Selling My Books on the Streets of Brooklyn 3/7 - Ridiculous

And so Hugo Chavez has left for what I’m sure he hopes is that great Socialist paradise in the sky. He was wildly popular among Venezuela’s poor, spending one-third of the country’s oil wealth on social programs. Through CITGO and with the help of Robert Kennedy, he provided home heating assistance to the poor in the U.S.. Unfortunately, he gave a lot more of his country’s wealth to crones and leftists revolutionaries elsewhere. According to an op-ed piece in Wednesday’s NY Post, Venezuela is the most violent country in South America, murders occurring at a ridiculous rate. A think tank ranks it last in economic freedom. Its inflation rate is among the highest in the world. It suffers from electricity shortages and deteriorating infrastructure. It imports 70% of its food. Now the world will wait and see if the country descends into complete chaos without his leadership. He was only 59. How ironic that someone who provided universal health care to the masses could not be saved even by the vaunted Marxists doctors of Cuba, whose health system is always ballyhooed by liberal apologists, as if it makes up for the almost complete lack of freedom. Was he poisoned by the West? It’s not out of the realm of possibility, although I doubt it. It would have had to occur during the Bush administration. It’s hard to imagine Obama giving the order to kill someone whose ideals he seems to share, even though Chavez once called him a phony.

I don’t pay much attention to hockey until the Stanley Cup Finals, but there is something happening in the NHL that is quite astonishing. The Chicago Blackhawks have played 24 games and have yet to lose, 21-0-3. Of course, this does not guarantee post-season success. Hockey’s regular season is the least meaningful of the four major sports, although this year’s strike-abbreviated schedule lends it a much greater urgency than usual. Third and fourth seeds have won the Cup. Still, this is an amazing run, especially given that there are fewer off-nights to rest and heal. After they won the Cup two years ago, the franchise was forced by economic reasons to dump many high-priced players. Management has done an incredible rebuilding job. The Hawks have answered the bell every night. That’s not easy physically or psychologically. Kudos.

It looks like one more day on the shelf for the floating book shop, although I hope the forecast is again wrong in terms of snow accumulation for tomorrow. The advisory is in effect until noon. If the weather shows signs of breaking by then, and the wind isn't too ridiculous, I may be out there. I'm feeling like a bum right now. Fortunately, I've been proofing my near 200,000 word rock n roll epic, so the past few days haven't been a total loss.
Visit Vic's sites:
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Vic's Short Story Collection (Print or Kindle): http://www.tiny.cc/Oycgb
Vic's 2nd Novel: http://tinyurl.com/6b86st6
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Vic's Screenplay on Kindle: http://tinyurl.com/cyckn3

Selling My Books on the Streets of Brooklyn 3/6 - Royalty

I am a king of deceit. I self-published Close to the Edge in 2000 after a NYC small press reneged on it. I was blue about losing out on a woman at the time and I needed something positive on which to focus. It was a good experience, despite some negatives. At first there was only one -- the price at Amazon & B&N, $18.76 before shipping. I managed to sell 348 copies, most of them at work and on the street. One of the ways I’d buy copies was through the Amazon gift certificates I amassed doing surveys online. I paid about $20 per copy that way. I’d get a royalty of $3.59 for each, which lessened the overall loss, as I sold them for $10-$15. It wasn’t really a loss, as the money never came out of my own pocket. I looked at it as having received less for the survey work. Suddenly, one of the geniuses at Authorhouse decided copies bought with a gift certificate were considered discounted and thus ineligible for a royalty. That was the second strike against the house. The third was the loss of access to my account after the site was re-configured. Their techies were unable to solve the problem, and I gave up and concentrated on my other books. I was unable to check any sales activity, which, granted, wouldn’t have been much. The last copy I sold was in August of 2011. When I learned that my fifth book, Exchanges, looked like it would make it into print, I thought: “Wouldn’t it be neat to have all five books on display at the floating book shop?” I’d reached the $20 payout level at Valued Opinions Surveys, but they were having a problem with Amazon at the time. When the account reached $30, I lost patience and took payment in a virtual credit card. Big mistake. I ordered three copies of Edge, hoping the system would make up the balance owed by using the gift certificate money I’d amassed. I tried it twice without luck. Suddenly I was no longer able to log into Valued Opinions. I suspected they assumed I’d tried to defraud Amazon. I explained my intention in an email and I was re-instated, but I doubt I’ll ever see that $30. I chalk it up to my own stupidity. One thing I apparently unintentionally accomplished is that Amazon ordered the six copies. If no one buys any, they will eventually be offered at a discount, and I’ll buy them. The plot thickens. I’ve received a royalty check for six copies for the fourth quarter of 2012, less than $16 after the withholding tax. I suspect it’s for those same copies, which never really sold. I’ll cash it without qualm, as I believe AH owes me for the last batch I bought on gift certificates, and because it wouldn’t be a burden to make restitution if it proves to be an error and they want the money back. When I recently earned a $35 gift card, I went to AH and put in an order for two copies of Edge, where the price is a reasonable $11.95. I was certain it was wishful thinking, certain it wouldn’t cover shipping and taxes. To my astonishment, it came in under $30. I suspected it was a mistake. When I received the copies I wondered if AH had been taken to task by the Better Business Bureau, lowered costs and changed its wicked ways. They were originally called 1st Books Library. I always suspected the change of name was due to their tarnished reputation. If I’d only thought of them when I had the $30 virtual card. I would have avoided a big mess. Ah, the life of a writer at the bottom of the literary totem pole. Long live the king of unintentional deceit.

