on the team who can read.
The new book and the game are coming out together (well, almost together) this fall. There's supposed to be some sort of press stuff and information in March (??) and a regular promo campaign and all that crap, but wtf. Bob Gleason is the editor at Tor/Forge who's now shepherding Rogue Warrior . . . as much as anyone can "shepherd" Dick . . .
There was a typo in one of the titles on this vid that no one picked up on for, I don't know, a month? . . . I musta missed it a million times myself. Finally the video got around to one of our agents, who pointed it out right away. Obviously it pays to have someone on the team who can read.
Why does Hillary take it on the butt?
I'm not a Hillary Clinton supporter and not a Democrat, but it's really interesting to hear the spin she gets in supposedly neutral reports on the election.
You expect people on the right to be against her (Ann Coulter aside), though the vitriol from people on the left is even worse. (If I didn't know better I'd swear Frank Rich thinks she's an ex-wife.) But their comments are generally labeled as opinion.
I was listening to a radio news spot the other day that started out with the headline that Hillary had strongly criticized Barak Obama at the latest debate. The newscaster then played an actuality (if they still call it that) of Obama speaking at the debate that neither responded to the point or even mentioned Clinton. Next sentence, John McCain got some licks in - not about either Democrat - and then the piece ended by making fun of Mike Huckabee making fun of himself on Saturday Night Live.
Clinton's points, ostensibly the "lead" and most important news of the piece, were not so much dismissed as completely ignored. And that's probably the gentlest spin she gets.
I don't think it's just because she's a woman, but I think that's a big part of the reason. She's in a full-spin zone that has very little to do with her positions or even who she is, and everything to do with the prejudices and preconceived notions of the media and the people who consume it.
As are we all, I suppose.
I'm not a Hillary Clinton supporter and not a Democrat, but it's really interesting to hear the spin she gets in supposedly neutral reports on the election.
You expect people on the right to be against her (Ann Coulter aside), though the vitriol from people on the left is even worse. (If I didn't know better I'd swear Frank Rich thinks she's an ex-wife.) But their comments are generally labeled as opinion.
I was listening to a radio news spot the other day that started out with the headline that Hillary had strongly criticized Barak Obama at the latest debate. The newscaster then played an actuality (if they still call it that) of Obama speaking at the debate that neither responded to the point or even mentioned Clinton. Next sentence, John McCain got some licks in - not about either Democrat - and then the piece ended by making fun of Mike Huckabee making fun of himself on Saturday Night Live.
Clinton's points, ostensibly the "lead" and most important news of the piece, were not so much dismissed as completely ignored. And that's probably the gentlest spin she gets.
I don't think it's just because she's a woman, but I think that's a big part of the reason. She's in a full-spin zone that has very little to do with her positions or even who she is, and everything to do with the prejudices and preconceived notions of the media and the people who consume it.
As are we all, I suppose.
The future of publishing (part three) . . .
. . . giving it away
. . . giving it away
Book publishers are where the record companies were before the Ipod & Itunes were announced. The technology for a revolutionary music machine was almost there. People could almost see it. And then, within a year or two, it was the way that a large number of people were getting their music. It didn’t eliminate CDs or record stores, but Apple (and of course everyone on the same bandwagon) changed the business dramatically, cutting those sales dramatically.
Recently, a number of book publishers created a mini-flurry inside the industry by giving away ebooks. All of the reported comments that I’ve seen have been positive. None of the authors I’ve spoken to about it, however, think it’s anything like a good idea. They don’t blame the other writers for going along with it – and that’s the way they tend to put it – but to a person they believe the thinking behind the program is flawed. As do I.
It may be argued that giving away ebooks will help publishers do #2, make the publishers known to their customers. It would be a good argument if the giveaway was part of a comprehensive program to drive readers to their site. As it stands now, the activity is very passive – you go once, give them your email address, and have no reason to return, even if you like the books. The publisher’s identity is not going to stick in the reader/user’s head, or even necessarily their favorites list.
Worse, they’re teaching readers that ebooks should be free.
(to be continued)
The future of publishing (part two)
What's happened to the music and newspaper industries in the last ten years is admittedly very complex, and neither is an exact model for publishers. But it does seem to me that some lessons can be drawn from them:
2. If you devalue the product you’re selling, it’ll eventually catch up to you.
There are three things publishers can do to meet the challenge of the changing technology:
1. Increase the value of the product they are selling. They can do this by paying more attention to editing above all, but in other areas related to the books as well. Part of this probably means they should decrease the number of books they publish as well, allowing them to concentrate their resources to do a better job on the books they do publish. But it primarily means that they should pay more attention the quality of the talent they have working for them. Every editor I know is underpaid by a good mile, especially the young ones. Anyone entering the profession basically has to swear an oath of poverty and work under ridiculous pressure. Editing is a difficult art to master; many if not most publishers make it even harder with their work conditions.
2. Make themselves known to their real customer. Most readers don’t have a clue who publishes a book. There’s a legitimate reason for this: For years, the publishers’ customers have actually been the bookstores, and the people who deal with them. But the internet and other facets of modern commerce have weakened these middlemen, in some cases making them irrelevant. The publishers have to build a brand identity with the end customer, so that the house name means something. “We’re the people who bring you Stephen King and all those other writers you like...”
3. The publishers have to take back control of the distribution channel. If that sounds a little antagonistic, it is. The big mistake the record companies made was following the old model of letting the middlemen sell their music. Yes, the first threat was to record stores, etc., but the ultimate victim were the companies that depended on those stores for their sales. Why should I go to Itunes to buy music? If I’m buying my music on-line, it’s just as easy – or rather, it could be just as easy – to buy it from XYZ as it is from them.
. . . (to be continued)
It works
The official word:
Anti-missile technology, though it can never be the only defense against enemies who possess missiles (including terrorists and terrorist states), can work and is important, and why don't we admit it?
Good job, Navy. And everyone else who helped.
(The quote is from the NYT.)
The official word:
Yeah.During a Pentagon news conference Thursday morning, General Cartwright rebuffed those who said the mission was, at least in part, organized to showcase American missile defense or anti-satellite capabilities.
He said the missile itself had to be reconfigured from its task of tracking and hitting an adversary’s warhead to instead find a cold, tumbling satellite. “This was a one-time modification,” General Cartwright said.
Anti-missile technology, though it can never be the only defense against enemies who possess missiles (including terrorists and terrorist states), can work and is important, and why don't we admit it?
Good job, Navy. And everyone else who helped.
(The quote is from the NYT.)
The future of publishing . . .
. . . or at least publishers (part 1)
A few people have been talking with me about ebooks, giveaways, and publishing, and suggested that rather than being my usual wise-ass, I take a more serious approach.
Heh.
If I were a publisher, I would be very worried about the direction of the industry. So many things have changed over the past two decades – the loss of independent stores and regional distributors among them – that it’s very easy to overlook the potential impact of the web, ebooks, and alternative delivery systems for books. Or not so much ignore it, but not position myself to deal with the revolutionary change that is coming.
