The Articles of Confederation--Were They Really That Bad?

Perhaps (how’s that for a powerful beginning?) our national twin viruses (Trump and Corona) are actually performing a service for the country.  They are revealing to all of us here sitting at home the utter disfunction of the federal government, a body which can spend $738 billion on defense against imagined enemies, but is unable to buy face-masks for the doctors who are fighting a real (although invisible) enemy.  Could it be (there’s that powerful phrasing again) that D.C. has been for too long a magnet attracting power-hungry and money-grabbing (as well as power-grabbing and money-hungry) psychopaths?

In the 1950’s, Ike got Congress to build the Interstate Highway System (selling it as a national defense measure; the man was a soldier, but he was also a politician).  Since that time, other than a few TV shows about the FBI, the Federal Government has accomplished very little (oh, well, there was the Vietnam War, granted, that went well).  Perhaps (“perhaps” again?) it is time to gradually (I said gradually, gradually) institute a shift of power away from our all-mighty central government, along with its Imperial Presidency, back to the state and local governments (fat chance).  We could gently (gently!) tinker with the way our Constitutional government is functioning (or rather, not functioning) and take another look at that badly maligned constitutional antipasto— the Articles of Confederation.

Under the Articles, Congress was allowed to coin money but not levy taxes (If they wanted money, let them make it themselves).  There was no executive branch of government (which would displease television stations that depend on election year ad money for their survival).  The states were described as nothing more than “a firm league of friendship,” which everyone agreed had a nice, squishy sound to it.  “United States” was spelled “united states,” a verbiage supported by the typesetters union.  Canada was allowed to join the nation, but nobody else.  Instead of a president, each state would send in one person to form a governing counsel.  If no one from Canada wanted to come, they didn’t have to.

The Articles were of course superseded by the Constitution, whose framers never envisioned Jack Abramoff or warplanes with $872 toilet seats.  So, why don’t we begin dissembling this Rube Goldberg contraption known as our federal government, and rebuilt it using Lincoln Logs and Tinkertoys (is this guy really that old?). 

Here’s a suggestion (just a suggestion from Mr. Shoot-from-the-Hip, Take No Prisoners) to all those idealistic young politicians hoping to get to Washington in order to clean up the mess and become the next Bobby or John or Elinor or Barack (Barack?): “Stay home, young man, young woman, just stay home!  There’s work to be done right here.”

Cigar Wrapping

I grow and roll my own cigars from seed.  Here is my rolling process:

Cigar Rolling 2018

1.    As the growing season ends, pick individual leaves and separate them into “Binder/Wrapper” (large) and “Filler” (smaller).

2.    Attach 5 or 6 leaves together with a rubber band and hang from a drying rack (clothing rack) with a paper clip.

3.    Allow them to dry to a tannish/brown color. (Possibly a few weeks)

4.    Spray the leaves lightly with water.  For each cigar, use enough filler leaves to pack fully but not tightly (estimate by comparing with a commercial cigar) and one B/W leaf. You may press the B/W leaf within two smooth tiles. Allow ten minutes for the moisture to spread to the entire leaf.

5.    Using a pizza cutter, gently remove the center stem from all leaves, both filler and B/W.  Half the B/W leaf can be used as your binder, the other can be the wrapper.

6.    Form the filler leaves into a cigar shape, place this bundle on one end of the binder leaf, gently roll it up, upper side of original leaf to the outside, veins running the length of the cigar. Secure with a dab of paste (flour and water).

7.    Repeat the process with the wrapper leaf, gently smoothing out any bumps, folds, or wrinkles.

8.    Allow to dry for a day in the open air, then store in a humidor or Baggie.

2035

And in the end, America (that once immaculate country which sloppy tongues call “Murka”) was not destroyed by Adolph Hitler or communism or by guided missiles or bombs.  Its demolition was fomented during the Clinton administration, when a small group of radio talk-show hatemongers realized that they could enjoy a very lucrative career by replacing vision with vitriol, by sacrificing sensitivity and common sense for dollars and cents.

