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William Gay is a genius

Crowd at sports arena

A literary one at least.

The deceased author William Gay, that is, not the former professional football cornerback William Gay.

Well, William Gay the cornerback may also be a literary genius, I’m just not aware of it.

But I am aware that Nic Pizzolatto is too a genius, at least of the screenwriting variation, as is evidenced by his hugely popular HBO series True Detective.

I watched season one of True Detective as soon as it was released, what… nearly ten years ago now.

I liked it. Maybe not as much as many seemed to have at the time, and certainly not as much as I like season two (I know, I know… I’m woefully in the minority on this one – I have never been much of a fan of Woody Harrelson’s acting, and I thought Matthew McConaughey character was a bit over the top), but I liked it enough to dig into the particulars of its development.

Which is when I discovered Nic Pizzolatto.

And which is when shortly thereafter I discovered Thomas Ligotti

As this highly misanthropic madman (both literally and literarily) genius author was a huge influence on NP and his creation and development of MM’s forlorn and highly misanthropic character Detective Rustin “Rust” Cohle.

TL is so down on humanity he wrote a hatefest about it in a less-than-joyful book called The Conspiracy Against the Human Race.

Come to find out there is an actual philosophical movement, however slight (hopefully), that actual believes that, for the sake of humanity, I guess, humanity needs to be disappeared.

Apparently, NP was so influenced by Tl that some/many believed he plagiarized the immensely pessimistically nihilistic author for much of MM/Cohle’s dialogue.

I can understand why (while imitation might be the sincerest form of flattery, I do not condone plagiarism of any stripe), TL’s short stories are some of the most awesomely horrific stories I have ever read/listened to, and I truly appreciate NP for turning me on to the human depressant…

Although, to date, I have not yet been able to make it all the way through his anti-humanity book. It’s too depressing, simple as that.

Incidentally, during Joe Rogan’s last interview with Elon Musk recently, I was surprised to discover, seeing how well informed they both always seem to be, that neither of them seemed to be aware of TL or of his influence on NP or of the whole down with humanity philosophy as they first heard about the Voluntary Human Extinction Movement in a less than recent New York Times article entitled Earth Now Has 8 Billion Humans. This Man Wishes There Were None.

Rogan probably has heard of it before but as much dope as he smokes and as old as he’s getting to be, he probably burned out the brain cells responsible for recalling that information.

Anyway, long story short…

Or have I missed that bus already?

Anyway, for some reason I forget, a few weeks ago I mentioned to my son that I enjoy season two of TD much more than season one.

(Season three isn’t even in the discussion as it is immensely forgettable. And from what I’ve seen of the upcoming season four, it looks equally immensely forgettable.)

My son was shocked at my (poor) taste and went on to pan season two and praise season one, as do most.

So, I figured, since I’ve already watched season two three times, I might as well give season one another shot, seeing that it’s been nearly ten years since I last watched it.

And I recently finished rewatching it.

And I still enjoyed it, probably more because this time around I was familiar with TL and his work and the insight from it was appreciated.

And though I still prefer season two, I still liked season one enough once again to once again look up ol’ NP to see if he has been up to anything new.

Didn’t really discover anything new by NP that interested me, but I did discover this old Buzzfeed article that interested me greatly, as it lists all the literary influences of NP’s that went into the development of season one.

And it was from this article that I discovered William Gay.

The author, not the cornerback.

And I cannot believe I have never heard of this good ol’ boy literary genius before.

And by good ol’ boy, I mean that was one dude whose neck was severely reddened. Crispy, if you know what I mean*.

The good ol’ boy literary genius

I just finished listening to his collection of short stories called I Hate To See That Evening Sun Go Down.

Never had I read/listened to a collection of short stories where ever single story is as completely fantastic as these are. Especially in a collection written by just one author.

Because my eyes are shot because of the side effects from my bone marrow transplant of so long ago, I listen to books now more than I read them.

Consequently, I have a pretty good ear for great narrators. Great as defined by me anyway.

The narrators for this collection are Christine McMurdo-WallisTom StechschultePete Bradbury, and Richard Ferrone, and they all are pitch perfect for their respective stories.

