GRADUATION DAY, 1940 (flash fiction)

Look at them. Dumb as it sounds, these chaps chucked it all and gathered enough scratch to put themselves through Clown College during the Great Depression.

Some would stowaway to Europe and practice their craft in an elegant manner while others would stay in the States, hopping onto carnies in the Dust Bowl that migrated towards California and the movies.

The rugged types, though, usually headed towards either the big rodeos of the Southwest or The Steel Pier in Atlantic City (the latter needing brutish men for that inhumane diving horses act).

Whatever the case, people pointed and made a fool of them but at the end of the day, there was money in their pockets. Not much, mind you, but it beat standing on the bread line in the rain.

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'Ahhhh ... THE FRENCH!!' A DRUNK ORSON (HILARIOUS)

You just gotta love drunk celebs ... Better yet, drunk celebs behind the cork AS THEY WORK. So, that said, check out this priceless clip of Orson Welles half-in-the-bag while shooting one of those vintage Paul Masson Wine commercials of the '70s.

And remember, they'll sell no wine before their time ...

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SOCIAL NETWORK FOR WHISKEY LOVERS

William Faulkner once said "There is no such thing as bad whiskey. Some whiskeys just happen to be better than others." Well, late Mr. Faulkner, have I got a social networking site for you.

Connosr is the place to be. Fans contribute ratings and reviews to help you decide your next single malt purchase. Whiskeys are broken down into Scotch, Irish, and American, and can also be browsed by dozens of user-created tags such as vanilla, smoky, earthy, and spicy.

Enjpy and I'll see ya there!

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WHAT WOULD SWAYZE DO? (flash fiction)

While this isn't the most embarrassing moment of my life, it certainly stands out as one of my defining moments of nervous stupidity... Enjoy this piece of flash fiction that was the answer to a challenge calling for our most embarrassing moments

It was Fall of 1987 and all I can remember about it now was how crisp the air seemed.

After waiting what seemed like an hour on her couch, Darlene and I hopped into my 1978 Buick La Sabre and headed towards the movie, my first with a girl.

As we watched Johnny Castle take baby out of her corner, all I could think of was my next move. Do we go out for ice cream or do I take her home?

Walking up to the car in a sweet little hand-hold, I patted my pants furiously with that spazzy panic that every guy knows all too well.

Sighing, I looked at the movie poster and admired how cool Swayze was before turning to Darlene, "Do you have a dime? I have to call my mother so my dad can unlock my car."

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MORE THAN ENOUGH (flash fiction)

This was the answer to a counting counting challenge... Tell a story using one, two, three... at the start of each sentence.

One time was all it took for me to be pushed.

Two beers and a jukebox tune into my night, I watched them walk in and I dreaded what would follow.

Three ugly dudes with Brillo pads for beards decided that this was the night they'd wreak havoc on an otherwise peaceful joint and saddled up to me at the bar.

Four typists getting the jump on happy hour drew straws to see which one of these hoods would park their boots underneath their beds.

Five minutes, that's all it took, for one of them to start in with me - a poor schnook with glasses and a book.

Six lessons of karate, that's all I had, but it was more than enough.

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WHAT IF CHEEVER WROTE FLASH FICTION?

This came from a challenge someone proposed over at the Six Sentences Social Network. While I thought about 'sixing' other writers for the challenge, I wanted to explore a scribe who I admire more and more these days: John Cheever. His short story collection is one of the best I've read...

So I give you ...

"WHAT IF CHEEVER WROTE A SIX'

He had a rough day in the city and after a jarring ride from Grand Central, the last thing he needed was to hear about how the maid wasn't doing her job.

Or about the kids at school.

Tonight, Johnathan needed time for himself. He needed time to read his paper and watch Cronkite; needed his gimlet sitting in the living room, hearing nothing but the crickets.

Johnathan needed all this to tell her he didn't get the promotion yet again. So he quit.

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PHILLY PUBLIC LIBRARIES TO CLOSE

Well this just blows...

What frugal person doesn't like libraries? They're like a video store, only better. Which is why it's horrifying to learn that thanks to the economic meltdown and the state of Pennsylvania's inability to pass its budget, the Philadelphia Free Library is closing on October 2nd. They'll be ending all services and programs, and closing all of the buildings.

Oh, and by the way... They want all of the books back, too.

To read more about this travesty, click HERE.