But it’s an absolute necessity. What has happened to two other media – record companies and newspapers – are frightening examples. The music industry has been devastated by the technological changes in the way music is delivered to listeners. Large record companies, which had very little identity to listeners, once were able to have dominant positions because they added value to the music “product” – recording and making it into a format that could be consumed easily – and controlled the distribution. They no longer do the latter, and have seen their role in the former steadily reduced.
Newspapers were in a somewhat different position. Well ahead of the arrival of the internet, they had consolidated and achieved, in most markets, a competitive monopoly. Once that happened, they met any new economic pressures by taking a relatively easy route to maintaining profit levels – they cut staff and, in turn, harmed their product. There has been a steady erosion of not only quality but volume of news coverage in print newspapers over the past two decades. (While this is an industry-wide trend, it is not the inevitable result of inroads from television and radio, or the general decline of literacy, as is often claimed. Magazine pages have increased over the same period.)
. . . or at least publishers (part 1)
A few people have been talking with me about ebooks, giveaways, and publishing, and suggested that rather than being my usual wise-ass, I take a more serious approach.
Heh.
If I were a publisher, I would be very worried about the direction of the industry. So many things have changed over the past two decades – the loss of independent stores and regional distributors among them – that it’s very easy to overlook the potential impact of the web, ebooks, and alternative delivery systems for books. Or not so much ignore it, but not position myself to deal with the revolutionary change that is coming.
But it’s an absolute necessity. What has happened to two other media – record companies and newspapers – are frightening examples. The music industry has been devastated by the technological changes in the way music is delivered to listeners. Large record companies, which had very little identity to listeners, once were able to have dominant positions because they added value to the music “product” – recording and making it into a format that could be consumed easily – and controlled the distribution. They no longer do the latter, and have seen their role in the former steadily reduced.
Newspapers were in a somewhat different position. Well ahead of the arrival of the internet, they had consolidated and achieved, in most markets, a competitive monopoly. Once that happened, they met any new economic pressures by taking a relatively easy route to maintaining profit levels – they cut staff and, in turn, harmed their product. There has been a steady erosion of not only quality but volume of news coverage in print newspapers over the past two decades. (While this is an industry-wide trend, it is not the inevitable result of inroads from television and radio, or the general decline of literacy, as is often claimed. Magazine pages have increased over the same period.)
To be continued . . .
Hitchcock knew
Get them before they get us . . .
Get them before they get us . . .
Parks staffer goes on golf cart rampage in Lower Manhattan, kills 5 birds
Police say a Parks Department employee took his city-issued golf cart on a rampage, running over and killing five birds in a public park.
Police say they arrested the 45-year-old employee Friday evening after receiving complaints that he was driving erratically in the park in Lower Manhattan.
He faces charges of reckless endangerment and intentional injury to an animal.Three pigeons and two seagulls were killed.
The arrested man had no listed phone number, and information was not immediately available on whether he had a lawyer.
Dogboy's mailbox
So Dogboy and I were in the bar the other night, and all of a sudden he gets real quiet. Turns out the two guys at the far end were county highway workers.
Plow drivers, actually.
After a few minutes, he asked the bartender for a couple of Buds. Then he walked over there with them. A few minutes later he came back, all smiles.
"I thought you hated the county guys 'cause they blew out your mailbox," I said when he sat down.
"Yeah."
"So why'd you buy them beers?"
"Just had to confirm something."
"Like?"
Dogboy just smiled.
"One of them the guy on your route?" I asked.
Another smile.
As the plow drivers were leaving, Dogboy said good night and left.
I'm thinking there's another mailbox down around town, but I can't say for sure. Could be a lot worse.
So Dogboy and I were in the bar the other night, and all of a sudden he gets real quiet. Turns out the two guys at the far end were county highway workers.
Plow drivers, actually.
After a few minutes, he asked the bartender for a couple of Buds. Then he walked over there with them. A few minutes later he came back, all smiles.
"I thought you hated the county guys 'cause they blew out your mailbox," I said when he sat down.
"Yeah."
"So why'd you buy them beers?"
"Just had to confirm something."
"Like?"
Dogboy just smiled.
"One of them the guy on your route?" I asked.
Another smile.
As the plow drivers were leaving, Dogboy said good night and left.
I'm thinking there's another mailbox down around town, but I can't say for sure. Could be a lot worse.
Free e-books
A couple of publishers have gotten some news this week, inside the industry at least, with new free e-book programs. There's been a big conference in NY about new media, and that's generated a lot of talk about how great it is to give away your stuff. Especially when it's not really your stuff, I guess.
I'm against it. I think publishers should be giving away guns. Or at least bullets.
Drinks, too. Maybe not at the same time, though.
A couple of publishers have gotten some news this week, inside the industry at least, with new free e-book programs. There's been a big conference in NY about new media, and that's generated a lot of talk about how great it is to give away your stuff. Especially when it's not really your stuff, I guess.
I'm against it. I think publishers should be giving away guns. Or at least bullets.
Drinks, too. Maybe not at the same time, though.
Talk, or you'll drinking Maxwell House from now on . . .
Who needs waterboarding when you have a Starbucks handy? Once they're hooked on lattes, they sing like canaries . . .
http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2008/02/11/AR2008021100572.html?nav=rss_nation/special&sid=ST2008021101227
Who needs waterboarding when you have a Starbucks handy? Once they're hooked on lattes, they sing like canaries . . .
From the Washington Post story on the charges against the 9/11 Six. A little breathless, but what the hey - the guy probably needed a fresh jolt.The Bush administration announced yesterday that it intends to bring capital murder charges against half a dozen men allegedly linked to the Sept. 11, 2001, terrorist attacks, based partly on information the men disclosed to FBI and military questioners without the use of coercive interrogation tactics.
The admissions made by the men -- who were given food whenever they were hungry as well as Starbucks coffee at the U.S. prison at Guantanamo Bay, Cuba -- played a key role in the government's decision to proceed with the prosecutions, military and law enforcement officials said.
http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2008/02/11/AR2008021100572.html?nav=rss_nation/special&sid=ST2008021101227
Franky
Franky’s a trooper up at the barracks. Usually you don’t find him at O’Hara’s, but tonight he was there. Usually he doesn’t talk much, but tonight he did.
“They gave me the job because the zone sergeant was away. One of the BCI guys offered to do it, but there’s something about the uniform, you know? Supposed to steady them. I went over right away, figured get it going, get it done. The lieutenant was on his way behind me, and maybe I should have waited, but I’m not good at waiting. I got out of the car and put my hat on, started up the driveway. Halfway to the door I saw a kid’s trike.
"It was too late to turn back.
"She knew as soon as she opened the door. I don’t know how, don’t know why, but she knew. The tears were rolling out of her eyes before I even told her. Before I even said the word, before I said dead . . .”
