fernsy's Open Salon Blog

My awesome Cinco De Mayo Song

Sat, 5 May 2012 11:05:14 -0400

Hey Hey

It’s the fifth of May!

Not just any regular old day

in … May.

Sirs or Senors, Ladies or Senoritas,

it’s time to buy the mix.

To fix,

some mean mean Margaritas.

“Festive day today,”

added to my bio

You’d have to be loco

to not celebrate

cinco di mayo.

(almost nothing rhymes with mie- oh,by the way.)

The plan so far is to get drunk ,

and eat nachos in Tijuana.

Much more fun than

Rosh Hashana.

Dipping all those Nacho chips in Salsa

Will make me so ... chipper

Such a better holiday than Yom Kippur.

If I get lucky I’ll be invited to Bellwethers’ to hit a piñata.

Lotta candy come raining down

into my Horchata.

Chorus: Don’t be a lone-ah

Pick up the phone-ah

Get the gang together for taquitos and Coron-ah.

Wikipeda says it’s a day to commemorate the battle of Puebla

And, it’s not, as thought, Mexico’s independence day.

Meh.

I just hope one of Bellwether's friends

brings a chimichanga tray.

(Nothing rhymes with Puebla-- or chimichanga.)

Not latino, or Hispanic, or even manic?

Festivity can be had, don’t you panic.

Chorus: Don’t be a lone-ah

Pick up the phone-ah

Get the gang together for taquitos and Coron-ah.

Possible addition to chorus:

Holy moly

I want guacamole!

My awesome story about the awesome story Open Call

Thu, 3 May 2012 09:05:20 -0400

I sniff a new editor. Therefore, I sniff my first and only chance at an Editors Pick before my Birthday. Out of the corner of my gimlet eye, I see this on the Open Salon cover page.

Open Call

Awesome stories for new OS editor

But, with different fancy formatting that I can't recreate.

All I need now is an awesome story. Jesus, please point me to the story that is awesome. Buddah, get off those big buns, and make it happen!Jehovah, bear witness once I succeed in this mission of awesome story.

Someone, anyone! It's awesome story time , and, for once, I want to stand up and be counted.

I have a good story about a pereodactyl in my toilet, and how we danced all night long, but Kim Gamble kind of stole it. Why do they let Australians on this site, Emily? Oh, I forgot, Emily might be gone for good, or just " trapping" with LKWalker.

I have the story about finding that Penguin in my dresser drawer, but that's too sexual. What about the one where that effing Walrus accosted me by the mailbox?

I'm in possesion of some nifty antecdotes and even a super awesome essay. Do they --wh0moever they mey bey-- mean like literally, "awesome", or new millenium usage of "awesome"?

Should I post it only if I can assure it will totally inspire awe in the masses, is what I'm saying. If I do pull this off, should I open an account with adsense?

Well, what should I do?

Comments will close by Midnight.

Pinch my Pretzel

Wed, 2 May 2012 09:05:41 -0400

Recent events in my own life have made me feel as if I’ve long left the sphere, I’m forced to call, “ Normalcy.”

The events of the last four years, in my own existence, have been so far out, so outrageous, so so so… so… Profoundly out of step with what the past had left me to anticipate. I recently figured that the only hope I have is to believe that I've been selected as some emissary to some Mission. In order to survive this mission, I must see that whatever came before, will have to be chalked up as some pre-mission lifestyle? Pre-mission lifestyle of “Normalcy”?

I hate the word "lifestyle." Wasn't it enough to get a life -- much less a lifestyle. But, in this context, it makes more sense.

Some of my pre-mission lifestyle:

Listening to music and not having to use evey lyric as some inspirational rallying call , Seeking and preserving friendships and/or romances, Messing up friendships or romances, not sacrificing unconditional love bonds in favor of more illusory love bonds, watching movies, reading books, relaxing in front of stupid TV, dreaming of covering every state and country on the map, hoping that all that what I see, perceive, hear or feel turns into a book or post or comedy routine someday, and vaguely yearning for a stamp of societal approval(Sucess, recognition? Perhaps?) that would justify being peacefully put out to pasture some select and correct day.

