Je suis Charlie!

 

   "Je suis pizza de Charlie"(photo courtesy of Republican Herald)

After the recent attack in Paris I was told by my friend (I only have one), that I should go into hiding as satirists are under grave danger.  I considered that wise.  I plan to stay at the Schuylkill Mall in Frackville. 

Why should be go into hiding at the Mall? No one will find me there. Its my fortress of solitude when I want to be alone.

 In the past I had spoken to groups at the county’s French communities of Tré Mont, Mont Laffé, de Turks Ville, Grier Cité, Ravine, Marie Dé, and, Lac de Beury. They were not large groups and most of them did not comprehend my french. The largest group I ever appeared before was a group at the fry stand in Renninger’s Market. The fryer broke and I was able to talk for fifteen minutes to the hungry but hostile crowd.Whether they understood my french will never be known. My topic concerned frog legs. An important french topic.
So I have a connection with the French. Sort of. Learned the tongue at Nativity High School's "Language Lab" decades ago. Dois-je en dire plus?

After the Paris attack, I was told that I needed to cool it on the blog -  Especially with my articles on the cartoon characters that used to grace Garfield Square in Pottsville.  I was told that some people are offended by cartoons, to the point that they want to do bodily harm to those who depict certain characters in cartoon form.  

                     I can understand that and I feel their pain.  But with some good mental health therapy it gets better. Believe me.Cartoons, satire and parody never justify violence.

Little Lotta was depicted on Garfield Square at Christmas time about twenty years ago. I helped put her up. Apparently it was put there without being sensitive to the large overweight community of the county.  Despite my apology I was banned from many all-you-can eat church breakfasts for life.  

Broom Hilda was featured another year and it offended our growing Wiccan population.  Again I apologized but I am banned from the St. Clair Halloween Parade for life. Lastly, Mickey Mouse was depicted and it was called into question as being an offense to our state appellate judiciary. I apologized but was sentenced to house arrest for 30 days.  Quelle humiliation!

Do you know what it is like being in the house with Mammy for 30 days?? “Zut alors!”

 However in every instance I took my medicine (valium , if you really want to know) and learned my lesson.  

I vowed that there will never be a cartoon character on Garfield Square ever again.  And there never has been anymore. 

The New York Times and the Washington Post were hailed for releasing information leaked by Daniel Elsburg and Eric Snowden in the past. Supposedly they published top secret information.  Yet those papers and the other major media outlets, including the Republican Herald, now refuse to print or display the French magazine cover that resulted in the massacre of many innocent in Paris.  It is sort of a double standard. However the press and media are scared sh*tless and rightfully so.  Yet they weren’t so scared to display over the years photographs that were offensive to Christians, Jews or Buddhists.   

But everyone knows why they are so scared now. Even Fox TV is running scared.They will adopt self-censorship to appease fundamental islamists. No sense getting butchered by followers of the religion of peace, but until we stand up for our values and stop the fear-driven self-censorship, there will be no end to the butchering.  Every newspaper and media should proudly display a copy of Charlie.

       

   Above is a photo of the offensive magazine cover. Now I must go hide out at the Schuylkill Mall. No one will find me there. I will be all alone.   Take a look at many of the "offensive covers" on the link below:                                                           

                                        

                            

 Charlie Hebdo Magazine Cover Slideshow

New Year's Eve Memories

This was taken from my diary of last year. The photograph to the right is of one of Pottsville's wagering parlors.








I left the parking lot at the Pottsville Hospital at about 1:45 A.M. (still enough time to get one last Yuengling lager down at Sarge’s New Year’s Eve party).
It was a busy evening for me, first dinner and drinking at Sarge's New Year's Eve bash, then a dash over to Pottsville Hospital Parking lot after the stroke of midnight. Umbrella in hand, I waited for the announcement of the 2007 new year baby. I had placed my traditional $100 wager on the birth being out of wedlock the day before at one of Pottsville's betting parlors. I stood there in the parking lot, with my ticket clenched firmly in my fist, waiting for the news. I was not alone, there were hundreds of others with me, along with the WNEP news truck and various newspaper cub reporters.

I continued to look up at the rooftop of the hospital to see if I saw any smoke. Tradition has it the when the new year baby has been delivered, the announcement to the world is made by burning old Pottsville Republican newspapers in a special oven. The oven is actually the oven from Charlie's Pizzeria on loan to the hospital for that one special night. The smoke from those papers escapes through a small chimney visible from the parking lot. Usually one can spot the fumata nera or black smoke, which signifies that an out-of-wedlock baby was born – a bastardo. If I see black smoke, then that means pay-off time for me!



Will it be bianca or nera?????

This night I was not so lucky, I dropped my ticket in disappointment as fumata bianca rose up from the chimney. Fumata bianca....the dreaded white smoke. Yes, white smoke came up the chimney, the first time in at least one decade. The new year baby was born to a married couple! Not only were the parents married, they were married to one another! The couple consisted of a male and a female. One of each! Both adults and not related to one another!



Traditionally, a hospital dignitary will then step onto the platform erected in front of the hospital, holding the newborn up in the air, proclaim the name of the infant (after getting HPPA releases signed of course). The crowds in town go wild, throwing hats up, hugging and kissing as if World War II was just ending while the proud father does a victory lap around the lot.

The baby's name is generally something difficult to pronounce or spell. I was hoping the name would be Flava Flave. Not very original; it is the name of my favorite MTV personality. No, this year, the child would have the name Michael, the name of my favorite Archangel, my favorite basketball player, and my favorite Corleone family member. A lot of wagering goes into name selection as well and the pay-off can be astonomical. This year I was going home empty-handed. No Kahrystall, no Jewlle, no Ayden, Kayden, Jayden or Mayden. No Chrystee, no Thembessa, no Nyklas, no Braden, Zayden, Graden or Rayden. Just plain ol' Michael.





I quickly made my way back down to Sarge’s for that one last call for alcohol, listening to the bells ring from the Mister Softee truck now racing down Centre Street proclaiming the good news that the County's New Year Baby has arrived.
Everyone can sleep good tonight.

photo of bib is one of the numerous gifts bestowed up the winning baby every New Year Day.