The floating book shop is on hiatus until the weather improves, which may not be until Saturday.
Visit Vic's sites:
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Vic's 2nd Novel: http://tinyurl.com/6b86st6
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Vic's Screenplay on Kindle: http://tinyurl.com/cyckn3

Selling My Books on the Streets of Brooklyn 3/5 - Koufax

It was a beautiful day, apparently the calm before the storm. I thank the two gentlemen who purchased books. Here's another excerpt from my as yet unpublished, near 200,000 word rock n roll epic:
  
   The phone rang and rang. Now that school had resumed and Mrs. Ranga had returned to her position as teacher's aide, Paul no longer had anyone to take his morning calls. He remained in bed, hoping the caller would desist. Soon the ringing ceased. Moments later, it began again.
   "Wake up, wake up," said Susan gaily.
   Paul groaned and collapsed into the easy chair. "What could be so important at this hour?"
   "I have great news."
   "Next time wake me up only if it's bad news. I can wait to hear good news."
   "My, aren't we cranky. Were you a bad boy last night? Shut up and listen. We got Lamour East tomorrow night. You're opening for a band called Juggernaut. You're better than them, and they just cut a demo. This's a big chance for us. Blow them away and we'll be headlining the place next."
   He was speechless.
   "Paul?"
   "I'm in shock. I get the feelin' I'm gonna wake up an' find out I was dreamin'. Mitchell told me Freud says dreams're wish-fulfillment."
   "It's only Lamour. You should've expected it. I hope it's not the height you've set for yourself. Try to get as many of your friends there as possible. It'll make us look better. The schools're closed the next day, so there should be a big crowd."
   His mother was descending the stairs as he was hanging up. He took her in his arms and danced her around the room.
   "Ya gonna make a record?" she said, glowing.
   "No, we're playing the Lamour in Queens."
   Her excitement vanished. "Oh. Get dressed. If ya wanna take me to the dance ya gotta wear more than ya underwear."
   He picked up the phone.
   "I was afraid of this," said Mitchell.
   "What d'you mean? It'll be a piece of cake."
   "It's not that. Rosh Hashanah starts at sundown. I was so relieved we had nothing lined up. I wasn't sure what I'd do. It's clear now. I can't play, not this year after my grandmother died, maybe not ever again on the high holy days."
   Paul was stunned.
   "Say something."
   "You don't wanna hear what I have to say right now."
   "I was hoping you, at least, would understand."
   "This's a big chance for us. We can't pass it up."
   "Do it without me."
   "Yeah, right. That'd go over big."
   "If we're really good, this won't affect us."
   "I hope you're right."
   He slammed down the receiver and screeched, kicking at his football, which was lying nearby. It ricocheted around the room wildly. His mother, alarmed, called to him, stepping onto the stairway.
   "Mitchell's not playin' 'cause of the Jewish holiday."
   She did not reply immediately. "I didn' know he was religious. Whattaya gonna do?"
   "Call Susan, 'though I'm afraid she might dump us now."
   "She won't if ya really good. Besides, she's Jewish too. She'll understand."
   "She may be Jewish, but she'll be there, I guarantee you that, and she'd expect Mitchell to be too."
   He dialed every 15 minutes. He wondered if she'd gone to temple. He couldn't imagine it, as she seemed Jewish only in name.
   As evening fell he decided to act. He called Tommy, the band's former singer, who taught keyboard to high-schoolers. He practically had to beg to get him to help. He was unable to reach Susan at her office and regretted not having demanded her home number. He called Mitchell, hoping he would have it or be able to get it from Bonnie. It was too late. The sun had gone down. He called information and received, as he'd expected, the number at her office.
   John took the news of the crisis in stride. Paul despaired at thought of how Richie and Mike would react.
   "Eat somethin'," his mother urged as he entered the kitchen, where the family was having dinner.
   "I feel too sick to eat."
   He unloaded the van himself, hoping the others would be appeased at not having to perform the task. Richie appreciated it.
   "What a relief. That's the only parta this I hate. Maybe someday soon we'll have roadies."
