Archive for the ‘authorhouse publishers’ Category

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On Dasher, On Dancer, On Prozac (Updated)

December 14, 2015

 

prozac light pic

Author’s Note: This little ditty is from my 2008 book If They Can’t Take A Joke (Authorhouse).  I think about this one every time the holidays come around and it deserved some rewrites and revisions.  This is good practice as Travesty approaches the finish line, because I’d like to rework every essay in the manuscript one final time before its release in the Fall of 2016. 

Happy Holidays!

Whelp, I’ve survived the holiday gauntlet. From Thanksgiving until January 1st, there is no reprieve. No sanctuary, no shelter, no quarter from family, family meals, stress, anxiety, depression, aggravation, noise pollution, and hustle and bustle on a scale of mental exhaustion. Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Years. Why not celebrate the holidays by running your immune system into the ground, gaining weight, drinking like a fish, and maxing out your credit cards? Holidays are hell on adults, always have been, always will be.

I didn’t really notice it until this year, but more people collectively lose their shit this time of year than any other. I don’t know how I kept mine together aside from the fact that everyone lost their mind around me while I watched. I’m reminded of the relationship between Hunter Thompson and his trusty sidekick in the film/book Fear and Loathing In Las Vegas; one of the two always kept their wits about them while the other loses them. They took turns. I made it straightaway up until three or four days before New Year’s before commencing into total collapse.

My grandfather died five days before Christmas, a fact which never escapes anyone in my family. It’s been six years, but deaths in the family are like cattle brands. Nobody mentioned it this year, but I’m sure we all thought about it. Looming like the ghost of Christmas past, memories of my grandpa and his subsequent passing left an indelible mark on our holidays forever. It seems as if the good ones always go around the really important occasions. That, or there are too many holidays to count, and it just appears that way. Maybe that’s the end result of old age and the stress of the season. I felt my age this year, and perhaps the burden of Christmas shopping and card sending and table settings will put me six feet under when I get older, too.

I’m so sick of shopping and hunting and gathering that I’m considering moving to another country next year between the months of November and March. Maybe I’ll move to Iceland, where they still believe in faeries, Bjork’s music career, and where they have a holiday that celebrates and encourages adultery (I’m not making this up). I’m not a big fan of standing in line on Black Fridays. Leave that to the fucking soccer moms. I don’t chase down bargains or make the six a.m. toy runs the stores like to torture us with. It’s complete madness. Nothing will get me out of bed before eight o’clock (unless, of course, I’m still awake from the night before). By December, people get a glazed, psychotic look in their eyes standing in the checkout lanes. Desperation, exhaustion, and materialism bear down on their tiny brains. Stupid people are much more likely to lose their minds around the holidays because they have less of it to go around. You see them screaming at cashiers, elbowing their way through toys, and clothes-lining Christmas carolers.

One expends a lot of energy participating in family meals, get-togethers and holiday jaunts. Entire days off are chewed up driving to a destination, sitting and talking with loved ones, having a meal, exchanging gifts, toasting champagne, and so on. This leaves you with the feeling that not only don’t you have any free time, but there’s a microverse of frenetic activity that’s taken its place. While I prefer to nap frequently and laze about on days off running the occasional errand, these become a thing of the past in the winter months.

Nothing makes you feel more alone than holidays, especially New Year’s Eve. We’d all like to picture ourselves kissing our intended at the stroke of midnight rather than basking in our own solitude. This is one of the many factors that pushes people right over the edge into insanity. Seasonal violence has a cause and effect. It’s modus operandi is the surmounting pressure that drives people to drink and play bumper sleigh ride with their new luxury sedan, strip the Christmas lights off the tree and hop off of a chair, or gobble up that bottle of sleeping pills like a tender morsel of Christmas ham.

Let’s not forget the big two stressors, either: finances and weight. The average American gains twenty pounds between November and January. So many holiday snacks within reach; fruitcake, turkey, Christmas cookies, egg nog, and scotch. One month on the lips, a new year’s resolution on the hips. Most people worry year round about their budgets, and racking up gifts on multiple credit cards doesn’t help. It’s a holiday recipe for a breakdown.

