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Saturday, December 31, 2016

The Writer's Life 12/31 - Ice Harvest



A group of Hollywood heavyweights collaborated on The Ice Harvest (2005), which I caught up to last night courtesy of Netflix. I've been having little luck finding movies that interest me. Sara Stewart of the NY Post mentioned this as one of her favorite Christmas movies. It is as un-Christmas-like as can be, but that's okay as long as the story is interesting, and it is. The words above were written on the wall of the men's room in a strip club. Although the plot is familiar, there are enough quirky flourishes to keep it semi-fresh. Richard Russo and the great Robert Benton adapted the screenplay from a Scott Phillips novel. A mob lawyer and an associate embezzle two million bucks from gangsters, mayhem ensues.The cast is first rate: John Cusack and Billy Bob Thorton as the robbers, Mike Starr and Randy Quaid as henchmen, Ned Bellamy (the guy in fatigues in the Seinfeld lampoon of Platoon (1986) as the manager of the titty bar, Oliver Pratt as an annoying drunk, and Connie Nielsen as the cold-blooded femme fatale. Harold Ramis directed, a departure from the outright comedies he usually does. Although he has made several flicks that were successful financially among the 14 he has helmed, only Groundhog Day (1993) soars. I believe the intent by all the parties involved in The Ice Harvest was to create a Coen brothers-type classic. It falls short of that, but it is good, and it's only 90 minutes. Its greatest strength is the cinematography of Alar Kivilo. Although it is set in Wichita Falls, it was shot in Illinois. Something like that bothers me only when action supposedly set in NYC has obviously been shot elsewhere. The film did not do well at the box office. Made on a budget of $16 million, it brought in a little more than $10 million worldwide. It deserved better. 21,000+ users at IMDb have rated it, forging to a consensus of 6.3 of ten. On a scale of five, I say 3.25. Anyone squeamish about violence, nudity or profanity should pass, as should those who are turned off by the downbeat. It is not a flattering portrait of the human race. I don't see how anyone can consider it a comedy, although there are amusing moments, but several commentators at IMDb found it hilarious.

They learn young. According to a blurb in today's NY Post, a six-year-old Arkansas toddler used the thumb print of her sleeping mom to unlock an iphone, then ordered $250 worth of Pokemon toys. When the woman later saw the notices in her her email, she assumed she'd been hacked. It will be interesting to see what this kid does with her life.

It was an unusual session of the floating book shop. Yesterday a man and a woman each said they wished to donate books - and both showed in the time frame I designated. It seemed that would be the only positive until young Nicole showed as I was just beginning to pack up. She'd selected two hardcover thrillers when she noticed my books. She bought Killing. Moments later a woman who has donated dozens of pictorials appeared and asked for illustrated children's books for her severely handicapped son. I had two available and offered them gratis. She insisted on paying. When I asked for a dollar, she pooh-poohed it and handed me a five. The woman is a saint. Thanks, folks. I sold 65 of my books on the street in 2016, 74 in 2015. I wish my web sales were as good. They were probably half that, most of them Kindles.

Happy New Year. Please don't drink and drive.
Vic's Short Works: http://tinyurl.com/jy55pzc
Vic's 5th Novel: http://tinyurl.com/okxkwh5Vic's 4th novel: tinyurl.com/bszwlxh
Vic's 3rd Novel: http://tinyurl.com/7e9jty3
Vic's Short Story on Kindle: http://tinyurl.com/k95k3nx
Vic's Short Story Collection: http://www.tiny.cc/Oycgb
Vic's 2nd Novel: http://tiny.cc/0iHLb Kindle: http://tinyurl.com/kx3d3uf
Vic's 1st Novel: http://tinyurl.com/l84h63j
Read Vic's Stories, free: http://fictionaut.com/users/vic-fortezza

Friday, December 30, 2016

The Writer's Life 12/30 - Once Upon a Time



Today marks the official end of an era that really ended in 2007. The Commodity Exchange in lower Manhattan is closing its trading floor, as electronic trading has made it obsolete. The "Open Outcry" system, wherein traders, yelled, screamed and pleaded, has been on life support for nearly a decade. The floor, once crowded and teeming with life, became eerily quiet, its population reduced by 90%. Here's an example of how it was at its most intense, seen through the eyes of the supervisor of the Silver market, as chronicled in my novel Exchanges, the place 8th floor Four World Trade Center, the year 1988. Warning - anyone offended by vulgarity and political incorrectness should proceed no further. This is the way I saw it. Nothing is exaggerated. I pulled no punches. It's a ten-fifteen minute read:

