Odds and Ends

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Just a few bits and pieces off the top of my head, until (and if) longitudes resumes more substantial essays:

I finished a good book entitled Up From the Depths: Herman Melville, Lewis Mumford, and Rediscovery in Dark Times, by Aaron Sachs. It’s a sort of combined mini-biography of both authors that draws parallels between them, as well as the turbulent times in which they lived. If you’re interested, I recently reviewed it on Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/59149225-up-from-the-depths.

Speaking of dark times, the phenomenon (disease) known as Donald Trump shows no sign of abating. As I see it, the problem is twofold: (1) an electorate loaded to capacity with birdbrains, and (2) a political party (Republican) that has completely abdicated its role as a gatekeeper of democracy. Even if Trump were to magically disappear, Republicans would just replace him with another bombastic demagogue, and one with a well-fermented base of willing acolytes. It’s not the individual; it’s an entire ideology and subculture.

I uploaded a couple new YouTube videos since my November post, covering my two nonfiction books (Evergreen Dreaming and Bluejackets in the Blubber Room), located here: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCgZUrVuzK88YUan7hBqCHWw. Occasionally I think I like being in front of a camera, but most of the time it makes me squirm. Think I’ll stick with the written word over audiovisual.

I began training for another marathon and was up to 16-mile runs, then felt a minor twinge in my knee that progressively worsened, so the April marathon that I so looked forward to is now in jeopardy. I’ve been resting and icing the knee. But considering what certain friends have had to undergo this past year (some of whom have left the planet), I don’t have a right to complain.

My wife has given tacit approval for me to attempt a thru-hike of the Pacific Crest Trail in spring 2025. At least, she’s agreed to me hiking California. I figure if I can make the southern boundary of Oregon, maybe I can talk her into my doing the remainder. Whatever transpires, it’s good to have fun things on the horizon to strive for. What do we do given life? We move around (Stephen Stills).

I’d like to start another book, but a proper subject eludes me. I’ve thought of a third entry in my Nick Montaigne detective series, if only to complete a hat trick, but I’ve also thought of doing a biography, or perhaps attempting literary fiction. The Shades Dripped Red has sort of stalled, sales-wise. Not to sound bitter, but today’s publishing world seems to be predominately female: women writers, readers, editors, literary agents. There are probably a number of reasons for this. Want my opinion? Great, here it is! While it’s good that white males no longer monopolize the literary sphere (and many other spheres), I’m worried that identity has now become the key criterion…not quality. That doesn’t mean there aren’t great books by women writers. There are. But when I see publishing houses bragging about their “diversity,” and editors respond to my queries with “it’s quite tough to sell male-driven (italics are mine) crime novels,” and they suggest I make “a female voice central to the narrative,” I know it’s not my imagination. Assuming I’m right, this trend doesn’t bode well for our culture/society.

Sadly, if a male-centric novel like Moby-Dick or The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn were to be written today, it would have a tough time ever seeing the light of day. I’ve thought about doing a book where the central character is a black lesbian midget. But that might be outside my “wheelhouse,” as sportscasters like to say. (What the hell’s a wheelhouse, anyway?)

And I’ll close with that odd or end. A big “hello” to Neil, Mike, Holly, Frank, Leah, Phil, Robert, Robin, Dave, Tad, Jennie, Mary Kaye, David, Dean, Stephen King, and everyone else who has read or commented on longitudes for so many years…have a great 1924, and see you over the next wave! (And please ignore the fucked-up ad pollution that WordPress jams in here.)

A person who won’t read has no advantage over one who can’t read—Mark Twain

Better sleep with a sober cannibal than a drunken Christian—Herman Melville

Negative Book Reviews

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First off, a cheerful note: HAPPY THANKSGIVING, EVERYONE! (Even to those of you whose whose country doesn’t have holidays related to imperialism and ethnic cleansing.)