It’s a good thing the holiday triathlon only comes once a year. It’s probably not any one factor that freaks people out so much as the sum of all of them. That, and the end of another year and the realization that we didn’t do nearly as much as we wanted to in the months preceding it. Expectations for the coming calendar combined with disappointment over the previous one. The thought that we’re getting older at the speed of light, and that another year has gotten away from us. Should old acquaintance be forgot….just give me one solid day off. And let me hide out from family, friends, and shopping centers.

Checking the expiration date on my NA eggnog,

Tom ‘yuletide’ Waters

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Big Words Radio Episode 51: ‘Altered States’

December 18, 2010

 

Tom and co-host ‘Stoner Steve’ dial editor, publisher, author and musician Wil Forbis up on ‘the Skype’ to talk about their collective illicit drug use, Wil’s magazine (Acid Logic), Wil’s band (Wil Forbis & The Gentleman Scoundrels) and a variety of other topics about the West Coast, pop culture and who can blow any of them.
 
To hear the show in full audio quality, feel free to click on over to:
http://www.thinktwiceradio.com/tom-waters/tom-waters.html
 
or to hear the show along with ALL of my previous episodes, you can visit:
http://www.bigwords.mevio.com
 
    A big thanks goes out to Wil Forbis for publishing me for over a decade and for agreeing to be on the show.  Thanks also to Richard Wicka for recording and producing this episode as well as accommodating our multiple drinks situation in studio.  Thanks to Stoner Steve for lending some comedic value to the show and hanging on to the experience for dear life. 
    My next guests will be Buffalo Music Award ‘Best Duo Act Of 2010’ Busted Stuff.  We’re recording a live concert on location at Dee’s Firehouse on Thursday, January 27th around 5 p.m.  Mark your calendar and meet us out there for the fun!
 
Thanks,
Tom Waters 

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Monday Big Words Simulcast! Shameless Promotional Whoring 2008 Edition on stands AND right here!

June 9, 2008

Morning!

As I’m sure you know by now, we’re just SEVEN days away from the Monsters Of Verse concert at Desiderio’s next Monday.  I’m really glad that Carrie Gardner and I are finally going to have a chance to work together on a performance as we’ve been talking about it for almost four years now!  I can’t tell you how important this is to us, so if you can make the show, by all means, do it.  The new issue of Night Life is on stands with a Big Words edition of ‘Shameless Promotional Whoring 2008’.  In the interest of tipping the scales in our favor, I’m also going to publish the piece right here, right now.  Also, I’ll be going on vacation from this Wednesday until next Wednesday, so I won’t be anywhere near civilization until Monday.  Seeya at the show (hopefully),

Tom Waters

Shameless Promotional Whoring 2008 Edition: One Night Only!

Yeah, you read the headline right, one night only. As you may or may not know, I’m getting married this year, which means that my writing career is taking a back seat for fiscal year 2008. I don’t have the time, money, energy or inclination to launch a book this year. I’ve got a finished one, don’t get me wrong (it’s called Slapstick & Superego), and I’m halfway through the book after that, but you won’t be seeing my next book until some time in the spring of 2009. However, as of this publication date (June 9th), you and I are exactly ONE WEEK away from what will probably be the only public performance I’ll be doing this year. Next Monday (June 16th), I’ll be sharing the stage with renowned poet Carrie Gardner and Shaky Stage, a helluva great band who got their start out in Alden. Here’s the official release:

Carrie Gardner (renowned poet and author of Evil Is A Terrific, Rubbery Goblet) presents a FREE evening of unprecedented entertainment the likes of which Buffalo has never seen before with a reading from her breakout, runaway smash hit book, Evil Is A Terrific, Rubbery Goblet (Authorhouse). The evening will open with a reading from Carrie, a performance from the band Shaky Stage, and close out with a rant or two from local author, bar reviewer and area goofball Tom Waters. All three powerhouse acts will be schlepping and signing their wares (books, CDs, etc.) throughout the evening. Attendance is free and multiple book and CD purchases are strongly recommended. Drinks and phenomenal food will be available from the crack team of culinary masterminds at Desiderio’s on Broadway. Come thirsty, come hungry, and bring many wads of cash for all out consumption and the entertainment extravaganza of the decade, no, better yet, a lifetime! Do not miss this once in a lifetime experience! You’ll regret it for the rest of your life if you do!

