Category Archives: Random Stuff

Riding the (Radio) Waves, or Listen to Me, Mom!

Sorry about the silence of the last…oh…shit. I just looked it up and my last post was in February! Bad blogger! My apologies, my adoring public. I could give you the grocery list of reasons—being a teacher with grades due, stress, parenting a teenager, stress, parenting a toddler, stress, being a husband, stress, and stress—but I don’t want to bore you. What I want to do is:

1. Assure you that I’m alive and well and will return here with a real post sooner than later.

2. Let you know that this Saturday, April 12th—which happens to be the great David Letterman’s birthday—I will be making my first appearance on The Tim Weisberg Show! I first met Tim back in 2011 when I was invited to so his other radio show, Spooky Southcoast, which he co-hosts with Matt Costa. Tim has been very kind since then. I don’t know what we’ll talk about but probably pop culture stuff. Since we’re around the same age, we’ll probably fall into mutual fondness for bad 1980s cartoons, horror movies, and other such stuff. Either way, I’m pretty excited because I’ve enjoyed being on the radio in the past and Tim and I seem to get on pretty well.

I’ll be appearing on the 8 o’clock hour of the show. You can listen on the WBSM website or on the RadioPup app. Of course, if you live in the Greater New Bedford area on the Southcoast of Massachusetts, you can hear it on your actual terrestrial radio, on 1420 AM.

I’ll try to be entertaining. I promise.

First! Post! Of! 2014!, or I’m Doing This For You

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

There, now that that’s out of my system, let’s get to it.

Except…there’s really no it right now. 2013 is over and it was a good year, overall, with lots of bad weaved throughout, but isn’t any year? And, lucky for me, most of the bad was societal bad, not personal. Though I am all-too-aware of my failures from the past year, but aren’t we all?

I’m not really going to post about what my goals for 2014 are because if they don’t happen, then I look stupid in a public arena, as opposed to the personal list I make every year, which only makes me look bad to me. I do want to make changes this year, but  who doesn’t?

There’ll be a move this year, and I’m going to have to finally get ready to get Master’s (and actually begin the process). And there’ll be writing. Lots of that. I’d still like to try vlogging but there’s an amount of time for that I just don’t seem to have, though I’m not giving up yet. You get the idea.

So have a great New Year. I’ll be back soon.

Celebrity Death & Decorum, or How Social Media Has Made People Angry Over the Wrong Crap

Saturday night my wife was about to go to bed when Courtney, my teenage daughter, said as she scrolled Twitter, “Do you know who Paul Walker is?”

Pamela and I looked at each other. “He’s from those Fast and Furious movies,” Pamela said.

“Yeah, well, he died in ‘a fiery car crash,'” Courtney said.

My wife and I both said, basically, “Oh no! That’s sad!”

That was about the extent of it. After she went to bed, I went on the iPad and was scrolling through my Facebook feed and Twitter feed. The news about Mr. Walker’s death was still pretty fresh but I already saw something unsettling. Someone (I don’t remember who) had posted to Facebook something alone the lines of: “150,000 people died today, but we’re all fixated on one celebrity.”

Over the course of the past two days, I’ve seen similar kinds of posts. A lot of them. On Facebook. On Twitter. I’m sure there are others out there.

Why?

It’s a lot like the essay I wrote about people liking to go out of their way to inform all the fans of a particular TV show, movie series, or game that they don’t watch it, but it’s uglier. Much uglier.

Unlike, say, Kim Kardashian or Paris Hilton or Snookie or any other reality TV star, Mr. Walker actually worked his ass off to achieve what fame he received, and it’s not as though he was out partying when his death happened. Yes, it appears he was in a speeding vehicle, but he had just finished a fundraiser for Philippine relief. Oh, and he had a history of helping those who’d been hit hard by disaster.

In other words, Mr. Walker did something that made a lot of people happy, and helped a lot of people, and now he was being mourned.