All those things seem not only lost, for the present, but impossible to regain in any future.Overhearing people talk of a meal or a party and knowing that these things are only of my past, is rough. Maybe, it’s PTSD. Maybe, it a midlife crisis. Maybe, it will pass. Maybe, it won’t.

Nostalgia for these halcyon ( in retrospect) days is fierce. At that time(s) I know I was not blissed out . Yet, retrospect coupled with comparison, makes it as if it were so.

There is no choice but to face acceptance. Acceptance of what? Of a mission? What mission? Missions sound grandiose and messy, in this day and age of boundary laden “personal journeys.”

Well, I’m not positive, but pretty sure, that I have been picked to do something-- something substantial--to assist in exposing the evils of the current criminal justice system.

Particularly: The plea bargaining system and how it twists that system and justice into a ...Rotten…Pretzel of…Perverstity.

Please see this post by a fellow OSer. He knows of what he speaks.

http://open.salon.com/blog/token/2012/04/29/the_parable_of_little_ms_deeds

Rotten pretzel of perversity? Awful, I know. Writers block vs. recent good news(A judge who appears to have decency and sense: All we ever needed when it came to our case,)have shocked my system in various ways. One way is that the revival of hope, last week, has struck me sick . I even blame my sore throat and perpetually upset stomach,on it, rather than just some stray courthouse bacterias.

So I sputter and clear my burning throat , as I type this post. Just want to say hello to my OS peeps. To request their good wishes as I re- and re- and re- embark on my assorted missions(Some merely to improve just my own life , and not so all encompassing, courageous, or altruistic as might be required for the MISSION MISSION.)

Plus, I'd like to apologize(Whether apologies are necessary or uneccessary,please.) for missing their recent work.

AND, to thank them for all their invaluable(wish I could find a better word than “invaluable” but can’t,) support and sweetness since I discovered this place.

Mathew Paust's, if the Woodsman is Late

Mon, 23 Apr 2012 09:04:22 -0400

My longtime OS buddy, Matt Paust, had gone and written a book about guns, was my impression. After flipping through the book before settling in with it, I saw too that there were essays about sports. Football, to be more exact. More closer inspection made me see that there was so much more here than that.

The forward to the book does not lie when it says,

"If you like the way I tell stories but don't like guns there's plenty for you here."

There was also a vast and literate assortment of essays and fiction pieces about death, urination masterization, and all sorts of exciting peeks into the life of someone I have been curious about. By book’s end I learned about BMG’s, Guttmans, and got to read about the life of a man with a love of writing and an uncanny ability for getting out of scrapes in local or exotic locales. I sat rapt as I learned about his father and mother and friends and tried to master his mantra," Be still. Be patient. Be brave. Abide. Forgive. Love."

His mediation on this recently discovered chinese fortune cookie wisdom was one of my favorites. Though this piece was labeled as fiction I supsected that it was thinly veiled non fiction and so found it even more personal and interesting.

I’d already had the pleasure or reading some of these stories since they were posted on Open Salon. But, there were plenty more that were completely new to me. And, each one provided some fine writing and interesting antecdotes from an interesting and adventure rich life .

Guns and football are things that I’ve heard about but have no personal experience with.

I have never owned a gun or watched a single game of football. This might change after reading his book of essays, IF THE WOODSMAN IS LATE.

With guns, I can now see the arguments, if not the allure. Matt, clearly a man of olfactory proclivities makes me want to own and shoot one just to award my half dead nostrils, such a supposedly exciting smell as gunpowder.

I now know that wolves can come at your door and take you away . Even before reading this, I began to viscerally understand the need for a gun or the want for a gun . The cover image really was inspired.

What if Red Riding Hood was armed. What if all fictional victim characters were packing heat?

It strikes me as uniquue-- a first hand account, of one man’s relationship to guns and gun ownership in America. I, at least, am not aware of any book on this subject.

I’d seen and even held guns, belonging to my soldier cousins, in Israel, but that is different. The American does not fear existential annihiliation if not armed , and so the gun debate will rage on indefinately.

