How to Make a Seven Fish Feast in Three Easy Lessons

Or How I Learned to Prepare La Vigilia…, My Way

 As lore goes, the Feast of the Seven Fishes – commonly referred to as La Vigilia – began centuries ago in southern Italy and today has grown into a custom celebrated by Italians throughout the world.  Now my parents were Sicilian and so if that isn’t southern Italian I don’t know what is, and eating fish, Catholic or not (of course we were), was standard operating procedure.  For me it didn’t matter, I liked fish, but apparently (one learns this as they grow up) others are not so accepting or, heaven forbid, they don’t cook it the same way and this can lead to trouble or at least the age old question; how do you like your baccala?

Many people have either a limited cooking ability or a narrow list of seafood favorites and you will find those with Seven Fish Feast that includes lobster…, and nothing else.  Of course lobster isn’t a fish, but that isn’t the real issue here anyway.  This issue is really; how many fish can a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck could chuck fish.  In other words, the art of home maintenance, (read: kitchen acumen) is dying.  Very few these days can do more than take the package out of the freezer and throw it into the microwave.  Lucky for my wife, I am not one of those.  I like to cook, and since at one point in time I was a scientist too, I liked to experiment while I cooked. 

Like most scientific efforts, the experiments are used to write papers, whether they worked or not, and so when it came to a major holiday event, like La Vigilia, well sometimes pragmatic husband overrode mad scientist and so I opted to get help in preparing the wonderful meal that was to include seven.

First there was baccala.  Not much help really needed here; after all it is just salted cod, right?  And everyone knows what to do with salted cod.  I mean heck, there are millions of ways one can prepare salted cod, each as easy as the last style you tried once before, and wrote a paper on the results.   You can put it in a stew or soup, a salad or heck; you can even toss it in a casserole or two.  Most people will soak the dried fish in water for a few days to lose the sea salt, so again, this is easy, you just take out a big pan, fill it with water, through in the salted beast and start soaking.  I usually start this process on the Friday after Thanksgiving.  Then there are those ‘others’, the ones who like it salted, or dry as a bone, we won’t talk about them here. 

Of course there is a dish that I do not think I will ever again see done as well as my mother’s version and that is ‘Pasta con le Sarde’.  Forgive me a moment of fond reflection.  I’m back, and I have to say that was a wonderful dish full of fresh sardines and.., PASTA.  In fact I liked it so much I use it in chapter XXXI (Sardines, Anchovies or Cannolies) in my book By Any Means.  I will not even attempt this dish for it is too hard to cook memories.

Now, even without the sardines the list of fish resources to use in one feast is enormous and that is where help is needed, I mean what if you select, calamari, scungulli, clams, muscles, octopus, eel, shrimp, oh did I mention gefilte fish and lox (we are a mixed marriage after all), and you haven’t even gotten to the main course yet.  How can one prepare all of these treats in a manner that will bring out the best of each and, while multitasking, still have time to press the grapes and ferment the extract for brandy (I’ll get to that in another blog).  For me, this is where I sought help and in so doing I learned how to prepare Sushi, from an expert.

Now, he said he was an expert, and not being trained in the art, and living out in the wilds of New Jersey, how was I to know.  He did work in the Chinese, Japanese, Vietnamese, Thia, Brazilian fast food diner near where I live.  He also renders dead animals for the county in his spare time.  “The trick,” he said, “is to know your Wasabi.” 

I wasn’t really sure which religious denomination Wasabi falls into, I have enough trouble keeping all the holidays my wife and I have melded together in any semblance of order, but not wishing to offend the cook I just nodded my head in the affirmative and the lesson continued.  He then showed me how to cut sirloin and quarter-loins from the stock.  Now, I don’t really know much about fish, but this one must have been flown in from the pacific because it had four legs and a tail, but once we got the flow going the stuff was cut up in a hurry and thrown in the pot.  A few hours later we had baccala stew, or so he told me and this brings us back to the start…, there are millions of ways people will cook baccala to get you to eat it.  Try some, you’ll like it.

With a smile I return to my favorite quote:

“Don’t worry,” says Jim Gaffigan, “there is a bunny.”

Saverio Monachino's writing style has been termed by some as 'Kurt Vonnegut meets Mark Twain'.  Saverio describes it as 'comic fiction noir'. Regardless of the terms used, he is  attempting is to use humor to open the door to serious discussion.  You can find Saverio Monachino on www.comicfictionnoir.com.

University Costs 101

Too Much News, Too Little Time

Too much news, too little time.  What to do.  What to do. What to do.  Await the coffee is always accounted for in my daily schedule, can’t really do anything without that, but then with cup in hand, which page do I start on?

Of course the Wikileaky guy is in the news, always is these days, he and the Kardashians make the headlines all the time.  Which one was it on the red carpet again telling the world their wedding cake had dangerous stones on it, and which one is hiding in a bunker in Switzerland?  Hell, I had stones in my kidneys and only the doctors took my picture, and no, I do not have a Swiss army knife.  I digress….  

There is a new virus running around that some fear will be the end of all computer traffic known to man, or just delay the nuclear development in Iran, whichever comes first.  Oh heaven forbid, back to the dark ages we go? 

And then there is that interesting bit about college football.  No, it is not the selection of teams to play in holiday bowl games.  It is that preposterous idea making the rounds that someone in college sports is being paid to make money for the ‘not for profit’ group to which he/she is under contract (or is that enrolled?).

While I ponder all of these extremely important issues of the day the dog sits nearby with her leash in her mouth, staring at me in a manner similar to the wife whenever I have neglected my household chores.

So off we go on this rather brisk morning (read: cold enough to make me put on two pairs of pants) for a jaunt through the neighborhood and as we walk past the intersection separating our cloister from the rest of the world one thing comes to mind.  I forgot “my proper cup of coffee made in a proper copper coffee pot.”  Merde!

