Two for Thanksgiving.

The only other time I ever wrote about Thanksgiving on this blog took the form of a history lesson/rant about the absolute bullshittery involved in such a dubious holiday. I was called crazy for writing it so I knew I’d done the right thing. I never revisited the topic because, honestly, what’s left to say that hasn’t been expounded on by others far more knowledgeable than I?

So, this post is not a history lesson but it is most certainly a rant.  A personal one.

In the wake of my mother-in-law’s passing, several things came to light and to pass. But she didn’t need to physically pass away to make that happen. Even before she was gone, months before, when she was no longer aware that it was a holiday,  my wife's siblings realized they no longer needed to avoid her scrutiny if they didn’t include my wife and, by extension, me in holiday gatherings.

Obviously if they could no longer get in trouble, they also no longer had to conform to the old ways of doing things. And while the irony of peoplre who refer to themselves as "The Family" and claim to embrace all forms of traditionalism comprising their supposed core values in the name of convenience and comfort isn’t lost on me, this post isn’t about pointing out hypocrisy. I could spend volumes on that. No, this post is about the simplest of concepts: Right and Wrong.

Who am I to discuss these things as if I’m an expert, they would probably say? My response is as simple as the concept: I’m a human being who knows better than to try and fool myself and others into thinking blatant disregard can be disguised as righteouness.

My wife devoted countless days and nights to her mother’s well-being only to be shut out towards the end for reasons I’ll not expound on here. Suffice it to say, the very least that could be done in honor of their mother and what went before is to extend an invitation to a holiday get-together. Who cares if she says no? If you don’t care enough to even present the appearance of propriety and compassion, you sure as hell shouldn’t care if someone declines an invitation. If anything, you’d get to spin it into a smug assurance of your own moral superiority.

So, perhaps the fear is that the invitation would be accepted and they would have to face their own shortcomings and wrongdoing. It is, after all, easier to remain in one’s bubble than to pop it and risk inhaling less familiar air.

That must be why they couldn’t even wait until their mother was completely gone before beginning the now annual act of choosing not to include my wife in the holidays.

You may notice that I haven’t really included myself in the non-inviting discussion. That’s because I have no stake in this. For my money, I could literally go the rest of my life and never partake in another holiday gathering with them and be perfectly fine. But she is their sister and aunt and they should at least have the good taste to go through the motions. One would think the nieces and nephews she helped raise who are now adults and had nothing to do with the falling out would acknowledge her on holidays, especially since she had made sure to send them birthday wishes. They did not return the favor on her birthday.

This year’s Thanksgiving will be almost like last year’s, with just the two of us feasting on an incredible meal (she prepared her mom's traditional meal to honor her)  my wife has prepared all by herself. Except last year we took food to her mom and spent the evening with her. No one else did that.

 I imagine at some point my wife might be hard-pressed to even do that as the years go on, and who could blame her? Pettiness has a way of gnawing at our souls until there’s precious little left. Still, sometimes I wonder if there really are only two of us. There have been signs and moments that indicate my wife is not alone.

I look forward to what she prepares and am thankful she is in my life and still willing to go through so much to make the day memorable and worthwhile, mostly in honor or her mother’s memory.

Ultimately, it is as my own mother used to say: We can’t control how others act, but we have almost total control over how we react.

Happy Thanksgiving~

Fascism.

Imma just leave this here and let ya'll do with it as you please...

My Literary Hero James Morrow's Thoughts on the Trump Victory.

"Beneath the disgusting and endlessly distracting masks of Donald Trump—misogynist, racist, xenophobe, religious bigot—lies the matrix of a face unprecedented among those forty-four men who’ve held our country’s highest office: the face not of a mere sociopath (the republic was hardly spared that in the past) but rather of a sociopath who can’t be bothered to disguise his lack of a conscience, knowing that a corrupt legislature will do that for him. And so we leap into a void ...not foreseen by the 18th-century Enlightenment rationalists who assembled our republic: a zone of raw nihilism and provisional absurdity, reverberant with the dark laughter of a nonexistent Providence, where ignorant armies clash by night and tell lies by day, waiting for Godot. Were the stakes not so large, and the impending piles of bodies not so high, my own inner sociopath would anticipate the next four years with sheer, salivating, hideous pleasure."