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WHISKEY NEAT: JULIAN LENNON WON'T HAVE IT

I love Men's Health magazine. It's filled with so much more than the obvious gym rat advice and this is funny little nugget popped up in their article "Life Observations: 17 Things You Must Never Water Down."

Check out number eleven:

11. Whiskey. True story: While sitting at a bar we like, we heard the bartender take an order for Jack Daniel's Single Barrel and Coke. "Who the hell orders that with Coke?" we asked. "Julian Lennon," said the waitress. Naturally. Goes to show: When you corrupt whiskey, all you do is embarrass Dad.

Ouch...

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WTF ALERT: GUNS ALLOWED IN ARIZONA BARS

Good thing Chuck Buk didn't live in Arizona. With all his "dukin'" he may have gotten hurt.

Check out this piece of crazy: Arizonans with concealed weapons permits will be allowed to take a handgun into bars and restaurants that serve alcohol under a bill recently signed by Gov. Jan Brewer.

The measure, backed by the National Rifle Association, will require bar and restaurant owners who want to ban weapons on the premises to post a no-guns sign next to the business' liquor license.

Wow...

To read more, click HERE.

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'TO THE WHORE WHO STOLE MY POEMS' (with BUKOWSKI READING)

I was speaking with someone the other day about one of my favorite Bukowski poems, "To the Whore Who Stole My Poems." Is that a great fuckin' title or what?? In any case, here is the link for the text in case you haven't read it.

If you don't feel like reading, sit back and enjoy this fan made tribute with good 'ol Hank reading it.

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DRINKING WINE WITH CEREAL

We all know that good ol' Hank loved his vino. Fot that very reason, I couldn't pass up not posting this odd friggin' whatever this is... Gary Vaynerchuk has long talked about pairing wine with cereal and he recently went “there” and paired three wines with the classic kiddie cereals Lucky Charms, Captain Crunch and Cinnamon Toast Crunch. Odd...

Annoyingly, I can't embed the vid so here is the link.

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THE WELL (flash fiction)

Now and again, all writers go back to the well - that place they tap into where inspiration and dreams are born.

Like an assembly line in a jailhouse cafeteria, the well gave Hemingway his graceful brevity, it's where Dante Alighieri first drummed up that wretched descent and where Fitzgerald conjured his flights of fancy.

Edgar Allen went there frequently but one night after dipping his hand deep into that chasm of creativity, he came back with something not exactly suited for him and was perplexed.

Leaving, he passed William Sydney Porter, otherwise known as O. Henry, who didn't look exactly thrilled himself.

"I've got a collection of tales here," Poe said, "they're whimsical, optimistically charming and ironic. Useless to me."

"I have something quite disturbing," O. Henry replied, "a ghastly poem tracing a man's slow descent into madness. Let's trade..."

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TWO WORTHLESS PARTNERS (flash fiction)

The lacquer cracker on the jukebox kept skipping so I told that bum of a barkeep to unplug the hunk-of-junk once and for all. It wasn't a time for the rah-rah's of wartime propaganda and I needed to think.

Think about my two crumb-bum partners. Think about which of 'em deserve the loot to begin with. Think about how I could hop a freight with the dough and no one would see this two-bit newsman again.

But then I heard the squeak of the back door open and those high heels approach, slowly. When I heard her gun cock, I knew she was alone.

As I took one final drag of the Chesterfield all I could think was, "Even when we were married, this broad never did know how to share..."

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I'M IN 'ZYGOTE'

Okay, I'm gonna pimp my shit for a sec... Check out my minor appearance in the gritty literary journal ZYGOTE IN MY COFFEE, released by Tainted Coffee Press.

Zygote in My Coffee (often referred to simply as "Zygote") is a popular underground independent print and online magazine dealing mostly in experimental and "street" poetry, though it also publishes content that includes short fiction, social commentary, political rants, one-act plays, erotica, and adult-oriented comic strips. The magazine was started in San Jose, California in December 2003 by poet and cartoonist Brian Fugett, who later moved to and now publishes out of Kettering, Ohio. At one time, co-editors included Karl Koweski, Aleathia Drehmer, and C. Allen Rearick.

Zygote In My Coffee has so far released well over a hundred online issues and six print issues. After five years the magazine announced its defunct status in late 2008 but later resumed publication with a slightly limited schedule.

If you wanna be super swell in my book and buy one, click HERE.

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