A Beautiful Day (or: Today)
August 24, 2010 | Leave a Comment
There are people all over Vermont getting nervous about tonight, primary night. But I don’t want to hear any of their shit. Not. A. Word. Because while they might be all nervous about someone named Shumlin, Racine or Markowitz, (you know, people with a chance), I’ve been forced to host a primary-night gathering for Mr. Boots Wardinski.
It’s simple enough, really. I mean, it will be Boots, his sometimes-willing partner, Chris, and…and…my family. Trust me, if we didn’t live here, we wouldn’t be joining the party either.
But Boots wanted a party. Or, more accurately, Chris wanted Boots to having something to do on primary night, so Boots decided on a party. At my house. Surprise, surprise.
It gets worse. Boots has a strict bedtime. Which is why he clearly announced in his proclamation for a primary party at my house that he would be leaving when the polls close.
Let me repeat that for those of you not paying attention: Candidate Boots want to – no, make that, is having – a party in my home tonight to celebrate the end of his primary race for lt. governor and he will be leaving before the first votes have been counted. Um, that would be 7:00 pm.
“But you can carry on,” Boots continued.
Cool. Thanks. It will almost be like I’m at home.
And so it goes for those of us connected to Vermont’s political elite. What can I say, we have connections. We host the players. We roam the pastures of power. It is who we are. Deal with it.
And then we realize we’re home. And we go to sleep.
Ah, primary night in Worcester.
–
Sorry, Mom, I forgot to take out the trash (again).
–
Wait. This just in: Twelve-dozen ears of corn met their freezer-bound fate today in Worcester. A man and his daughter rejoiced in the farm-y-ness of it all. Well, the man did. The daughter seemed like she was on one of those obligatory trips to the senior center. But it was what it was to each.
Good enough for me.
–
Wait, did I say twelve dozen? Fuck.
I need a job.
–
And then six quarts of edamame met the same freezer fate.
Hire me now.
–
This day shall be called: Insanely beautiful.
And I’m glad to say that I enjoyed it.
So far.
One. More. Day. (or: please, someone, get me off this primary)
August 23, 2010 | Leave a Comment
Hang on, Vermonters, it will all be over tomorrow. The primary, that is. Which means we will no longer be privy to some of the most asinine political commentary since my high school newspaper interviewed the possible prom queens. Good grief.
The entirety of the Vermont media scene – including the so-called alternative side – has been basically shrugging its collective shoulders at the five-way contest in the Democratic gubernatorial primary from the beginning. For months, the reporting on this race has been something akin to: “Yawn.” And media yawning is just as contagious as regular yawning.
Sure, a good portion of the boredom from this race is because of the super-boring-pact between the super-boring-candidates to be, well, super boring and all. But that doesn’t mean the media has to play along. In fact, it should be just the opposite: The media should be working in overdrive to try and dig for the news, facts and tidbits that could spice up this otherwise boring race.
But that’s apparently too much to ask for from the Vermont media, where “the women are strong, all the men are good looking, and all the children are above average.” When you think of the relationship between the Vermont political elite and the media elite, think: High school. Think: Popularity contest. But with much higher stakes because most of the Vermont media types are looking for that coveted opportunity to get the hell out of the Vermont media and into the better-paying laps of those they’re covering. Chris Graff, formerly of the Vermont Press Bureau, still holds the unofficial record for media-to-corporate vaulting by landing the vice-presidency gig at National Life Insurance Corp.
Which brings me back to the boring race for governor. The race is boring because the candidates consist of a nice group of insider politicians and is being covered by an even nicer group of insider media members. And they’re all agreeing to the rules of the game: Don’t rock the boat.
Trust me, members of the Vermont media have plenty of material to make this race interesting. They just don’t want to rock the boat and risk their standing in the club. It’s a small club. In a small state. With very few alternatives for those who slip up and dare to declare that the emperor has no clothes.
This morning I heard parts of the interview that Mark Johnson did with three Vermont media leaders. They were, of course, discussing the primary, with a good bit of it dedicated to that “oh-so-hard” to cover gubernatorial race. And guess what? They all agreed! I heart Vermont, for sure.