Now for something completely different: negative reader ratings and reviews of my books. Maybe it’s my warped personality, but as much as I love my books to receive four- and five-star thingies on Amazon and Goodreads (and thank heaven for those), it is the hateful and venomous ratings and reviews that really intrigue me. What could be going through these individuals’ heads? How could they so often be so wrong?

To that end, I recently recited, on YouTube, some harsh reviews of my hiking memoir, Evergreen Dreaming: Trail Tales of an Aging Hiker, by two anonymous ships sailing through my section of the inky cyberspace. It also afforded me the opportunity to defend myself…without using four-letter words.

When you put something out there for people to buy, you have to expect criticism, I realize. But it doesn’t mean you can’t criticize the criticisms.

I’m not sure where the star thingy thing began. I’m guessing it started with now-disgraced publishing-and-rock-music-hall-of-fame kingpin Jann Wenner and his magazine, Rolling Stone. Way back in the 1970s, Wenner evidently seemed to think that his publication wielded enough power to make or break a record album, and maybe even the artist behind it. He created a monster with his magazine’s ratings and lists, and now everyone from a dyslexic eight-year-old to a grandmother with vascular dementia has the ability to influence the success or failure of products in the marketplace.

Of course, critical reviews really took off with the internet. Before then, reviews of products like books were done by seasoned professionals with knowledge and experience, who knew what differentiated good writing from bad. (Okay, they too sometimes got it wrong, but at least they could back up their opinions.) While the internet has helped democratize things, and there are some non-professionals who do a pretty good job, there are also a whole lotta birdbrains. And if you don’t agree, just read some of the one- and two-star Goodreads reviews of Shakespeare’s plays.

But here we are, and we have to live with it, so might as well have fun with it.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy my latest YouTube video. And feel free to leave comments or, uh…thumbs up or thumbs down (ouch) thingies.

Here’s the link…gobble, gobble!

New YouTube Channel, Facebook Page

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Hey WordPress Friends…I’m now solidly in marketing mode for my latest book, a true-crime-inspired murder mystery called THE SHADES DRIPPED RED: A NICK MONTAIGNE MYSTERY. (Click this hyperlink or this hyperlink) To that end, I’ve created a YouTube station called Peter Kurtz, Author, where I explain things in more detail, and a Facebook page, also called Peter Kurtz, Author.

The idea behind all this is to create “buzz” and get my work into the right hands…those hands being folks who like to read (which means all of you here on WordPress); and more specifically, who read mysteries, detective stories, crime fiction, and thrillers.

Good ratings and reviews on places like Amazon and Goodreads help immensely. (Not much I can do about the bad ones.) So if you read Shades and believe it’s a good book, please spread the word with a short review, or maybe an extended line of star thingies. I would be very grateful.

That’s about it. Hope to maybe see you on YouTube. You’re allowed to laugh. And please ignore the ad bullshit WordPress puts here. (I need to pay for another upgrade.)

Lastly, thanks to those of you who have already joined Nick and Vern to help solve this heinous crime in Springbrook, Ohio!

Peace and Love,

Pete

NEW MYSTERY: The Shades Dripped Red

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Based on an unsolved true crime in my hometown, my latest book, The Shades Dripped Red: A Nick Montaigne Mystery is now available for purchase! (Click preceding hyperlink for paperback or Kindle).

I thought it would be fun to assign my two gumshoes to wrap up a vicious unsolved homicide case that the “Springbrook” cops started but couldn’t finish. Nick Montaigne and Vern Wister probably hate that I dispatched them during COVID from downtown Atlanta to a corn town in Ohio that thinks Eisenhower is still president.

But I’m the writer, and they had no say in the matter.

As the book cover hints at, “Shades” deals with a violent crime in a suburban home. Espionage, China, and the military-industrial complex also play a part…in addition to sex, drugs, rock ‘n’ roll, politics, religion, life, death, the universe, and movies that nobody watches anymore.

Anyway, thank you for checking out my latest effort, thank you for supporting indie publishing, and thank you for not informing my hometown about this book, or I’ll get sued for libel!

