Well, dear readers, I own a cap and on said cap is the word “Curmudgeon.” I love the cap and anyone who knows me knows that over the years I’ve earned the right to wear it. I think I’ve always been a bit of a curmudgeon, but I’ve gotten worse as I’ve gotten older. I simply don’t have the ability to sit and listen to foolish people say foolish things and I become irascible and even unpleasant. It’s why it’s better that I don’t frequent those usual boards, because I cannot abide the occasional stupidity and blather that goes on and I become really vocal about it. Of course, I do so under my own name, which is more than you can say for ninety-nine percent of the people who post under a cloak of anonymity. These cowards think they can say anything and get away with it, because they don’t have to take responsibility for anything. It’s behavior that’s peculiar to the Internet – these people would shrink up and die if they actually came face to face and were called on their behavior. It’s why I wrote my short story, Your Worst Nightmare – because giving these Internet twits their comeuppance is a particular fantasy of mine. I can turn quite vicious on these sites if people say ridiculous things, and I’ve never once regretted having done so because, frankly, they deserve what they get and then some. It takes a lot to get me to that place – I can usually walk away or let it roll off me, but if, for example, I’m working with someone and they’re not doing the job or are not behaving professionally, well, let’s just say that I can’t imagine it would be pleasant to be around me. Again, it takes a lot to get me there, but once there I’m the worst. I almost threw an engineer in New York bodily out of the booth – I had to be restrained. He was just so inept (a very nice fellow, but in over his head with the clock ticking) and I tried to stay positive for two hours and then I just lost it. It wasn’t pretty. I’ve only lost it a couple of times with performers I’ve worked with. I actually can’t recall any performers in the recording studio where I’ve become terse and unpleasant – there were a couple where I did have to be strong, but I was nice about it. But I have lost it with a couple of actors – again, it was long brewing and when it could brew no more I just exploded. It happened with someone recently, a singer who accused me of yelling at her, when all I’d done was speak quietly but firmly about a problem said singer was having repeatedly. I shocked the musical director, who was not quite prepared for my reaction. I basically showed the singer how it was when I yelled, just so the singer could see the difference between me speaking and me yelling. I always, however, give a warning – and the warning is really simple: I say “stop.” If they don’t stop, I say “Stop, stop now.” If they still don’t stop, they soon wish they had.
I say all this because last night I watched a documentary about writer Harlan Ellison. I am a fan of Mr. Ellison, met him once briefly back in 1970 on the set of The Young Lawyers (he’d written the episode prior to the one I did), and I like his rather weird and fun personality when I’ve seen him speak. Mr. Ellison is a curmudgeon – worse than me in certain ways – well, lots worse in certain ways. But I’m happy to say that I’m worse than him in certain ways, most specifically as regards my car behavior. If drivers are behaving stupidly, if people are on their cells or texting, I am a DEMON, I am ruthless, I scream, I rant, I open my window and hurl vile epithets, I honk my horn, I swerve my car at people who are not paying attention to the road or who cut in front of me without warning – anyone who has ever been in the car with me has seen this behavior at one time or another. And traffic? Forget about it. I’m claustrophobic, and you can ask Miss Adriana Patti what I was like on my daily drives to Orange County last year for The Brain From Planet X. I wish I weren’t that way, but wishing doesn’t cut it, and I get worse as the years go by. There are times I feel like the Michael Douglas character in the film Falling Down. If I’m on a tear in the car, you can probably hear me yelling for miles. I’m also quite bad in restaurants if I’m kept waiting or they won’t give me a booth or they take too long to get to the table or bring the food.
What’s most interesting about the Ellison documentary, which I found poorly directed and structured, is that he speaks eloquently about being bullied and beaten up in school – he goes on at length about it. And then we see him at various functions and what is he doing? He’s bullying verbally, beating people up verbally, which I found fascinating. But he’s very smart, he’s very witty, and underneath all the bluster and the ranting and raving he seems to be a caring, passionate person. I know that both Pogue and I have probably been accused repeatedly of occasionally being “difficult,” but that’s just the way it is, and if people don’t like it, then that’s their problem and they should just walk away. I do always try to be positive with people, and I never go on the attack unprovoked – ever. But when I’m provoked, I’m afraid I go directly for the jugular as quickly and as pointedly as I can.