Somebody came over to the end of the bar and asked for another Scotch and a bag of chips. The bartender flipped the TV over to the Knicks, and started drying glasses.
I bought Franky another beer. After a while, I drove him home.
But what I meant was . . .
One of the great things about writing a book is the fact that you make mistakes.
Not that I like making mistakes - just the opposite - but they're inevitable, or at least they are for me. On the bright side, they give readers something to say to you. Most are pretty nice about it. I've met a lot of interesting people that way.
Somewhere in Rangers at Dieppe, I started talking about the M1 and for some reason I got confused between the standard rifle version and the carbine. Probably I started to pontificate on the different versions, realized I was just going on, then cut out stuff haphazardly. But who knows.
Damned if I haven't been hearing about it ever since the book came out. Just goes to show: the only thing a writer really owns in a story are the mistakes he makes . . .
The funny thing is, I first learned to shoot with an M1 that belonged to a friend's father. There were some great stories attached to the gun, which supposedly had been used in WWII. Most if not all of the stories were probably apocryphal - and I strongly suspect now that it hadn't been in the war at all. But just holding that rifle (and yes, that was definitely the rifle version) was an awesome feeling.
One of the great things about writing a book is the fact that you make mistakes.
Not that I like making mistakes - just the opposite - but they're inevitable, or at least they are for me. On the bright side, they give readers something to say to you. Most are pretty nice about it. I've met a lot of interesting people that way.
Somewhere in Rangers at Dieppe, I started talking about the M1 and for some reason I got confused between the standard rifle version and the carbine. Probably I started to pontificate on the different versions, realized I was just going on, then cut out stuff haphazardly. But who knows.
Damned if I haven't been hearing about it ever since the book came out. Just goes to show: the only thing a writer really owns in a story are the mistakes he makes . . .
The funny thing is, I first learned to shoot with an M1 that belonged to a friend's father. There were some great stories attached to the gun, which supposedly had been used in WWII. Most if not all of the stories were probably apocryphal - and I strongly suspect now that it hadn't been in the war at all. But just holding that rifle (and yes, that was definitely the rifle version) was an awesome feeling.
Me & Joey
Joey Reynolds: . . . Yeah, so everybody has these blogs and -- you can't even read them all --
Me: I have a blog.
Joey: Have you read it all?
Me: I haven't finished it yet...
----
Postscript: Oh yeah, and we talked about Dieppe, and Rangers, and marriage.
They beat me up a bit, but it was great fun. Here's a url to their site, where there's a podcast somewhere. . . .
http://www.wor710.com/pages/46370.php
Joey Reynolds: . . . Yeah, so everybody has these blogs and -- you can't even read them all --
Me: I have a blog.
Joey: Have you read it all?
Me: I haven't finished it yet...
----
Postscript: Oh yeah, and we talked about Dieppe, and Rangers, and marriage.
They beat me up a bit, but it was great fun. Here's a url to their site, where there's a podcast somewhere. . . .
http://www.wor710.com/pages/46370.php
Editors on the edge
Overheard at the bar:
Writer1: I really wanted to punch out [an editor]. He was being such a @#$@#$ @#$@#$#@$.
Writer2: Did you?
W1: No. I realized it would be bad for business to get that sort of reputation.
W2: You're wrong there. Editors like living dangerously. Believe me, I know. I used to be one.
Overheard at the bar:
Writer1: I really wanted to punch out [an editor]. He was being such a @#$@#$ @#$@#$#@$.
Writer2: Did you?
W1: No. I realized it would be bad for business to get that sort of reputation.
W2: You're wrong there. Editors like living dangerously. Believe me, I know. I used to be one.
Patry Francis's new thriller
A friend of a friend has a new book worth checking out. Here's a vid:
Patry Francis, by the way, is fighting cancer, and a whole bunch of other writers have gotten together to give her a boost today. If you're interested in the story, check out the details at Susan Henderson's blog:
http://www.litpark.com/
A friend of a friend has a new book worth checking out. Here's a vid:
Patry Francis, by the way, is fighting cancer, and a whole bunch of other writers have gotten together to give her a boost today. If you're interested in the story, check out the details at Susan Henderson's blog:
http://www.litpark.com/
Hunting coyotes
Dogboy heard about this local coyote shooting contest and got all hot to trot.
“Hey, you used to hunt coyotes, right?” he asked at the bar the other day.
“Ancient history.”
“Yeah, well I ain’t asking you to hunt with me, just for some tips.”
“I don’t know any tips.”
“Aw come on. You gotta. I heard stories. You'd have great tips.”
“The stories are bs.”
“I heard ‘em from you.”
“See?”
“Come on. Give me some tips. It's a cash prize. How'd you hunt them?”
“Well, you probably aren't supposed to do this, but we used to start with a rabbit."
"Rabbit?”
“Yeah. See, the coyote smells the dead rabbit –”
“I gotta kill a rabbit?”
“Like I say, you’re probably not allowed to but we –”
“No way am I doing this. Buy me another beer.”
These people don't screw around
Talk about having your priorities straight. I stand in awe...
Link:
http://www.nytimes.com/2008/01/23/dining/23coff.html?ex=1358830800&en=bbab081c8b49ac8b&ei=5124&partner=permalink&exprod=permalink
At Last, a $20,000 Cup of Coffee WITH its brass-trimmed halogen heating elements, glass globes and bamboo paddles, the new contraption that is to begin making coffee this week at the Blue Bottle Café here looks like a machine from a Jules Verne novel, a 19th-century vision of the future.
Called a siphon bar, it was imported from Japan at a total cost of more than $20,000. The cafe has the only halogen-powered model in the United States, and getting it here required years of elliptical discussions with its importer, Jay Egami of the Ueshima Coffee Company.
“If you just want equipment you’re not ready,” Mr. Egami said in an interview. But, he added, James Freeman, the owner of the cafe, is different: “He’s invested time. He’s invested interest. He is ready.”
Talk about having your priorities straight. I stand in awe...
Link:
http://www.nytimes.com/2008/01/23/dining/23coff.html?ex=1358830800&en=bbab081c8b49ac8b&ei=5124&partner=permalink&exprod=permalink
Fan mail
Two writers were talking at the other end of the bar last night...
W1: If you get a fan letter about your latest book, and it's filled with mispellings and grammar screwups, but it says your the best writer since Shakespeare, do you count that as a positive?
W2: Depends on whether he asked for money or not.
Two writers were talking at the other end of the bar last night...
W1: If you get a fan letter about your latest book, and it's filled with mispellings and grammar screwups, but it says your the best writer since Shakespeare, do you count that as a positive?
W2: Depends on whether he asked for money or not.
Rituals of winter
Every winter, certain rituals must be observed to appease the ancient gods of cold and ice. Among the most difficult and arcane is the annual selection of baseball tickets, a process so involved that it cannot be successfully completed without elaborate computer snafus. This is especially true for fans of the NY Yankees, whose suffering when they attempt to secure seats serves as a crude initiation ritual to make sure they truly deserve to worship at the Cathedral in the Bronx come spring. Call it penance.