“Do you think they’ll like the book, Nick?”

“Vern, how can they not? WE’RE IN IT!”

“There were no witnesses…except one” (New Book Forthcoming)

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On April 15, 1995 a middle-aged, middle-class couple was gunned down execution-style on a Saturday night in a small northern Ohio town. The wife was shot once in the back of the head in the dining room. The husband was shot similarly in the den in front of his computer.

There was no apparent motive. The couple had no enemies. Neighbors claim they heard no gunshots. No evidence was left behind. Nothing was stolen. There were no witnesses…except one: the couple’s dog, Sarah.

***

This unsolved crime happened on the street where I lived as a child. I only learned about it ten years ago while visiting my mom and jogging past my old house and striking up a conversation with a homeowner. It fascinated me. Why would someone murder a perfectly harmless married couple living a quiet life in a peaceful Midwestern suburb?

To “get it out of my system” I decided to write about it. I chose to assign the case to my fictional private detective, Nick Montaigne. In my forthcoming book, The Shades Dripped Red, Montaigne and partner Vern Wister travel from Atlanta to Ohio and immerse themselves in the case.

Those familiar with my debut Montaigne novel, Black Jackknife, can expect more of the same mix of intrigue, psychology, sex, and humor. This time, however, Montaigne-Wister have to deal with small-town provincialism and the military-industrial complex. They encounter a host of colorful characters who, shall we say, make solving the “Moore murders” seem like a rollercoaster ride.

The manuscript is now in the proofing stage, and publication should happen in late-summer or early fall. I hope you’ll join me, Nick, and Vern in solving this cold case. Keep an eye on this blog for publication details.

Will Nick fall in lust again? Can Vern stay away from the bottle? Will “Sarah” be able to help the investigators? We’ll see. And I promise: my book will have no obnoxious ads like the garbage WordPress has put here.

New Mystery in the Works

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Since “vacating the premises” last year, I’ve been busy with the second novel in my Nick Montaigne detective series. The new one is called THE SHADES DRIPPED RED. It’s based on an unsolved hit man-styled double homicide that happened in my old hometown—in a house right across the street from where I once lived. I’m about three-fourths done with writing and hope to publish later this year. With this one I’m trying some advance marketing—which is why I dropped back in for coffee with y’all!

Those who enjoyed the first Montaigne book, Black Jackknife (see Amazon link on this page), can expect much of the same: intrigue, style, humor, sex, and (what I hope is) a higher literary quality than most books in this genre. Oh yeah—humorous ex-cop Vern Wister seemed to strike a chord, so he’s back to help Nick with a bigger role than before.

Also—whereas Jackknife occurred mainly in Atlanta and on the Appalachian Trail—the setting for Shades is a small, suburban Ohio town. And instead of hiking and collegiate tennis, the backdrop is COVID-era international espionage and the military-industrial complex.

I’ll post again once I publish this bad boy…publication being either on Longitudes Press or with a traditional publisher. And as those Bartles and Jaymes guys used to say: “Thanks for your support!”

Quietus

/ greenpete58 / 9 Comments

Today marks the 10-year anniversary of my first longitudes post.  It also precedes my wife and me migrating to a warmer clime for six months, where I won’t have access to a (real) computer.  Therefore, I’ve decided to go on indefinite hiatus. 

I’ve truly enjoyed writing these 240 or so essays and am grateful to all who take time to read.  I’ve tried to keep a mix of lighthearted and serious—life, after all, is both.  With the lighthearted, I hope I’ve provoked a smile or laugh.  With the serious, maybe I’ve encouraged (in my amateurish way) some considerations.

In that light, here are some of my favorite lighthearted and serious quotes.  And to get one last lick in, I encourage all to watch a new documentary on the late George Carlin, entitled George Carlin’s American Dream. 