For the dog, the colder the better, after all she is a Labrador Retriever.  For me, all I can do is curse the wife for leaving me behind with the animal while she is off at work earning money to keep me fed.  What nerve!

After a half mile or so of vetching to myself I turn to the dog, once her nose is up out of the pile of deer excrement, and ask, “What do you want to talk about?”  The dog chews on that for a while as she finishes her mouthful and as I drag her along to greener pastures I get the idea that she, like most, wants to discuss the Kardashians. 

“Again,” I shout?  “PLEASE!  Of all the headlines that is the one I do not have a twitter on, (I forget if it is Cim or Kloe who doesn't like me) so how the heck can I be up to date?  I mean if Kourtney Kardashian is wearing an outfit bought at the mall I've got to know.  Like, can you believe a Kardash shops at a mall (or is that 'like a Moll')?  But if no one in the paparazzi is there to photograph her, well; did the bear shit or not?  Hard to tell when the question rings philosophical, eh?”

The dog raises her head and sniffs the air around us, letting me know that to air is divine, and to critique, well..., that is common now isn’t it.  Then she licks her lips letting me know that I should have had my cuppa joe.

So to appease her I got off of the Kardash subject and looked around hoping to find a neighbor, or two, outside on such a frigid day who would be happy enough to pet the dog while I stomped my feet, but alas, no one seemed to want to be out on such a morning and this brought me back to wondering how my daughter was doing at college and this of course led to the issues with paying those who play football in college (minor league anyone) and then on to the more important issue; how can an average Joe without his cuppa Joe pay for college itself.  (One sentence, can you believe it?).

If colleges want to work in a ‘non profit’ environment how is it that their rates go up every year even in a down economy where recession is rampant?  How is it that they have placed their product outside the realm of middle class citizens and yet demand payment?  How is it that those who purport themselves to be bastions of intellect and the advancement of the human condition allow for the collapse of the middle class at a rate that exceeds any other threat?  If they are a non profit why is it those who run each and every institution are making, on average, 15 to twenty times the salary of the parents they are driving to the poor house.  That is right, college presidents are making 1MM plus..., are you?  Don’t worry they say, there are loans.  Of course the entire country’s recession is based upon people borrowing money at a rate that exceeds their income potential, but the intelligent ones in the Ivory towers tell you to borrow, borrow, borrow!  We saved money to send our kids to school.  We saved a lot of money for our kids education, roughly twenty times what it took to send us to college way back when.  The totals we saved, saved per child, is more than a years' salary for us.  So it is not like we did not try, but all of this money pays for less than one half of a four year college tuition. 

Now, a large number of universities have rather large endowments.  Why cannot the money in those endowments be placed in the proper investment vehicles that will return a sum of money each year (not for profit) that can be used to cut the tuition rate to allow people to enter college?  Who wants to end their time in college with the stigma of 100,000 dollar plus in loans that will be due.  Of course those wonderful Universities also have that side industry known as college football right? How much money is made each year from the college football program?  Answer that, then tell us you are 'not for profit'.  Oh, by the way, Go Auburn, your guys are above that mess, right?

Isn’t it time for the U.S. to get off the money laundering habit of University tuition and redirect our institutions of higher learning to be more along the lines of those found in Canada and Europe.  Then the government can afford to step back in and help the middle class.

Sometimes its funny and sometimes it hits home too hard to be funny.

In this case, no matter what Jim Gaffigan says, there is no bunny.

Saverio Monachino's writing style has been termed by some as 'Kurt Vonnegut meets Mark Twain'.  Saverio describes it as 'comic fiction noir'. Regardless of the terms used, his attempt is to use humor to open the door to serious discussion about very important human issues.  You can find Saverio Monachino on www.comicfictionnoir.com.

More from Getting Even…Almost

The WikiLeak guy is spraying his scent around again.  Now we all have to do some reading on how government officials don’t tell their fans exactly how business is conducted.  Really, no one knew this?  I threw down the gauntlet to the Widileaky guy already and he has ignored me.  Well what can I do?  It seems that the guy has never, ever worked for a living. 

What he is ‘divulging’ is basically how every business is run, closed door session or not.  So, am I surprised that Hilary is a shrew?  No, not really.  We all knew this.  But if anyone had a modicum of intelligence they read between the lines and know that when an unbalanced state procures nuclear technology everyone had better hide.  Ask the neighbors of N. Korea that. 

Anyway, he set out a load of stuff (read s. h. i….) and well, someone besides the newspaper gang has got to read it.  This will put me in a very select group of individuals…, those who actually read the Wikileaky stuff.  I think the number is up to about ten or so…, worldwide.

Yes I’m a junkie and now I just gotta go check in and read the Leaky Wikis. 

So again, I will just leave you with a page or two of the first book I wrote a few years back.  It is not yet published, but let me know what you think.

The title of the book (this can change) is ‘Getting Even… Almost’ and I’ve pasted in the first few pages Chapter 9.   Remember I pasted a few pages from the first chapter way back in early November.

Have fun.

Saverio

All I want for breakfast is a proper cup of coffee.

Inside the Rubicon on a kitchen countertop a drip-coffee pot, improperly assembled for the morning task, was gamely trying to fulfill its mission.  Francesco, dressed in his bunny slippers and robe, was in dire need of caffeine, but the machine was working too damn slow this morning for his liking.  He had crouched low so that his face was directly in front of the pot itself and watched as a steady but slow stream of light brown liquid dripped, one drop after another, into the waiting pot but the the pre-warmed mug in his hand was already starting to cool off and his back, well that had begun to ache.  He was not happy, and as the heated liquid continued to slowly find its way through the filter into the waiting pot, Francesco descended into morning purgatory, neither fully awake nor asleep.  For an unknown reason he began to hum a song that he hated, but couldn’t get out of his head.