Now, before I’m accused of being a superfan of his, I’ll state that I’ve never seen the Fast and Furious movies (though Pamela and I were talking about them just that morning) and I honestly had to double check what his name was before I began writing this. I know only as much as I’ve read about or have seen on TV in the last couple of days.

The thing that annoys me is the flippant dismissal over the man’s death. Yes, he was a celebrity. Yes, he was a star of a series of popcorn action flicks. But he was also the father to a 15-year-old daughter. Like I am. He was 40 years old—four years older than I (and my wife’s age). He organized help for those who needed it. And he’d worked for most of his life to achieve what fame he had, and compared to most movie stars, he wasn’t necessarily the biggest name. Consider the Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson had more screentime in the recent Fast & Furious trailers and commercials than he did, even though Johnson had only done a couple of them.

That’s not to say that all the other people who died Saturday shouldn’t be mourned because they absolutely should. They all have families and friends and touched lives for the better. Unfortunately for them, they weren’t in one of the most successful franchises of the last decade or so. They were known outside of their local places or by those close to them. Mr. Walker was.

Instead of bitching about the public mourning of fans, and the media’s attraction to the story (which, let’s face it, is a huge piece of irony and is grisly, two things modern news loves), let’s use Mr. Walker’s death as a symbol to all those who died that day. His death becomes the face of those regular people who died that day, no less tragic, no less sad.

In other words, with all the silliness out there in the world, the racism and sexism, the growing socioeconomic chasm, the bigotry and hatred, let’s focus our energy on fixing those things instead of making people who lost someone they cared about in some way, whether it’s because they knew him or it was because they loved his movies, feel bad about their public mourning and the news outlets reporting of it.

Babygirl: Year One

The title may be a bit misleading. I’m not actually planning on writing about Genevieve’s entire first year. But it does weigh heavily on me. Last week was her birthday and yesterday was her birthday party. Not everyone I would’ve liked to be there was because of space and situations. It was mostly Pamela’s family and friends. My 15-year-old was there, representin’ the Gauthiers because my sister lives in Florida and my mother is unable to leave her apartment. Still, fun was had by all. The baby made out like a bandit (sorry for the cliché, I’m tired), everyone loved the cake (thanks to Cravings Café & Cakery), and the baby had a great time.

Still, the passage of time is felt. One year becomes fifteen real fast. All I needed to do was look at Courtney and Genevieve together.

Sisters hanging out.

Sisters hanging out.

One year becomes fifteen in a heartbeat, it seems. I know that’s not true. A lot has happened in fifteen years. My life changed, and changed again, and changed at least three more times. The lives of those around me also changed. The world has changed. Fifteen years ago as I write this, I would’ve been using my first computer, a gift from my parents. It wasn’t connected to the Internet just yet, and wouldn’t be for another month or two. And when it was finally connected, it was with America Online, dial-up. Now I sit at my fourth computer, a notebook computer, typing on a blog via wireless broadband. That’s but one change.

So to see that the baby is already one is a little disconcerting. There will be lots of adventures in her future. Lots of firsts. I look forward to them, and I fear them. But I mostly look forward to them. Just as I look forward to the firsts that my teenager still has to encounter, as my wife will encounter, as I will encounter.

Schedules, Meltdowns, & Burgers, or My Thursday in September

Whoa-ho-ho! What a day, friends! But I’ll get to that in a minute or so.

I’ve decided to attempt to schedule my creative time. I actually decided this months ago, and began really thinking about it a couple of weeks back. Tonight I put pen to calendar and I thought I’d share.

I read this article more than a year ago and thought, I should try something like that. I decided instantly that using an Excel spreadsheet wasn’t an option because I can’t figure out how to use that program (Excel’s templates are what I use, if I use it at all). It took me awhile to figure out what to do. For now, I’m using my desk calendar. I’d already decided that Thursday would be a Must Blog Day, which is when I was putting the Nightmare on Elm Street and Superman essays up. But since July, I’ve been bad about that. So now that I’m back at work/school and have been doing real well working on the novel, I’ve decided to really try out a schedule. I know it will change as I get used to it, but that’s fine. Two weeks are mapped out. We’ll see how this works. If you’re interested, I can give you updates.