   Paul feared they would never see that day. Richie slung an arm around him.
   "Ya look like ya jus' lost ya bes' frien'. Don' worry. It's gonna be a snap. Relax. Who's better'n us?"
   Paul shuddered at the chilling irony of having lost his best friend. He was not only upset at the setback the band had suffered; he was stunned that Mitchell's faith was more important to him than their friendship, while his own was not nearly as important as that friendship. As he related the news, Richie stared as if he suspected a practical joke.
   "We get a break like this an' the Jew-bastid can't make a sacrifice?"
   Mike reacted similarly. "What bull. I missed my in-law's anniversary an' I never said nothin' to nobody."
   "Prob'bly 'cause ya were glad ya didn' hafta go. Who you foolin'?"
   "Who asked you, fat boy? Whose side ya on, anyway?"
   "There's no sides here," said Paul. "We're all in this together."
   "Then where's that Jew? If it was Christmas ya know damn well we'd be playin'."
   "I understand how you feel. I'm pissed myself, but we gotta adjust an' do the best we can. Tommy's fillin' in."
   "Good," said Richie emphatically. "Who needs that....?"
   "Don't get crazy now. We'll never find anybody talented enough to replace Mitchell. We just gotta accept this. Let's not make it any worse than it is."
  John and Tommy arrived minutes apart. Tommy shook hands timidly, apparently intimidated by his replacement.
   They worked through the abbreviated set slowly. Paul had chosen the easiest of the songs. Tommy offered basic accompaniment. He lacked Mitchell's flair and understanding of nuance. Paul's spirits deflated. The sound seemed even emptier than he'd expected. Even his own compositions, which were largely guitar-oriented, seemed flat. He considered playing without keyboard but feared Tommy, who'd been nice enough to help, would be humiliated.
   Tommy was so tense and unsure of himself his eyes never left the panel. Even his physical appearance seemed to affect the chemistry. His black beard and bold features were obtrusive and seemed to draw attention from John. His lack of confidence was so obvious as to be distracting.
   After the first run through the set, Paul excused himself and went into the house. He prayed Susan had returned to her office by some wild chance. There was no answer. He received Bonnie's number from information. She wasn't home. He considered calling Lamour East to cancel the date, but didn't dare do so without consulting Susan. He feared the band's reputation would suffer irreparable damage.
   His mother, carrying refreshments, smiling, followed him to the garage.
   "Hi, Tommy. How's Marie?"
   "Fine, Mil. She's pregnant."
   Everyone congratulated him, and the tension was dispelled a moment. Mrs. Ranga kissed him. Her expression then became serious.
   "Ya know, Phil's watchin' the game inside an' the announcer was jus' sayin' that one year Sandy Koufax wouldn't play in a World Series game 'cause of the Jewish holiday -- an' his team came back to win it, anyway. I guess God was on their side."
   There was silence momentarily, then John, unable to restrain himself, laughed. "I don't mean no disrespect, Mrs. Ranga. It just struck me funny, that's all. You're some piece of work."
   "Thank you. Looks like you're the only one here wit' a sense of humor. I hope they learn from you."
   "I always liked buckin' the odds."
   "Good for you."
   She left them.
   "Can you guys make it here tomorrow afternoon?" said Paul. "School's closed, right, Tom?"
   "Yeah. I'll be here. I can use the practice."
   The quip amused no one.
   "I'm sicka my job anyway," said Richie, shrugging. "I don' care if I get fired."
   "I'm off tomorrow," said Mike. "My boss's a Jew."
   "How 'bout you, John?" said Paul, tense, relieved as the look in John's eyes indicated he would attend. "Thanks, guys. You're the best. Let's run through it once more."
   "Look," said Richie, nodding toward an ominous figure waddling down the driveway.
   "I'll brain 'er if she starts in tonight," said Paul, pulling the garage door all the way down.
   The others groaned, although the night was cool.
Visit Vic's sites:
Vic's Third Novel (Print or Kindle): http://tinyurl.com/7e9jty3
Vic's Website: http://members.tripod.com/vic_fortezza/Literature/
Vic's Short Story Collection (Print or Kindle): http://www.tiny.cc/Oycgb
Vic's 2nd Novel: http://tinyurl.com/6b86st6
Vic's 1st Novel: http://tiny.cc/94t5h
Vic's Screenplay on Kindle: http://tinyurl.com/cyckn3