“All I want is a proper cup of coffee, made in a proper copper coffee pot.

I may be off my dot, but I want a …”

“Enough of this shit” he muttered and straightened up.  As he did so, several out-of-alignment vertebrae in his lower back cracked and with nothing to do but wait, Francesco paced up and down the tiled floor.  He occasionally traced a loop around the island counter for variation while the aroma of the coffee that was not yet ready agitated the hell out of him. 

“We have to get a new one of these things.  This one’s too damn slow,” he said as he walked once again to the window and back while looking at his slippers. 

As he circumnavigated the kitchen to keep his mind off his immediate need, Francesco catalogued all of the additions, one by one.  The windows, tile floor, cabinets, countertops, fresh paint, baseboards, trim, refrigerator (not that theirs needed replacing, but he figured a bigger unit would be handy for the business.  After all, a bigger unit is always better, especially when it comes time to brag) and soon maybe the coffee maker.  In rhythm to the cataloging, he practiced deep breathing exercises trying to stay calm.  Unfortunately for Francesco, he was fighting a losing battle, for there was merely one week until the first guests arrived.  Consequently, his insides had really been turning over of late.  “Why the hell did I ever invite those people?  I hate them all, or at least the ones I know!”  His slippers refused to comment. 

The whole house had needed major repairs and they started with the kitchen.  He remembered what a chore it had been getting all the workmen lined up- the plumber, electrician, inspectors and carpenters.  Francesco had had the whole plan in his head and while difficult to explain to others, he thought he’d succeeded laying out the big picture for Rachel.  The strokes of the paintbrush had been layered onto the canvas and then, as a magnanimous gesture of collaboration and teamwork, he stepped aside to let her handle the details.  He was the thinker and she was operations.  It worked well for him that way.  Besides, he needed time to find the extra accoutrements needed to give the business its flair.  There the Internet had been his friend. 

He liked the way the kitchen turned out.  The deep windowsills, in the kitchen and throughout the house were particularly attractive to him.  Here in the kitchen, potted plants occupied the sills.  He moved some of these over and sat for a moment, feeling the sun on his shoulders.  The Mennonites added beautiful cabinetwork that enhanced the incoming light, drawing one’s attention upward, as in a great Cathedral.  They also added built-in shelves and extra cabinets along the wall and in the pantry, which gave the house sufficient storage space, he hoped, for serious entertaining.  The new appliances were set into designated spaces and blended with the counters, giving the room a sense of serenity.  Francesco liked to sit here in the early morning until the sun moved around to the southern face of the house and admire the work.  “If it wasn’t for the need to make a living, I’d be content to sit here and drink coffee all day,” he noted as he rose from the window sill and made his way to the hearth.  Then he added, “that is if I ever get coffee this morning.” 

The original fireplace, with its four-foot hearth, was the centerpiece of the room.  Francesco and Rachel attended many local auctions to find the right iron work for it.  Eventually they found what they were looking for on eBay.  Francesco opened the flue.  Soot fell out, covering his arm and contaminating his coffee mug.  “Damn.”

The property was a dump when they bought it.  “That was why it was so affordable,” Francesco reminded his slippers.  Now, looking back six months, he was pleased with how fast everything came together.  “Did you ever think we’d end up living in Pennsylvania, doing this?”

Francesco tried to remember the exact sequence of events that culminated in their current situation, but that was not easy.  He always assumed a defining event had changed the course of his life, but as he searched for a reason for this moment, each memory linked itself to an earlier event that took him farther and farther back to his earliest childhood.  But that didn’t make sense.  His current condition had to have originated in Canada.  That was when the shit hit the fan.  There was the insomnia, then the stomachaches and then nervousness that kept getting worse and worse until he made the mistake of his life.  He told his supervisor.  All he really wanted were tips on how to manage stress.  When he had asked his boss what the company could do to help him and was told to visit the Human Resources Director.  He did.

“Don’t worry,” says Jim Gaffigan, “there is a bunny.”

Saverio Monachino's writing style has been termed by some as 'Kurt Vonnegut meets Mark Twain'.  Saverio describes it as 'comic fiction noir'. Regardless of the terms used, his attempt is to use humor to open the door to serious discussion about very important human issues.  You can find Saverio Monachino on www.comicfictionnoir.com.

Black Friday on Turkey

What is the difference between a Lemming and an American?  Not much.  One Lemming says jump and what happens?  One American tells you to buy and…, everyone jumps.

How many Americans will stand in long lines, bustle about in overcrowded stores and brave the winter weather in hopes of, of what?  Getting the best deal?  If you are in the store buying, or shopping on line, well the best deal was already obtained, by the one telling you to jump.

Take for example an experienced shopping aficionado, Sarah, who, like most of the country, is very concerned about the upper class tax break.  “Hell,” she said, “make them pay!”  Of course this is not Sarah Palin who used to live in the same socioeconomic strata as this Sarah, before, that is, the political Sarah learned marketing 101 and joined the upper echelon.  No, this Sarah was, like most Americans, of the subaltern class, and also like most, was responsive to one and only one ruling class, those who hold the marketing strings.  But this Sarah had a plan, a plan to make her hard earned dollars go farther (i.e. buy more). 

"We're having Thanksgiving on Sunday,” she told her clan, “so we'll have the whole day Thursday to rest up, and by rest up I mean get those fingers stretched because on Thursday we sit down and…, crank up the internet.”  After all, to go shopping one does need to do research, and if the research wasn’t on line it was on Twit b/c she did have a growing following of admiring fans eager to pass along information. 