Engaged in a critical part of the ceremony yesterday, Fellow Writer encountered a series of computer screwups unique even for the Yankees, who have set new standards for electronic chaos over the past few years. He kept calling me with reports as the day went on; between calls I studied the suicide prevention manual.
In the end, he came away with three times the number of tickets he'd tried to buy, and the realization that he's related to someone who works in the Yankee ticket office. Unfortunately, the Yankee employee is from the black sheep side of the family, which may explain why Fellow Writer had so much trouble. Despite all evidence to the contrary, he is convinced that every ticket he reserved will be flushed and, if any are forthcoming at all, they will be for seats behind the McDonald's a block from the Stadium.
"Weren't you on deadline today?" I asked toward the end of the day.
"Who could work on a day like this? My editor's a Mets fan; she understands."
That's the difference between the regular season and the off-season. If there were a pennant race on, she'd've nailed him to the wall.
Every winter, certain rituals must be observed to appease the ancient gods of cold and ice. Among the most difficult and arcane is the annual selection of baseball tickets, a process so involved that it cannot be successfully completed without elaborate computer snafus. This is especially true for fans of the NY Yankees, whose suffering when they attempt to secure seats serves as a crude initiation ritual to make sure they truly deserve to worship at the Cathedral in the Bronx come spring. Call it penance.
Engaged in a critical part of the ceremony yesterday, Fellow Writer encountered a series of computer screwups unique even for the Yankees, who have set new standards for electronic chaos over the past few years. He kept calling me with reports as the day went on; between calls I studied the suicide prevention manual.
In the end, he came away with three times the number of tickets he'd tried to buy, and the realization that he's related to someone who works in the Yankee ticket office. Unfortunately, the Yankee employee is from the black sheep side of the family, which may explain why Fellow Writer had so much trouble. Despite all evidence to the contrary, he is convinced that every ticket he reserved will be flushed and, if any are forthcoming at all, they will be for seats behind the McDonald's a block from the Stadium.
"Weren't you on deadline today?" I asked toward the end of the day.
"Who could work on a day like this? My editor's a Mets fan; she understands."
That's the difference between the regular season and the off-season. If there were a pennant race on, she'd've nailed him to the wall.
There may be a story here
The Albany Times-Union reports:
What? No writers on the list? I may be able to name at least a dozen who may have used steroids.
I may even be able to name myself, but may have to decline on advice of counsel.
Here's the link:
http://timesunion.com/AspStories/story.asp?storyID=654817&category=NATIONAL&BCCode=HOME&newsdate=1/14/2008
The Albany Times-Union reports:
Steroids beyond sports
Celebrities now among those linked to drug shipments
PATCHOGUE -- The names of R&B music star Mary J. Blige, along with rap artists 50 Cent, Timbaland and Wyclef Jean, and award-winning author and producer Tyler Perry, have emerged in an Albany-based investigation of steroids trafficking that has already rocked the professional sports world, according to confidential sources.
Information has surfaced recently showing those stars are among tens of thousands of people who may have used or received prescribed shipments of steroids and injectable human growth hormone in recent years. . . .
What? No writers on the list? I may be able to name at least a dozen who may have used steroids.
I may even be able to name myself, but may have to decline on advice of counsel.
Here's the link:
http://timesunion.com/AspStories/story.asp?storyID=654817&category=NATIONAL&BCCode=HOME&newsdate=1/14/2008
The day Vincent lost it
Vincent worked in an office tower, proof-reading invoice orders for the corporate purchasing department. He rebelled as best he could, sometimes changing orders for 1-ply toilet paper to 2-ply. Most of his coworkers thought he was a force for good.
But he didn't get along too well with his boss. She was a New Age type and had a habit of using furry little stuffed animals to make obscure points during section meetings. She'd squirrel up her lips and shake her head every time a typo got through.
Vincent gradually got to the point where he couldn't stand it any more. So one day he decided to take matters into his own hands. He smuggled his father's Colt .45 past the security people in the lobby. As soon as he got off the elevator he started waving it around and yelling.
Everyone ran for their lives.
Vincent went to his boss's office and barricaded himself inside. They he took all her stuffed animals and lined them up on the desk.
It took two full clips to off them all.
By the time the police came, he was standing next to the coffee machine, calming sipping a decaf.
His lawyer is toying with the idea of justifiable homicide.
Vincent worked in an office tower, proof-reading invoice orders for the corporate purchasing department. He rebelled as best he could, sometimes changing orders for 1-ply toilet paper to 2-ply. Most of his coworkers thought he was a force for good.
But he didn't get along too well with his boss. She was a New Age type and had a habit of using furry little stuffed animals to make obscure points during section meetings. She'd squirrel up her lips and shake her head every time a typo got through.
Vincent gradually got to the point where he couldn't stand it any more. So one day he decided to take matters into his own hands. He smuggled his father's Colt .45 past the security people in the lobby. As soon as he got off the elevator he started waving it around and yelling.
Everyone ran for their lives.
Vincent went to his boss's office and barricaded himself inside. They he took all her stuffed animals and lined them up on the desk.
It took two full clips to off them all.
By the time the police came, he was standing next to the coffee machine, calming sipping a decaf.
His lawyer is toying with the idea of justifiable homicide.
Paying respects
Johnny D's gravely voice practically shatters my cellphone.
"You know who died last week, kid, don't you?" he asks.
Ten thousand people probably died last week, but since it's Johnny D asking, I know who he's talking about: Sal "Bill" Bonanno*, son and former consiglieri of the crime family of the same name.
"Yeah," I say.
"I wasn't even invited to the funeral."
"It was in Arizona. Not to mention - "
"I woulda gotten there. I woulda paid my respects." Johnny takes a breath. He's an old guy now, and when he takes a breath, you can hear it miles away. "Were you there?"
"I wasn't exactly tight with the Bonannos."
"You weren't there, were you, kid? Go without calling me? You wouldn't pull Johnny D's pud like that, right?"
"Johnny, the mental image of that metaphor is excruciating."
"We'll have a drink at the club the next time you come in," he says, just before hanging up.
*If you don't know who he was, read "Honor Thy Father," by Gay Talese. Or come down to the club some time and look up Johnny.
Johnny D's gravely voice practically shatters my cellphone.
"You know who died last week, kid, don't you?" he asks.
Ten thousand people probably died last week, but since it's Johnny D asking, I know who he's talking about: Sal "Bill" Bonanno*, son and former consiglieri of the crime family of the same name.
"Yeah," I say.
"I wasn't even invited to the funeral."
"It was in Arizona. Not to mention - "
"I woulda gotten there. I woulda paid my respects." Johnny takes a breath. He's an old guy now, and when he takes a breath, you can hear it miles away. "Were you there?"
"I wasn't exactly tight with the Bonannos."
