American voices

Bill Maher had Gore Vidal Friday night. I was punched in the mouth by the American treasure this man is.  Much like George Carlin, Kurt Vonnegut and Mark Twain. All men impervious to bullshit and fierce patrons of the truth.  Read them.  Every word they ever committed to a published tome.

Forgive me but Gore Vidal is the shit.

“Never pass up a chance to have sex or appear on television”.  -Gore Vidal

I read “Lincoln” not long after high school and it left a massive impression.

There was a conversation about homosexuality in the Roman era that was unbelievably fascinating.

When Maher asked Vidal what he thought about Sarah Palin, he said something like, “I don’t. And she doesn’t appear to think either”. Maher asked about the relative intelligence of contemporary conservatives and their apparent embrace of intellectual adversity.  Maher referenced the traditional conservatives like William F. Buckley and the contrast of Sarah Palin and how they used to be so much smarter and Vidal said “Well, everybody is”.  The anti intellectual trend that conservatives are so proud of.  What the fuck is that?

So I was reminded about how important American icons are.  Patriots.  Steadfast to the actual ideals on which America was founded.  Any one of the four aforementioned gentlemen could and would clean the clock of a Limbaugh or Hannity, yet would not countenance being shouted at or over.  I doubt any would deign to entertain even a polite conversation.

Yesterday I bought an overstreet guide for comic books.  The price guide for vintage comics.  It was my bible when I was thirteen.  I have a pretty extensive collection starting from the late fifties and ending in the early eighties.  I went to garage sales and flea markets buying everything I could find and afford.  I can be rather single minded and my adolescent obsession with comics was an early example.

I had them all stacked in the closet of my childhood home.  No light, artificial or otherwise.  Upon selling our house, my parents were careful to pack and store them as best they could until they delivered them to me when I bought my first house decades later.  Sealed in boxes for at least twenty five years until yesterday.

I was at best, an unusual child.  I would set up my pup tent in the backyard and take my comics out there with me.  I’d camp out.  After the sun went down, I’d bury some valuable possessions for no other reason than anticipating digging them up weeks or months later and rediscovering them all over again.

Yesterday my girlfriend and I began to open those boxes and that sensation of something old but new again blocked out the sun.  The comics themselves were pristine.  Exactly as I had left them some twenty five years earlier.  It turns out that many of them are worth mad cash.  The whole excitement of treasure hunting is brand new again.  It feels the same as it did back in the day.  Before I began to play the drums, entertain the notion of being a rockstar and eventually decide I would be a recording engineer/producer.

The contents of these boxes reminded me of the tremendous force of my dreams before I began to contemplate adulthood.  Magic.  Magical.

Things have changed.  I bought them then with the conviction that I would have them to read forever.  It is how I defined there worth back then.  The value of my treasure.  The cynicism of adulthood allows me to view them now as a way to pay the rent.  Things have changed.  Now I want for people to read me.  I made records.  I produced and engineered them but now I want all of you to listen to me because I have lots to say.

It goes without saying I’m confident my voice is important and you all should listen.  I’ve been around.  I’ve been there.  I’ve seen and done things most of you can’t imagine.  Trust me, I’m special.

Of the four men I talked about, all but one are dead.  I know many more.  Do yourself a favor.  Listen to Mr. Gore Vidal before he dies.  He has plenty to tell you that you may benefit from.  He is one of our last magicians.  My old friend Gary Myerberg reminded me that magic is only possible when magicians are in the building.  He can tell me this because we both witnessed the wizardry that can transpire under the right conditions.

Happy easter.

Drinks for my friends.

2 Responses to “American voices”

  • Twaddle:

    I have one comic stashed away in a plastic bag n the attic. I think I bought it at a rummage sale… I think I will leave it there and start to imagine it to be worth everything I need to get out of the mess I’m in. I should have you look it up.

  • Misty:

    I think Abraham Lincoln has already reincarnated down here to earth, your just not listening Dude Michael. I’m glad you keep rambling on, though. When I first met you online, I figured you’d be dead soon. Rock and Roll!

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