Okay, with the reconnaissance complete and the competitive intelligence in place, what next.  “Well,” says Sarah, “I plan out the Black Friday very carefully and hit at least three or four major department stores before 9 a.m.  I am a seasoned shopper, so I'll only go after the very best deals, after comparing prices of course, for what I was planning to buy this season until I hit my mark, and then it is Katy bar the door."  With that said it looked as if sparks shot out of her mouth as she ground her teeth.  “Now, on Saturday we can sit in the return goods line to see if anything we missed shows up there.  On Sunday, well, we will give thanks, in a restaurant.”

Sarah isn't alone in her quest for the holy grail of bargains. The Black Friday syndrome will entice approximately 138 million consumers to hit stores during the 2010 Thanksgiving holiday weekend.  138 million people shopping, is that amazing.  Is that why we are here?  And, is it worth it?  All of these people braving the lines (and weather) in the hope of scoring the best ‘deal’.  Out on the street those buying drugs aren’t even this addicted, are they?

How can this day be the best day of the year to shop?  Merchants do not ‘give’ items away, they entice consumers to spend.  And if you are one of the 138 million, well, the odds are, you are spending.  Who wins? 

According to experts, this one day of the year is not really the best shopping experience of your life, just like picking up that tenth cigarette of the day.  It is no better for you than the first, but when the urge hits, you have to have it.  When the Lemmings start to move, there is nothing that will prevent them from jumping.  Who is moving on Black Friday? 

NOTE:  For those who don’t do their competitive intelligence in a longitudinal dimension,  the competitive climate in which retailers have operated during the past few years has forced them to offer deep discounts throughout the holiday season, most notably on the Saturday before Christmas or on Cyber Monday

Now, if a top bargain is offered, how many really exist?  “Lead them in with their wallets ready, and they will buy…, even if it is not what they want.”  This is a Mantra used by the Marketeering Advocate General.  The chances of scoring a ‘top bargain’ are, like playing the lottery, slim to none… BUT if you don’t play you can’t win, right?

And how do you get them in the store?  When Lemmings jump, they all jump.  If you aren’t there, any bargain advertised is gone by noon, and then the advertised prices disappear, “You muggles know nothing!” 

It is a short window of opportunity, from about 4 a.m., when the stores first open, until noon, after that the marketing gurus know that consumers who purchased items on sale and lingered in the store, or missed out on door-buster sales will spend on items that weren't on their wish lists.

Now, do you have to get up early to hit the stores by 4 a.m.?  After eating Turkey it is hard to get up early and this is why Sarah has put off that inconvenience until Sunday.  But then, if you are holding Thanksgiving dinner in a restaurant on a Sunday, well, you might not have to eat turkey at all now will you?

Keep doing that intelligence thing.  It appears that most stores are circling around uniform ‘sales’ prices for both on line and internet shoppers.  And, experts say, even when retailers have better offers waiting inside their retail stores, the savings for the consumer don't usually justify the early morning retail run.

So why, why do you have to get up early to go shopping when you could have shopped the week before or the week after?   Do you really need It?  And this raises the question, “What is Christmas, or in a more general concept, for several religions share this time of year, what do these holidays mean?”

The idea that one isn’t really winning on Black Friday isn't likely to dissuade shoppers from lining up outside their favorite stores the day after Thanksgiving.  The lure of deals apparently appears to be a secondary trigger.  What really drives the consumers in droves is the social component.  And aren’t Lemmings social animals?

 “We shop,” admits Sarah in a moment of clarity, “because other people shop.  Just like I force my husband to take me out to dinner on Valentines day; because everyone else does.”  Then she grinds her teeth again and like before, sparks emerge, “And hell if I am going to miss out bargains others score.”  

For Sarah, Black Friday is about creating memories, “I have some good stories to tell, yes indeed, like the time I carried over one hundred…”

It appears that Black Friday has really become a tradition for a lot of people, and people do like to have tradition based stories to tell, no? 

But what about that religious group that so many years ago moved a particular birthday over a few months?  Why?  Perhaps with the birthday positioned in late December it would help them eclipse other beliefs, but who really knows why.  However, with that said, we do know that now the sellers of product  are managing to have their own beliefs supersede any definition of what the holidays really meant no matter which denomination (social or religious) you once adhered to.  Only in America? 

“Don’t worry,” says Jim Gaffigan, “there is a bunny.”

Saverio Monachino's writing style has been termed by some as 'Kurt Vonnegut meets Mark Twain'.  Saverio describes it as 'comic fiction noir'. Regardless of the terms used, his attempt is to use humor to open the door to serious discussion about very important human issues.  You can find Saverio Monachino on www.comicfictionnoir.com.

Select clubs; They are not for everyone.

If you were to run into a member of a very select club like “Those who travel with well paid entourages” entering the old Madolf apartment on the upper east side and have the [choose your label; nerve, audacity, stupidity, etc.] to ask that person “what have you done/created for me lately” he will probably answer that you will have to talk with his agent/manager/aide/VP.  But if you bring along a dance troupe then of course he will provide the same rejoinder, after he manages a move or two with the troupe. 

It is more likely though that before you get a chance to question said member of the select club the traveling entourage will have called in the Marshalls (Penny, Franklin, Tucker and Local) who will then swing by and ask you to leave, you see, an auction was in the works and your class was not invited.

Now, the recognizable face isn’t going to put in a bid on the luxurious penthouse apartment, no, he is just there to support another world leader, a Kahn so to speak, who needs to set up a consulate in the one city in the world that can give him personal access to the world leaders.  Of course Kahn also has an entourage and so as the head count increases the room for individual movement goes in reverse and the city is forced to call in crowd control and ask for additional funds to do so.  While the city raises taxes to meet the need the Kahn will also be expected to raise more funds to support his habit of supporting members of the Select Club, which means he will divert money from investments to do so.