Selling My Books on the Streets of Brooklyn 3/4 - Hullabaloo

There’s a fun item in today’s edition of the NY Post. Its Weird But True column mentions Representative Ed Orcutt, a Republican, of the state of Washington. He proposed a bill to tax bicyclists, who he claims expel a great amount of CO2 emissions, which contribute to greenhouse gases, and who, unlike drivers, contribute nothing to the repair or building of roads. The levy would affect those who own bikes valued at $500 or more. If this is satiric commentary on environmental laws and tax-the-rich schemes, I applaud his creativity. If he’s serious, he’s as brain dead as many of his fellow representatives and probably would be too inept to do anything outside of politics. The other day Congresswoman Maxine Walters (D) of California, who can always be counted on for nonsense, said that the automatic cuts initiated by the sequester would cost 170,000,000 jobs. Economists estimate that there are only 114,000,000 jobs -- total -- in America. I guess it’s just an example of the new math taught in public schools. What else could people like that do but work in government?

As I was channel surfing last night, I came upon an interesting music show on PBS. Hulabaloo, a variety series with revolving hosts and featuring popular acts of the day, ran a year-and-a-half on NBC from 1965-’66. It was an answer to ABC’s Shindig. I caught about 15 minutes of it between pledge breaks. I was surprised that some of it was live. The Zombies lip-synched to She’s Not There, but I’m pretty sure Eric Burdon's (The Animals) vocal on It’s My Life was live, although the music may have been pre-recorded. It was excellent. Nancy Sinatra sang live to the musical track of These Boots Are Made For Walking, as did Paul Lindsay of Paul Revere and the Raiders on Kicks. The highlight of the segment was The Righteous Brothers doing Soul and Inspiration live. It was spectacular. A few years ago PBS broadcast one of their reunion concerts. I was so disappointed, as Bill Medley, the deep voice, was hoarse. I played their .45 of You’ve Lost That Lovin’ Feelin’ to death as a teenager. I may have the worst voice in the world, but I loved to sing along to it -- and I did both parts! One advantage of having a zero octave range is that it allows you to sing anything because none of it will be good.

No luck selling books on a beautiful day diminished by a cold wind. Back at ‘em tomorrow.
Visit Vic's sites:
Vic's Third Novel (Print or Kindle): http://tinyurl.com/7e9jty3
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Vic's Short Story Collection (Print or Kindle): http://www.tiny.cc/Oycgb
Vic's 2nd Novel: http://tinyurl.com/6b86st6
Vic's 1st Novel: http://tiny.cc/94t5h
Vic's Screenplay on Kindle: http://tinyurl.com/cyckn3