He was late from lunch, dreading his return to the ring. As he stepped onto the podium, he leaned forward to listen in on the conversation of a group of young brokers.
“You’re not gonna believe this,” said the one who’d summoned the huddle. “My wife’s best friend’s getting married soon. They threw her a surprise bridal shower. They were hiding in the basement. The family keeps the dog down there in the daytime. She loves that dog. The first thing she does when she gets home is take him for a walk. Anyway, she comes downstairs calling out to the thing, and when they throw the lights on and yell ‘surprise’ – there she is stark naked with the dog lickin’ whip cream from her crotch.”
The others fell about themselves, howling. Charley and Michelle leaned back simultaneously.
“Sounds like bullshit to me,” said Michelle quietly, addressing Charley.
“Maybe they saw it on cable TV.”
“Sep?” said Grandpa suddenly.
“What?” said several brokers simultaneously, pretending not to have understood.
“Sixty bid.”
“Dixty bid,” a young broker aped.
“Look at the size of that head,” said Grandpa to a neighbor, retaliating against his tormentor. “It’s huge. What would you rather have – a million dollars or Frankie’s head full of quarters?”
Frankie, a broad man with reddened cheeks, laughed. “Dixty bid.”
As the secondhand wound toward two o’clock, the floor staff began banging on the wooden fixtures, stamping feet, applauding, whistling and howling. The ruckus heralded the approach of the end of a long, dull day. Stinky wore a look of frustration and covered his eyes with a hand. The Floor Committee had recently issued a memorandum about decorum, and threatened to fine anyone who participated in unprofessional behavior. What could Stinky do - fine everyone? Make an example of one or a few?
The din was deafening as the hour approached. The cheer that erupted at the sound of the bell drowned out its ring.
"Change your cards, new period; last licks,” said Charley into the microphone, then, under his breath, "Change your pads, twats."
Suddenly there was commotion in the Gold pit. The Silver ring filled to capacity in an instant, as if a huge wave had pounded a beach. Brokers who’d been seated sprang up like Jacks-in-boxes. The metals were rallying. Orders flooded the ring. Hands stuffed with paper reached over shoulders and squeezed through cracks in the humanity. Brokers leaned heavily against one another, clinging to a patch of turf, swaying under the momentum of the strongest and heaviest. Many turned sideways to fit in. Others refused to do so. It seemed so silly, as there was room at the bottom of the pit. Some were unaffected by the shoving. Others were obviously pained. At times, during slow periods, a game was made of the pushing, of the domino effect, as the instigators enjoyed riling those annoyed by the roughhousing. This was no game.
CONY was so demonstrative in his offer his eyeglasses flew from his head and pens from the pocket of his shirt. APB, an overweight young man, was knocked down and lay on his back like a turtle, gazing at those above him, bewildered. He had to rise under his own power, as everyone else was too preoccupied to help him. A week ago, during a day that saw trading intense from start to finish, MOJO passed out and was unnoticed by everyone but his clerks and Nutty, who raced to get him a cup of water.
Charley was jostled repeatedly by clerks climbing onto the podium and shouting past his shoulder. Orders and trading cards were forced past his hip and fed into the time-clock for stamping. Despite the confusion, the suddenness of the move, he quickly found his rhythm. There were days he never found it, despite his experience. Today the market seemed second nature to him. He felt a sense of detachment, of lucidness, as if he were an impartial observer. He was not at all nervous, which was rare for him.
He cupped the speaking end of the receiver with his hand to shield out as much noise as possible. He paused briefly between each trade he relayed, depending on the number of moves required of the DEC to complete each. He followed the activity in three ways: listening to the bids and offers, scanning the field for hand signals, and watching Brian out of the corner of his eye, wary of duplicating prints, of wasting valuable seconds. The clapping of hands was frantic, as several of the crew demanded attention simultaneously.
"Cross three Sep at seven, 'Douche Bag,’" he said into the phone. He often made up names or phrases, as the initials of certain broker codes sounded similar over the line, especially with such ado in the background. The names or phrases had nothing to do with whether he liked the particular broker. They were merely meant as clarification and comic relief designed to keep the DEC loose and to perpetuate an "us against them" camaraderie.
"Sep seven-and-a-half. Deece five. Cross a Sep at seven, ‘Dry Fuck.’ Ten Sep-Deece eight-sixty. Ya with me, 'head? Okay? Sep eight, eight-and-a-half, nine, Sep oh now. Here we go. Hang with me, you child molester, you. What's that shit up there? Take it down, hurry up - FXLA Sep. Did you do that? Tell the moron to use three numbers, for Chricesake." He placed the phone against his chest. "Of course it's comin’ down," he shouted to a broker nearby. "You know it's a bad print. It's a dime off the market. Asshole," he whispered.
"Awright, Headly? Fix the high in Sep to oh." He turned to the reporter at his hip, who was writing up cross-trades. For some reason a written record had to be kept of each, despite the fact that each was entered into the computer and available on a print-out. "Oh, it's you, Nutty. D’you cancel that shit? C'mon, bite those fingers. Wake 'em up."
"I'm doin’ it," he snarled, shoulders rigid, fingers chopping along tensely. One would think someone who had survived combat would not be made nervous by anything else, especially something as preposterous as the action of commodity trading.
"While we're young. Sep nine, nine-and-a-half. Cross a Sep at nine, 'Whore House.’ Thirty-two Sep EFP crossed, 'RAW.' Red Deece ten-hundred. Sep oh, Sep oh-and-a-half, one. Ah, shit." He seized the microphone. "Listen up, who traded Sep above oh? Stinky 's offerin' twenty at oh. Should I take it down, Bobby?”
He looked to the Floor Committee member, who moved a hand before his neck like a movie director.
“Sep oh, nine-and-a-half, and oh again," said Charley into the phone, driving the prints in question off the board, which displayed only the three most recent in each month. "Kill the oh-and-a-halfs, Nutty. Put Grandpa on 'em. And tell Dewayne to pitch in when he gets a chance."
Dewayne, who was standing to Nutty's left and busy writing up the cross-trades Brian was entering, laughed and offered his standard comment: "Let me tell you somethin'."
"Fix the high in Sep to oh, 'head, some time in the next hour if you can. Good. That's it. You're finally gettin' the hang of this shit after fourteen years. Deece eight, Deece eight-and-a-half." He turned to Nutty. "The oh's not killed yet?"
"There," said Nutty, striking the key emphatically.
"You're out. Go where Gary is; tell ‘im to come up here."
"C'mon, Charley."
"You're too slow. Get atta here."
"It trades oh-and-a-half!" the broker directly to his right shouted, lashing out with his trading pad, striking Charley's arm.
"Keep your hands to yourself, Teddy. I ain't deaf."
"Pay attention."
This was the broker's catchphrase, aimed at Exchange employees and colleagues alike.
The roar intensified.
"Set up the 'Fast Market,’ Gary, hurry up. Don't send it ’til I tell you. Fuck it, send it."
A “Fast Market” was entered into the system to protect traders. Should the market move more than a penny at a time, any point not reported between the gaps would be assumed to have traded.
Activity was frantic. Brokers were atop one another. Suddenly there was room on the top step, as everyone was pressing forward.
"Ten Sep-Deece eight-fifty. Cross a Deece at eight, 'Lick My Balls.’ Cross a Sep at oh-and-a-half, 'All Fucked Up.’ Sep oh, 'Sleeze Bag.' Oh-and-a-half, one, oh-and-a-half. Your hot today, Headmeister. That twelve-year-old girl must be takin’ good care of you. Whattaya doin' now that school's out? You can't cruise the schoolyards no more."
Warhead laughed the same way he spoke, mumbling. His girlfriend, a Puerto Rican, was 19. He was 38, divorced, and so indifferent to conventions he’d yet to file a tax form for 1987.
"Sep two now, two-and-a-half, three." He took the microphone. "Listen up, who traded Deece at two? It's offered at one-and-a-half by Sonny.” He looked to Jerry Newman. “Take it down? FXLA Deece, 'head."
As the print was about to be removed from the board it was forced up by another entered by Brian, consequently, the more recent was stricken.
"No!" Charley cried. "Deece one now, then FXL3 Deece. C'mon, 'head, let your partner know what you're doin'. Work together."
A broker shouted at the podium.
"I know," Charley snapped back. "It's up there," then, sotto voce, "crawl back into your hole, jerk-off. So much for rhythm."
Brian slapped at Charley's shoulder and motioned toward the bottom of the pit, where Jerry Newman was in the midst of a tirade, demanding attention, waving his arms wildly, banging on a monitor so hard its screen went blank. His rasp was unintelligible through the din, but Charley knew what he was saying.
"Listen up," he said into the microphone. "Sep at three’s comin' down, Floor Committee ruling. The high in Sep is two-and-a-half."