The Select Club is very select in its membership and having two in the same building on the same day, well, it was almost a quorum and so they invited a few additional members who were jetting through the neighborhood, Miley (what an entourage she had, and each had to carry a pole), George (everyone in his group held up the left hallway), Bill (his group stuck to the foundation), Warren (his group tried to hide as they invested themselves in the brick and mortar), Michaele (she had a few housewives with her and a film crew), and Oprah (who had to video in because she was taking seven thousand winners to China).  By the time the invitee’s were assembled they somehow had more than the yearly allotment of club memberships in the room.   The updated membership list had seemed to vanish after Michaele entered and so they couldn’t officially disinvite anyone.

The member you almost had a chance to meet outside the apartment, who was also the Select Leader, was about to take the lead and start the meeting when he had to ask for a recess.  Then he picked up his i-phone and called for Reggie, “I need my damn i-stuff Reggie.”  Of course with the combined entourages spilling out through the halls and maximum loading the elevators (now they knew how many holes it took to fill the old Madolf hall) Reggie was hard to find, and this is what can happen when you need everyone on site.  The person assigned to carry the i-books gets lost in the crowd.  Of course a new bill was quickly passed so that an external elevator was built to allow for Select-Select access to the building and once completed Reggie was quickly lifted to the appropriate level to deliver his package.

           

“Love you Reg…” the Select Leader intoned.

When the meeting was finally complete (about ten minutes or so later) and the crowd dispersed to their awaiting armadas and the one remaining member, Kahn, was now officially an owner of the fiefdom he took a look around and, with the aid of his team of nearby accountants, quickly reassessed the value of his property.

“Well the new elevator is nice,” the chief accountant relayed while the tabulating members of his crew continued their work, “and very efficient, but it seems to me that the property value will, well it will not be what it was when you placed the bid.”

“Don’t worry,” says Jim Gaffigan, “there is a bunny.”

Saverio Monachino's writing style has been termed by some as 'Kurt Vonnegut meets Mark Twain'.  Saverio describes it as 'comic fiction noir'. Regardless of the terms used, his attempt is to use humor to open the door to serious discussion about very important human issues.  You can find Saverio Monachino on http://www.comicfictionnoir.com/.

Saverio buried a bunch of key words in this particular blog like the title of his book; By Any Means.  He also threw in a bunch of other key words like thriller, murder, mystery, traumatic brain injury, comic, Canada, detective, author, artist, philosophical, writer, intrigue, fiction books, human condition, see if you can find them.  If you can’t don’t worry, in today’s age of ‘linking’, no document is complete until you follow the links.  Try it.

Once upon a time there was a train.

Well now…, what to do, what to do, what to do.  The World Series is over and there is no Football on TV tonight (of course I don’t get ESPN so I don’t really know that), and my pro basketball team just won its first and probably only game of the season (I follow these games on the internet), college basketball is still a little ways off, so maybe I’ll just write a blog.  Oh wait!  It’s election night.  Now that is something I can watch on TV.  No, no, I don’t get the cable news shows (basic cable is so yesterday isn’t it?  Anyone want to lend me some money?), I wonder if it is still on any of the local stations…., this is Tuesday still isn’t it?  I have to check this out.

Yes I’m a junkie and now I just gotta go check in on the new sport in town…, watching the races…, political races.  Oh, oh, this is great, there they are now rounding the bend.  Look, with all of this action I don’t have time to write a blog so I will just leave you with a page or two of the first book I wrote a few years back.  It is not yet published, but let me know what you think.

The title of the book (this can change) is called ‘Getting Even… Almost’ and I’ve pasted in the first page or so of the first chapter.

Have fun.

Saverio

Chapter One:  Once upon a time there was a train.

The low rumble of three thousand plus, slightly out-of-tune horses could be felt as well as heard well before the train made its appearance.  A young girl on platform four viewed the underground station with suspicion as her knees began knocking together and the vibration in her stomach matched that of the support pillar she was leaning against.  When her jaw started to rattle, she move closer to the track to peer up the tunnel, but that was too much for her grandmother to bear.  The older woman elbowed her husband, who picked up on his cue after the second jab and leaped into action.  The elderly gentleman snagged his granddaughter gently, but firmly, by the elbow while pointing down to the tracks beneath the platform and said “You don’t want to fall in, do you?”

Emma didn’t answer, but did look to where his finger pointed, observing the trash strewn amongst the ties.  Following the line of track into the tunnel, she spotted particulate matter of all sorts floating on the air currents that rippled in and out of the pillars.  She thought of a television cartoon her brother liked, where young children rode surf boards beneath a jetty.  As she watched, pieces of old newspaper mixed with torn cellophane wrappers reflected the tunnel light back into the dust, creating ethereal bodies that seemed to float on the incoming tide.  Along with the ghosts came plastic drinking cup tops, straws, wadded up cigarette packages and other assorted detritus being pushed into the station by the approaching train.

Emma stood at the edge of the platform with anticipation building inside her to a point where she had to cross her legs and hold tight.  When the engine finally swung through the final curve, she sucked in a deep breath and held it while leaning out over the track as far as her grandfather’s grip allowed.  She could clearly see the bright swath of light cut by the high beam slowly align with the tracks.  Now only the headlight could be seen, getting larger and larger, and straining, so it seemed, to stay just ahead of the rolling thunder. 

Unfortunately, as the train continuously decelerated it took longer to actually arrive at the platform than she had calculated.  And when it finally did arrive, it was a bit of a letdown for the girl.  An old diesel, with worn Amtrak livery, seemed to ooze out of the tunnel, pulling the Pennsylvanian behind.  Because of the bustle upstairs in the station - the kiosks, shoe shine stand, people moving hurriedly from one point to another and the sounds of the powerful engines below on the platforms reverberating throughout, mixed with the clanging bells, plus the loudspeakers announcing arrivals and departures – she had expected a little more. 