"You weren't there, were you, kid? Go without calling me? You wouldn't pull Johnny D's pud like that, right?"
"Johnny, the mental image of that metaphor is excruciating."
"We'll have a drink at the club the next time you come in," he says, just before hanging up.
*If you don't know who he was, read "Honor Thy Father," by Gay Talese. Or come down to the club some time and look up Johnny.
Dead men cash no checks
From America's paper of record . . .
http://www.nytimes.com/2008/01/09/nyregion/09dead.html?ex=1357621200&en=60502e56f648d792&ei=5124&partner=permalink&exprod=permalink
Tell me again why we moved out of Hell's kitchen, mom...
From America's paper of record . . .
Corpse Wheeled to Check-Cashing Store Leads to 2 Arrests
By BRUCE LAMBERT and CHRISTINE HAUSEREven for the once-notorious Hell’s Kitchen neighborhood, it may have been a first: Two men were arrested on Tuesday after pushing a corpse, seated in an office chair, along the sidewalk to a check-cashing store to cash the dead man’s Social Security check, the police said.
When Virgilio Cintron, 66, died at his apartment at 436 West 52nd Street recently, his roommate and a friend saw an opportunity to cash his $355 check, the police said.
They did not go about it the easy way, the police said, choosing a ruse that resembled the plot of “Weekend at Bernie’s,” a film about two young men who prop up their dead employer to pretend that he is alive.
Link to the full story:
http://www.nytimes.com/2008/01/09/nyregion/09dead.html?ex=1357621200&en=60502e56f648d792&ei=5124&partner=permalink&exprod=permalink
Tell me again why we moved out of Hell's kitchen, mom...
What, the Navy's ships aren't armed any more?
This from CNN:
This from CNN:
The U.S. military reported Monday on a "significant" confrontation involving five Iranian Revolutionary Guard boats that "harrassed and provoked" three U.S. naval ships in international waters over the weekend.In fairness, the ships' crews were reported preparing to fire when the Iranians ran away, but why even give them the chance? Just sink the mf's and be done with it. Let's see how well the Revolutionary Guard can swim.U.S. military officials said the incident occurred Saturday night in the Strait of Hormuz, a narrow shipping channel leading in and out of the Persian Gulf.
Deadlines
Call from a fellow writer:
Him: So this editor is freaking because I'm a day late with a manuscript. Harangued my agent and sent an email with multiple exclamation marks.
Me: Isn't this the same house that took nine months to pay you on your last book?
H: Yup.
M: And aren't they the ones that only sent you the contract a couple of months ago?
H: Yup.
M: And aren't they the ones that only paid you the signing money two months ago?
H: The same.
M: Did you point any of this out?
H: In an email.
M: What'd he say?
H: Email bounced back with an auto-reply. "Out of office until next month."
Call from a fellow writer:
Him: So this editor is freaking because I'm a day late with a manuscript. Harangued my agent and sent an email with multiple exclamation marks.
Me: Isn't this the same house that took nine months to pay you on your last book?
H: Yup.
M: And aren't they the ones that only sent you the contract a couple of months ago?
H: Yup.
M: And aren't they the ones that only paid you the signing money two months ago?
H: The same.
M: Did you point any of this out?
H: In an email.
M: What'd he say?
H: Email bounced back with an auto-reply. "Out of office until next month."
New Years' resolution(s)
Dog Boy spent an hour New Year's Eve setting off fireworks, a few of which were truly impressive. One even blew a mortar-shell sized hole in my lawn; another set some of the woods on fire. By the time the fire department came, we'd doused it and moved inside.
Dog Boy sat himself down and began taking stock of 2007.
"Big year. Next year gonna be better."
"Very grammatical," I told him. "Maybe you should make a resolution to speak in full sentences in 2008."
He gave me the Dog stare.
"I'm doing real things this year," he said.
"Like?"
"I don't know yet. But real things."
Which would have been fine if the conversation ended there, but Dog Boy never knows where to stop.
"You should have some serious resolutions," he told me. "You have to change the path you're on."
"Which path is that?"
"The road to ruin."
This is coming from a guy with slit eyes stretched out with his clothes on (thank God) in my bathtub. And its doubtful that those clothes have been changed, let alone washed, in a week.
There was only one response possible: I turned on the water and left him to soak in the tub.
Dog Boy spent an hour New Year's Eve setting off fireworks, a few of which were truly impressive. One even blew a mortar-shell sized hole in my lawn; another set some of the woods on fire. By the time the fire department came, we'd doused it and moved inside.
Dog Boy sat himself down and began taking stock of 2007.
"Big year. Next year gonna be better."
"Very grammatical," I told him. "Maybe you should make a resolution to speak in full sentences in 2008."
He gave me the Dog stare.
"I'm doing real things this year," he said.
"Like?"
"I don't know yet. But real things."
Which would have been fine if the conversation ended there, but Dog Boy never knows where to stop.
"You should have some serious resolutions," he told me. "You have to change the path you're on."
"Which path is that?"
"The road to ruin."
This is coming from a guy with slit eyes stretched out with his clothes on (thank God) in my bathtub. And its doubtful that those clothes have been changed, let alone washed, in a week.
There was only one response possible: I turned on the water and left him to soak in the tub.
The party was ours before we were the party's
News item: Some kids took poetry apprecitaion to a new level last weekend, trashing one of Robert Frost's summer houses.
The real point of the story isn't that no one respects poetry any more; it's that there was a time when poets could afford not one but two houses . . .
News item: Some kids took poetry apprecitaion to a new level last weekend, trashing one of Robert Frost's summer houses.
The real point of the story isn't that no one respects poetry any more; it's that there was a time when poets could afford not one but two houses . . .
Now on-line
The website: www.rangersatdieppe.com
There are some video goodies, maps and documents there, as well as one-click ordering through Amazon and (soon, I hope) your local bookstore.
The website: www.rangersatdieppe.com
There are some video goodies, maps and documents there, as well as one-click ordering through Amazon and (soon, I hope) your local bookstore.
How close . . .
Nazi Germany's concentration camps started out as detention centers for political figures . . .
From the New York Times
Hoover Planned Mass Jailing in 1950
Never trust a man in high heels . . .
The story:
http://www.nytimes.com/2007/12/23/washington/23habeas.html?ex=1356066000&en=08ad895c6cf80207&ei=5124&partner=permalink&exprod=permalink
Nazi Germany's concentration camps started out as detention centers for political figures . . .
From the New York Times
Hoover Planned Mass Jailing in 1950
A newly declassified document shows that J. Edgar Hoover, the longtime director of the Federal Bureau of Investigation, had a plan to suspend habeas corpus and imprison some 12,000 Americans he suspected of disloyalty.Hoover sent his plan to the White House on July 7, 1950, 12 days after the Korean War began. It envisioned putting suspect Americans in military prisons.