"Why?” came the cry from several areas. “I went on stops."
"Frankie's got fifty at two-and-a-half." He raised the phone. "Sep two-and-a-half, two, and two-and-a-half again. Fix the high in Sep to…. Hold it. He's filled? Forget it, 'head. It trades three now. Cross twenty-one Sep at two-and-a-half, 'Pull Tom's Dick.’ Cross a hundred Sep-Deece eight-fifty, 'Just A Lunatic,’ then gimme a Sep at three and a three-and-a-half as fast as you can, dickface. Kill that first three print, Gary."
The prints relayed to Warhead did not go up. Charley surmised there had been a foul up entering the cross-switch, the most complicated of the data. He slapped Brian's arm and flashed the hand signals for the prints.
"There up there," Brian snapped. "You're gettin' as bad as these guys."
He was referring, of course, to the brokers. Charley chuckled and hung his head.
"You okay now, 'head? The spasms over? You know, the Cerebral Palsy Olympics are comin' up soon. You can be National's rep."
"What's this fuckin' kid givin’ me?" said Brian, irked.
Charley knew exactly where to look - to the rear right-hand side of the ring, Chet's area. "Got it?"
"I think so," Brian returned. "Who knows?"
"It trades three!" one of the three stooges shouted.
"It's up there!" Charley snarled. "Try lookin' at the board once in a while, Tommy. Sep two-and-a-half, Sep two. Deece oh. Cross a Deece at oh, 'Purple Haze.’ Sep two. Ah, shit, that's no good. Two-and-a-half, hurry up, 'head. Now three and two-and-a-half again. Sep two. Shit! Two-and-a-half, three.” He turned to Brian. “Don't put up any more twos; it's a half-bid.”
"You're the one who's puttin’ 'em up, asshole."
Seconds later Nelson signaled another Sep at two. Charley flashed the hand signal for a two-and-a-half, then brought his palm toward him, indicating that it was two-and-a-half-bid. He pointed at the terminal at his elbow, trying to communicate that the prints had already been entered into the system. Nelson persisted, pointing to Bobby Flynn, who’d demanded the trades be entered.
"Don't listen to that fuckin' idiot!" Charley shouted, the statement flying from him before he realized what he was saying. Even Brian was startled at the uncharacteristic outburst. Fortunately it’d been lost in the confusion. Charley thanked God he hadn't shouted it inadvertently into the microphone, as he did occasionally with information intended for the DEC. It might have cost him considerable grief, perhaps his job, as Exchange personnel were prohibited from addressing a broker derogatorily. A recent memorandum had reminded National employees to always address a broker politely. This brought howls from many, brokers included. Matty said: "Does this mean we have to say: ‘Fuck you, Sir’ or call them ‘Mr.’ Scumbag?"
Fortunately Bobby Flynn was laughing, having a sense of humor about the petty larceny he perpetrated. He called to Charley, placed his fingers behind his ears and flared them. "When you takin' off, Dumbo?" he said.
Charley had long ceased growing his hair long enough to cover his ears, which had always managed to protrude. He also took pains in setting an example of good grooming for his son.
"I'm wise to your bogus prints, Grandpa," he said. "The FBI's keepin' tabs on guys like you."
He found it odd that his most heated outburst had been directed at a broker he liked.
Dickie raced to the podium, frantic, shaking, complaining that his prints had not hit the board.
"Relax," said Charley calmly, "they're goin' up now."
Brian wasn't as kind, cursing him, chasing him away by threatening to strike him with the phone. Poor Dickie, an employee of National for 18 years, seemed on the verge of a nervous breakdown, face red, brow dotted with perspiration, breath short. The market completely altered his easy-going, congenial disposition.
Stevie, stationed at the bottom of the pit, clapped to draw attention to himself, then began his imitation of Dickie fishing, slowly reeling away, smiling distractedly, swaying with the motion of the boat. Brian and Charley burst into laughter, so precise was Stevie's rendition of Dickie's mannerisms in the ring. He stood with his back arched, left hand clinging to his right hip, right arm dangling, fingers stretching, as if he were loosening them in order to give prints. He gazed lazily at his watch, then ran the inner edge of his left hand along his forehead from right to left. Everyone loved Dickie, despite his propensity for tall tales. He swore he’d been at Woodstock and had played football at USC. There were caricatures of the events on the Wall of Shame.
"Get the valium," Charley cried, which was Michelle's prescription for Dickie. "Fifty Sep EFP straight, 'Sleeping Beauty.' No, cross 'em. 0kay, 'head? You stud, you. Cross seven at three, 'Joe Jitsu.' Ten red-Deece red-March twelve-fifty. Don't send it yet."
He gazed at the board, calculating the difference between the settlement prices of the months, making sure it was in line with the market. The forward months, those a year ahead, were dubbed, for some reason, “back months." The designation "red" was a carry-over from the days at the old site when the back months had been entered on the blackboards with red chalk.
"Send it, it's good. Sep three-and-a-half, Sep four. Ah, shit, these fuckin’ vultures," he moaned, seizing the microphone. "Listen up, Sep at four's comin' down; it's offered at three-and-a-half. He's filled? Put it back-up, 'head, Sep four. It's no good now? C'mon, make up your mind, Jerry. Don't do anything yet, 'head? They're still arguin'. Floor Committee, can I have a ruling on the Seps at four, please? Deece two, 'head. Awright, listen up -- the high in Sep is four. No? Three-and-a-half? Fix the high in Sep to three-and-a-half, 'head. Let's see how long that stands. Don't kill anything yet, Gary."
A broker shouted at the podium. "I went on stops. You can't take it down."
"Whattaya yellin’ at me for? I didn't make the ruling."
"Take it down!"
"I can't. I'm not Floor Committee. Talk to them. You can't take it down, either. Fuckin' asshole," he concluded in a whisper. "See, what'd I tell you? Fix the high in Sep to four."
"Good," said Gary. "Saves me the trouble."
"Yeah, we wouldn't want you to work for a living."
Gary laughed, despite the venom with which the statement had been delivered. There was no sense in taking things personally here, although it was frequently unavoidable.
"Sep three. Cross a Sep at three - never mind," said Charley, pointing at Brian, who’d caught the trade simultaneously and was entering it.
"Jerry wants the fine pad," said Brian.
"What for? The four print? That makes a lotta sense. The trade’s good but it draws a fine? It's either gotta be good or bad; it can't be both. Why wouldn't Anthony take the fine? The customer probably made a few grand. What's five bills compared to the adjustment he woulda had to make?"
"What d'you care?" said Brian. "You should know by now that things don't hafta make sense here."
He swung the microphone toward Charley and nodded at the clock. The close, 2:24, was approaching. Time had flown.
"Awright, 'head, less than a minute. Don't forget the clock – the ‘clock,’ not the 'cock,' okay? Keep your hands off Paulie."
The start of the close was to be entered into the system each day. Volume was to accompany each print. Charley usually made up his own, basing it on the activity of the market, as the reporters neglected it unless a broker made a particularly large transaction.
"Hang with me now, Mister Head. Looks like it's gonna be a bitch. Lotta guys got caught with their pants down and are gonna try to get even."
"New highs guaranteed," said Brian.
New highs or lows on the close were dreaded by the Exchange staff, as they invariably led to argument and delay of the finalization
"Comin’ up," said Charley into the phone, taking the microphone in his other hand, bouncing on his right leg nervously.
The bell sounded. "We're on the close! Ten Sep at four. Ten Sep three-and-a-half. Fifty Sep four. Five Sep  four-and-a-half. Deece two-and-a-half, two lots. Cross five Sep at four, 'Kiss Prick.’ Cross six Sep at four-and-a-half, 'Cave Man.' Deece three, five times. Ten Sep four, ten at four-and-a-half. Ten Sep five now. Five March three. Cross ten Deece at two-and-a-half, 'Don't Mess Around.' Cross forty Sep at five-and-a-half, 'Re-Tard.' Ah, shit, that can't be good. The market's closed!" he shouted at the top of his lungs into the microphone. "Stop trading! The market's closed!"
Trading continued, as the bell had barely been audible above the din, as was the buzzer Charley depressed repeatedly.
"Stop trading! The market's closed! Stop trading!"
His cries, repeated taps at the buzzer, were ignored. He gave up.
"Ring the bell!" Stinky demanded. He rushed to the podium, barreling his thin frame through a tangle of bodies and seizing the microphone. "Hey! he screeched. "Hey!"
Finally the activity slowed. The last of the transactions were done quietly, as was customary after the close, as brokers tried to match up with others in order to fill or improve a position, maximize gain or minimize loss.
"Cross ten Sep at four, 'Just A Lunatic.’ Six Sep four-and-a-half, 'Wise Guy.’ Ten Sep-Deece eight-fifty. A hundred Sep EFP cross, 'Take A Shit.' With me, 'head? You're unbelievable today, you know that? Cross eighteen Sep four-and-a-half, 'Feel Me Up.' That's it, hang up. We'll add in the resta the shit out here. Great job, scumbag. No more, Bri."

