The Accidental Activist: Lessons
Have you ever seen that movie, Goodfellas. The scene where Ray Liotta is all coked-up, about to get busted, and he says something like, “I had to get the pasta cooked just right, and I had to keep my brother stirring the Marinara, or it was going to stick. I had to get the mule on the plane with the baby. And Jimmy needed the guns. And there’s this damn helicopter just following me all day.”
I am having one of those moments. Not in the mobster sense. (Note to any government officials monitoring this site: 99% of the crap I say here is pure bullshit; not to be taken as having evidentiary or investigative value). I got to get the young one ready for school, there is laundry like Everest downstairs, I’m working behind the scenes on mini-book deals, I’ve got myself into a conversation about U.S. involvement in 9/11 (and I don’t mean to be ignoring all you nice folks who were kind enough to offer me some reading material — I’m just swamped), I’ve got clients with fucking tax questions, the Administration is on the verge of being impeached, I had to shop all over town to find Samuel Smith’s Nut Brown Ale so I can celebrate my completed and published novel with my brother tonight, I’ve got a growing Internet activist e-mail ring of great people from BMT and Kos and Michigan Liberal (suggested by Maryscott O’Connor) that I’m managing, and I’ve got a thick-bespectacled, part-time, tree cutter who likes to tell stories like Mark Twain, and is almost as entertaining, who just can’t give me a quote for taking down the White Pine in my yard (that has most likely been killed by climate change) in four-thousand words or less, even though I’ve told him I’m going to go nuts.
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