I'd never discussed guns with anyone . To read about Matt's experiences and love of guns from early childhood, then in the Army, and overseas ,and then as a reporter was a treat.

We get to learn about how Matt, out of righteous indignation, signed up for the army, rather than succumb to the allures of Nepotism, promised by his well connected father. His mother, Gert, goes to battle herself, in this very interesting chapter. " I don't think so, Mr Guttman."

This act of integrity led to years of learning hard to learn langauges , and being present in such locales as Germany and almost even Libya(You'd have to read the book to understand.) Matt is also persona non grata in Ibiza. Not everyone can say that.

Matt has not only traveled the world but has gone on strange unsolicited LSD trips, and then had the presence of mind still to watch the races and drive home and try to get his editor to agree to a scheme!

To have a clue as to what that was about and why Matt Paust had to flee to Majorca, you'll need to order a copy at:

http://www.mattpaust.com/

Guns play a pivotal role in Mattie and then Matt Paust's life. It starts in small town Wisconsin(as he enjoys the cops and robbers type play with his friend, Mark) and comes a horrible full circle when we learn that an unarmed Mark, and his wife, were to be murdered by guns, in a distant future.

Though Matt speaks of being slight of build(To my surprise. I thought he was a big and burly fella!) , this book is full of testosterone. Nary an ovary can be sensed, except in a very few stories. But it is not only manly men who will enjoy it.

Womanly ladies and boyish girls , and a whole spectrum of gender ambiguities, will find much here too, I promise.

Cranky Cuss's Send in the Clown Car

Sun, 8 Apr 2012 11:04:07 -0400

In the midst of a legal odyssey both odious and ominous, I found myself getting a chance to shake my head admiringly, and also to attain the sweet relief of laughter. This desperately needed respite came as a gift from Open Salon's very own, Cranky Cuss. I have spoken to Cranky offline . Frankly, I love him, but I will still make all attempts to not have that cloud my judgement as I review his book.

You see he's penned a fine book called, " Send in the Clown Car."

His talented daughter drew the cover. The Cuss family doesn't dissapoint, as they used to just say in Ossining.

I don't consider myself political. I guess that means that I don't feel the need to join any teams when it comes to issues of right and wrong. In the last four years my politics have taken a sharp swerve to the left due to getting to see a bigger badder picture, but in general-- Liberal, progressive, leftist, rightist, GOP, are all not names I associate with myself for reasons that have to do with my aversion to labels more than anything else.

Irreverant, however, is a cool word, and even a cool label and that is the best way I could describe Cranky's book. Funny and charming and smart are also cool words and labels that apply, but I think I've belabored my label point when this post is supposed to be about the fine book that Cranky wrote.

This is what came to me after reading it since I can't now write a complex explication:

It's not really about politics. Cranks is no mindless partisan. Instead, it's a wild and winsome ride inside Cranky Cuss's incredibly imaginative mind.

Each chapter presents a different delight.

Rick Sanotorums sex tourettes!

Mitt Romney's real name- who knew?

Newt's grade school essays on the real meaning of Oliver Twist. Yay.

And, if you never truly understood, "The Fountainhead" Expect Cranky to take you on brilliant trip to Ayn Rand land. Fun and ridiculous. Ridiculous fun?

His take on Conspiracy theories brings us the wise ways of Dr. Jenny Mcarthy, post MTV. Even Mel Gibson's father makes an appearance. Those ~~cursed~~ with pop culture literacy will get a particular kick.

And, if that all is not enough to convince you to click on this unweildy Amazon link

http://www.amazon.com/THECLOWN-CARThe-White-2012By-Cranky/dp/1470176459/ref=sr_1_2?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1332015016&sr=1-2

than the reviews alone will force you to download some app so as to get this book to show up on your kindle(I have no idea how that happens!).

Anthony Weiner of Anthony Weiner fame writes(with one hand?) "Cranky Cuss's writing excites me. Want to see."

Walk, run, click, skedaddle, get into one of those Jazzy mobility scooters... Do whatever it takes to get you a copy of Cranky's book.