While most of my heroes are musicians, comedian Carlin is one of the exceptions.  He was not only damn funny, he had guts and integrity and was unafraid to butcher sacred cows.  He remade himself several times, getting better with each remake.  And it goes without saying we agree on a lot of things. I could easily list a hundred Carlin quotes, but in the interest of variety, I’m limiting myself to four.

We need you now more than ever, George.

Peace.

Never underestimate the power of stupid people in large groups—George Carlin

Political correctness is America’s newest form of intolerance, and it is especially pernicious because it comes disguised as tolerance—George Carlin

Rights are an idea. They’re just imaginary. They’re a cute idea. Cute…Rights aren’t rights if someone can take ’em away. They’re privileges. That’s all we’ve ever had in this country, is a bill of TEMPORARY privileges; and if you read the news, even badly, you know the list gets shorter, and shorter, and shorter—George Carlin

When fascism comes to America, it will not be in brown and black shirts. It will not be with jack-boots. It will be Nike sneakers and Smiley shirts—George Carlin

George Carlin being arrested in Milwaukee in 1972 after exercising his temporary privileges

If Jesus had been killed twenty years ago, Catholic school children would be wearing little electric chairs around their necks instead of crosses—Lenny Bruce

The Jefferson and Lincoln memorials are stunning but you look at the dome of the Capitol and remember the mob that stormed it in the name of a miserable lie that is being repeated this election year and how do you explain this?  The mob went to the same schools we did, learned about Jefferson and Lincoln, and yet they are fascinated by fascism and long for a dictator—Garrison Keillor

I went to church Sunday morning, which I need to do if I want to know whether I’m a believer still or if it’s just nostalgia—Garrison Keillor

He has all the virtues I dislike and none of the vices I admire—Winston Churchill

Suppose you were an idiot, and suppose you were a member of Congress; but I repeat myself—Mark Twain

Whenever you find yourself on the side of the majority, it is time to pause and reflect—Mark Twain

Nothing is at last sacred but the integrity of your own mind—Ralph Waldo Emerson

If you want to get laid, go to college.  If you want an education, go to the library—Frank Zappa

The United States is a nation of laws, badly written and randomly enforced—Frank Zappa

Republicans stand for raw unbridled evil, and greed, and ignorance, smothered in balloons and ribbons—Frank Zappa

Liberals can understand everything but people who don’t understand them—Lenny Bruce

I am really enjoying the new Martin Luther King Jr. stamp – just think about all those white bigots licking the backside of a black man—Dick Gregory

Lots of people who complained about us receiving the MBE received theirs for heroism in the war, for killing people. We received ours for entertaining other people. I’d say we deserve ours more—John Lennon

Agitators are so absolutely necessary. Without them, in our incomplete state, there would be no advance towards civilisation—Oscar Wilde

All authority is quite degrading. It degrades those who exercise it, and degrades those over whom it is exercised—Oscar Wilde

Patriotism is the last refuge of the scoundrel—Samuel Johnson

The only true wisdom is in knowing you know nothing—Socrates

Modern Christianity is an encyclopedia of traditional superstition—Gore Vidal

Are we a dream in the mind of a deity, or is each of us a separate dreamer, evoking his own reality?—Gore Vidal

The United States was founded by the brightest people in the country…and we haven’t seen them since—Gore Vidal

A Peek into the #MeToo Purgatory Chamber

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I enjoy watching documentaries and interviews.  On YouTube the other day I caught an interview clip between disgraced TV journalist Charlie Rose and American investor Ray Dalio on the potential for “civil war” in the states…Dalio pointing out that we’re now in “Go ahead, make me!” territory, where it’s okay to trample on the rule of law and the Constitution.  Dalio claims this could lead to large-scale violence, even larger than what we witnessed at the U.S. Capitol in 2021.

Dalio specializes in hedge funds and, even though he’s a smart guy, I take what he says with a grain of salt.  I was actually more interested in Rose.  Most television journalism is superficial at best (the Big Three), and polemical at worst (FOX News and MSNBC).  Rose was on PBS and his interviews on The Charlie Rose Show always had much more depth.