If you’ve been to one of my readings before, you know by now that anything can happen and that a great time is had by all. If you haven’t picked up a copy of my last collection of rants, If They Can’t Take A Joke, then now is the perfect time because I’ll be selling and signing the last batch of first edition hardcovers for $20. Carrie will be selling her book for $10. I’m not really sure how much Shaky Stage will be selling their Cds for, but they last time I saw them play live, they were giving away free copies for crowd interaction. So #1, admission is free (and I know Night Life readers love free anything because they come out in droves for it and I‘ve seen it). #2, you’re getting three amazing acts in one night, #3, we’ll be giving away some free stuff and #4, this is the ONLY time I’ll be performing any of my rants on stage in Buffalo this year. What more reason do you need?

Round up your friends, your girlfriends, your pets, and your enemies and meet us out next week for some strong drink, great food and an evening of entertainment that you won’t soon forget. Who knows? Once the night is over, you may need acupuncture or deep psychotherapy to remove the memory from your brain bank. I guarantee you a great time. And if the Night Life troops can fill the bar, I’ll give away a signed hardcover to one of you wonderful swag-hounds.

I’ve been tinkering away on this column for almost two years now and I’m pretty pleased with the niche impact it’s had on reaching a new and unusual audience. And as a megalomaniac, it’s always nice to meet my readers up close and personal and get their two cents while they’re buying me shots. If it’s been your life’s dream to buy me a shot, now is your chance. I’ll be hanging out at the bar swilling Tullamore Dew and pitchers of Coors Light (or as they call it at Desiderio’s, ‘the tom waters special’) all night before I go up on stage, so if you want to hang out and have a great time, I’ll see you there. And after a few doubles of good Irish whiskey, I can’t be held responsible from a legal standpoint for my actions on stage.

So to summarize: next Monday, Desiderio’s, 8pm SHARP! Bring some cash, bring some friends and get ready to take part in the triple threat all out bash of the summer. Are you listening, Buffalo? I’ll see you next week. You might want to take off of work on Tuesday to recover. Make it out in record numbers and perhaps me and the gang at Night Life will do something special for the Big Words 2 year anniversary.

Seeya at Desi’s,

Tom Waters

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The Monsters Of Verse June 16th at Desiderio’s!

May 23, 2008

Carrie Gardner (renowned poet and author of Evil Is A Terrific, Rubbery Goblet) presents an FREE evening of unprecedented entertainment the likes of which Buffalo has never seen before with a reading from her breakout, runaway smash hit book, Evil Is A Terrific, Rubbery Goblet (Authorhouse). The event will take place at Desiderio’s restaurant (on the corner of Broadway and Bowen) on Monday, June 16th at 8 p.m. The evening will open with a reading from Carrie, a performance from the band Shaky Stage, and close out with a rant or two from local author, bar reviewer and area goofball Tom Waters. All three powerhouse acts will be schlepping and signing their wares (books, CDs, etc.) throughout the evening. Attendance is free and multiple book and CD purchases are strongly recommended. Drinks and phenomenal food will be available from the crack team of culinary masterminds at Desiderio’s on Broadway. Come thirsty, come hungry, and bring many wads of cash for all out consumption and the entertainment extravaganza of the decade, no, better yet, a lifetime! Do not miss this once in a lifetime experience! You’ll regret it for the rest of your life if you do!

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Acid Logic Update/Acid Logic Book Out!/Sneak Peak at ‘Perpetual Estrogen’!

May 9, 2008

Oofa!,

This month’s outstanding issue of Acid Logic is up online with the final, completed version of the new fan favorite ‘Perpetual Estrogen’.  You can read it in it’s entirety by clicking over to:

http://www.acidlogic.com/perpetual_estrogen.htm

     For a categorical essay that takes some pretty hard shots at the female species, responses from the opposite sex have been overwhelmingly positive because, as they tell me, ‘it’s all true!’.  The very same essay will be appearing in Night Life (in two parts) starting this Monday, so if you like it as much as my newsletter subscribers did, grab a copy for posterity’s sake and show it to all your friends!

     And speaking of posterity, Wil Forbis (the editor in chief and creator of the Acid Logic e-zine) has released his first book compiling ten years of his best work with Acid Logic!  He’s an unbelievably sharp writer in his own right, but he can describe the book better himself:

Folks, my new book, ‘Acid Logic: a Decade of Humorous Writing on Pop Culture, Trash Cinema and Rebel Music’ is now available from fine Internet booksellers, brick-and-mortar bookstores and the author himself! 
 