My thanks to the kind ladies who bought books today.
Vic's Short Works: http://tinyurl.com/jy55pzc
Vic's 5th Novel: http://tinyurl.com/okxkwh5Vic's 4th novel: tinyurl.com/bszwlxh
Vic's 3rd Novel: http://tinyurl.com/7e9jty3
Vic's Short Story on Kindle: http://tinyurl.com/k95k3nx
Vic's Short Story Collection: http://www.tiny.cc/Oycgb
Vic's 2nd Novel: http://tiny.cc/0iHLb Kindle: http://tinyurl.com/kx3d3uf
Vic's 1st Novel: http://tinyurl.com/l84h63j
Read Vic's Stories, free: http://fictionaut.com/users/vic-fortezza

Thursday, December 29, 2016

The Writer's Life 12/29 - Golden Girl from the Golden Age

RIP Hollywood legend Debbie Reynolds, 84, who succumbed to a stroke a day after the death of her daughter, Carrie Fisher. In 1948, at 16, she won the Miss Burbank beauty contest, which led to a contract with Warner Bros.. She rocketed to fame with her performance in her fifth film, Singin' in the Rain (1952), arguably the best original cinema musical ever. She had no experience as a dancer prior to that. She learned on the fly and was later quoted as saying: "Singin' in the Rain and childbirth were the two hardest things I ever had to do in my life." She had a face the camera and public loved, projecting girl-next-door wholesomeness. She had a great run in '50's and into the '60's despite the public humiliation she suffered when Eddie Fisher left her for Elizabeth Taylor, with whom she eventually made peace. She received her only Oscar nomination in 1964 for The Unsinkable Molly Brown. In 1969 she followed Doris Day and other contemporaries in launching a sitcom bearing her name. When the debut episode included an advertisement for cigarettes, a direct violation of one of her contractual stipulations, she was outraged. The series was canceled after 22 episodes. Although she seemed a natural for Broadway, she appeared in only three productions: a revival of Irene in 1973, for which she received a Tony nomination; a self-titled one-woman show in '78; and a long run as Lauren Becall's replacement in Woman of the Year in '82. She toured nationally in a production of ...Molly Brown, and did other theater on the west coast and in Australia. She was even a successful recording artist, earning a gold record for Tammy from Tammy and the Bachelor (1957), and had two other top-25 Billboard hits: A Very Special Love (#20 in January 1958) and Am I That Easy to Forget? (#25 in March 1960) . For ten years she headlined for three months a year at Las Vegas's Riviera Hotel. She also ran her own casino in Sin City until it went bankrupt in '97. Nearly all the money she earned in the latter half of her career was put toward her goal of creating a Hollywood museum. Her collection of items numbers more than 3000 costumes and 46,000 square-feet worth of props and equipment. For 56 years she was involved in The Thalians, a charitable organization devoted to children and adults with mental health issues. In real life she was as unsinkable as Molly Brown. Not only did she have to endure Fisher's betrayal, her second husband gambled away a lot of her money, leaving her in dire straits financially. And she survived a third divorce as well. She battled adversity with the pluck of a Hollywood heroine. She was an original. Kudos, madam, and thank you. (Facts from Wiki & IMDb)

There were a couple of items in today's Post that manifest how fascinating the human race is. An Uber driver asked his passenger to take the wheel, and went into the back seat for a nap. When he awoke, the guy was involved in a high speed chase with cops. Now he's suing both the customer and, incredibly, Uber. He claims the right to go after the company because he was a helpless passenger at the time. Some people have big ones... Speaking of which - a Virginia woman hit on a lucrative scheme that almost made her rich. She bought expensive purses in department stores and returned knock-offs in their place. She was a million dollars to the good when finally caught. She should have quit while she was way ahead.

Here's another example of the bias of the mainstream media - its silence, indifference to combat deaths when a Democrat is in the White House. More than 1900 U. S. military personnel have been killed in and around Afghanistan since President Obama took office. During Bush's reign, there were about 625. I expect the liberal press will start raising this issue once Trump is in office.

The floating book shop was rained out today.
Vic's Short Works: http://tinyurl.com/jy55pzc
Vic's 5th Novel: http://tinyurl.com/okxkwh5Vic's 4th novel: tinyurl.com/bszwlxh
Vic's 3rd Novel: http://tinyurl.com/7e9jty3
Vic's Short Story on Kindle: http://tinyurl.com/k95k3nx
Vic's Short Story Collection: http://www.tiny.cc/Oycgb
Vic's 2nd Novel: http://tiny.cc/0iHLb Kindle: http://tinyurl.com/kx3d3uf
Vic's 1st Novel: http://tinyurl.com/l84h63j
Read Vic's Stories, free: http://fictionaut.com/users/vic-fortezza


Wednesday, December 28, 2016

The Writer's Life 12/28 - The Edge



RIP Carrie Fisher, 60, whose heart gave out after years of the use of meds that quelled bi-polar disorder. Unfortunately, she seemed to inherit her father's genes regarding substance abuse. It can't be easy to be the child of successful artists, and her parents, Debbie Reynolds and Eddie Fisher, were superstars. And yet she managed to emerge from that shadow, forge her own identity and achieve great success as an actress and writer. Of course, she will always be remembered as Princess Leia. I am not a fan of the Star Wars films, but I concede that they have become American mythology and deserve respect because of that. I was more interested in Fisher's other works. She has 90 credits as an actress listed under her name at IMDb, but the best of her came while seated at her desk. Her Novels are: Postcards from the Edge, Surrender the Pink, Delusions of Grandma, Hollywood Moms (introduction), The Best Awful There Is; her non-fiction: Wishful Drinking, Shockaholic, The Princess Diarist; her screenplays: Postcards from the Edge (1990), These Old Broads (2001). E-Girl (2007); her doctored screenplays: Sister Act (1992), Last Action Hero (1993) and The Wedding Singer (1998); her plays: Wishful Drinking and A Spy in the House of Me. She also wrote an episode each of Roseanne and Young Indiana Jones. She was admired for her acerbic wit. Here are three examples: "Instant gratification takes too long." "You can't find true affection in Hollywood because everyone does the fake affection so well." "I was street smart, but unfortunately the street was Rodeo Drive." The picture above is from Postcards..., which starred Meryl Streep. It is a wonderful metaphor for the life of someone living on the edge. Well done, madam.

According to an article in today's NY Post, during the 2016 holiday season Amazon shipped more than a billion items.

"Never bet against the house," the saying goes - especially if it's filled with politicians. According to an item in the Weird But True column of the Post, Nevada has reaped $35 million in unclaimed gambling winnings. According to state law, if no one steps up in six months, the government takes 25%, the casinos 75%. The latter always ends up in the black, while the former somehow is frequently in the red despite its confiscations.

It was a cold session at the floating book shop, literally and metaphorically. There was only five minutes of sunshine and no buyers. Occupy Jack stopped by and handed me a lucky dollar. My thanks. I was home, warming up, when the phone rang. Frank borrowed both my eighth grade and high school yearbooks a week ago, as he's planning a reunion of the former, St. Mary's. Many of its graduates went to Lafayette H.S., so he had an opportunity to do some research. We sat in his brand new SUV for a while, shooting the breeze, exchanging info on former classmates, sharing yuks. The most amusing nugget involved twins, Tommy and Peter. When they found out their mom had a bit of indian blood, one of them was really taken with it and posed for pictures dressed in full length tribal garb. I laughed out loud at the news. Frank promised to email the photos to me. He thanked me by buying a copy of Killing, which I greatly appreciate. I was such a poor student through most of my years at St. Mary's. I probably should have been left back in either the third, fourth or seventh grade. I suppose my mom, who didn't speak more than a few words of English, dispatched my sister, 20 years older than me, to fight on my behalf. Any of my classmates would be shocked that I've written a book, let alone eight.
Vic's Short Works: http://tinyurl.com/jy55pzc
Vic's 5th Novel: http://tinyurl.com/okxkwh5Vic's 4th novel: tinyurl.com/bszwlxh
Vic's 3rd Novel: http://tinyurl.com/7e9jty3
Vic's Short Story on Kindle: http://tinyurl.com/k95k3nx
Vic's Short Story Collection: http://www.tiny.cc/Oycgb
Vic's 2nd Novel: http://tiny.cc/0iHLb Kindle: http://tinyurl.com/kx3d3uf
Vic's 1st Novel: http://tinyurl.com/l84h63j
Read Vic's Stories, free: http://fictionaut.com/users/vic-fortezza