Twice during the live radio interview, Anne Galloway of Vermont Digger made reference to insider fights amongst the candidates that were not being reported. My paraphrase of Galloway: “Publicly, the candidates have all been nice but we’ve all been privy to the back biting behind the scenes.”
And to that, I must ask: Why has it been kept behind the scenes? Why, again, does the Vermont media apparently feel a need to play along with this boredom pact between the candidates?
It’s a real shame.
But tomorrow it will be over. And then we can brace ourselves for the general election version of the same. Is anyone else getting dizzy in here?
–
As for me, I will be voting in the Progressive Primary for the OBVIOUS REASONS.
–
I am an American.
I am free.
And I am a slave.
— Dennis Darrah
–
The new generation (via Sam Lipsyte’s “The Ask.”):
“There are no slackers anymore. Your generation murdered the dream. You guys were lazy pigs. We’re more like highly efficient pleasurebots.”
–
Vermont Stories: Mom sits inside smoking marijuana cigarettes, watching the traffic go by, while her children sell corn on a table by the road.
–
Vermont Stories: Marvin greets the men he knows at the general store. They know he knows, too. And so it goes. They drink coffee and nod a lot. Because agreeing is a big part of knowing in these parts.
–
Vermont Stories: In walks a flatlander, and the local men go silent – staring into their over-milked coffees. It’s a thick silence. The flatlander wanders the store, searching for something familiar. He gathers his goods, pays cheerfully and nods to the silent men as the wooden-screened door slams behind him.
“You know,” says the first man to break the silence as the flatlander drives away, “he’s the fella who can’t keep his pigs in.”
“I know. I know,” they all agreed.
“And you know what?” says another. “It’s not his fence he needs to be fixing. It’s his feed. Because if they’ve got good feed they won’t be breaking no fences.”
“I know, I know,” they all agreed again.
Let that be a lesson. All of it.
–
Vermont Stories: There’s been a man around here creating suspicion. Or so that’s what I’ve been told. And that makes me suspicious.
–
Vermont Stories: It is true that many people drive by signs that read: Hereford for sale, and they have no idea what a Hereford is. Worse, they’re not even sure how to pronounce it. So they say it fast and with an absolutely terrible Vermont accent to cover up the near-entire wrongness of their knowledge of the word, Hereford. It’s no matter, because they have no interest in buying a Hereford. They just want to buy all the Hereford’s land.
–
Just Paranoia: They soon will be able to scan your mind upon your entrance to a website, thus determining your knowledge level. The site will be instantly adapted to more fluidly communicate with your specific knowledge level.
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Straight Shooting: Somewhere along the line, America opted for convenience over quality. And we’ve been fucked ever since.
–
Now, please, get out of here. I’ve got work to do.
Song for Yesterday (or today, if you must)
August 23, 2010 | Leave a Comment
Turn it up. It’s Monday, you know.
These Days
August 20, 2010 | Leave a Comment
An Iowa boy makes his way to his Vermont garden. He smiles at the sight of his soybeans, even though he calls them edamame now (it’s an East Coast thing). He jumps for joy at the sight of his corn. And he yells like a fucking lunatic when he notices the bright red tomatoes.
Shit happens.
–
My wife works with people who try to make Vermont agriculture work. It’s a tough task when you realize Vermont is mostly a cold place with rocky soils and steep hillsides. But I try not to mention that much. Because that’s her job and I am her husband. Got it? Good.
But the other day she came home and asked for my help.
“Oh yeah,” I thought. And then, with a remembrance of my former therapist, I continued to myself: “I am feeling useful and all.”
I’ve got to work on that, “and all.” It lacks confidence.
“Can you help me come up with the name of a new, Vermont-based meat company?”
Weird, I know. But that’s my life now. Besides, she’s bringing home something called: A Pay Check. Important shit. Especially when you’re a: Horse Logger. Duh.
But that’s not the point.
The point is: My wife asked me to help her come up with a name for a new, Vermont-based meat company. And I responded with this:
Meat Vermont: Naturally.
P.S. Trademark pending.
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Wow, you look like Shannon Ketch.
–
Because he’s my brother, I can steal his shit.
So, take this:
Friday’s Top Ten
1) Morning love.
2) Garden work.
3) Watching Bel bunch bouquets.
4) Thinking: This is all right.