Selling My Books on the Streets of Brooklyn 3/3 - Names

I surfed with the remote last night and again found a fun film on National Evangelical Television, 30 on Cablevision in NYC. In fact, I first noticed the channel because of the very same flick, They Made Me a Criminal (1939), starring John Garfield, in only his third screen appearance, and the Dead End Kids, who later were called the Bowery Boys. Fortunately, the print was infinitely better than the one the station previously aired. That one had minute-long black-outs, lines running through it, and snap, crackle and pops in the audio. The movie itself is endearing entertainment, despite its many flaws. There was a sad irony at one point. Garfield, playing an ex-fighter on the lam for a crime he did not commit, enters a boxing challenge to raise funds so orphans can buy a gasoline pump. Upon returning from the required physical, Huntz Hall declares: “If he (Garfield) was any healthier….” Tragically, this fine actor succumbed to a heart attack at 39, and amassed only 32 film credits. He also starred in several Broadway plays, theater being his love, films his meal ticket. He did great work in another boxing film, Body and Soul (1947), and in Humoresque (1946) opposite Joan Crawford, and The Postman Always Rings Twice (1946) opposite the luscious Lana Turner, and Force of Evil (1948). Born in NYC to Russian immigrants, he is also a hero of the left, having refused to name names when called to testify during the McCarthy hearings. Three of his co-stars in They Made Me A Criminal also died young. Ann Sheridan, Hollywood's “Oomph Girl,” of cancer at 51, Gloria Dickson in a house fire at 28, and Billy Halop, who struggled with alcohol most of his life, at 56. Halop worked as a registered nurse for a while. He also had a recurring role in ten episodes as a neighbor of Archie Bunker in All in the Family, in which he is almost unrecognizable from his early years. Here are contrasting pictures:

Facts culled from IMDb.

It was a glorious though brisk day in Brooklyn. Unfortunately, there wasn't much action at the floating book shop. My thanks to the woman who purchased The Spy by Celeste Bradley, and to the woman who donated Tom Wolfe's Bonfires of the Vanities, which she'd purchased two weeks ago.
Visit Vic's sites:
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Vic's Short Story Collection (Print or Kindle): http://www.tiny.cc/Oycgb
Vic's 2nd Novel: http://tinyurl.com/6b86st6
Vic's 1st Novel: http://tiny.cc/94t5h
Vic's Screenplay on Kindle: http://tinyurl.com/cyckn3

Selling My Books on the Streets of Brooklyn 3/2 - Tube

Yesterday morning while eating my early, pre-book-shop lunch, I was listening to radio talk show host Mark Simone on WOR-AM. What I like most about his show is that it has more variety than others. Political issues are important, but they are often infuriating, especially the way the media hammers away on the hottest topic, beating it to death. Simone frequently veers from that. He was wondering about the enormous popularity of certain videos at youtube, especially the Gangnam Style craze and the Harlem Shuffle, which a group actually did or tried to do on a commercial airplane the other day, an idea that doesn't sound very sensible (think Kramer in the penultimate episode of Seinfeld). Anyway, Simone played a song that accompanies a YT clip and asked why it hasn’t received the millions of hits the aforementioned do. Of course, I had to take a look. It’s an ode to the beautiful female reporters and hosts at Fox News, in country boy style by Austin Cunningham. It will warm the hearts of what used to be called Male Chauvinist Pigs, like yours truly. Here’s the link:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gNj0T4uK3lE

Last night I took a second look at a film that will probably be unfamiliar to anyone who doesn't venture outside those shot in English. I was enthralled during my first viewing of The Horseman on the Roof (1995), adapted from the novel by Jean Giono. It is the story of a young revolutionary who flees to France to avoid the death sentence imposed by the Austrians who have seized a part of Italy. He must not only contend with his pursuers but an epidemic of cholera and local populaces gone mad with fear. It is an old-fashion epic, the kind rarely seen these days, featuring beautiful cinematography, romance, and minimal bloodshed, despite considerable action. It stars Juliet Binoche (The English Patient 1996) and Olivier Martinez (Unfaithful 2002). I refused to see the latter because I did not want to see Diane Lane, one of my favorites, have an affair. Horseman deviates from the old fashion in only one instance. In an effort to save the woman's life, the hero strips her and gives her a furious rubdown. Of course, this means Binoche must be naked. I would have shot the scene from a distance. Here's why: instead of being engrossed in the life-saving effort, I was thinking - Wow, nice tits; you lucky stiff - pun intended. I've had this argument several times with friends. I don't think I've ever seen a nude scene that was necessary. I find them only distracting. I've been called prudish. I'm not, as a look at my Web History would prove. Anyway, I was a little less enthusiastic about the film this time. I rate it 3.75 out of five. It's rated 6.9 at IMDb. It received two thumbs up from Sneak Previews. It was directed by Jean Paul Rappeneau, whose other films I've not seen. He's been around a long time. He was the screenwriter for That Man in Rio (1964), a spy spoof that was a big international hit.