What is ‘Acid Logic’?  Why its 288 pages of humorous writing on film, music and the world we live in.  It’s celebrity profiles, feature writing, reviews, interviews and fiction. Look no further than the back cover blurb for more details! 
 
‘From the pages of Acidlogic.com, underground author Wil Forbis collects his most shocking and funniest material into one volume! Gasp at comic essays on the impending threat of cloning and the commodified brilliance of the blaxploitation film movement. Swoon over profiles of the entertainment industry’s most eccentric stars, from adult film auteur Doris Wishman to ninja actor Sho Kosugi to shock punk GG Allin. Thrill to interviews with cultural stalwarts like hard rock drummer Rikki Rockett, actor Curtis ‘Booger’ Armstrong and horror director Stuart Gordon. Squeal with delight at fiction ranging from the horrifying to the absurd. THE ACID LOGIC REVOLUTION HAS ARRIVED!!!’
 
But that’s not all!  Here’s what some fellow writers have to say about the book and my writing:
 
‘Wil is a cynic’s cynic, but in the depths of his filthy black heart he hasn’t forgotten how to love. Or how to write.’ 
Mike Daisey, monologuist (‘How Theater Failed America’) and author (’21 Dog Years: Doing Time @ Amazon.com ‘) 
 
‘Forbis has that rare thing, an open mind, with tons of random stuff flowing through it, and a crow’s eye for the glittering oddities of pop culture.’
John Richardson, author ‘My Father the Spy,’ ‘In the Little World’
 
‘It’s nice to see that not every talented young writer has forsaken webzines for blogs. Sure, he’s also blogging (quite entertainingly), but Wil Forbis also has a zine that looks very spiffy.’
 Daniel Radosh, author ‘Rapture Ready!: Adventures in the Parallel Universe of Christian Pop Culture,’ contributor ‘The New Yorker,’ ‘Playboy’ magazines.
 
‘If any sense is going to be made of a culture dominated by a violent movies, noisy music and silly TV shows, it’s going to come from guys like Wil Forbis who like violent movies, noisy music and silly TV shows.’ 
John Saleeby, contributor ‘National Lampoon,’ ‘Classic Rock’ magazines.
 
‘Whether it’s pop culture, music, or most terrifying of all to me, films, there’s one man out there ripping it all up.  Wil Forbis is the triple threat of the internet, and anyone who’s writing online should be watching their rearview mirror in white-knuckled panic for the lunatic generalissimo of the website no one wanted to know existed–Acid Logic.’
Steve Anderson, columnist ‘Reel Advice From the Video Store Guy’
 
To top it off, the cover and interior illustrations were lovingly rendered by acclaimed underground artist Wayno!
 
So how do you get yourself a copy?  You can order from Amazon by clicking the following link:
http://www.amazon.com/Acid-Logic-Humorous-Writing-Culture/dp/1434357007/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1209704613&sr=8-1

You can also order a copy direct from the publisher:
http://www.authorhouse.com/BookStore/ItemDetail~bookid~47272.aspx
 
(Hint: it’s slightly cheaper from AuthorHouse.com, unless you have Amazon prime or qualify for Amazon super saver shipping (orders of $25 or more.))
Barnes & Noble coming soon.
 
AND, if you’re in the Los Angeles area, or plan to be, hit me up directly and I can get you a copy of the book at the publisher price ($12) without any additional postage costs.  I’m not in this for the money, folks.  I just want to bring the joy of acid logic to your life.  Just reply to this e-mail, or e-mail forbisthemighty@hotmail.com or track me down in person etc.

                                                                                       -Wil Forbis

     As an editor, there is none better.  He’s put up with me for longer than any other editor I’ve worked with, and that’s a testament all to itself.  Believe me, I can tell you some stories.  I can’t wait to get my hands on a copy of the book and give it a thorough read through.  So show some support and buy a copy, damnit! 

     Oh, and lest I forget, the Irishman bar review hit Gusto today.  Grab a copy of The Buffalo News while it’s on stands!  Have a great weekend,

Tom Waters 

    

 

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Big Words Newsletter Bonus! ‘Why It’s A Good Idea Not To Taunt Your Cuisinart’

June 15, 2007

As promised, here’s a bonus essay from the next book (Slapstick & Superego).  If you’re not on the free bi-monthly newsletter list and you’d like to be, drop me a line at: bigwordsmailbag@yahoo.com with ‘subscribe’ in the subject heading.  Enjoy!