Hoover wanted President Harry S. Truman to proclaim the mass arrests necessary to “protect the country against treason, espionage and sabotage.” The F.B.I would “apprehend all individuals potentially dangerous” to national security, Hoover’s proposal said. The arrests would be carried out under “a master warrant attached to a list of names” provided by the bureau.
The names were part of an index that Hoover had been compiling for years. “The index now contains approximately twelve thousand individuals, of which approximately ninety-seven per cent are citizens of the United States,” he wrote.
Never trust a man in high heels . . .
The story:
http://www.nytimes.com/2007/12/23/washington/23habeas.html?ex=1356066000&en=08ad895c6cf80207&ei=5124&partner=permalink&exprod=permalink
Blind Tommy & Father Gerard (10)
Ordinarily, the detective from out of state did not attend the extradition hearing. But today was Detective O’Flattery’s last day on the job, and as a matter of personal pride, he wanted to be there.
One of the guards passed along the information that Father Gerard wanted to speak to him. The detective took a certain personal, professional pride in that, though he despised the priest. Gerard – he refused to call him father any longer – was the kind of man that had hurt the Catholic church deeply.
“What can I do for you, father?” asked O’Flattery when he met him in the hall.
Father Gerard shook his head. “Nothing.”
“Nothing? No confession?”
The priest knew he was being mocked. “An innocent man has no need to confess,” replied the priest.
“Right,” said the detective.
Father Gerard turned away from him, prodding the two sheriff’s deputies to take him into court. His head felt clear; it had been days since he’d had a drink. And for the first time in his life, he knew he would never have another one.
Just outside the courtroom, he was met by a court-appointed lawyer, a young woman not too long out of law school who stood shifting her weight from foot to foot as she spoke.
“I’m your lawyer,” she told him, sticking out her hand. She began to explain the process.
“It’s all right,” he told her. “They’ll convict me no matter what you do. So it’s all right.”
“You can’t give up.”
“I haven’t,” he told her. “For the first time in many, many years, I haven’t given up at all.”
(end)
Iran's nukes
It just keeps getting worse . . .
The article:
http://www.nytimes.com/2007/12/18/world/middleeast/18diplo.html?ex=1355720400&en=bd086d949a4bca7e&ei=5124&partner=permalink&exprod=permalink
It just keeps getting worse . . .
Iran Receives Nuclear Fuel in Blow to U.S.
By HELENE COOPER WASHINGTON — The United States lost a long battle when Russia, as it announced on Monday, delivered nuclear fuel to an Iranian power plant that is at the center of an international dispute over its nuclear program. Iran, for its part, confirmed on Monday plans to build a second such plant.
The article:
http://www.nytimes.com/2007/12/18/world/middleeast/18diplo.html?ex=1355720400&en=bd086d949a4bca7e&ei=5124&partner=permalink&exprod=permalink
Blind Tommy & Father Gerard (9)
Father Gerard slept fitfully that night. Finally, sometime in the early morning, he had a dream.
He was in the chapel where Sister Agnes had been murdered. He was kneeling, and praying for guidance – something he had not done in many, many years.
A voice came from behind him.
“You gave your oath as a priest. A confession is a confession”
Father Gerard spun around. Blind Tommy stood behind him. So did Sister Agnes, blood gaping from her wounds. She put one hand on Blind Tommy’s shoulder.
The other stretched toward him.
Father Gerard spent the rest of the night lying awake, staring at the ceiling, listening to the sounds of the jail above him, thinking of everything he had done in his life, but mostly thinking of his time as a priest.
Nearly all of it had been a waste. Much of the good he could have done had been washed away by liquor. Over many years, his spirit had grown ever smaller, the voice of God within him fainter and fainter.
As a young man, he had longed for God to call him to do one great thing, one act that would touch many souls.
But God had never responded.
Until now.
But what was he supposed to do? Let a real murderer go free? Should he take his place in prison?
If he knew that Blind Tommy had reformed, perhaps it would be different. If he was sure that the confession had been legitimate, perhaps it would be different.
What sort of test had God given him?
(more to come)
Dogboy's Christmas shopping
Dogboy was over the other day.
Me: How's the Christmas shopping going?
Dogboy: Under control.
M: What's that mean?
D: Oh, I never do my shopping until Christmas morning. But I have it all planned.
M: Christmas morning?
D: Yup.
M: What, are you buying gift certificates for a Chinese restaurant?
D: Nah. I hit the adult video store. No lines on Christmas.
Married life must really agree with him
Dogboy was over the other day.
Me: How's the Christmas shopping going?
Dogboy: Under control.
M: What's that mean?
D: Oh, I never do my shopping until Christmas morning. But I have it all planned.
M: Christmas morning?
D: Yup.
M: What, are you buying gift certificates for a Chinese restaurant?
D: Nah. I hit the adult video store. No lines on Christmas.
Married life must really agree with him
Blind Tommy & Father Gerard (8)
Father Gerard was stunned. The charge that he had killed the nun was outrageous. Even worse, the detective had woven an entire narrative to explain the crime. According to O’Flattery, the nun was about to have him reassigned for drinking, and Father Gerard didn’t want to leave his cushy hospital job. The story was absurd.
And yet everyone believed it, even the archbishop. He offered Father Gerard scant support; he wouldn’t even find funds for a lawyer.
Perhaps, Father Gerard thought, from the distance he did look guilty. He had been nearby.
He hadn’t liked the nun. But then, no one who knew her did either. She was a severe woman who liked nothing and felt no one else should, either. The only jobs anyone ever gave her were ones she could do entirely by herself.
Father Gerard knew who the murderer was. To free himself, he only had to reveal the confession.
At first, he was in so much disbelief that he didn’t consider doing that. He was in something close to shock – arrested, taken to a small, dank jail, he felt abandoned. For the first time in years he thought of Christ in the garden before his arrest, abandoned by his apostles.
A day passed. He was the only prisoner in the dank cell block, which smelled of rotten cabbage. He wasn’t allowed a drink; his body began going through withdrawal. At the end of the day, Father Gerard decided he would tell everything he knew. Replaying what had happened between himself and Blind Tommy so many years before, he decided that the confession lacked the elements necessary for it to be a “legal” confession. There would be no sin in revealing it.
In the morning, he stuck his face between the metal bars of the door.
“I want to speak to Detective O’Flattery,” he yelled.
The guard at the end of the block lumbered down in his direction.
“What are you saying?” asked the officer.
“I have important information for the detective on my case.”
“You can talk to him tomorrow, at the extradition hearing,” said the guard. “You want my advice, though – whatever you want to say, you ought to save it for your lawyer.”
“I don’t have a lawyer. I don’t need one. I’m innocent.”
The guard began to laugh. “Right Father.”
Father Gerard sank onto his cot, dejected. There was no hope.
(more to come)
Never let cheap vodka go to waste . . .
'Fess up - how many times has this happened to you?
'Fess up - how many times has this happened to you?