The floating book shop had good fortune today, despite the on again, off again snow flurries that had me pack up early. My thanks to the couple that bought three thrillers and one romance novel.
Visit Vic's sites:
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Vic's Short Story Collection (Print or Kindle): http://www.tiny.cc/Oycgb
Vic's 2nd Novel: http://tinyurl.com/6b86st6
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Vic's Screenplay on Kindle: http://tinyurl.com/cyckn3

Selling My Books on the Streets of Brooklyn 3/1 - False Alarms

I always derive a fiendish delight when the left turns on one of its icons. Bob Woodward, along with Carl Bernstein, rose to fame and acclaim by breaking the Watergate story, which eventually brought down the Nixon presidency. Tricky Dick was held in contempt by doves ever since his role in the McCarthy hearings. This did not change despite policies that should have delighted liberals: ending the Vietnam War, wage and price controls to battle inflation, a personal visit to Red China, and the first environmental laws. Anyway, Woodward has drawn the ire of his former supporters by speaking out against the President's tactics in the sequester battle. He labeled Obama's bid to recall an aircraft carrier from the Persian Gulf, a supposed consequence of impending budget cuts, "a kind of madness." It's so much fun to see the media hacks open fire and get themselves into a snit. Now it is being said that Woodward was never really a liberal, anyway. I don't know or care what his politics are. The only wrong is in the eyes of the left, who believe Republicans are evil and that their own underhanded tactics are legitimate because they are on the side of the angels. This was manifested recently on one of SNL decade reviews broadcast in prime time. Lorne Michaels said that any complaints about political portrayals almost always came from Democrats. Only the most partisan would be surprised. The hand-wringing over the looming cuts, which amount to less than three percent, is comical.

We don't get mail in our building until late in the day, sometimes after five. I usually forget about it until the next morning. When I went downstairs for my walk, I checked the box. I didn't have my glasses with me, so I held the stuff at arm's length, trying to determine if there was anything important. My gut contracted when I saw IRS. What did they want? I report my paltry income faithfully. Did they believe I was fudging? Was it something in the past, perhaps my last significant return for my 2007 income? How large would the fine be? I ruminated the entire walk, telling myself it wasn't the end of the world. I know my preparer would back me in any audit. I'd pay any fine, even in the thousands, just to end the siege. Fortunately, it was simply a letter stating that my 2012 return was satisfactory. As soon as relief wore off, contempt jumped to the surface. Why was the government wasting money to tell me what I already knew? In the battle over what should be cut, stupid letters like this should be one of the first items on the chopping block.

The floating book shop had a nice day, although the sunshine that was forecast made only a brief appearance. A gentleman who may have had a few drinks overpaid for pictorials on Greek art and culture, and golf. I also sold a bunch of religious booklets to a woman who has purchased several Bibles from me. I did a three-for-one deal on second line romance novels with a young home attendant who has a beautiful smile. And when a man asked if I had anything on the civil war, I suggested, without hesitation, Michael Shaara's impressive historical fiction on the Battle of Gettysburg, The Killer Angels, a runaway best seller and Pulitzer Prize winner in 1975. I vividly remember one part. One of the Union flanks was out of ammunition. Rather than order a retreat, the commanding officer decided to charge - and it worked, as the Grey Coats fled! Shaara was an Italian-American, born to immigrant parents, from Jersey City, the original spelling of his name being Sciarra. Unfortunately, he succumbed to a heart attack at age 50.

Thanks, folks.
Visit Vic's sites:
Vic's Third Novel (Print or Kindle): http://tinyurl.com/7e9jty3
Vic's Website: http://members.tripod.com/vic_fortezza/Literature/
Vic's Short Story Collection (Print or Kindle): http://www.tiny.cc/Oycgb
Vic's 2nd Novel: http://tinyurl.com/6b86st6
Vic's 1st Novel: http://tiny.cc/94t5h
Vic's Screenplay on Kindle: http://tinyurl.com/cyckn3