Somebody get Stephen Hawking into a tech support van and put him on retainer, because the bulk of my belongings have officially become a lot smarter than I will ever be. After a well publicized and notorious longtime love affair with technology, I’ve tapped out what little intelligence I have left. Charlie and I hit the ceiling with the glass elevator last night and he was crippled in the maintenance shaft on the way down, breaking both legs, that goofy hat and his sternum. I’ve survived to tell the tale but my brain will never be the same again. I have been bested. We all live in a technophile’s cocoon that’s been spreading out since online bulletin boards transmogrified into the all encompassing internet and mix tapes went the way of the dodo to make way for ipod set lists to the tune of 30 gigs of ram. Something has died inside of me and I’ve reached a recidivist state of learning not unlike a Kelly Bundy state of total brain saturation. I refuse to learn anything more about technology because there’s just no room left in the left wing of my brain. It’s on dump out mode, and the synapses are hanging on tight to my universal tv remote programming instructions.

Now I am not a dumb man. I’ve read my thesaurus back and forth, I’ve read many great works of literature, and I’ve been devouring pop culture with an insatiable appetite for quite some time now. As far as gadgets and gizmos go, I am pro gadget and pro gizmo. On the campaign ticket, I strongly supported the gadget/gizmo bill of ’04, and make sure you pronounce ’04 as ’aught four’ in this case. But they’ve been doing their homework. Electronics keep getting better and more complex and it’s reached a point where I would have to take a weekend seminar at the Hilton to catch up. I just can’t do it anymore. I give up. They’re better than me and they’re too goddamned complicated. I have a fleet of remote controls on my coffee table and I don’t have a full grasp on how to operate any of them.

It all started two years ago when I got this computer (shhh! Keep your voice down, it could be listening!). I bought it like most men with more functions than I could ever possibly need as a means for touting the length and width of my personal computer penis, shaming others into a sad, shrunken condition in the worldwide web of a shower room we all share. Nobody needs this much computer, but that was the point. I’m not a fan of dropping three thousand dollars every two years, so I wanted to do it once this decade and be done with it. This computer has changed my life for the better, and I spend inordinate amounts of time accomplishing a great deal of things at a faster rate than my crash happy Mac from the last incarnation. Plus there’s the porn, of which much has been written. Like every other clown racing after the bandwagon shouting ‘Wait up! I’m ready now! Don’t leave me behind!’, I hopped on to the personal blog platform and rode it on to victory. Nothing is simple anymore. HTML stands for H.ow T.o M.ake L.osers (filthy rich). I tried in vain to spruce up my site and limped away from my computer feeling much stupider than I’ve felt in a long time. Lindsay took a college course on HTML and whipped up the changes in the time it took me to scratch my head like a baboon and fling my fecal matter at the wall behind the pc.

Some sites have been dumbed down considerably, but you still need a rudimentary understanding of computers to navigate them. It’s all lost on me. Fourteen year olds have MySpace profiles now that have better cg and production values than James Cameron’s Titanic, looking forty times better than clunky prototype web pages from 1992. Twelve year-olds are posting their debut movie efforts on YouTube. I spent three hours last Sunday trying to register an account with YouTube and ended up crying into a pint of mint chocolate chip iced cream. Like Algernon, I’m saddened because I’ve come to a full realization that I’ve reached my intellectual peak where this realm is concerned. Things will continue to progress and I will continue to lose touch with how to run them. In another ten years, I’ll be calling ‘the guy’ over to hook up my microwave oven with smart technology like a million other pampered yentas.

I’ve managed to catch five viruses in the last year and a half and should probably consider myself lucky. What a fool I was for thinking that purchasing virus protection would keep my computer free from viruses! Installing just one virus program is like peeling on one condom for a night in a motel with Pam Anderson. Its best to have two dozen virus protectors littering your desk top, and you should make a point of installing one new virus protector a week. You should also by the monthly virus protector protector updates to make sure that you have the latest protection for your eight hundred virus protection software devices. That industry is criminal. A friend of mine once hypothesized that virus protection companies unleash these unholy worms and Trojan horses on the net so that they can sell more software and I thought he was crazy. It actually makes a lot of sense now.