“What a pile of junk!” Emma thought as she finally exhaled and placed her hands over her ears.  The engine passed by, swaying slightly, its brakes squealing.  When it had completely stopped, the nose of the engine was buried ten yards into the exit tunnel.  In what seemed to be by pure chance though, the various cars aligned perfectly with their prearranged unloading positions. 

That is all for tonight… let me know what you think of the opening to Getting Even… Almost.

“Don’t worry,” says Jim Gaffigan, “there is a bunny.”

Saverio Monachino's writing style has been termed by some as 'Kurt Vonnegut meets Mark Twain'.  Saverio describes it as 'comic fiction noir'. Regardless of the terms used, his attempt is to use humor to open the door to serious discussion about very important human issues.  You can find Saverio Monachino on www.comicfictionnoir.com.

To Leak or Not to Wikileak, that is the question.

What is a little leak amongst friends?

Just the other day I took a little leak, and with a weak bladder that is a weaki-leak, right?  So what, you ask, ya gotta go, ya gotta go. And that basically was my take on things as well.  I had to go, so I went.  I didn’t try for a secret release, but then again I wasn’t trying to go public either.  Needless to say I was caught by a very smart assed little guy who ran to the owner of the house and well…, he leaked too.  My neighbor didn’t like the news.

“What in the name of everything right are you doin’ on my grass,” he slurred.

“What the hell are you upset about,” I responded, trying to make him see that my mistake landed just to the left of his property, “This is my yard, and in the name of everything usual, my dog pisses on your lawn all the time.  Why don’t you get mad at her?”

“And she craps on it too…” he added as he took out a dog biscuit and fed my dog.

Well this started a heated debate about the balance of nature.  Like when my dog leaves a small excrement of her own in someone’s yard, but eats well over half her body weight in deer poop which way is the ecological balance shifting?   Now don’t get me started on the problem of natures natural wrecking machines.  You know what I’m talking about, no matter what I plant the deer eat it, and then leave fertilizer for next year’s crop.  And now we can talk about the overpopulation problem too.  As in; there are too many deer in our neighborhood.  I mean how in the world can there be more deer in New Jersey now than when the state was first populated by Europeans?  It must have something to do with that damn state sponsored low income housing mandate.  But I wont get into that discussion right now, it’s too political. 

Anyway, just like that, the argument with my neighbor moved off of my own problem with leaking things out of my hidden vault before I could even get my fly up and onto other things that had been in all of the headlines, if anyone actually read those anymore.  In this state of current events discussion it is always advantageous to argue with a neighbor after they’ve had their aperitif(s), and my neighbor definitely had all of his.

You know the first thing that was on his mind, besides my watering his flowers (which I wasn’t, it landed on my property and later I will take my damn surveyor’s map over to his house and if he doesn’t give me some of whatever he was drinking I’ll shove the whole thing…, oh, where was I.  Yes, I remember, it was that bit about GOOGLE sending all their assets off sore to avoid taxes. Well, that neighbor of mine he starts telling me about how his investment in Google had done very well to date, in fact he may soon be moving to a house at the top of the hill, and then he lets me know that Google is doing the right thing, avoiding those stupid corporate taxes and growing their business and all I can do is try to calculate how many US companies have parked their money off shore, and then add in the number of rich people who do the same and after using some fractal geometry (kudos to Benoit Mandelbrot, he was a pioneer), I am able to recalculate the oft misinterpreted dept relationship to the GDP as it should be if those very large companies actually paid taxes. 

My neighbor wasn’t interested in lowering his taxes for some reason.  I think it is because he is trying to get his app (app is short for application, like if you are making a request for money, or approbate, if you like something, or aperitif if it is late in the afternoon) bought by Google or some other such conglomerate.

Anyway, as the dog sat in his yard looking for sticks and deer poop without having to move anymore (a full stomach will do that to a dog) the conversation/argument turned to other news, like how both the Democrats and the Republicans are already claiming victory in the latest round of elections.  Of course the elections are still over a week away so perhaps these are prognostications instead of claims?  Or, as the Druids might say, “we prophesized that one, eh?”  So does this mean that our elected officials are Druids?  Do Druids float?  We can always try that ‘witches’ trial thing from Monty Python on them now, can’t we.  On the elected officials, not the Druids, and see if they…, Sorry I digressed again. 

Another hot topic of the day was about the little Wiki guy who likes to take leaks, or is that he likes to take your leaks for you.  And on this topic my neighbor gave me an earful again for leaking on his grass because in English it is so hard to grasp the correct connotation of words with multiple uses.  And me, I just wanted to catch the little tweeter who gave me away, I’ll, I’ll take my next one a little closer to his home. 

Anyway this Wiki guy gets on TV for taking a leak and then some of those who, like my neighbor don’t like this type of activity, start to harangue, oh, the shame, the shame.  Leave him alone because he, like me, has an active bladder.

Now apparently WikiLeaks was established way, way back in 2006 by a guy named Julian Assange, "a male with a near genius IQ" say some.  According to a major newspaper that seems to have a penchant for listing a bit to one side of the political view and reports its news that way as well, this male Assange redefined "whistle-blowing” as he gathered up all the whistles in the neighborhood and then published his own map which details how to find a whistle.  In doing this he gathered up everyone’s stuff, hid them beyond the reach of parents and others determined to retrieve them, then releases the map instantly, and globally, to watch the return on his investment pour in (read: advertisement and ‘charitable’ donations).