Tom Stescschulte has been a longtime favorite of mine and this to me is the best work he has ever done.

So, yeah, once again I must thank NP for turning me on to yet another amazing author.

And I hope I’m wrong about season four. I’m a fan of Jodie Foster so I hope she pulls it off.

So, that’s the short story long of it.

Oh yeah!

Since I’ve already missed the short bus, let bring up one last thing…

I’ll make it fast – punctuation be damned.

If you are a fan of audiobooks like I am but are not a fan of Audible’s expensive subscription like I am – the only reason I started my subscription back up recently is because I was offered and I accepted a one-month free promo (which they are betting I will forget to cancel but which I marked my calendar so to hell with them I won’t fall into that expensive trap) – then you must be estatic like I am that Spotify is now offering audiobooks for those who are subscribed with a premium membership like I am and all the books I have on my audible wish list are available on spotify as are many many more and my TBLT (to be listened to) list is so long now I probably won’t finish it until I’m in my eighties, which, sadly, is almost as close as my forties are far away…

Yeah…


*Apologies for the stereotype but, dagburnit that dude is one countrified dude. Not that it’s a bad thing, it’s just, well, you know how the stereotype goes…

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Time to drop the F-Bomb?

And by F-Bomb I mean the other nasty F-word…

Fascist.

And by fascist, I’m sure you know to whom I am referring it shall be dropped upon.

Yeah, Trump, of course.

Now, if you think like I do – and heaven help you if you do – but if you think like me then you probably have been regarding Trump as a fascist for a long, long time.

At least to me 2015 seems like a long, long time ago.

But according to the political scientist who wrote this Atlantic article, regarding Trump as a fascist for so long has been far too premature.

His thesis being, words matter and by its literal definition, Trump has not in the past qualified as a true fascist.

He offers several reasons why, some of them being that he is basically too dumb and irrational and immature to be one.

He didn’t mention anything about his hands being too small but you can kind of find it in there if you read between the lines.

Maybe not.

Real fascists, according to the author, are very serious thinkers and politically astute.

So yeah, by his standards the less than astute Trump does not meet them.

At least, perhaps, until recently when, during a speech honoring our country’s veterans no less, he began referring to just about everyone who oppose him as “vermin.”

Which makes for a rather hefty list…

We will drive out the globalists, we will cast out the communists, Marxists, fascists. We will throw off the sick political class that hates our country … On Veterans Day, we pledge to you that we will root out the communists, Marxists, fascists and the radical left thugs that live like vermin within the confines of our country, that lie and steal and cheat on elections and will do anything possible … legally or illegally to destroy America and to destroy the American dream.

Here’s the too-dumb-to-be-a-legitimate-fascist-but-still-dangerous-nonetheless’ full speech for context. If you can stomach it..

And as Mussolini’s ghost was recently quoted as saying:

Trump, I attempted to take over the world with Adolf Hitler. I knew Adolf Hitler. Adolf Hitler was a friend of mine. Trump, you idiot, you are no Adolf Hitler!

Perhaps that quote was taken a bit out of context, but fortunately for us and the rest of the free world, most of Trump’s cultist tools are even more intellectually challenged than their tool of a cult leader so they won’t know the difference…

Not sure if that makes them any less dangerous, but they sure are fun to laugh at.

At least for now…

Yeah…

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Bad

I became a widow at age 57, after 38 years of marriage to my husband, a good man I loved dearly and miss every day. He was a hard worker, employed in the logging industry for over 20 years until he was in an accident on the job. He was prescribed OxyContin, which at the time was being touted as a miracle drug with a low risk of dependency.

My husband was so functional and so discreet that I didn’t know for years he had moved on to heroin. 

When OxyContin Came to Our Valley, New York Times, November 15, 2023

I used to smoke cigarettes and drink a lot of alcohol when I was younger. Had to maintain that infamous drunken sailor image that the navy worked so long and hard to develop.

I quit smoking in 1990. I still miss cigarettes.

I quit drinking in 2009. The day I learned I had leukemia.