Tuesday, December 27, 2016

The Writer's Life 12/27 - Heroes

I'd read through the entire 388 pages of Hero Tales From History before checking on the author, listed on the cover only as Burham. I laughed out loud when I went to the title page and found "Smith Burnham, A. M., Head of the Department of History, Western State Teachers College, Kalamazoo, Michigan." That school eventually evolved to Western Michigan U., my alma mater. There is a dorm in his name on campus. It was female back in my day and probably co-ed today. To my chagrin, I didn't find any information on him in web searches. Published in 1930 in a blue hardcover, a 1938 edition of Hero Tales... in red came into my possession amongst a large books donation. As the title suggests, it delivers portraits of men and women who had a large impact on civilization, beginning with Moses and ending with Woodrow Wilson, in five to ten pages minus illustrations, of which there are many. The copy I have has a stamp reading: "Property of the Board of Education, May 12 1942, City of New York." Geared toward children, the prose is often weak and faulty although eminently readable. I learned a lot, or perhaps relearned aspects I'd had forgotten over time. For instance, Robert E. Lee's father was a Colonel during the Revolutionary war. He was known as "Light-Horse Harry," and was a confidant of George Washington. Lee delivered a memorable eulogy of the Father of Our Country, describing him in these famous words: "First in war, first in peace, and first in the hearts of his countrymen." I'm sure the book would be deemed politically incorrect nowadays, as it unapologetically, almost exclusively details the accomplishments of white males. It is available at Amazon, the hardcover going for $3.22, paperback for $6.99. Someone has even fashioned a Kindle of it for a buck. I will include it among the young adult section of the floating book shop at the bargain basement price of a dollar.

NFL: It was an unfortunate weekend for the league as young QB's Derek Carr of the Raiders and Marcus Mariota of the Titans each suffered a broken leg on what weren't even hard hits. If the Patriots don't advance to the Super Bowl, it would be a monumental upset. I do believe the Cowboys have a shot at beating them in the big game, as the running of Ezekiel Elliot behind that great offensive line may eat up the clock and keep New England's offense off the field for long stretches. Then again, games often evolve much differently than predicted. As for the Matt Barkley watch - the QB struggled mightily, throwing five interceptions, which offset his two TD's and more than 300 yards passing, very Joe-Namath-like. The most interesting aspect of the week was an apparent mutiny by the Vikings secondary, which decided on its own to play a straight up zone rather than to have a constant shadow on the Packers' all-pro wide receiver Jordy Nelson, who torched them in the first half. In the second half he was covered one-on-one and was almost completely shut down. Those guys should have listened to their coach. The organization is now in damage control about the issue, downplaying it.

It was more like early October than late December today, and the floating book shop did well. My thanks to the woman who bought seven hardcover novels, four Catherine Coulter thrillers, a Debbie Macomber Christmas story, a Belva Plain romance, and another that has slipped my mind. Thanks also to Herbie, who donated a Michael Palmer medical thriller in paperback, to my Tuesday benefactress for another diverse array of goodies, and to local building porter Justin, who gave me two beautiful pictorials. The highlight of the session came late. Vitaly returned from the bank and asked to buy one of my books. I suggested Killing, which I believe is my best. He finds English much easier to read than to speak. Spasibo, sir. All the aforementioned are heroes in my book.
Vic's Short Works: http://tinyurl.com/jy55pzc
Vic's 5th Novel: http://tinyurl.com/okxkwh5Vic's 4th novel: tinyurl.com/bszwlxh
Vic's 3rd Novel: http://tinyurl.com/7e9jty3
Vic's Short Story on Kindle: http://tinyurl.com/k95k3nx
Vic's Short Story Collection: http://www.tiny.cc/Oycgb
Vic's 2nd Novel: http://tiny.cc/0iHLb Kindle: http://tinyurl.com/kx3d3uf
Vic's 1st Novel: http://tinyurl.com/l84h63j
Read Vic's Stories, free: http://fictionaut.com/users/vic-fortezza

Monday, December 26, 2016

The Writer's Life 12/26 - Mind-Boggling

In an op-ed piece in today's NY Post, Deroy Murdock presents shocking figures concerning the Democrats' losses since President Obama took office: Senate seats slipped from 55 to 46, down 16 %. House seats fell from 256 to 194, down 24 % (Democrats ran the Senate and House in 2009. Next year, they will control neither). Governorships slid from 28 to 16, down 43 %. State legislatures (both chambers) plunged from 27 to 14, down 48 %. Trifectas (states with Democrat governors and both legislative chambers) cratered from 17 to 6, down 65 %. Two similarly-themed blurbs further illustrate Murdock's points. In the past six years New York has lost 846,669 in population, more than any other state. Many of the departed were replaced by immigrants. As of 7/1/15, 191,369 have left the state, a net loss of 1894 measured against those who moved here. In another liberal state, Connecticut, population 3.6 million, 30,000 have abandoned the state.

Rapper Troy Ave, real name Roland Collins, was shot while seated in his Maserati in his native Brooklyn. Fortunately, the bullet only grazed his head. He's been out on bail for his connection to the shooting death of  his bodyguard in May at the Irving Plaza club in lower Manhattan. He should be laughing all the way to the bank, not traveling a path to an early grave. It's mind-boggling.

RIP George Michael, 53, killed by lifestyle. At least he pleased millions in his short life. He entered the mainstream as a member of Wham with the catchy Wake Me Up Before You Go Go, and broke big as a solo artist, winning a Grammy in 1989 for his album Faith, which has sold at least 25 million copies, according to Wiki. Eight of his singles hit #1 in the USA. He won three Brit Awards (Best British Male Vocalist twice), four MTV Video Music Awards, four Ivor Novello Awards (British/Irish), three American Music Awards, and two Grammies from eight nominations. What I remember most about him is the effect he had on female colleagues at the Exchange. His demons are now at rest.

It was great to be running the floating book shop after a two day holiday break. My thanks to Lorraine, who purchased a thriller, and to the young man who arrived as I was packing up and drizzle was falling, and who overpaid for Knightmare on Wall Street: The Rise and Fall of Knight Capital and the Biggest Risk for Financial Markets by Edgar Perez & the erotic novel Just One Night by Kyra Davis.
Vic's Short Works: http://tinyurl.com/jy55pzc
Vic's 5th Novel: http://tinyurl.com/okxkwh5Vic's 4th novel: tinyurl.com/bszwlxh
Vic's 3rd Novel: http://tinyurl.com/7e9jty3
Vic's Short Story on Kindle: http://tinyurl.com/k95k3nx
Vic's Short Story Collection: http://www.tiny.cc/Oycgb
Vic's 2nd Novel: http://tiny.cc/0iHLb Kindle: http://tinyurl.com/kx3d3uf
Vic's 1st Novel: http://tinyurl.com/l84h63j
Read Vic's Stories, free: http://fictionaut.com/users/vic-fortezza