Man Nearly Dies Downing Vodka at Airport
BERLIN (AP) -- A man nearly died from alcohol poisoning after quaffing two pints of vodka at an airport security check instead of handing it over to comply with new rules about carrying liquids aboard a plane, police said Wednesday.
The incident occurred Tuesday at the Nuremberg airport, where the 64-year-old man was switching planes on his way home to Dresden from a vacation in Egypt.
New airport rules prohibit passengers from carrying larger quantities of liquid onto planes, and he was told at a security check he would have to either throw out the bottle of vodka or pay a fee to have his carry-on bag checked.
Instead, he chugged the vodka -- and was quickly unable to stand or otherwise function, police said.
A doctor called to the scene determined he had possibly life-threatening alcohol poisoning, and he was sent to a Nuremberg clinic for treatment. The man, whose name was not released, is expected to be able to go home in a few days.
Blind Tommy & Father Gerard (7)
Father Gerard had hit rock bottom long before Detective O’Flattery came to arrest him, but neither the detective nor the priest knew that.
Gerard was still a priest, but just barely. Even at a time when the church was struggling to find celebrants for mass, Father Gerard couldn’t find a regular job. He spent a great deal of time wandering in his mind, thinking of his youth, of what he might have done. He often thought he had made a mistake becoming a priest. He couldn’t remember why he had made the decision, though by now it was far too late for him to reverse it.
Detective O’Flattery tracked Father Gerard down through the diocese to a home for retired priests in
The conversation they had two days later, going over the same points, was longer, but not nearly as nice. The detective, respectful at first, seemed openly skeptical and even antagonistic, so much so that Father Gerard concluded he was drinking – a failing he was very familiar with, and hung up on him.
Three days later, Detective O'Flattery arrived at the rectory to arrest Father Gerard for the murder of Sister Agnes.
(more to come)
Proof Christmas makes people crazy . . .
Just as you've always suspected . . .
Just as you've always suspected . . .
Then again, how many people eat Christmas lights . . . outside of your immediate family, that is?Lead Found in Some Christmas Lights
(Dec. 10) -- For many families, having the children help decorate the Christmas tree is a treasured tradition, starting with the strands of lights. But a CNN analysis of four common brands of Christmas lights shows levels of lead experts say are high enough to be dangerous to children.
Manufacturers do not hide the fact that lead is part of the PVC insulation that insulates Christmas light wiring. Lead is used legally to stabilize polyvinyl chloride so it does not crack or crumble with age. The lead also acts as a fire retardant.
Blind Tommy & Father Gerard (6)
In many police departments, detective approaching their retirement date find they have little to do. No one wants to give a “short timer” an important case, because if he leaves in the middle of it, most likely it will never be closed. So over the last few weeks of his career, Detective O’Flattery found himself with a lot of time on his hands. A classic workaholic, he searched for some way of being productive. One day in a fit of nostalgia, he began reviewing the case notes on the Sister Agnes murder.
As he went through the notes – most of which were now on very yellowed paper – he realized that he and the two detectives helping him had not done a very good job interviewing either of the priests at the crime scene. This was hardly the only flaw in the investigation – the crime scene itself had not been secured properly, and the forensics were a joke – but it was one of the few mistakes he could fix, or at least attempt to fix.
Father Chris happened to be easy to find – he was the parish priest one town over from where Detective O’Flattery lived. Father Chris’s memory for details was not the best, but he did remember one thing that O’Flattery found immediately significant: Father Gerard had acted very strangely that morning.
“How well did he know Sister Agnes?” asked O’Flattery.
The detective was actually wondering whether the priest had been very close to the nun and thus deeply troubled by her death; in that case, it might be worth tracking him down for some lacking details. Father Chris took the question differently, and surprised him with the answer.
“He didn’t like her at all. They were always having disagreements,” said Father Chris. “Sister Agnes knew he drank, and called him on it regularly.”
And from that one remark, Detective O’Flattery’s course was set.
(more to come . . .)
Never call a murderer a murderer
Me: So how's the new true crime book going?
Him: It was going pretty well, but now there are all these legal issues. The lawyers are worried about libel and . . .
M: Wait a second - you're worried about libeling a convicted mass murdering pig farmer?
H: Yeah.
M: This is why I don't do true crime.
Me: So how's the new true crime book going?
Him: It was going pretty well, but now there are all these legal issues. The lawyers are worried about libel and . . .
M: Wait a second - you're worried about libeling a convicted mass murdering pig farmer?
H: Yeah.
M: This is why I don't do true crime.
Blind Tommy & Father Gerard (5)
Sister Agnes’s body was laid out on the altar. A crime scene expert would later tell the press that the murderer had deliberately arranged it to satisfy a some ritual that was taking place deep within his subconscious. The expert would also point out that the sister’s arms were spread in the manner of Christ’s when He was on the cross, and that six of the wounds were similar to those said to be suffered by Christ when He was crucified.
He offered no theory about the other fifty stab wounds that perforated the nun’s body.
Though she had not been sexually molested, e nun’s skirt had been pulled up above her waist, leaving her body exposed.
Father Gerard, of course, knew that Blind Tommy had committed the murder. But he couldn’t tell the police that. Blind Tommy had confessed to him, and the vow of secrecy during confession was inviolate.
Was it a real confession? Father Gerard agonized over the question. It certainly wasn’t formal or traditional, and yet Blind Tommy certainly believed that he was gaining absolution. Was that the measure of the sacrament?
Another priest might have sought out a confessor or other spiritual advisor to discuss the point, but Father Gerard sought only his familiar whiskey. Once or twice he tried to bring up the matter with a superior, but always lost his courage as the conversation turned to his own weaknesses. Meanwhile, the police spent all their energy looking for a suspect profiled by the expert, who believed he was of high intelligence and deep convictions. Blind Tommy wasn’t even a suspect.
Drinking heavily, Father Gerard soon lost his post at the hospital. His assignments began a steady spiral downward. No job is insignificant to the Lord, but in the Catholic hierarchy, there is significance and then there is significance, and then there are the jobs that Father Gerard was given.
Sister Agnes’s murder was forgotten by most people. Blind Tommy moved away. Father Gerard had his own problems.
Eventually, the only person that remembered the story was a local police detective named O’Flattery. It was the only murder case he’d ever been assigned. Failing to solve it had ruined any chance he had of getting a better job. Worse, it offended him deeply. The detective hadn’t gone to Catholic school, and so had a benign, even saintly view of nuns. For ten years following the murder, he swore to himself that he would solve it.
And then, two weeks before he was due to retire, he did.
(more to come)
Blind Tommy & Father Gerard (4)
Speechless, Father Gerard waited for Blind Tommy to explain what had happened. But Blind Tommy said nothing else. The priest didn’t know if Blind Tommy was fantasizing, or if he had actually committed murder.
Neither seemed possible.
“Give me my penance,” said Blind Tommy. “What’s my penance?”