I got a nasty bug this week and we had to call in Lindsay’s brother to assess the damage. He spent two hours futzing around with my computer’s innards and at the end of the day he’d installed another virus protector. He’s been going to school for computer programming for two years. I should have charged him two years tuition and handed him an easy set up guide for installing your new virus protection device. I need a protection device to keep me from taking a fucking sledgehammer to my computer monitor because I shouldn’t have ANY issues after dropping three grand on a personal computer. I should be able to download multiple camera angled fisting amputee hermaphrodite golden shower porn with no firewall, unsecure web sites and a baker’s dozen full of cookies without batting a goddamned eye. The entire industry is more crooked than a State Senate cookout, and we’re too stupid to change it because we’ve become too reliant on it.

Last winter, I upgraded my cable package to include HBO for the final season of ‘The Sopranos’. They threw in a DVR with On Demand for a special three month promotion. Three month promotions with cable companies are the subscriber equivalent to taking a nice girl out to dinner and a movie before you rape her in the ass out in a deserted cornfield with a rusty flag pole. They treat you nice and then completely defile you. The guy came over, hooked it up and I will never be the same again. The luxury of being able to record five hour blocks of ’Desperate Housewives’ to watch on days off when there are no witnesses and by extension no shame or embarrassment cannot be assigned to a cash value. Time Warner cable assigned it a cash value up to and including a hundred and thirty dollars a month including taxes, fees and ‘we‘re the only company in town, so you‘re fucked‘ processing funds. In three short months, I’ve watched every season of every HBO original series ever conceived, created or aired. On Demand programming is my new passion, and it has replaced any intrinsic need to better myself ever again.

Two months ago, I was feeling good about myself and I waltzed in to an electronics chain and bought the ultimate HDTV rig on a whim. I’d been fighting the urge for over two years and snapped in dramatic fashion, going overboard in over-reactive excess and picking up a fifty inch LCD rear projection with a home theater system and an entertainment center spun from tempered glass. It took me three weeks to recite that last line and I’m all tapped out. The kid who sold it to me rattled off a list of features and benefits that I can neither utilize nor comprehend. I had little to no known issues with getting the tv out of the box and plugging it into the wall, but after that, it was all greek to me.

The back of the set had more inputs than Jenna Jamison and the receiver for the home theater is a new exercise in ignorance for me. I bribed one of my co-workers to come over and figure it out for me. I deferred to a higher power, admitted my powerlessness, and sat on the couch like a drooling idiot waiting for the picture box to start running my stories so that I could be told what to think and be pacified. I sucked my thumb in the fetal position rocking back and forth for two hours while he fluttered around behind this gigantic tube hooking up coaxial, input and audio wire in perfect harmony like some Faustian switchboard operator, effortlessly and purposefully. Something died inside of me that day, but now I’ve got my own home movie theater and there’s no logical reason to leave the house, exercise, or step away from the couch.

And now the next generation of game consoles has arrived, and they’ve taken a quantum leap in terms of functionality. Luckily I hooked them up coasting on what little instinct I have left in these matters. The contradiction with the new Nintendo system hinges on the fact that it optimizes the latest advancements in 1080 HD resolution and WiFi compatibility for the sake of playing games in their original 8 bit state. To date, I’ve spent over five hundred dollars to play Super Mario Bros., a game I played when I was 13. Nintendo is the devil. They continue to convince me into buying the same games over and over and over again. Being the last man on the planet to jump on board for online gaming, I went to a local superstore chain last night and purchased a wireless router. I didn’t even try. I dropped my balls into a desk drawer to be forgotten and asked the wife to hook it up for me because she has slightly more patience in these matters.

The salesman was quoted as saying that installation would be ‘a cinch’ and the box description for this new breed of anguish boasted ‘easy ten minute installation!’. Hopping into a time machine and finding a quantum physicist from the future savvy enough to hook up this infernal goddamned box would have taken at least twelve minutes, so I’m filing a class action suit. Lindsay spent two hours, any number of loud, colorful curse words, a half an hour on the phone with her computer gifted brother, and another half hour working the phone menu and talking to tech support and none of them had a good answer. The tech support team opened a ticket and would research the issue and email us back. They didn’t even know how to hook up their own goddamned device, so how can we be expected to?