Saturday, December 24, 2016

The Writer's Life 12/24 - Finest Hours

Just last week I viewed Hell or High Water (2016), which paired Chris Pine and Ben Foster as bank robbing brothers. They worked together again in The Finest Hours (2016), this time as antagonistic crew members of a small Coast Guard vessel sent to rescue the survivors of a large ship torn in two by waves whipped up by a Nor'easter. The story is based on a non-fiction book by Casey Sherman and Michael J. Tougias. The year is 1952, the ship is the SS  Pendelton, the location is New England. Casey Affleck plays the cerebral loner whose genius keeps the larger craft afloat long enough for help to arrive. I didn't understand how the device he conjured worked, but it was fascinating, bringing to mind the Archimedes principle : "Give me a lever long enough and a fulcrum on which to place it, and I shall move the world." Since it is obvious the rescue will be successful, the suspense lies in which of the men will not make it. As expected in the age of CGI, the effects are spectacular, the sets authentic. Those are the flick's strengths. I wasn't crazy about the love story, which adds length to the narrative and doesn't rise above standard, but it did introduce me to Holliday Grainger, yet another Brit who flawlessly plays a Yank. Not yet 30, she is in the midst of a fantastic career, already having played Lady Chatterley, Lucrezia Borgia, Bonnie Parker and Estella of Great Expectations, among many other roles. Unfortunately, The Finest Hours never rises above solid. Produced by Disney, it is rated PG-13. I don't recall any profanity and I doubt anyone would be squeamish about the violence the storm inflicts. The film runs less than two hours. 37,000 users at IMDb have rated it, forging to a consensus of 6.8 of ten. On a scale of five, I say three. It did not fare well at the box office. Made on a budget of $80 million, it brought in a little more than $51 million worldwide, according to Wiki. It was directed by Craig Gillespie, an Aussie, with whose work I was previously unfamiliar.

I just ordered another proof copy of my next novel, Five Cents. The process was a lot easier this time, as the requirements were fresh in my memory from less than two weeks ago. When I first moved to submit, the procedures were foreign, as a year had passed between books. I hope I flushed all the errors from it so I don't have to do a round three. I will give the first proof to my biggest fan, my sister,

Merry Christmas. Let's eat!
Vic's Short Works: http://tinyurl.com/jy55pzc
Vic's 5th Novel: http://tinyurl.com/okxkwh5Vic's 4th novel: tinyurl.com/bszwlxh
Vic's 3rd Novel: http://tinyurl.com/7e9jty3
Vic's Short Story on Kindle: http://tinyurl.com/k95k3nx
Vic's Short Story Collection: http://www.tiny.cc/Oycgb
Vic's 2nd Novel: http://tiny.cc/0iHLb Kindle: http://tinyurl.com/kx3d3uf
Vic's 1st Novel: http://tinyurl.com/l84h63j
Read Vic's Stories, free: http://fictionaut.com/users/vic-fortezza

Friday, December 23, 2016

The Writer's Life 12/23 - Points of Light

The most extravagant Christmas light displays in the country are located in the Dyker Heights section of Brooklyn, aka Dyker Lights. Over 100,000 people flock to the area every year to see them. One can even book a three-and-a-half-hour bus tour of the area. Tickets are $50 for adults, $40 for kids under 12. Here's an example of the artistry:


Last night Florida Panthers forward Jaromir Jagr had an assist on a goal, which moved him ahead of Mark Messier on the NHL’s all-time points list, in sole possession of second place. The 44-year-old Jagr has 1888 points in his 1663 games. It took Messier 93 more games to hit his total of 1887. Wayne Gretzky holds the all-time record at 2857, which he accomplished in just 1,487 games. Jagr would have to play until he's 100 to catch the Great One. Nonetheless, kudos.

I've read through a print copy of my next novel, Five Cents. It's 175 pages. I will make 30 minor changes. Less than half are error correction. Many are a change of wording, such as "signpost" instead of "lamppost." One aspect surprised me - there was a sentence missing. I have no idea how that happened. And there is a page break in the middle of one section of the PDF version but not in the Word file. It's at the exact point where I made my last addition, two paragraphs about the protagonist's college days. My main concern about the book remains - is it too short to be a good novel? And another has cropped up. The main character may be in or near tears too often. Yes, he's a combat veteran readjusting to civilian life, but I may have overdone it. There is not much plot. I hope the characters are interesting enough so that readers stick with them. I will resubmit the file to Create Space shortly. This time I will use the Google Chrome browser and hope that there will be a tab for Word. If there isn't, I will have to convert to PDF and get the pages numbered at another site. It's never easy.

My thanks to the Russian gentleman who bought a cook book in his native tongue, and to Herbie, who donated a thriller and Marjorie Morninstar by Herman Wouk, first published in 1955. Special thanks to Betsy, who handed me a gift-wrapped pair of thick gloves. She refused any books or CD's in return. All she got was a kiss on the cheek.
Vic's Short Works: http://tinyurl.com/jy55pzc
Vic's 5th Novel: http://tinyurl.com/okxkwh5Vic's 4th novel: tinyurl.com/bszwlxh
Vic's 3rd Novel: http://tinyurl.com/7e9jty3
Vic's Short Story on Kindle: http://tinyurl.com/k95k3nx
Vic's Short Story Collection: http://www.tiny.cc/Oycgb
Vic's 2nd Novel: http://tiny.cc/0iHLb Kindle: http://tinyurl.com/kx3d3uf
Vic's 1st Novel: http://tinyurl.com/l84h63j
Read Vic's Stories, free: http://fictionaut.com/users/vic-fortezza

Thursday, December 22, 2016

The Writer's Life 12/22 - Suits, Waivers & Iron

Here are the Top Ten Most Ridiculous Lawsuits of 2016 according to facesoflawsuitabuse.org, edited by yours truly: 10. It took $25 million dollars and 100 lawyers for a Minnesota company to beat overzealous federal prosecutors in court. The Feds’ claimed products were sold without proper government approval. The jury disagreed. 9. Mom and Son Sue Over SAT Typo that Gave Students Extra Test Time. (How is this not #1?) 8. For 50 years University of Nebraska football fans have celebrated touchdowns by releasing scores of red balloons. Although they are biodegradable, one man’s lawsuit claims they threaten the health and safety of wildlife. 7. A California woman claimed instruction, equipment and music caused her to fall off an exercise bicycle. The still-moving pedals then banged into her ankle. 6. How does a $40 printer on Craigslist turn into a $30,000 nightmare? When the buyer sues. The printer was broken, he claimed. Six years after the original sale, the case is ongoing, making it the most expensive printer ever. 5. MasterCard has raised more than $30 million for cancer research, which is too much for one card member, who sued the company for continuing the fund-raising after the original $4 million dollar goal was met. 4. A British photographer used his camera for a series of popular monkey selfies. Animal rights activists sued on behalf of the monkey, claiming the primate—not the photographer—owns the copyright. In 2016 a court ruling allowed the lawsuit to continue. (Maybe this one should be #1.) 3. Walking-while-texting is common. Now it has turned into a payday for a Georgia woman, who plowed into a ladder, causing her phone to hit her forehead. She’s now $161,000 richer. (These are getting too tough to call.) 2. A California woman claimed Fresh, Incorporated conned consumers into thinking there was more Sugar Lip Treatment in the tube. The case was thrown out. 1. Starbucks was hit by two class action suits over how much java is in their cups. One says there’s a quarter inch too much steamed milk instead of coffee. Another says there’s too much ice in the iced coffee. (The monkey gets my vote.)

David Rollins is having an interesting off-season. The 27-year-old pitcher was a member of the Mariners when on Nov. 18 he was claimed on waivers by the Cubs. Four days later Texas grabbed him on waivers from Chicago. His career with the Rangers lasted nine days. On the 10th day Philadelphia made its move, claiming him. On his 19th day as a Phillie, Rollins was claimed once again, going back to the Rangers - four teams in 33 days! He spent most of last season at Triple-A, where he posted a 3.77 ERA in 45 1/3 innings. Over the past two seasons he’s pitched 34 1/3 innings in the majors, compiling a 7.60 ERA. Let's put it into the perspective of the average Joe - we should all have such a problem.