And after I developed severe graft versus host disease in my lungs and eyes as a side effect from my bone marrow transplant, I was placed on a high dosage of prednisone for many years. When it was finally decided it was safe to take me off the steroid immunosuppressant, it took over six months to wean me from it, such is the power of its addiction and the danger of its withdrawal.

So, unfortunately, I have some idea the overwhelming helplessness one feels when addicted to a life consuming habit that cannot be denied…

When it comes to pain killers, I also have quite the history with them. Fortunately, I am allergic to them. They make me itch madly.

I learned about the allergy after I had shoulder surgery at Portsmouth Naval Hospital a long time ago.

After the surgery I was placed in an open bay ward – there must have been maybe 30 post-op sailors in there with me. I was hooked up to a morphine drip and given a button I could press to activate it.

It wasn’t until much later when a nurse saw me pressing the button like crazy that I learned that the drip was on a five-minute timer.

I scratched and scratched for two days straight because of the opium.

I scratched so much, I had everyone in the ward unconsciously scratching themselves at phantom itches along with me. They begged the nurses to get me out of the ward.

So much for the good stuff.

But what I hate most about pain killers is the constipation… sadly we learned after Matthew Perry’s death that his addiction was so bad that at one point his colon erupted.

Yeah…

But, occasionally, I was still placed on pain killers for various cancer treatment reasons until finally I put it in my health record that I wanted nothing stronger than non-opioid pain killers.

Apparently per my request, after my bone marrow transplant in 2010 I was given a synthetic opioid pain killer I had never heard of before.

It was called fentanyl.

I don’t remember giving my consent to being given the drug. I’m not saying I didn’t give it, just if I did, I don’t remember. I don’t remember much post-transplant.

This drug was so strong, I essentially was in a medically induced coma for three days before my wife, afraid I was dying, finally went ballistic and forced them to take me off the drug.

The irony is, even in my zombie state, the drug made me itch so badly my under garments were torn and bloody from scratching so much. All without anyone realizing it until after I finally came to.

I did a lot of research on the drug for my novel The Good Kill.

It was gut wrenching.

I’m sure you’ve seen the headlines about children dying just for accidentally touching the residue of their addicted parents’ stash.

Some seriously deadly bad juju fentanyl is.

My heart breaks thinking about all the damage it and other addictive pain killers have done and are doing to so many addicts throughout my addicted country.

Yeah…

Xi Jinping is in town.

It is expected that Biden will confront him about China’s culpability in the illegal fentanyl production and trade.

I hope so.

If you have any doubt that it is China’s unwritten policy to get and keep our country addicted to the drug, you need to read this Propublica article.

It’s unbelievable.

It reads like an implausible movie treatment for an outlandish Hollywood action spy thriller…

David Fincher would be my choice to direct it.

If only it all were make believe…


#prayfortheaddicted
#andeveryonetryingtohelpthem


Featured image courtesy of the New York Times

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Sunday Songs to Spark the Spirit and Summon the Moves of the Dance

Life is all it is – joyful, sad, comprehensive, confusing, peaceful, violent, and on and on and on…

Of course, regardless of what reality tries to tell one, it can only be what one – you, me, each unique individual making up the all of we – says it is.

And no matter how hard we/I try to understand it, to challenge it, to master it, chances are we/I never will; and chances are along the way we/I will alienate those who see reality 180 degrees differently than you/me.

So, understanding our understanding and execution of life will always be incomplete and often inaccurate, and way off kilter to many, accepting that some will love us for what we do and, sadly, some with hate us for the same, will hopefully make it all a bit less painful.

So, we might as smile the best we can and dance.

#embraceyourreality

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Sunday Songs to Spark the Spirit and Summon the Mood of the Dance

Doing a reread of Big Will’s Titus Andronicus so what better way to summon the happy dancing spirits today than by rocking out to a song by, you got it, Titus Andronicus…

If only ours was a union even a little more better…

#letsdance

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Disenranted

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It used to be fun, and, quite frankly, quite therapeutic to release a rant or two around here back in the good ol’ days.

Any guesses to as when I’m referring to the “good ol’ days?”

Yeah… exactly.

BCET

Before the Catastrophic Era of Trump

But now, in these far less than good ol’ days…

One rants at one’s own risk.

Literally…

Continue reading Disenranted