Years later, Father Gerard wouldn’t remember exactly what he said., though he was sure he did say something. He didn’t grant absolution – the sacrament requires a certain form, not to mention a demonstration of remorse and willingness to repent that were difficult to discern under the circumstances. But whatever he said, Blind Tommy’s face lit up with relief. He thought he was absolved. He shook Father Gerard’s hand vigorously, then ran off.
Still unsure what was going on, Father Gerard went into the building. There he was met by the other priest assigned to the hospital, Father Chris, whose face was stone white.
"Sister Agnes is dead," said the other priest. "Killed on the altar in the chapel. The police are on the way."
(more to come)
Blind Tommy & Father Gerard (3)
(more to come)
It was very early morning on Thanksgiving. Father Gerard got up to say the early morning mass in the hospital chapel. Mass was scheduled for six, but Father Gerard always got down to the chapel ten minutes before, stopping on the way to get a cup of coffee from the hospital cafeteria. Probably alone among its customers, Father Gerard loved the coffee they brewed. It was strong, with a slight metallic taste from the pot, and for some reason it reminded him of his youth.
Father Gerard was on his way from the rectory around twenty to six. It was cold, below freezing, and he had a long black coat on over his cassock. Just as he got to the door of the hospital, Blind Tommy came out of the building.
Usually, Blind Tommy stared at the ground and barely noticed anyone until they were right in his face; he’d even pass by Father Gerard without saying hello, even though the priest was probably the closest thing to a friend he had. But today, Blind Tommy looked into Father Gerard’s face and immediately grabbed his arms.
“I need you to hear my confession,” said Blind Tommy.
“Your confession? It’s a bit early for that, Tommy.”
“Please father.”
“Well all right. Come along to the chapel.”
“Not in the chapel.”
There were no confessionals in the chapel, so there was no question of real privacy there. Still, the way Blind Tommy said it alarmed Father Gerard.
“Is something wrong?” he asked.
“I need to give my confession.”
“In the rectory then,” said Father Gerard. “Come along.”
But Blind Tommy had already started. “Bless me father, for I have sinned. It has been two weeks since my last confession.”
“Two days, Tommy,” said Father Gerard. “Only two days.”
Blind Tommy didn’t listen. Words were tumbling out of his mouth. Sins – lying, coveting a fellow workman’s watch – and murder.
“Murder?” said Father Gerard.
“I killed her, Father. I didn’t mean to. It was like the devil took hold of me.”(more to come)
Report: Iran nukes on hold
While the behind the scenes politics and diplomatic consternation are getting much of the play in news coverage of the combined intelligence report on the Iran's (suspended?) nuke program, the interesting part of the report is this:
The estimate on how long it would take Iran to build a nuclear weapon remains unchanged: Two years.
Suspended or not, the more centrifuges* Iran obtains, the faster the clock ticks. The problem hasn't gone away.
*Along with the rest of the infrastructure. The centrifuges are just the most conspicuous and oft reported parts.
Viva Venezuela
link:www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2007/12/02/AR2007120200522*
Venezuelans Deny Chavez Additional AuthorityBut no doubt the struggle will continue . . .
President Concedes Defeat in 51-49 VoteBy Juan Forero
Washington Post Foreign Service
Monday, December 3, 2007; A01CARACAS, Venezuela, Dec. 3 -- Venezuelan voters delivered a stinging defeat to President Hugo Chavez on Sunday, blocking proposed constitutional changes that would have given him political supremacy and accelerated the transformation of this oil-rich country into a socialist state.
Hours after the final ballots were cast, the National Electoral Council announced at 1:15 a.m. local time Monday that voters, by a margin of 51 to 49 percent, had rejected 69 reforms to the 1999 constitution. The modifications would have permitted the president to stand for reelection indefinitely, appoint governors to provinces he would create and control Venezuela's sizable foreign reserves.
link:www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2007/12/02/AR2007120200522*
Blind Tommy & Father Gerard (2)
The thing that you have to know about Blind Tommy was that he wasn’t really blind; people just called him that because whenever anything happened around him and somebody – usually the police – asked about it, he always answered he didn’t see nothing.
The other thing about Blind Tommy was that, even though he was slow in a general mental way, he could be quite clever when he thought about something. Most people didn’t know that, because he kept his thinking to himself.
Blind Tommy’s road to the job at St. Calvin’s Hospital was pretty twisted. He'd gotten himself into assorted hassles and did some jail time, slowly progressing from fuck-up to jackass. After a stint on a felony E, his parole officer took a shot at saving him, and called a friend he knew at St. Calvin's. The friend was a priest, though the parole officer knew him better as the guy at the end of the bar at O'Hanny's. He persuaded him to Blind Tommy on as a janitor.
The priest was Father Gerard. He was a cranky former pastor whose drinking had gotten him removed from two parishes. Off the bottle, Father Gerard was a solid if austere minister; on the bottle, he was a lot easier to get along with, a man who could explicate each of Paul’s letters, sing all the rounds of Finnegan’s Wake, and hold forth knowledgeably on the various subtleties of different Irish whiskey, examples included. Drunk or sober, he had a weakness for lost causes and second tries, and while his failings were legion, he understood that charity was the most important virtue.
Father Gerard took a liking to Blind Tommy. Maybe he saw him as a kindred soul; Blind Tommy had gone to jail because of an alcohol-inspired crime binge. In any event, he became something of a confessor to Blind Tommy, listening to his troubles and sins. Most of the latter were petty transgressions – venial sins in Catholic theology, small lies and broken confidences, abuse of his body, as opposed to others'. Some weren't even sins – Blind Tommy was off the juice, and since he spent all his money on a dump of an apartment two blocks from the hospital, had very little opportunity to really sin.
Until one day, Blind Tommy told Father Gerard about a sin that even Paul would have shuddered to forgive . . . .
(more to come)
We're better than this
From yesterday's NY Times:
But maybe the worst part of the story is the reporter's explanation of the principles involved:
Madison must be rolling over in his grave.
The URL:
http://www.nytimes.com/2007/12/01/us/nationalspecial3/01gitmo.html?ex=1354251600&en=b2f9792b5c093374&ei=5124&partner=permalink&exprod=permalink
From yesterday's NY Times:
Witness Names to Be Withheld From Detainee
Lawyers for a Guantánamo detainee have been ordered not to tell their client — or anyone else — the identity of witnesses against him.
But maybe the worst part of the story is the reporter's explanation of the principles involved:
. . . [the decision to withhold the identities] underscored the gap between military commission procedures and traditional American rules that the accused has a right to a public trial and to confront the witnesses against him.Watching the SuperBowl with a group of friends while doing bong shots is a tradition. The right to know who's accusing you of a crime is a specifically granted by the Sixth Amendment of the Constitution, an amendement integral to the original Constitution.
Madison must be rolling over in his grave.
The URL:
http://www.nytimes.com/2007/12/01/us/nationalspecial3/01gitmo.html?ex=1354251600&en=b2f9792b5c093374&ei=5124&partner=permalink&exprod=permalink
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