There's a new iron man in the NHL, left-wing Andrew Cogliano. He has played in 738 straight games since he entered the league, 328 for the Edmonton Oilers, 410 for the Anaheim Ducks, amazing given the rigors of pro hockey. He moves up to fifth all-time in the category. Given his name, I'm assuming he's of Italian descent, at least on one side. Kudos, goombah.

My thanks to the kind folks who bought wares today at the floating book shop. Matt, 75, an entrepreneur who owns a pizzeria and a cigar bar in Philly, stopped by. He has an offer from NYC for a job as a deputy commissioner, starting salary $160,000. I sense it's too good for him to pass up. Alexander E. Poet also visited and said that Waj, who runs the gyro truck at the juncture where Avenue Z meets Sheepshead Bay Road, was robbed at gunpoint yesterday. It must have happened after I stopped by for my Wednesday chicken plate. May the bastard who did it spend many days in jail. Kudos to the gentleman who bought two works of non-fiction to read during his hiatus from work on his second Master's, this time in Engineering. The most remarkable thing about it is that, judging by his looks, he's at least 60. Finally, happy birthday to Barry Spunt, author of Heroin and Music in NYC, who's giving his age as the Jack-Benny-like 39, which is at least a decade off.
Vic's Short Works: http://tinyurl.com/jy55pzc
Vic's 5th Novel: http://tinyurl.com/okxkwh5Vic's 4th novel: tinyurl.com/bszwlxh
Vic's 3rd Novel: http://tinyurl.com/7e9jty3
Vic's Short Story on Kindle: http://tinyurl.com/k95k3nx
Vic's Short Story Collection: http://www.tiny.cc/Oycgb
Vic's 2nd Novel: http://tiny.cc/0iHLb Kindle: http://tinyurl.com/kx3d3uf
Vic's 1st Novel: http://tinyurl.com/l84h63j
Read Vic's Stories, free: http://fictionaut.com/users/vic-fortezza

Wednesday, December 21, 2016

The Writer's Life 12/21 - Numbers



According to an article in today's NY Post, the Aston Martin DB4 in the above picture was left in the woods in Massachusetts for more than 40 years. It may sell for nearly half a million dollars at auction in January. Rolled out in 1958, a favorite of 007, it was one of the first cars that could go from zero to 100 mph in less than 30 seconds. Only about 1200 were manufactured, which explains its value. I checked several articles and none lists who the current owner is, only that it was left near the original owner's home. Maybe the British secret service will buy it and turn it over to Q for repairs.

From the Weird But True column in today's Post, in my own words: An Ohio math teacher gave his class a unique problem: "Tony can send five texts and three nudes in 19 minutes. He could also send three texts and one nude in nine minutes. How long would it take him to send one text and one nude?" Not surprisingly in these sensitive times, he was reprimanded by superiors for this bit of creative thinking. The answer is five minutes, two for the text, three for the nude. It was included in the blurb. I would never have figured it out.

Gene stopped by the floating book shop and I immediately noted  the red spots on his face. I assumed he'd had an allergic reaction. Turns out his doctor recommended a test for skin cancer. A cream was spread and the spots represent benign growth, which will be removed with another cream. Any that remain will be frozen and scraped off. Those will likely return. The others won't. Modern medicine never ceases to fascinate.

I got pissed this morning when my microwave conked out. It then occurred to me that it has been in service since 1988, when I moved into my co-op. It lasted almost 30 years. Kudos, Magic Chef.

My thanks to the gentleman who purchased a pictorial on Spam, the canned meat, not what's in email accounts, my only sale of the day, and to Cabbie, who donated four paperbacks. Unfortunately, I didn't have any on hand he hadn't read. I managed to put two hours in despite the absence of sunshine. Fortunately, it wasn't windy. My bank statement contained good news on the literary front - royalty payment four four sales at Amazon, only a few bucks but appreciated. I've also had an oddity regarding my rock n roll epic, Rising Star. The ranking of the Kindle version rose, so I assumed a sale, but when I checked it out on my dashboard it seems that it moved because someone read the entire book online. Authors are paid for pages read. I just hope it wasn't someone gaming the system, clicking through without actually reading. I don't need any bad karma.
Vic's Short Works: http://tinyurl.com/jy55pzc
Vic's 5th Novel: http://tinyurl.com/okxkwh5Vic's 4th novel: tinyurl.com/bszwlxh
Vic's 3rd Novel: http://tinyurl.com/7e9jty3
Vic's Short Story on Kindle: http://tinyurl.com/k95k3nx
Vic's Short Story Collection: http://www.tiny.cc/Oycgb
Vic's 2nd Novel: http://tiny.cc/0iHLb Kindle: http://tinyurl.com/kx3d3uf
Vic's 1st Novel: http://tinyurl.com/l84h63j
Read Vic's Stories, free: http://fictionaut.com/users/vic-fortezza

Tuesday, December 20, 2016

The Writer's Life 12/20 - Here, There, Everywhere

It's one of those days when you pick up the newspaper and despair. From the terrorist carnage in Berlin to the assassination of a Russian diplomat by a Turkish Muslim cop to the vileness of the leftists who threatened Electoral College voters to the death of a young model at the hands of a chiropractor who severed an artery while administering back adjustments, the dark side on humanity threatens to block out the sun we are privileged to share.

Just when it seems college administrators cannot possibly descend any lower into politically correct nonsense, they do. Here's the gist of an article from redstate.com, edited by yours truly: University of Kentucky officials have punished journalism professor Buck Ryan, alleging sexual misconduct for singing a modified version of The Beach Boys’ hit California Girls while teaching a storytelling class in China. UK has a partnership program with Jilin University. According to Ryan, no victims have been identified and he was never given an opportunity to defend himself against the charges. He sang the song during the program’s closing ceremonies. It was found to be “of major concern and embarrassment” to other faculty members on the trip, according to a redacted letter that cited the allegations. He has also been accused of “inappropriate touching” of students and use of sexual language. He is not suspected of having a sexual relationship with a student. What, specifically, he’s
accused of doing is unclear, as several details have been redacted from the letter, which was recently made public. A three-month investigation revealed no student complaints. In more than 30 years of college teaching, Ryan has never faced a complaint of sexual misconduct. The University has forbidden him from receiving any international travel funds, and a prestigious award he won has been rescinded. When he inquired about his due process rights, he was told he didn't have any. He was convicted, without trial, of inappropriate behavior with two female students who were never interviewed by university officials. Is there more to the story or is this another example of gross over-reach?

"Surreal," meaning “marked by the intense irrational reality of a dream,” was looked up so much by online users that Merriam-Webster on Monday dubbed it the word of the year. It joins the Oxford English Dictionary’s “post-truth” and Dictionary.com’s “xenophobia” as top words of 2016.

Adam West, 88, as baby-boomers know, portrayed Batman in the 1960s TV series. He is selling paintings he has done of the show's villains at an art gallery in Ketchum, Idaho, near where he lives. He is scheduled to attend the opening night of the exhibit, dubbed Criminals on Canvas. He says the works capture the humor, zaniness and depth of the villains, as well as the Freudian motivations of Batman. Here's one he did of the Caped Crusader:


NFL: After the Chiefs stumble at home vs. the Titans, the Patriots seem like an even bigger lock to represent the AFC in the Super Bowl. The NFC remains wide open. Kudos to Dak Prescott, whose stellar performance silenced all those who suggested he be replaced by Tony Romo after last week's disappointment vs. the Giants. As for the Matt Barkley watch, the results were checkered on Sunday: more than 300 yards passing, two touchdowns but three interceptions in a one point loss to the Packers.

