Sunday, September 28, 2008

AND SPEAKING OF '...a world of rest beyond...''re not being taken in by the gimcrack-brained televangelists passing themselves off as emissaries of god are you? They're a hokey lot of mostly honky monkeys aren't they? $300 blow drys (and jobs, the hypocrites) plus $1000 suits and $500 alligator shoes they'd have you believe are made from scraps of Jesus Christ Almighty's own goddamned sandals fer Cris'sakes...

Many people do believe these charlatans, these fake fakirs; their shrill hyperbole nets them millions annually; their pontificating peurilisms redound with absconded funds in the name of some non-existent god. They babble ridiculously on like zealots from Babylon in their zeal to convert you and your funds to their accounts and they prattle and blather stupidly away in an idly twaddling manner reminiscent of yours truly.

Religion is by far the sleaziest of pyramid schemes - you reap zero
benefitsuntil you die, according to its lights - and its multitudinous and
nefarious proselityzing (and wealthy) acolytes are the most unctuous of snake oil salesmen.

I only wish I had got in on it earlier myself so I coulda cleaned house.

'Brother Terry Speaks Tonight, All Are Welcome...$15 offering'
'Brother$ & $i$ter$, Plea$e Hear The Word From Brother T Bob...'
'Lord Have Mercy!', he cried, and the congregation fell to its collective knees, bound under the spell of Brother Terry's ringing oratory exhorting sinners one and all to heed the word of the Lord as defined in paragraph two of Bro T's spellbinding autobiography as only he can tell it, ten bucks at the door on the way in,$15 on leaving...get it while you can and
praise god when high, hallelujah...

Saturday, September 13, 2008

Thursday, September 11, 2008



It's always good to read your drivel. I enjoy having my mind clogged with your wordsmanship like I've been clogging my arteries for the past 58 years. What's another blockage? Anyway, I just returned from 39 days/nights in a tent in the southwestern deserts and mountains. You can view some (I haven't had a chance to process them all yet) of the photos at my website. I'll attach a couple for your viewing pleasure. Stay well, keep doing what you do.
Regards, Mike

Northern Foolish,

Haven't had a minute to keep in touch which is something I promised myself I would not do with any of my friends. My busy season just ended with Labor Day. Weekends will stay busy but mid week is now slow with a few exceptions like October Bike Week and a Golf Convention. I am now getting ready to experience Hurricane Season. I guess I don't really understand all the worry about it. We have the weather channel. If a hurricane is coming, fucking leave. How difficult is that?

Anyways, I am writing to tell you that I have finally had a moment to pack up another package for you. AGAIN, nothing in it will get you locked up. Some lager libations, some pickles for "miss pickles", some Bloody Mary Mix that will satisfy your exquisite palette, it is Vodka Free and a few more local delicacies along with a letter and some pictures. Let me know when it arrives, it will be coming via UPS. Enjoy and keep in touch.

Southern Foolish

Hey Terry

Checked out your blog and read the newsletter you gave to me when I took your picture - looks good on the blog. Love the stories man. You have the clear honesty of a true artist - and the angst to go with it. You can make me laugh - sometimes to keep from cryin - right?

I wish I could make a movie about some of your tales - they do read like scenes for me. Little vignettes from the Zen of the moment. And your writing style and persona really brings it through.

Hope things are good in beautiful VT. The CERN atom smasher is in the news lately. Some scientists are afraid it might create a black hole, or strangelets and end the world. That sounds like something you would make up. "The strangelets have arrived".
Anyways the Mayan calendar ends in 2012. See you at the party.


(Dear NFTD READER - Stan, above, is Stan Sadowski from somewhere in PA who is responsible (I mean Thank You Stan) for the photograph of me above, hard at work in the Thrift Shop in Townshend VT 802/365-7234

Tuesday, September 2, 2008

In those days...

...I WASN'T VERY STREET-WISE... as I walked through the dark, labrynthine warren of the Combat Zone to my own garret along Commonwealth Avenue in Boston, a toney part of Back Bay I lived in light years & many fears ago, a naif to the world and very as-yet untried & unenlightened...