Their success led to the emergence of hate-filled television personalities, and then entire networks, and eventually to top-tier politicians who used the same technique.  Each of these entities plumbed the depths of our nation’s stupidity, but no one ever managed to hit bottom.  These bottom feeders would go on to dine at lower and lower depths, they got fatter and fatter. The water grew darker, cloudier, dirtier, thicker, murkier, slimier, but no firm footing was ever reached.  Just more bile-soaked muck and urine-saturated manure.  Shit stains became badges of honor, to be celebrated and then cashed in.  For profit and power.

Secretly, these cabalists met in their mansions and on their yachts and they whispered to one another, “The people can’t be this stupid, can they?”  But the people were.  “They won’t possibly fall for this latest crap we’re dishing out, will they?”

But we did.

&&&

“They say that patriotism is the last refuge

To which a scoundrel clings.

Steal a little and they throw you in jail.

Steal and lot and they make you king.” –Bob Dylan

The Oncoming Flood

Mainstream publishing houses still control the power, prestige, and publicity of the industry, but that “main stream” they are standing in is called technology, with its rushing current quickening and gaining strength every day.

Destruction looms.

Now, those indies you see fishing and swimming along the shoreline won’t get washed away by the water. Empowered, they will still be there tomorrow and tomorrow, unlike the bloated Don “Status Que” Fanucci in Godfather II, who chants “domani, domani, domani,”before being annihilated by the new wave.

 For nearly ten years now, BROWN FEDORA BOOKS has been gently side-riding that new wave, giving those beachfront authors the opportunity to publish their books—books printed with pixels, printed on paper, printed with care and love.  None of us have gotten rich (as of yet), but there are a million other authors out there in the blogosphere doing the same thing we are, and the money exchanging hands far exceeds that touched by the big publishing houses.

Of course, the money doesn’t matter, it’s the books.  Admittedly, most of the tidal wave of books coming out of indie publishing rank as drivel or worse, but hidden within those stacks of paper and packs of pixel are the best books being written.  The absolute best.

We happy.

LEARNING BASIC ITALIAN

This morning let’s learn some basic Italian:

“Mi dispiace che il tuo vomito sia caduto nelle mie scarpe”

means

“It displeases me that your vomit has fallen to my shoes.”

Our Country as a Cigar

In my many years as a cigar roller, I learned that any good cigar needs three elements: 1. the filler, the countless little leaves that are the real guts of the product; 2. the binder, which holds everything together; and 3. the wrapper, the outer cover for extra flavor and appearance.

It seems to me that our country these days still has great filler— millions of caring, good people. And all the politicians are battling to be our wrapper, to show off their flavor and image. But no one is willing to be the binder, that out-of-sight, unappreciated, hard-working little piece that makes the whole thing into one good, solid, piece of humanity.

To All Frustrated Writers

To all frustrated writers:

Two literary critics were talking and the first one said, “F. Scott Fitzgerald died a broken man, because The Great Gatsbywas a commercial and critical flop.”

And the second said, “Yeah, but he knew he wrote a good book.”

Don’t let those agents and acquisition editors and big house publishers get to you.  They’re mostly nice, overworked people, but they’re 20^thCentury dinosaurs, breathing in the volcanic ash of technology and slowly going extinct.  Fugetaboutit.

Technology has set us free.  Just go to somewhere like Amazon KDP and publish your book. It’s free, easy, you have complete creative control, the royalty rates are great, and you get immediate worldwide distribution.

Why are commercially successful writers like Lee Child and James Patterson and Stephen King still giving publishing houses a cut of their spoils?  I have no idea.  Loyalty maybe?  Inertia?

No, you won’t be the next King of book sales. You won’t get reviewed here in The New York Times and you probably won’t get rich and famous.  But you might.  I have a friend who publishes independently (Don’t call it “self-publishing,” it’s Independent Publishing) who has sold over 30,000 books.  Another friend often gets on The Timesbestseller list.  Another has had a major movie made from her book.

Will this happen to you?  Probably not.  I know it hasn’t happened to me.  But that’s not important.  There’s only one thing that matters:

You wrote a good book.