Tribute to Barbara Michael, my mother-in-law.

Today is my mother-in-law Barbara Michael's birthday. She passed away this year on February 17th at the age of eighty-two surrounded by most of her children. I was there, too, as were two other in-laws and several grandchildren.

My wife Lorie and her mother were extremely close, loving and fighting each other the way only people with that type of bond can.  Below is a picture of me with Barb as she was called, taken in 2014 when she was experiencing dementia-related issues. Note the beautiful smile and childlike wonder still in her eyes:

Lorie and I were there every Saturday to spend time with her mom. It became such an ingrained tradition that I didn't even question whether it was going to happen; I just wondered when. Her mother was her world and now that she isn't here in her physical form, Lorie is facing the impossible task of moving on with her life.

My mother died in 1997.  My father died in 1991.  I have experienced parental death but that doesn't make me some wise sage.  All I can do is love and care for and be there for her.  It's a powerless feeling and while I can understand how she feels, I cannot feel how she feels. This has permanently changed Lorie and Barb's passing has left an enormous void in the world.

Barb, you are loved and you are missed.

 

Here's Barb on her birthday three months before she passed, still stunnin' em!

Hello, Poland!

I don't know why they find me so fascinating in Poland of all places, but my statistics viewer shows a rather large amount of people viewing my website from there. So...Hello, People of Poland. Thanks for stopping by.

On Editorializing

This post was going to be about what a craptacular mound of rubbish is "The Walking Dead," but I'm going to save that one for next time because this incident just took place a mere few hours ago. Well, it didn't start then but it hit its epoch that recently. I want very badly to name names and, in this case, websites, but being the professional I believe myself to be, I'll refrain and simply repost the conversation with a bit of needed context.

The article in question was about box office results for movies released this year and it contained more than a couple side-trips from Fact Town to Opinionberg.  A commenter on this particular site's Facebook page decided to disagree with the assessments of some of the films regarding their quality.  He was rather smugly advised by the article's author that while his comment was "great," this wasn't an article about opinions on movies. I wrote the following:

That may be what you intended but your opinions of the quality of the films mentioned permeates an article where it wasn't at all called for.

A day passed without any reply so I figured the writer's ego was not sufficiently bruised to warrant snark. I was wrong as the following back-and-forth indicates:

HE: Yup, that's called editorializing.

ME:It sure is.
(Then a few minutes later...) The dictionary definition for those who might be unaware:
Editorialize
"1 to let your opinions show in a piece of writing where you should only be giving facts
Inexperienced reporters are often tempted to editorialize."

(He posted a more extensive definition and accused me of cherry-picking but that comment has since been deleted)

HE: You must be fun at parties (For some reason he didn't delete this incredibly lame and tired rejoinder)

ME: I am fun at parties. I bring liquor for all the minors.
When one editorializes in an informational article, it's generally viewed as a negative or at least an unfortunate stylistic choice. It tends to weaken the overall point and shift the focus unnecessarily to the author. I am aware of the ever thinning divide between fact and opinion thanks to content writing but that's still a thing as they say. Regardless, I'm not here to attack approach, merely pointing out that denying this is an opinion piece is inaccurate. Oops gotta go. The kids need beer!

HE:  While I am inclined to agree with you, I do think it's fair to point out that a post about the biggest box office bombs without any editorializing would be a bit dry if it was just cold hard dollars and figures. Also, we're an entertainment blog, not the New York Times. (And never denied that this was an opinion piece, although calling it just that is also inaccurate.). Now please forward us your home address so we can alert the authorities to your serving of alcohol to minors!

ME: LOL!

No one ever referred to his article as strictly an opinion piece, meaning he's either oblivious to what took place or being intentionally obtuse to save face. In other words, he's an Internet Content writer. So, it ended amicably enough and he obviously realized his attempt at expanding the definition to make it serve his purposes backfired and that I was someone who knew what the hell he was talking about

Still, like so many millenials, he had to insist upon his point being valid because everybody gets a trophy.

Visual Artist John Skewes: A Class Act

Recently, my short story "Fairy Hunters" was published on the Trigger Warning: Short Fiction With Pictures website with an illustration by John Skewes that I felt perfectly captures the feeling and theme of the story.