In 2017, eight women accused Rose of sexual misconduct.  PBS, CBS, and Bloomberg L.P. summarily fired Rose—based on accusations and without due process—and since then he’s been residing in the #MeToo purgatory chamber.

After the accusations, his close friends, talking heads Norah O’Donnell and Gayla King, expressed shock and dismay:

“I’ve held him in such high regard and I’m still struggling,” lamented King, adding that he “does not get a pass here.”

“There is no excuse for this alleged behavior,” huffed O’Donnell. (Nice that she used the qualifier “alleged.”)

Then I did some more clicking and found a HuffPost video entitled “A Brief History of Charlie Rose’s Creepy On-Air Behavior.”  The video features both King and O’Donnell engaging in, and even prompting, sexual flirtation with Rose.  But I saw very little “creepiness” by Rose (whatever that word means). 

The misleading and libelous click-bait title of the video—which is not your typical, amateurish YouTube compilation, but an official HuffPost production—is one thing.  Another is the question of, to what end does this video serve, besides being #MeToo eye and ear candy?  In the video, after Rose compliments her on her tan, King pulls the top of her dress toward her breast.  O’Donnell spanks her ass.  It’s standard frivolous morning-show fun and games.

Double standard here?  If so, should we allow double standards?  Borrowing King’s language, do women “get a pass”?

***

For his part, Rose (a bachelor) admitted after the anonymous charges that his behavior may have been “inappropriate” and “insensitive,” but “I always felt that I was pursuing shared feelings, even though I now realize I was mistaken.”

Garrison Keillor—also banished to the #MeToo gulag for alleged sexual harassment, and whose saga I wrote about here—recently made a similar statement about “shared feelings” on CBS News Sunday Morning.  Keillor was also abruptly fired for “alleged” behavior, but is now having a bit of a comeback, traveling his A Prairie Home Companion stage show around the country again.  His archived, filmed shows, plus A Writer’s Almanac, have been restored for public viewing.

Evidently Minnesota Public Radio had a change of heart.

While Rose has remained quiet, Keillor is largely unrepentant.  He argues that his behavior toward his accuser, an assistant, was “mutual flirtation,” the sort of behavior that “thousands of people did before me.”  He says “The culture changed…you should not be friends with a female colleague.  It’s dangerous.”

(If true, what a sad state of affairs.  I would never have dated and later married my wife of 36 years, whom I worked with in 1985-86.)

Al Franken, who was forced to resign from the Senate before he had a chance to defend himself in front of his colleagues, is also back in the public eye.  He has a podcast and recently toured the country with his The Only Former Senator Currently on Tour Tour.

Clicking around yet again, I landed on an essay by race and gender activist Ijeoma Oluo.  In 2017 Oluo was contacted by USA Today and asked to provide an editorial rebuttal to the idea that due process (a legal term) should always be followed when sexual harassment charges are levied against a man.  In other words, they wanted her to say that sexual harassment charges are occasions when due process should be brushed aside.

I’m hardly a fan, but to Oluo’s credit, she declined this appalling request.  I don’t read comic books like USA Today, but I’m not surprised a vanilla publication like USA Today would pursue a debate where one side suggests the rule of law be abandoned in a drumbeat of “guilty until proven innocent.”  False equalization once again.

***

Like the problems of climate change and guns, sexual harassment shouldn’t be a political issue.  It’s not liberal, conservative, Democrat or Republican.  It’s common sense and affects everyone.  Liberals and the “mainstream media” shouldn’t be capitulating to the harshest voices of #MeToo, and the alt-right should stop being apologists for Republican misogynists (and, I might add, electing them to the White House).  Period.

And Rose, Franken, and Keillor should not “get a pass.”  But at the same time, their punishment should fit the crime.  There’s a difference between sexual assault and sexual harassment, and there are different shades of harassment. Painting with one impulsive brushstroke to erase careers based on allegations is a dark alley I don’t think we want to venture down.