This is a nice feeling of accomplishment and, dare I say?, maturity on my part since I had a bit of a meltdown today. I won’t go into it because I know They‘re watching and I don’t want to say the wrong thing or for that thing (right or wrong) to be taken the wrong way (which, in my experience, tends to be how things work), but suffice it to say, ineptitude turned me into my arrogant, prima donna self.

Which makes me think of Dunkin Donuts. I have basically stopped going to Dunkin Donuts in favor of their competitor Honey Dew Donuts. I was sick of the window people (and the counter people) getting things wrong every time I went there. My order is simple: Large hot coffee, extra light, four sugars. Many times, I emphasize extra light. Dunkin Donuts gave it to me light, at best, dark most often. Or without sugar. Or they’d fuck up my sandwich, or my wife’s sandwich (she doesn’t want cheese on her breakfast sandwiches–or any sandwiches for that matter…I know, it’s a major personality flaw but I still love her even though she eats breakfast sandwiches wrong), or her drink.

The final straw was when I went to get a toasted bagel with cream cheese for the teenager. I’d already gotten my coffee elsewhere before I picked her up for school and she asked if I’d get her a bagel. So there was a Dunkin Donuts and I went through the drive-thru.

“Hi. I’ll have a toasted bagel with cream cheese, please.”

I drive up, pay, get the bag, and am pulling around to leave when Courtney says, “Look.”

She pulls out a small package of butter. And there’s no knife to spread it.

So I park, and bring the butter in. The girl at the counter ignores me for a few moments before, “Can I help you?”

“Yes,” I say, putting on a smile and faking a pleasant disposition. “I just ordered a bagel and cream cheese at the window and was given butter.” I held up the butter. “I wondered if I could have cream cheese.”

The girl sighs and walks away. A few moments pass. I wait. And wait. And wait. Finally she returns and thrusts the cream cheese at me and turns around to walk away.

“Excuse me.”

She turns and rolls her eyes. “Yes?”

“Could I have a knife to spread this?”

She sucks her teeth and procures a plastic knife that would have a hard time spreading air. She walks away before I can thank her. I’m left with cream cheese and a knife in one hand, butter in the other. I placed the butter in the rack of gift cards.

It’s been months since I’ve gone to a Dunkin Donuts. I’ve been happy.

Except, recently, Honey Dew has been giving me light coffee. I order it extra light.

I’m not asking for much, just aptitude at your job.

Speaking of which, I made these cheeseburgers (hamburgers for Pamela) tonight. Her’s was medium, mine well-done. Cheee-rist! I made a mean burger! Well-done but juicy, two slices of cheese (one on top, one on the bottom), lightly toasted buns.

Yeah. Tonight helped today.

Quick Video: Summer Vacation

I meant to post this here back when I put the video on YouTube, but forgot. It’s Baby G and I messing with my iPad’s cam. Ain’t she cute?

Friday Night Lights…Out

Friday. Friday. Friday. F.R.I.D.A.Y. Friday.

This has been a long, emotional week. My 15-year-old was here most of the week because her mother was on vacation and that was great. She was mostly on her computer, which is normal for teens, yes? But she also played with the baby and played along with us. It was great. Yesterday, she went back to her Mom’s until next weekend. My heart broke as she walked across the street to the house, her bags in her hands. I get to see her every day now, but it’s still difficult leaving her.

This week also saw my return to work-school for the 2013-2014 year. I was happy to see my students from previous years, and some co-workers. The week leading up to the new school year is always stressful for me, but this year was particularly bad. I’m in a new classroom and not everything is ready. And because I deal with a different set of freshmen every four-and-a-half days until January, and four days have already gone by, and I’m still not unpacked in my new room, and I have no time to do that or much of anything…stress. Oh, and I have more students than I ever had before. That’s fun, too. I won’t get into that. The older students are great, but I even messed up with them this week.

Oh, and I miss the baby during the day. I’ve jokingly called her the hostage-taker all summer, but this week I missed her bad.