Yesterday I received an email from his assistant offering to send me a print of the image. I was beyond impressed by that gesture. It's never happened to me before. I have received free copies of collections in which my work appeared, sometimes with the included artwork, but no artist has ever taken the time to send me a personal print of their work.

It's nice to know there are still people like John out there.

Here is the image:

Beyond Science Fiction Complete Anthology Kindle Edition featuring two Christopher Nadeau Stories!

Before it ceased publication, Beyond Science Fiction was one of two excellent e-zines published by Dayne Edmonson and illustrated by Larry Lonsby Jr. dedicated to featuring actual thought-provoking, non-by-the-numbers genre fiction. The other was Beyond Imagination, which actually wound up becoming a home for more of my work than the former.

Still, this ginormous anthology features two of what I consider my better short stories: "Open Door Policy" and the intensely person "Do-over," of which I am exceedingly proud.

$5.99 is an excellent price for a year's worth of fiction, articles and artwork. And Kindleunlimited users  get it for free!

Below is an image of the cover:

Click here to order.

Just Call me A Worthy Source for Citation.

This insightful article used one of my Movie Network articles as a reference.

What I Did When Faced with a Trump-like Sexist Diatribe from an Employer.

I won’t bother rehashing the content of Donald Trump’s leaked “hot mic” comments regarding women to a disturbingly complicit Billy Bush in 2005. Lord knows enough is currently being said about it, including at least one brilliant parody courtesy of “Saturday Night Live” and Alex Baldwin’s dead-on impression of the be-wigged Cheeto.  What’s really important to me is the fact that there are people out there, male and female, who are claiming this is normal “boys will be boys” banter and that all of us with male plumbing indulge in it.

That, dear reader, is absolute horseshit.

Of course, to hear former Eighties teen heartthrob Scott Baio tell it, there’s nothing wrong with Trump’s advocacy of sexual assault and female objectification. After all, “He talks like a guy.” And if Chachi/Bob Labla can’t tell us how life works, who’s left? Well, me for one. I’m at least as qualified as a faded TV actor whose constant stabs at relevance involve latching onto the coattails of a lunatic who’s ushered in more hatred in his followers than we’ve seen since the heyday of fascism. Since we know how Baio would have smiled and nodded appreciatively with his hands in his pockets while Trump discussed women using the “P-word,” we must return again to Billy Bush.

Bush sat there and giggled and fed into Trump’s braggadocio for ten minutes when he could have easily put a stop to it. He wasn’t a kid either. He also wasn’t recording this as part of an expose, since Billy Bush is about as much of a genuine journalist as Maury Povich. He is either a coward or he agreed with what he was hearing.

While complaining to my wife about the fact that Bush is a wus of the highest order, she asked me if I would have stopped Trump’s offensive comments. When I told I would have, she chuckled lightly and said, “Come on. Really?”

Then I told her about my own similar experience with a former boss who was an attorney and a rabid, sexist twerp. He never went as far as Trump but he started the first time we sat down together discussing women in a derogatory way. I told him I was uncomfortable with it and that there were women in the office and I wasn’t interested in having this conversation, especially in the workplace. He looked at me as if I’d grown a horn in the middle of my face. Later on when speaking with the female co-worker and personal friend who had recommended me for the job (it involved writing) he asked her if I was gay because of what I’d said to him. After all, what kind of guy would pass up the opportunity to discuss boobs and butts no matter where he was?

She said, “No. He just doesn’t choose to discuss women’s body parts at work. He’s a decent MAN.”

Needless to say, he was taken aback. My wife, upon hearing this, looked at me as if seeing me for the first time, her face bright, her eyes and mouth equally wide with joy.  She told me I was her hero and, coming from someone who’d been surrounded by sexism all her life, that meant the world.

You see, I get that objectification happens. And it happens on both sides. It can be relatively harmless and it should be expected because we are, at our core, biological entities designed to procreate.  But much like with racism, when someone has the power and wields it in the name of denigrating another human being and sees it as their earned and born into right, that person is loathsome and beneath contempt as well as undeserving of even more power.

Latest Short Story Publication.

Just a quick update about "Fairy Hunters," the story that answers the question: "What's the redneck wearing?" After a minor delay, the story has now been published on the Trigger Warning site and I must say I love the artwork that accompanies this strange tale of mine.

Check out here for free!