...I well recall throwing half-finished cigs into the gutters and watching the down and out scabrous bums of the day practically club one another to get to the smoldering butt in the filthy street, as I walked away laughing, an 18-year-old know-it-all with an attitude and a lot to learn, and learn that lesson I did as, fast forward 25 years, it was I - ME - scrambling for the butts in the gutter tossed by show-off kids!

...turnabout being fair play (this too I had learned) I had to laugh. another point in this embryonic period of my life, we are talking 1961 and 1962, I in my unworldly ignorance was cruising afoot when I saw a man walking briskly along alone in the early Fall evening, through the Common which runs down the middle of Commonwealth Avenue, an easy mark I think as I draw alongside him, he stepping lively in his three-piece herring-bone tweed suit, pointed-toe boots, pale blue shirt, fancy Brooks Brothers tie, and a walking-stick umbrella tapping along beside him.

This should be good...

(I am not going to apologize for this, I have paid in many ways for decades, and - as you will see - I also paid for it immediately and have remembered the lesson all my life and become much enlightened since this incident, but not alone because of it; one grows and comes to know.)

Anyway...he looked like a pushover.

"Give it up," I said to him, "...gimme your wallet or else..."

...he grinned bigly...

...then went to work on me with the brolly! I created a monster! He was like Johnny Depp fer Cris'sakes, jabbing and poking that goddamned thing into my ribs and the next one was in my ass Jack because I was running away from this crazy bastard as fast as I could go and he was just as fastly hitting me with that umbrella and finally tripped me from behind and put the dukes to me without ever mussing up his fuckin' vest... could call it an object lesson in crime control.


...plays an unending loop in my mind...
It is so beautiful a melding of instruments and sound that I am held speechless, spellbound.

It is, in my humble estimation, one of the best pieces of music to ever
come down the pike and for myself, think it should definitely be my going away
music, but not yet, not yet...o, listen to is so can
almost hear the encomiums pouring down on your anointed head as your ashes are
strewn willy-nilly over the back 40, or is it opprobrium being heaped upon my
poor mortal's earthly remains?

I'm sorry already, sheeesh...get a Handel on it. I make light of it but
it is a glorious work of art and I can listen to it as often as I can view a beautiful painting and never tire of it...

Yet, something about it is so bittersweet it breaks down every false
courage I ever had, leaves could I explain...I SLAP my forhead!? How
explain indeed. There's no explaining some things.

Violins counterpoint to cello to bass to is all too much.

...then again it could be the Kahlua...


...I have been meaning to tell a Friend of mine, ' because I come with a lot of baggage, sort of a goyisha Woody Allen, mayo on my angst; he's got his klezmer/jazz clarinet, I got Hank Williams Jr. "...nobody wants me, I'm nobody's child..." Do you need the grief?'
And besides I would say, 'I'd probably bore you in no time at all; I mean yawn/ho-hum boredom; I've been told I'm much better on paper than in real life and having been around me for so long I can attest to that.'
Withal I require fealty unbound almost to the point of mouth agape at every pithy remark I utter and a sort of 'Yes, my liege' look at all times on your pretty, heart-shaped face. And all too soon what I now consider your o-so-clever repartee, I would be calling your bitter invective and a harangue against all that I stand for! (Huh? Duh?)
Then there's the cooking you'll have to do and my entree with dinner is...well, I could go on, but all in all you see it's better I don't call, come over or write very often. Please try to control your anxiety at this sad turn of events and don't do anything rash. It'll be tough for awhile but you can get by without me.


...who was doubling as a recalcitrant subscriber I sent a second red-dot reminder - six blank pages titled "Not From The Dump" and sure enough the prod worked because a few days later, there in the incoming was a 20 dollar check and once again a reader was euchred, ah, ushered into the fold...
I put the check in my wallet and thought no more of it until today when I
signed it and put it in my checking account and noticed that in the place where you put what the check was for he'd written 'Junkmail'...