Now, now, Mr. Genius IQ, do you know “War is Hell” (I wish I had made that one up).  That phrase unfortunately is very, very true.  And if this male near genius IQ had paid attention in school he would have learned this.  If he cared about the information he is disseminating it might serve him well to actually read his history books.  War is hell, always has been, and it has been going on for quite a while.  Does Mr. Assange know that recent problems in the Middle East aren’t really recent, and to put a time frame into play well, the dawn of recorded history would be needed?  Can he please leak that information?  But, if one takes a more focused view of turbulent times then the time frame in question encompasses the dissolution of the Ottoman Empire after WWI.  But he must have known this, everyone does.  And in the same manner, if one reads a report on battlefield casualties, well, everyone knows that you have to add a multiplier or two because, well here we go again; War is Hell.

If Mr. Assange wanted to do something really New and really Different then he would steal the whistles from all sides conducting the argument du jour.  If a man likes to leak as much as Mr. Assange says he does, then let us see him leak that tidy bit of Balanced reporting.  Oh, there is an article or two from his latest stolen pile which tells that yes, the other side is causing some problems as well, but lets face it, he really is just leaking on one side of the situation without putting the geopolitics into perspective.  Can Mr. Assange tap into the data bases of, say…, Iran, or China, or heck maybe one or more of those countries in South Asia that likes to leak on their neighbors as they stool on their populace?  Wouldn’t that be a real nice thing?  After all WikiLeaks is a not-for-profit media organization with a goal of bringing important news and information to the public.  Now, if they only leak on one side of the story what makes them different from an organization with a particular political twist?  Let us see if the near genius IQ guy has male cajones and gets info from ALL sources.  Wouldn’t that be nice?  And different?  Yes it would be different, one might even say unique, and very interesting, and one would probably have to be a genius to do that.  Now, if he spent his time trying to figure a way to bring education to the suppressed masses in these countries, well that would be nice too, and genius.

 Wiki-leakies tell everyone that they provide an innovative, secure and anonymous way for sources to leak information to the company journalists.  But why have we not heard of any news that one skilled in art (read: able to discern information from input data without needing a tell all book) didn’t already know, like from other sides of the conflicts that aren’t occidental in origin?  Or better yet, an explanation of the last season of LOST.  Did they die in the crash in season one, or die after the bomb goes off at the end of season five?   

But again, I digress, the blame really is on the intelligence communities who have no trouble finding where the male Assange lives, but still cannot find that bin Laden guy.

“Don’t worry,” says Jim Gaffigan, “there is a bunny.”

Saverio Monachino's writing style has been termed by some as 'Kurt Vonnegut meets Mark Twain'.  Saverio describes it as 'comic fiction noir'. Regardless of the terms used, his attempt is to use humor to open the door to serious discussion about very important human issues.  You can find Saverio Monachino on www.comicfictionnoir.com.

Saverio buried a bunch of key words in this particular blog like the title of his book; By Any Means.  He also threw in a bunch of other key words like thriller, murder, mystery, traumatic brain injury, comic, Canada, detective, author, artist, philosophical, writer, intrigue, fiction books, human condition, see if you can find them.  If you can’t don’t worry, in today’s age of ‘linking’, no document is complete until you follow the links.  Try it.

How’s the weather?

How's the weather?  That seems like and easy question, right?  A good way to start a conversation or exchange pleasantries with someone you don't know as you pass them on the street, “Hey, how’s the weather?”  Very simple, very neat, very efficient.

And usually simple responses will fill the air, mostly aimed at avoiding further conversation.

“Nice.”  Or,

“It sure is warm today.”  Or,

“Wet, real wet.”

Some people aren’t really sure and let you know, “Humid, I think.”

Others are darn sure, “Shitty.”

Some like to hedge their bets, "Not to bad,” or

“Not to good.”

Then there are some in another dimension, “Tomorrow, tomorrow, it'll be sunny tomorrow, it's only a day away.”

You also invariably come across the person who cannot answer a question without asking one, “Today?” And this throws a little confusion into the mix, so you counter the returned question with, “What do you mean Today? How can the weather be today?”

“That’s what I asked you.  Do you want to know how the weather is today?”
And this of course was not the time trap discussion you wanted when asking the simple question in passing.  So your tone gets a little less polite, “Well hell yeah that’s what I mean!”

Which causes what appears to be a non sequitur to emerge from the other end of the conversation, “Kiss my ass.”

And the list can go on and on.  But if one stops for a moment and gives it some thought, the question 'How is the weather', also, in a microcosm, exemplifies that which leads to so much trouble.  That is; differences in opinion.  Again, passing someone on the street, or beginning a conversation on the phone will get you the quick, defined response.  But as Gandlalf says (paraphrased); "What exactly does ‘Good Morning’ mean?  Is it a morning in which the weather is fine, or a morning in which you have been good?"  And if the rhetoric depends on the tone of voice, try it in Chinese.

So, is the weather condition a matter of opinion too, or just the meteorological readouts?  As in, if the sun is shining bright is it a good day for a tanning session?  Now that does depend on several variables, like climate, one’s opinion, and the human condition itself.  For example, if asked, ‘How is the weather’, on a bright sun-filled day one needs to quickly add in the temperature, barometric pressure, geographic location and the mental condition of both parties as one can see in the following scenario. 

In this example two friends are enjoying standing outside in the sunshine when the one leaning left turns to the other and says, “I think I will try for an all over tan…”

“You mean?” His friend, who is slightly more to the right, asks.

“That's right, I’ll just strip right down to my undies and…,” After all, what can one say if they don’t have a bathing suit handy? 

“You have no suit!” the right leaner slurs at his friend, finally finishing his statement from the precdeing line.

“I’m using the next best thing, right,” the lefy spats over at the man to his right who was still leaning in that direction.

The one incredulous on the whole topic of stripping down to underwear has to ask, “Here?”

“Why not?”

“Well, I guess my concern is, well,” before finishing he has to slurped a bit of drool back into his mouth and then remember what he wanted to say, “it has to do with all the people.” 