We’ve officially invented contraptions that are not only smarter than us, but so complex that they are nearly impossible to install, operate, or understand. I’m firmly convinced that home theater receivers, computers, routers, and web design are set up so that only the top ten percentile of the world’s finest think tanks are capable of understanding them. This is a boon for the industry, as we’re getting used to paying someone to turn on our televisions and plug in our computers. It’s gotten too troublesome and it reinforces my ignorance. I’ve thrown in the towel. I don’t even want to approach trying to learn how to do it anymore. The progression of electronics in the last twenty years is staggering and humbling. In 1980, electronic handheld football ushered in the new era of interactive entertainment. Five years from now some fat, scruffy technician with a hereditary five inch asscrack showing will fire a chip the size of a fingernail clipping into the back of my medulla so that I can watch the latest hologram viewing of the six o’clock news and purchase Super Mario Bros. for a record 314th time for immediate play via Nintendo’s Stream Of Consciousness technology.

And I will be the last man on earth to buy or use a cell phone or Ipod. They’re both worthless. If I wanted to talk to people I wouldn’t have this much technology growing in my apartment. I barely use my home phone and screening my calls because I can’t be bothered to get up and walk over to the portable phone gathering dust on the base drives my friends crazy to no end. And what is the deal with these swiss army knife phones? I like having multiple toys so don’t try and shill me on a cell phone that takes pictures, employs text messages, stores music, streams weather and sports forecasts and changes your shorts for you when you soil them? Nobody needs that much functionality in a goddamned cell phone. Furthermore, I’m just now getting in to the joy of making mix cds. I’m a fan of buying a cd once and enjoying that, not buying the cd, buying individual songs for my hard drive, and buying song lists from web sites. I change my mind on eighteen track mix cds, so what makes you think that I have the time or patience to port 800 songs onto a hand held device for my listening pleasure? I’m the market you’re not getting to so leave me the hell alone.

I truly believe that SkyNet will go live in my lifetime. Our artificial intelligence is building up to it, so start googling John Connor right now because if we wait for tech support to do a troubleshoot on the T-4000, Schwarzenegger is going to be throttling my ass into a vat of touch-screen fryer grease in my kitchen. Everything in my house is smarter than me. My gadgets and gizmos are laughing at me when I’m not looking and cracking jokes at my expense while I sleep. Be nice to your cuisinart because some day it’s going to sprout legs and join in the uprising. That R.O.B. the robot in your attic is going to come downstairs with a meat cleaver and back you up against a television set that uses your cerebral fluid for HDMI reception. Game over, man! Game over.

The devil you don’t know bills at sixty dollars an hour,

Tom ’easy installation’ Waters

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Talking Leaves Elmwood Appearance

April 22, 2007

Whelp, it was a beautiful day in Buffalo today and I had my signing at Talking Leaves on Elmwood Avenue.  Unfortunately for me (even though Jonathan and I planned our event at Elmwood two months ago), Just Buffalo scheduled an appearance at Talking Leaves on Main Street with Pulitzer Prize winning poet Carl Dennis.  La de da. 

I showed up at twenty after one (way too early) and the bookstore was beautiful.  It was my first time in there and I got to see Alicia Hoffman, an old, old friend from way, way back whom I haven’t seen or corresponded with in almost six years.  When I self published my first book (Soup To Nuts), Alicia went out on a limb and booked me for a comedy showcase with three professional comedians.  I’ll never forget that.  Alicia and I got caught up a bit and then we set up our table.  Then it quieted down.  I sold one hardcover.

I was happy about the one hardcover (because it’s someone who wouldn’t normally buy the book), but the day and the event were pretty much a dud.  I never play well downtown for some reason.  I do better in the suburbs where people aren’t as concerned about wearing what the hep people are wearing and reading what the hep people are reading.   Maybe I’m just not elitist, liberal or pretentious enough for the Elmwood crowd.  Lord knows that once the reviews hit that that crowd will attempt to be hip and pick up the book, so I guess I’ll make nice then.  It would be really great if they could formulate their own opinions and take a chance instead of having to be told what’s good in the paper and following the herd blindly.  Cest la vis.  The book is still raking in money, so I’ve got no complaints.  I talked to my superstar agent Buddy Dow at Trafford and he’s forwarded the book on to their traditional publishing house for possible inclusion, which could be huge.  Keep your fingers crossed for me and maybe I can learn to turn my nose up at the world like half the crowd on Elmwood, too!

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