Like Keillor correctly noted in his CBS interview, the #MeToo movement began with a noble goal in sight: inappropriate advances and sexual harassment, especially in the workplace, are a form of bullying, and bullies shouldn’t be tolerated. 

At the same time, and as I’ve analogized before, the idea is to hit the bullseye.  But pulling back too far on the bow not only misses the entire target, it can cause a lot of collateral damage. Gayla King agrees.

We’re already mired in a civil—rather, uncivil—war between two distinct political ideologies.  Do we really want to start another uncivil war between the two genders?  I, for one, hope not.

   

(Image: MoniQcCa)

“They Just Don’t Make Music Like That Anymore”

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Music has recently taken a back seat on longitudes.  Most know that my first love is rock music (the good stuff, anyway).  For this post, I’m profiling a jazz radio station I just discovered.

First, some quick history:

I’m a baby boomer, so I often struggle with the lightning-speed changes that occur these days, especially technological.  In the 1960s, I was a stripling when “Top-40” pop music dominated the AM-radio airwaves.  I reached puberty in the 1970s, when FM-radio “free-form” programming gave preference to album cuts over singles.

By 1976, record executives had sunk their largest claws into the music.  I watched with dismay as stadium-rock acts like Boston, Foreigner, Journey, Styx, and Pat Benatar assaulted the airwaves, along with my ear canals.  Concurrently, promoters were charging ever-higher concert ticket prices, and rock albums became alternately generic-sounding or pretentious.  (Like it or not, that’s when Punk Rock sprang into action, which gave way to New Wave and Alternative Rock and beyond.)

Plastic, plastic, take the modern way…

Convenience, everything is clean and easy

—Gentle Giant, “Convenience”

The technology left me equally dizzy.  First it was 45 rpm singles, which had replaced 78 rpm records.  Then 33 1/3 albums.  (We didn’t need the distinction “vinyl” back then.)  Then we were conned into buying clunky 8-track tapes for our cars.  Cassettes replaced 8-tracks and were a distinct improvement, especially if you collected bootleg Grateful Dead.  Then the revolution of compact disks, which claimed to have better sound, convenience, and indestructability.  Then MP3s…the format was now invisible!

I think I still owe them money.

Now?  Invisibility through Bluetooth, I guess, accessible anytime and anywhere you want.  But in the whirlwind of convenience and digital blips, something intangible disappeared.  That almost personal relationship with the artist and their music became lost.  Which, I guess, is why we’re now returning to vinyl.

Anyway, to get to the point: despite the return of vinyl, it’s an incontrovertible fact that most of today’s rock music sucks (“today” for me being anything after the early 1980s). My Toyota Prius agrees with me, since it came equipped with neither a cassette deck nor CD player (despite my dashboard resembling an airplane cockpit).  Basically, if I want music while driving, it’s either neatly packaged crap delivered by robots—the occasional public radio station notwithstanding—or the extremely limited options now available on SiriusXM Satellite Radio.   

Thankfully, and without having to cross paths with Howard Stern, I discovered a good Sirius station: Real Jazz. 

What is “real” jazz, you ask?  Who the fuck knows.  But I think this label is used to distinguish the music from “Smooth Jazz,” which is more lightweight and poppy and closer to Easy Listening than jazz, and aimed at less-discerning listeners.  Smooth Jazz became popular in the 1970s with songs like George Benson’s “Breezin’” and artists like Chuck Mangione.  Suddenly, jazz began sounding like TV show theme music.  This trend peaked (or bottomed out) in the early 1990s with much-maligned saxophonist Kenny G.

