Someone has started a gofundme campaign to build the southern border wall. I just donated $6. Critics say a wall won't do any good. Then again, it might - and if enough money is raised it will infuriate the left. In the first three days, more than $7 million is in the till. The goal is a billion.
I probably disagree on political issues with former NYC nanny-mayor Michael Bloomberg at or near 100%, but I'd never say he's dumb. His billions prove otherwise. Then again, yesterday he used private jets to bring ice from Greenland to London for a global warming art exhibit. Is that counter-intuitive, a term I'm not yet comfortable using? How many times have right wing politicians been accused of being out of touch? Geez.
According to an article in today's NY Post, the state of NY is raking in tax revenue from combative enterprises such as boxing, wrestling and MMA, the latter of which was sanctioned fairly recently. $7.6 million found its way into the coffers. Money from legalized gambling and marijuana will also feed the kitty. Prostitution shouldn't be far behind. I have no objection to any of this. My bone is with how the funds are spent, wasted. Then again, I know this is a liberal state, so it's practices simply have to be and are, grudgingly, accepted by a conservative like me.
I worked at the Commodity Exchange for nearly 25 years, 22 of those on the trading floor. Although I didn't like the job, which entailed various forms of data entry, I made a lot of friends, many of whom I'm still in contact with, mostly through Facebook. I learned a lot. It was a fantastic place for a
would-be writer, as the emotions ran the gamut of the human experience. I was let go late in 2007, as the business began converting to electronic trading. Open outcry is now history, the trading floor closed, but I still dream about it. I did last night. It involved a high volume trade by one of the more intelligent brokers in the gold market, someone whose approval I desired, especially since he believed I was slow. When I self-published Close to the Edge in 2000, several employees were impressed. From my perch at the podium, supervising Exchange employees and acting as the middle man in trade disputes, I overheard a female clerk urge him to read my book. He sniffed and said: "He's not qualified ..." I'm sure he was referring to one of the tags I used in the blurb in the original incarnation of the book: "Can a novelist do it better than psychologists?" I regretted using it and eliminated it once I transferred the book to Create Space, which is now KDP. My ambition was to be a modern Dostoevsky. Although the Russian master didn't have a degree in psychology, he had great insight into human beings. I shouldn't have let the man's opinion of my intelligence bother me, but it did and, apparently, still does. Of course, the only qualification a novelist needs is pen and paper and a reasonable grasp of grammar. I fight off the futility of the process and the feeling I sometimes get of being a complete fraud. I keep at it. Whether the body of work is worthwhile or not is up to others. It is strange how the disapproval of a person who has not read any of it can affect my frame of mind. If it were happening to someone else I'd be fascinated rather than annoyed. I suppose the dream was triggered by my anxiety about the delay in the arrival of the proof copy of my latest foray into the psyche. Ordered a week ago, it hasn't even shipped, caught in the Christmas crunch. Then again, maybe that's indicative of a robust economy, a plus for President Trump.
My thanks to the kind folks who bought books today, and to the lovely young woman who donated about ten.
My Amazon Author page: https://www.amazon.com/Vic-Fortezza/e/B002M4NLJE
Read Vic's Stories, free: http://fictionaut.com/users/vic-fortezza
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