I’m tired. Tired. T.I.R.E.D.

But there’s some good.

After a very enthusiastic recommendation by the teenager, and seeing how many people loved it, and finding the Vlogbrothers YouTube videos, I finally decided to read John Green’s The Fault in Our Stars. Ho-ho-holy shit, it’s good! I’m about 80 pages from the end and am dreading it, but can’t stop. Green is a major talent and he’s made a fan of me. Which is weird because we’re the same age. I mean, the same exact age. I mean, we were born on the same day.

Which means our birthday was last Saturday. We turned 36. Yay, us. My birthday was laid back, nice.

Another great thing: The Harlan Ellison Channel on YouTube. I’ve written about discovering Ellison on Sci-Fi Buzz and now, thanks to his friend, Academy Award-nominee Josh Olson, the commentaries he did, as well as some new videos, are available online. Or are becoming available. Goddamn, I’m happy. The fact that it went up in time for my birthday was a great present. It has helped get me through this week.

So that’s that. I should go to bed. Later.

Henry & Ben, or Superman & Batman

batman_vs_superman_logo.jpg

I never did get to post my thoughts on the Superman/Batman movie that was announced at the San Diego Comic Con. I wanted to but it just sort of slipped away.

I’m excited about the Superman/Batman movie, though not as excited as I was 10 years ago. I liked Man of Steel well enough and am interested in what they could do in the future. There seems to be a sort of apathy about the movie in some circles, while other non-comic book readers can’t figure out how the two heroes could possibly be put together. It’s not like the comic books have been doing it for nearly 75 years or anything. I guess the biggest thing is to remain faithful to the concept of the heroes, which in itself is controversial.

Many have been very much against the way Superman was portrayed in Man of Steel, and the idea that it was his first outing and he was new to the superhero game doesn’t seem to be answer enough to those concerns. When all is said and done, I had mixed feelings about the details of Man of Steel but liked the feel of the character well enough to want to see him again. It will be interesting to see how this works with a new Batman.

Which leads me to the news that may break Twitter and Facebook and the interwebz: Ben Affleck has been cast as Batman/Bruce Wayne for the movie.

I like this casting. I’ve always liked Ben Affleck. Yes, he’d made some bad movies, but every actor has. He got a bad rap for awhile that I feel has been undeserved. I always thought he could be his generation’s Harrison Ford, given the right opportunities. I suspect that he will bring pathos and ethos to the role.

As far as speculation on story, who knows? I’d love it if Lex Luthor employed the help of billionaire philanthropist (and rival) Bruce Wayne to help rebuild Metropolis after the events of Man of Steel, and perhaps even try to coerce Wayne to help build an army to keep Superman in line. As the Dark Knight gets to know the Man of Steel, and as Wayne gets to know Luthor, he realizes it’s not the Kryptonian who’s a danger, but the Human.

That’s my pitch. I’ve been wrong in every way whenever I’ve speculated about these movies. We’ll go in 2015 and find something better, I’m sure.

But those are my thoughts. Either way, I’m sure it’ll be a fun ride.

Dear Mr./Ms. I’m-Too-Cool-For-School: Fuck You

So today the social mediaverse was alive with the news of BBC’s announcement of the 12th Doctor of its long-running show Doctor Who. I am a new Whovian, having only begun watching the show via Netflix late last year (I’m still waiting for Amazon Prime to get the second half of series 7, or Netflix the entirety of series 7). I intend to go back and watch what I can of what’s being called Classic Doctor Who on these streaming services. Because Doctor Who has exploded since its 2005 revival, today was a big day for nerds, geeks, purveyors of fine entertainment, science fiction aficionados, and the British public. My Twitter stream, my Facebook stream, everything has been posting and talking about The New Doctor Peter Capaldi.

With this excitement (fear? horror? disappointment?) has been the usual people who are Too Cool For School. The ones who go out of their way to let their Facebook friends and Twitter followers know they have no interest, not a scintilla, a microbe, a minute inkling of a teeny-tiny possibility of interest in who the new Doctor is. They have never seen, will never see, have no interest in ever seeing Doctor Who, Doctor What, Doctor Where, or Doctor How (though they’re probably lying on that one: Everybody wants to know How).