One of the main reasons I opened the floating book shop despite the cold was the anticipated appearance of a young beauty who has been stocking up on Tuesdays. I learned a little bit about Mariann today. I thought she was 20. She's 28, married, a mom, and living in Connecticut. She has writing ambitions and asked about self-publishing. Given her age, I suggested she try the traditional avenues first, and told her to feel free to ask me any questions once she's ready to roll. Among her selections today, she chose Close to the Edge, my most serious novel, which is almost totally devoid of humor. It is so surprising to me that such a vivacious beauty, who seems untouched by life's sorrows, prefers the most serious works. My thanks, and also to Marie, who bought crossword puzzle book on the movies.
Vic's Short Works: http://tinyurl.com/jy55pzc
Vic's 5th Novel: http://tinyurl.com/okxkwh5Vic's 4th novel: tinyurl.com/bszwlxh
Vic's 3rd Novel: http://tinyurl.com/7e9jty3
Vic's Short Story on Kindle: http://tinyurl.com/k95k3nx
Vic's Short Story Collection: http://www.tiny.cc/Oycgb
Vic's 2nd Novel: http://tiny.cc/0iHLb Kindle: http://tinyurl.com/kx3d3uf
Vic's 1st Novel: http://tinyurl.com/l84h63j
Read Vic's Stories, free: http://fictionaut.com/users/vic-fortezza

Monday, December 19, 2016

The Writer's Life 12/19 - Short Takes

Sign of the times: Italians may no longer have to promise fidelity in wedding vows. A new bill proposes to remove the clause from marriage contracts. Some politicians are pushing for the amendment to the Civil Code because it no longer represents marriage in the modern day. “It’s the legacy of an outdated and antiquated vision of marriage, family and the duties and rights between spouses," said a Senator. I've never been married. People are flawed, stuff happens, but if I ever tied the knot I'd expect both of us to be faithful. What's the point of marriage if the bar is set so low?

The Fast Takes column in today's NY Post reports that the NY Times does not practice what it preaches when it comes to diversity. Only two of its 20 reporters who covered the election were black. None were Latino or Asian. That's a lesser percentage than the appointees Trump has thus far selected.

The Weird But True column cites an unusual obituary headline used by a family upon the passing of a 67-year-old man: "Irishman dies from stubborness, whiskey." The comment has attracted so much attention that police have been called to manage traffic at the funeral.

There's an interesting development in major college football, where, in a sense, all bowl games but those involving the playoff have become meaningless. Two star running backs, Leonard Fournette of LSU and Christian McCaffrey of Stanford, have chosen to forgo their teams' bowl appearances in order to avoid the risk of an injury that might hamper their NFL draft status. An article at Yahoo Sports believes the floodgates have opened and many more athletes will follow suit. The farce that is major college football deserves it.

RIP Zsa Zsa Gabor, 99. Born in Budapest, she and her sisters, Eva and Magda, found fame and fortune in America. There are 76 credits listed under her name at IMDb, mostly in film and TV. She also did theater occasionally. But her most memorable appearances were on talk shows, where she was a lively presence. She was married nine times, divorced seven, one union annulled. Here are two of her most telling quotes: "I am a marvelous housekeeper: Every time I leave a man I keep his house." When asked, "How many husbands have you had?" she said: "You mean other than my own?" The most famous quote regarding her may never have occurred. During a visit on The Tonight Show she allegedly brought a cat with her and asked Johnny Carson: "Would you like to pet my pussy?" To which he supposedly replied: "I'd love to, but you'll have to move that damn cat." Many tapes of the show have been lost, so this has never been confirmed. What a great find it would be - if it actually happened. In 1994 she did this hilarious four-minute film with David Letterman: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fEn8QdI8-24

There was abundant sunshine, which mitigated the bite of the cold temperature and allowed the floating book shop to open. My thanks to the gentleman who purchased Danielle Steel's Star, and to Monsey, who bought Gentle Closings: How to Say Goodbye to Someone You Love by Ted Menten. The best thing that happened today is the arrival of a copy of my new novel, which I will begin proofing shortly.
Vic's Short Works: http://tinyurl.com/jy55pzc
Vic's 5th Novel: http://tinyurl.com/okxkwh5Vic's 4th novel: tinyurl.com/bszwlxh
Vic's 3rd Novel: http://tinyurl.com/7e9jty3
Vic's Short Story on Kindle: http://tinyurl.com/k95k3nx
Vic's Short Story Collection: http://www.tiny.cc/Oycgb
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Sunday, December 18, 2016

The Writer's Life 12/18 - Hammered

Last night MeTV, 33 on Cablevision in NYC, ran Brides of Dracula (1960), starring Peter Cushing as Van Helsing, on its Svengoolie program. It was produced by Hammer Films, which made scores of horror flicks that passed through the Benson Theater in the old neighborhood back in the day. I saw several during Saturday matinĂ©es. Founded in London by William Hinds and James Carreras, the company released its first film in 1935, The Public Life of Henry the Ninth. Four films followed in '36. It then went dark until 1947, took flight in the '50's, and continued until 1979, 163 movies in total, and scores of shorts. Many were in lush color and featured lots of gore and buxom babes. Hammer was resurrected in 2008. Seven films have come since then. Here are the titles of its Frankenstein series:The Curse of Frankenstein (1957), The Revenge of Frankenstein (1958), The Evil of Frankenstein (1964), Frankenstein Created Woman (1967), Frankenstein Must Be Destroyed (1969), The Horror of Frankenstein (1970), Frankenstein and the Monster from Hell (1974). And here are those featuring the Count from Transylvania: Dracula (1958), The Brides of Dracula (1960), Dracula: Prince of Darkness (1966), Dracula Has Risen from the Grave (1968), Taste the Blood of Dracula (1970), Scars of Dracula (1970), Countess Dracula (1971), Dracula A.D. 1972 (1972), Satanic Rites of Dracula (1973), Dr. Jekyll and Sister Hyde (1971), The Legend of the 7 Golden Vampires (1974). Other notable or amusing titles: One Million Years B.C. (1966), starring Raquel Welch. The Curse of the Werewolf (1961), Oliver Reed's first starring role. The Camp on Blood Island (1958), Never Take Sweets from a Stranger (1960), Paranoiac (1963), Hands of the Ripper (1971).
In 1968 Hammer was honored with the Queen's Award to Industry in recognition of its contribution to the British economy. The ceremony took place on the steps of the Castle Dracula set at the famed Pinewood Studios. Here's the lovely Barbara Shelley, a member of the so-called Hammer Repertory Company:

And here's how she looked as the star of Gorgon (1964):
I bet the players had as much fun as the audiences.

Mother Nature provided a one hour window before bringing back the rain, allowing the floating book shop to open for the first time since Wednesday. My thanks to the quirky guy who purchased Danielle Steel's HRH.
Vic's Short Works: http://tinyurl.com/jy55pzc
Vic's 5th Novel: http://tinyurl.com/okxkwh5Vic's 4th novel: tinyurl.com/bszwlxh
Vic's 3rd Novel: http://tinyurl.com/7e9jty3
Vic's Short Story on Kindle: http://tinyurl.com/k95k3nx
Vic's Short Story Collection: http://www.tiny.cc/Oycgb
Vic's 2nd Novel: http://tiny.cc/0iHLb Kindle: http://tinyurl.com/kx3d3uf
Vic's 1st Novel: http://tinyurl.com/l84h63j
Read Vic's Stories, free: http://fictionaut.com/users/vic-fortezza