5) Finding joy in cleaning for the surprise of it.
6) Whispering this to the air: Hello.
7) Mountain hike.
Harvest & dinner.
9) Townes Van Zandt.
10) And a moment or two with this on my mind: Nothing.
–
The sign posted at the trailhead today said this: Use Good Judgment.
–
Cool.
Maybe.
Unless they know something I don’t.
Wait. Was my daughter here?
Because she’s been messing with me lately.
A lot.
Which reminds me: Be Careful How You Parent.
Just saying.
–
“You are scared to race me up the hill on a horse, aren’t you?” the girl who used to nap on my chest while I read Tolstoy declared.
And I am.
Scared to race her on a horse, that is.
Because I ride a horse named, “Bart.” A fat, half-draft horse that specializes in the fine art of sitting still – very still. People compliment me about my ability to keep Bart calm in crazy, in-town situations.
But I know the truth: Bart doesn’t really want to move.
And then I started to feel guilty. Should I have told them about Bart’s reluctance to move? Or should I just allow them to walk away with their dreamy-horse moment in full focus?
Which is to say: It’s not easy fooling people about horses.
Giddy-up.
–
But tomorrow morning: We race up the hill. On horses.
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No complaints.
This Just Seems to Make Sense Today
August 20, 2010 | Leave a Comment
MARCEL THE SHELL WITH SHOES ON from Dean Fleischer-Camp on Vimeo.
Count Down (and the angry voice)
August 18, 2010 | Leave a Comment
Been melancholy here. Eight days until the daughter gets shuttled off to the middle/high school. What the fuck happened to the time? I’ve been eyeing the calendar and trying to milk every last day of this amazing summer that is capping an incredible year – family wise, that is. I’ve been lucky to be a stay-at-home dad. I’m happy that I seized an opportunity to have so much time at home with her.
This morning we hiked/raced the Kaeding Trail that goes up over the hill from Worcester to Calais. We’ve been trying to do it several times a week to get her prepared for cross-country running. It’s a mile and a half up, up, and up – ending at the top of Calais’ Long Meadow Road. And then, of course, a fun and fast mile and a half down. The race is on.
But before we got too much into the race, we talked.
“Eight days until school,” I offered, being the killjoy that I can be.
“Thanks, Dad.”
“Anything special you want to do before you go back?”
“Yes. Beat you black and blue.”
Ah, good old Colby humor.
I hope.
–
I’ve been trying to get it right. Trying really hard, in fact.
–
A Christopher McCandless fan died trying to do the very thing that killed McCandless: Failing to cross Alaska’s Teklanika River.
McCandless, of course, is the guy that Jon Krakauer made famous in his book, “Into the Wild.” Better yet – a rarity in book to movie ordeals – Sean Penn made a just-as-good movie about the whole (mis)adventure. I loved them both – the book and the movie.
But a European fan of the McCandless mystique made a tragic decision last week in Alaska when she and a companion decided to find the bus that McCandless lived and died in. But the Teklanika River has been known to be less that gracious toward such adventurers. And so it claimed the life of one, and spared the life of the other – this time.
Bummer. But hats off to the adventure. Never stop seeking.
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A lunch of fresh edamame, corn, and cherry tomatoes. Thanks be to Moike’s Garden.
–
I was browsing in the bookstore the other day when I overheard a woman say this to a man next to me (teeth clinched): “This is my angry voice talking: Where have you been?” It reminded me of this line from the Adam Ross novel, “Mr. Peanut”: “Can marriage save your life, or is it just the beginning of a long double homicide?”
–
Did someone say melancholy?
Try this (it’s damn good):
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A good moment:
Driving in the truck. Green Day comes on.
“Crank it, Dad.”
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Bear with me.
–
This is my melancholy voice talking.
Snark-u-mentary
August 17, 2010 | Leave a Comment
Yeah, get it: A documentary by Snarky. Boy, that is.
Yep, I took the plunge. Had the camera and all. And some time.
So I set out to get some answers. I wanted to know: How do the people who had so much hope in Obama feel now? You know, now that it’s Obama’s war(s), Obama’s crappy health-care plan, Obama’s gifts to Wall Street and all.
And so I asked.
Enjoy.
P.S. I edited out my questions because it felt too narcissistic.