“Real” jazz dates back to the early 1900s.  It encompasses Dixieland, Big Band, Swing, Bebop, Hard Bop, Cool Jazz, Modal Jazz, Latin Jazz (including Bossa Nova), Jazz-Funk, Free Jazz, and Jazz Fusion.  It’s the kind of music my dad loved (Big Band, Swing, and Bossa Nova) and which I discovered in college, deejay’ed in the ’80s, and still enjoy (Bebop, Hard Bop, Cool, and Modal).  All these styles are on Sirius XM, depending on the show, which depends on the day and time.

SiriusXM jazz deejay Nicole Sweeney

I’ve been listening to Real Jazz regularly for several weeks now, and unlike rock or Smooth Jazz, I’ve yet to hear the same song twice.  Part of this might have to do with the fact that good jazz is improvisational in nature.  There are established charts and written arrangements, but these are just blueprints that allow the musicians to “blow,” or exercise their individual creativity.

Rock/pop, on the other hand, discourages studio creativity.  Rock has a fan base exponentially larger than jazz, therefore there are more cooks in the kitchen—agents, managers, producers, record execs, broadcast affiliates, lucrative contracts waving in the air—to make sure artists toe the line and keep things musically dumb…and to maximize profits and feed the beast.

There are always exceptions.  But you won’t hear them on the radio, unless you occasionally strike gold at the left end of the dial. 

Most of the Real Jazz I listen to is on weekdays while tooling around between grocery store, library, and soccer games.  I’ve established close personal relationships with hosts Nicole Sweeney and Andromeda Turre (love that name). 

Yesterday, while visiting the music store and library with my granddaughter, Rory, I was treated to Bill Evans’s classic “Peace Piece.”  If you haven’t heard this understated but lovely solo piano piece, click the digital blip below.  Be prepared to wipe a tear. 

It’s been said many times, but I’ll say it again: They just don’t make music like this anymore.

A Conversation with God about Identity, Environment, and Sports

/ greenpete58 / 5 Comments

On CBS News Sunday Morning yesterday I saw a startling statistic: three out of ten Americans believe God determines the outcome of sporting events.

This is appalling.  What is going on here?  Why is it only three?  I would have expected at least nine, if not ten.  Just shows you that religion is on the decline here in Lilliput, I mean America. 

I’ve done several interviews with religious figures here on longitudes, including the Pope and Donald Trump.  Both were very enlightening.  The Pope informed me that sexual harassment is no big deal, and Trump told me that Hawaii is not a United State (among other curious things).

I met with God later that day—his day off—and we had a wonderful discussion about sports while pounding Miller Lite and watching the Jets-Steelers game.  In the course of our meeting I discovered God isn’t really an old man with a white robe and long, flowing white hair and beard.  God is actually sexless, dons a New York Yankees jersey, and looks more like Truman Capote.

I was anxious to get his/her take on the above startling statistic.  I also wanted to know why God hates the city of Cleveland. 

Here, then, is my conversation with The Almighty:

longitudes:  Thanks for meeting with me, God.

God:  You’re welcome, my tiny speck of white sand.

longitudes:  Pardon me for saying this, sir…I mean ma’am…I mean ma’am-sir…but most of us down there think you’re a man.  Especially Mormons.

God:  Yes, well, you folks down there have baffled me since I sent my son to straighten things out.  Endless wars, murders, torture, greed, hypocrisy, stupidity, and GEICO commercials.  And you keep adding letters.

longitudes:  What do you mean that we keep “adding letters?”

God:  You’re already up to six: LGBTQ and I.  Actually, now it’s seven, I forgot the ‘A.’ Okay, I make gender mistakes once in a while, but you don’t need to rub it in.

longitudes:  What should we do?

God:  Try consolidating into one letter.  Maybe, like, an ‘O’ for “Other.”  I realize you’re having fun, but you’re stressing me out with the alphabet soup.

longitudes:  God, I just learned that only three out of ten Americans think you determine the outcome of sporting events.  Why is that statistic so low?

God:  Yeah, that shocks me as well.  I think it’s because organized religion is on the decline in your neck of the woods.  I blame those damn atheists Christopher Hitchens, George Carlin, and Frank Zappa.  It’s why I pulled them up here sooner than their time.

longitudes:  Oh.  Do you think if more people attended church, that statistic would rise a little?