“I’m an exhibitionist, what can I say.”  Truth be told, he wasn’t really an exhibitionist unless he had a bit too much to drink, which he had.

“And the traffic…”

“Oh yeah, there are a lot of cars, I see your point, it might be dangerous, someone zooming by and getting distracted by my dangling participle thing…”

The less inebriated of the two continues trying to dissuade his buddy as first one piece of clothing, then another, hits the ground, “Perhaps it would be better to go to a beach or something like that?”

Then, like a bolt of lighting on a clear sunny day like it was, the half naked man begins to rethink his situation, “You know what, I think I’ll wait for the weather to warm up a bit.  Do you mind picking up my coat?  It is cold as shit out here and I really must put it back on."  Then, remembering one more thing he continuces, "Do you have any more beer?”

 Sunbathing itself depends upon the degree of sunshine, the external temperature, the LOCATION (usually) and then the individual involved.  How many of the older crowd needs to pay homage to the sun on a routine basis?  Live in a warmer climate, sure, but cover up with layer after layer of sun block and then sit in it for hours at at time like teenagers…, well maybe a lot of them do.  So the question then becomes is it better to bathe in the sun in the South of France or some shore point in New Jersey. 

And this brings one to an even more philosophical type question, “What do you like to look at?”

“Don’t worry,” says Jim Gaffigan, “there is a bunny.”

Saverio Monachino's writing style has been termed by some as 'Kurt Vonnegut meets Mark Twain'.  Saverio describes it as 'comic fiction noir'. Regardless of the terms used, his attempt is to use humor to open the door to serious discussion about very important human issues.  You can find Saverio Monachino on www.comicfictionnoir.com.

Saverio buried a bunch of key words in this particular blog like the title of his book; By Any Means.  He also threw in many other key words like thriller, murder, mystery, traumatic brain injury, comic, Canada, detective, author, artist, philosophical, writer, intrigue, fiction books, and human condition.  See how many of them you can find them.  If you can’t find them all, don’t worry, in today’s age of ‘linking’, no document is complete until you follow the thread.  Try it. 

How to have your dog take you for a walk

            The dog’s name is Maple, or érable if you want the original language.  Of course before ‘érable’ became Maple she was t’errible.  Some might say feisty but to me, well, she had acute ADHD.  “Don’t panic,” the wife says, “I’ll take her for training.”  Now, they are both infected with ADHD.  Good thing the dog has slowed down a bit over time, the wife, well she keeps on ticking, and kicking. 

When I write for some reason I am in need of help filling out character personalities, so to make it easy for myself I just add in those I know, like érable.  But when I’m not writing I’m walking, as in, the dog.  Nice on a sunny fall afternoon, much worse any other time.  But don’t worry, she is a well trained hound, so I was told.  All she does is sniff whatever smells extremely bad, and if it smells extremely, extremely bad, she eats it.  Or rolls in it, or barks at it, and occasionally does number two, which means I have to carefully scoop the number two up and place it into a nice neat carryall device until I can either dispose of it in my own personal garbage can, which in New Jersey we pay a steep price for weekly collection, or better, if no one is looking, deep into one of the neighbors yards. 

Now, if the dog isn’t rolling, or sniffing, or eating, or pooping, well then she, like the wife, is socializing.  They did go to the same school after all.  And man can she gossip, and sniff all the private parts, and beg, and get people to stroke her the right way, and of course get treats fed her by the neighbors so our home dietary plan goes out the window, and get pet some more, while all I can do is watch and wait.  Sorry, I digress.  Now was I talking about taking the dog for a walk or how I have to keep the wife company when she goes to the mall.  Life can get confusing at times.

            Of course walking the dog does get one lots of exposure to the lives of those who live nearby.  The dog lovers are obvious.  They are always outside, rain or shine, waiting for the princess dog to pass by so they can pay homage and give her dog biscuits or beef jerky if they want to make me really jealous.  And as they stroke the beast they give me the unabridged story of their daily adventure since the previous evening's discourse.  I, of course, now have a running chronology up to and including the day before, of each and every one who awaits the daily return.  But then there are the others too, those shy introverted inhabitants who prefer to keep their comings and goings quiet.  Those who one has to work to get gossip on, if one wasn't standing outside listening to the neighbors as they pet the dog.  So this too, like the dog biscuits, is force, which means the truth, if desired must be carefully extrapolated from what we do see and hear.

            In this regard one does have to sift through the incoming streams of information to set aside conjecture from fact.  After all, what do we really know about the man who lives alone and his backyard is hidden by a rather high solid fence?  He may not really be holding ritualistic Druid summer and winter solstice pageants, though there does appear to be a lot of hot tub use on certain days of the month that coincide with the owner’s craigslist blast solicitation for help cleaning his bedroom.  Those dates usually coincide with payday, and while bedroom is in the query advance, most of the hard work seems to be spent, as mentioned, in the hot tub as the neighbors listen to them…, well no one can really say what they do back there, after all, there is no definite evidence for the practices and doctrines held by the druids – so, in reality we know virtually nothing of certainty about them. 

            But linking their philosophy to the ‘immortal’ nature of a man's soul is not something to take lightly.  After all, many religions originating in different geographic locals also bring the Pythagorean doctrine into play. 

Whatever that means I don’t know, but I do know that I am still pissed.  The last time the dog and I passed by the craigslist frequenting man the dog got a biscuit but I, try as I would, did not get an invitation to the next solstice celebration.

“Don’t worry,” says Jim Gaffigan, “there is a bunny.”

Saverio Monachino's writing style has been termed by some as 'Kurt Vonnegut meets Mark Twain'.  Saverio describes it as 'comic fiction noir'. Regardless of the terms used, his attempt is to use humor to open the door to serious discussion about very important human issues.  You can find Saverio Monachino on www.comicfictionnoir.com.