On Bukowski & Buknatski
August 17, 2010 | 1 Comment
Yesterday would have been the 90th birthday of Charles Bukowski. Here’s a little memory of CB via The Rumpus.net: Click here. It’s apparently an unpublished forward to a book. Good read.
An excerpt:
“Bukowski, did you masturbate when you took a bath?”
“No.”
“Good, I won’t have to wash the tub.”
–
Peter Buknatski, the poet laureate of Charlie O’s and an oh-so-goddamn-frequent-commenter at this site, got bitch-slapped by the ninny parade (aka: Green Mountain Daily) over the weekend for referring to President Obama as President Huxtable. As a result, the GMD Patriot Act was invoked and Buknatski’s privileges at the site were revoked. Don’t worry, Petey, you’re in good company since Snarky Boy isn’t allowed over there either.
Worse, GMD’s chief lunatic, Ed Garcia (aka: kestrel9000), erased all of Petey’s numerous poems, diaries, and comments from the site – everything. Take that, Petey!
While GMD insiders claim that Buknatski was banned because of his “racist” reference to Obama as Huxtable, Buknatski’s been dragging that lame – and kind of funny – reference to Obama out for months and months.
So what’s the real reason for the liberal site’s censorship? Well, Buknatski’s been needling the Democratic gubernatorial candidates in Vermont to provide their positions on the wars in Afghanistan and Iraq. And, according to GMD insiders who spoke with me, it’s been annoying the site’s leaders.
Imagine that, having the audacity to demand that candidates for Vermont’s highest office provide public statements on their war positions? And, let’s not forget, along with being a governor, the winner will also be the commander-in-chief of our National Guard.
And so it goes in so-called liberal Vermont, where talking about the war is impolite and asking politicians to speak about it leads to censorship.
Shut up, and pass the Ben & Jerry’s!
Ah, I feel better already.
Driving Ms. 13
August 17, 2010 | Leave a Comment
Yep, the party is over. The 13th birthday party. The one for our daughter, the budding snarkmaster. So we’re now in recovery after 30 hours of camping with four twelve and thirteen year old girls in Walden. Try it some time. But don’t forget the beer. Or some friends to help you dampen the madness. We didn’t forget the beer or the friends. That’s why we had a great time. But we did forget the camera.
Happy birthday, Bel. You ask for cool parties.
Boots Throws Me Under the Bus
August 16, 2010 | Leave a Comment
In the event that you have a life, you missed the Mark Johnson Show this morning on WDEV. It featured an interview with Boots Wardinski, a man who should be familiar to readers of this site. Boots, of course, is running (or should it be considered “walking”?) for Lt. Governor in Vermont.
During the live radio interview, Johnson asked Wardinski about our arrests in St, Johnsbury several years ago for disrupting a graduation speech being given by President George W. Bush’s Intelligence Czar, John Negroponte. Johnson wondered about how our act of civil disobedience might be considered rude because we interrupted his speech.
I prepared myself for a Boots answer that would sound something like this: “Rude? Yes, we were rude. But when you consider Negroponte’s involvement with war and foreign policy decisions that have killed tens of thousands of people, I think a little ‘rudeness’ is in order.”
That would have been nice. And effective. But, instead, Boots served up this to Johnson’s radio audience:
“Well, technically, I didn’t interrupt Negroponte’s speech,” Boots chirped – and here comes the really good part (if, of course, you consider throwing a friend under the bus as a “good” part): “It was Michael who interrupted Negroponte!”
I thought: Boots is apparently having some ‘Nam flashbacks or something because he’s not making sense. Oh wait, he didn’t serve in ‘Nam. Nope, he was in Camp Lameass writing hippie-dippie shit about peace and all. This from the son of a General!
He must have forgotten that the case against us was thrown out in a unanimous decision by the Vermont Supreme Court, I thought. But, that wasn’t it either, because Boots went on to describe the triumphant ending to our case.
Nope. Boots just simply threw me under the bus. And for what? More votes, obviously.
Which is to say: Friends, don’t let friends get involved in politics. Because it only makes dirty, stinking liars out of them.
Take that, Boots.
P.S. Of course, a raise in my salary as your campaign manager could quickly clear up the matters mentioned above.
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