God:  Absolutely.  Back in the days of Puritanism, and before that the Spanish Inquisition, you had to go to church to worship me.  If not, you were burned at the stake or had your limbs torn off on what I affectionately called the “Wheel of Death.”

longitudes:  But those things occurred long before soccer, Major League Baseball, and Jim Nantz.  How were you able to determine sports outcomes back then?

God:  Jousting duels.  Gladiatorial contests.  Chariot races.  You know, garden-variety sports like that.

longitudes:  I see.  I remember watching Charlton Heston and Stephen Boyd duke it out in Ben-Hur.  That was real exciting.

God:  Sure was.  I hope you put your money on Heston.  I pre-ordained him.

(Suddenly, the Jets quarterback is sacked.  God lets out an audible “Oooh.”  It is now obvious to me he likes New York.)

longitudes:  Yeah, I figured Heston might win.

God:  Right, but it’s a shame he became obsessed with guns later on.  Maybe I should’ve given that movie role to Paul Newman instead.

longitudes:  God, is there anything I can do to push that statistic up a little?  Maybe get it up to forty instead of thirty percent?

God:  That’s very kind of you, my shiny pool of phlegm.  Well, let’s see.  My records show you vote Democrat.  Might wanna shift to Republican and encourage others.  Also, I see you have three grandchildren.  Try to convince their parents to forego the university education.  Ignorance breeds superstition, after all.  Lastly…why the hell are you a Cleveland fan?  (Oops, pardon my language.)

longitudes:  Actually, God, I wanted to ask you about that.  You’ve been pretty harsh on the Browns, Indians/Guardians, and Cavaliers winning championships.  Except for that one year when LeBron James helped the Cavs.

God:  Yes, I have a special place in my heart for King James.  Well, truth be told, the reason I’ve been harsh on Cleveland is because of that fire incident.

longitudes:  “Fire incident?”

(At this point God offers me another Miller Lite, but I politely decline.) 

God:  Yeah.  I’m talkin’ ‘bout the burning of the petroleum-soaked Cuyahoga River.  That infamous incident came soon after the Browns won their last championship.  That was no coincidence.

longitudes:  So all these years you’ve been blaming the citizens of northern Ohio for an industrial-related environmental debacle they may have had nothing to do with?

God:  Yes.  Do you think I’ve been too rough on them?

longitudes:  Well, yes I do, sir.  I mean ma’am-sir.  Heck, I lived near Cleveland and was only ten years old when it happened.  Why should I have to suffer?  I mean, I hope I’m not being disrespectful.

God:  No, not at all.  You have a good point, Peter.  (By the way, I like your name.)  Maybe I should loosen up on Cleveland.  Not a bad city, despite producing Drew Carey.

longitudes:  We Cleveland sports fans would appreciate any assistance, ma’am-sir.

God:  It’s done.  You can expect a Guardians World Series victory or Browns AFC Championship win any day now.  (I can’t very well grant you a Browns Super Bowl win.  That’s asking too much of me.)

longitudes:  Thank you, thank you!  And I’ll do my best to keep my grandkids away from higher education.  But—and I hope you understand—voting Republican is a bridge too far.  One last question, God.

God:  Ask away, my insignificant fleck of wet clay.

longitudes:  We screwed up with, er, your son.  But why all the grief since then?  I mean, it’s been a total horror show for two-thousand years.

God:  That’s your doing, not mine.  But it might help if you stopped worshipping the messenger and concentrated more on his message.  And stopped living in the past.

longitudes:  Good points.  Thanks for meeting with me, God.

God:  No problemo.  And thanks for bringing the pizza, but I prefer coal-fired New York over Chicago deep-dish. 

NOTE: This is not a real interview. God—if there is one (or more)—has never spoken to me verbally, and I’m okay with that.