Look, I think we’ve all done this at some point. And if I cared to go through my Facebook musings since I signed on in 2008, I’m sure I could come up with a dozen examples. Sometimes I’ve done so as a joke (at some point in the last year about the TV show Once Upon a Time). But I had an epiphany at some point during some football game or hockey game or somedamnthing, in which I didn’t give one iota of a fuck about: Why piss on their parade? Some of these people on my feed care about whether Tom Brady or Lebron James or some other athlete or team wins, they’re really into it, so who am I to be Too Cool For School?

I see this as a moment of mature clarity for me. It’s so easy to dismiss out of hand something one does not like that everyone is talking about. All it is is the 12-year-old who decides to wear black clothing on Colorful Clothes Day. It’s the little kid who is going to say “No” even when they’re dying to say “Yes.” It’s the Republican who has scientific evidence in front of them but decides Climate Change doesn’t exist and stricter gun laws won’t save lives.

It’s silly.

So, for those of you who are too cool to care about Doctor Who, or the Superman/Batman movie, or Star Wars, or Stephen King, or Harry Potter…or even shit I don’t care for like Transformers, Twilight, or whatever else: Fuck you.

I’m not talking about opinion here. If you’ve seen it and want to say you didn’t like it, go for it, man. By all means, add your thoughts to the mix. But if you’re just too hip, too cool, too happening, too intellectual, too snobby to care about what, it seems, a lot of other people care about, keep it to yourself. Otherwise, go fuck yourself.

Now I’m going to write. Play nice.

There Will Be No Stacking, or The Baby’s 1st Decree

Last week Pamela and I were sitting on the floor watching Genevieve play. In case you’re slow on the uptake, Genevieve is the baby, not the teenager (who is named Courtney). The teenager was at her mom’s house. As I sat there, I’d stack some blocks up and Pamela would put the Fisher-Price rings on the stand. The baby would roll (she seems to be bypassing crawling, like her sister did) to one of our nice new stacks and knock it over. Take the rings from their stand and then roll away, destruction in her wake. It was then that we realized that she’d silently decreed that There Will Be No Stacking.

Now we run into trouble. Because what’s stacking? To you and I, rational adults, stacking is placing one thing on top of the other:

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A stack.

But we’re not dealing with a rational adult, oh no. This is a very smart, but very rascally, baby. So to her, not only is this a stack:

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And this:

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And this, and this:

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But so is this:

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And this:

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And even this:

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Now, granted, that last is kind of a stack. I mean, the bottles, stupidphone, remote controls, and glass bowl are all on the coffee table which makes it kind of stacking. I think it would be admissible in court should we ever have to sue her for damages. What really worries me is what happens when she starts walking next week?

But, Bill, I hear you say to your smartphone, tablet, or (ha!) computer screen. How, pray tell, can you know that she’ll be walking next week?

Because she’s just like that. Last Friday (July 12th), she couldn’t sit up without help. By Monday she was sitting up like a pro. And pulling herself up on the side of her playpen. I also know that she’ll be walking next week because her mother and I aren’t ready for it. Look at that last picture. Besides the stupidphone, bottles, remote controls, glass coasters, and expensive glass bowl, you can see: a couch with lots of cushions; an end table with another glass bowl, the baby monitor, a picture of Courtney, and a lamp; and a plant on (out of frame) a stone pedestal that could easily cause damage to anyone it falls on. Never mind the TV, the drawers, everything on the floor (technically, stacked on the Earth)(and she’s strong), the building we live in…. Where will it end?

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It’s blurry because she’s quick. Gone! Just like that.

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Not happy with just knocking the blocks down, she decided to eat/make-out with a plastic frog. Will she know any bounds?!

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Well…I guess that stack isn’t so bad to knock down.

The decree has been issued, the law laid. There will be no stacking. Of anything. For a long, long time.

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