What the HELL am I talking about? Why am I going on and on about being a curmudgeon. I mean, I have a hat that says “Curmudgeon.” End of story.
Yesterday, I was quite a curmudgeon with both the construction company who’s been doing the work next door, and then with the building and safety people. First of all, the construction company promised they’d be finished yesterday. When they weren’t, I called them and the little dip of a lady who spoke to me blithely told me that they WERE supposed to be finished, but that the people who are building what will be the new two-story monstrosity on a lot that could barely hold a one-story small house had just contracted them to do some further work. She could give me no ETA, and I told her I was going to file a complaint against them for excessive noise and earth-shaking machinery. She told me they weren’t responsible and that I should file the claim against the people who hired them. I asked for their name and that was not, of course, forthcoming. She told me someone would call me. They didn’t. I then called the police who referred me to 311, which I then called. I talked to four different people and they all told me that people who are disturbed and have their lives disrupted for months and months have no recourse. I told each of the people that they weren’t IN my house having to deal with it and I also told him that I had at least five other people in this neighborhood who are fed up with this crap and I said that our recourse could conceivably be a class action lawsuit against the city and the builders and the homeowner. That actually got me to someone who understood exactly what I was saying and I was given the name of the man who is the inspector on that property, a man from the building and safety department. I was told that if I called him and complained that he would speak strongly to the construction companies involved and tell them to keep the noise down as much as possible. Not a lot, but something. I will be calling him today. It turns out that these peckerwoods came into possession of the property in 2007. I don’t know if they inherited it or bought it privately or got it in a foreclosure, but they let the property and house sit empty and go to hell, making it an eyesore for the entire neighborhood. Then, without any warning, they tear it down, make ungodly noise at all hours, and will now build a monstrosity. Mind you, during all this they will be far away, living peacefully. I told one of the people I spoke to that when these creeps waltz in and take residence that I will do everything in my power to make their lives just as miserable as they are making mine and others who live nearby. The man said that threats probably weren’t a good thing to make, and I told him that I wasn’t making threats at all – I was stating a FACT. We’ll see how it goes from here, but minimally I’ll just make daily calls to everyone I can until they are so fed up with hearing from me that maybe something will get done. I understand they have the right to build yet another monstrosity of a house, blighting this once charming and idyllic neighborhood, but I understand that I have human rights, too, even though they say I don’t.
Well, why don’t we all click on the Unseemly Button below because I have ranted long enough and I must finish writing these here notes in a hurry.
But that wasn’t all I did yesterday. I also spent a couple of hours fixing the title song chart for Nudie Musical – it took a LONG time because there were errors in every single bar, but I sent it to the guy and he got all the corrections in very quickly and he sent it back to me, at which point I found an additional six problems, which I fixed, and which he entered and sent back to me. So, that chart is done. I may, in fact, send him a couple more to do today – that way when I’m there tomorrow, it might go a little faster.
I ate at Hugo’s and realized I don’t ever need to eat at Hugo’s again. I’m simply over the food. I did spy Shelly Hack at the next table and I must say she’s still quite beautiful.
Today, it’s really just more of the same. I’ll try to be out for several hours to avoid the noise.
Let’s put on our pointy party hats and our colored tights and pantaloons, let’s break out the cheese slices and the ham chunks, let’s dance the Hora and the Square Dance, for today is the birthday of dear reader Arnold M. Brockman. So, let’s give a big haineshisway.com birthday cheer to dear reader Arnold M. Brockman. On the count of three: One, two, three – A BIG HAINESHISWAY.COM BIRTHDAY CHEER TO DEAR READER ARNOLD M. BROCKMAN!!!
Well, dear readers, I must take the day, I must do the things I do, I must, for example, do the long jog, fix charts, approve liner notes for the new Kritzerland release, and I must attend a get-together at The Smoke House. Today’s topic of discussion: Tell us what turns you into a curmudgeon or what makes you angry enough to actually react and go off on someone. Let’s have loads of lovely postings, shall we, whilst this curmudgeon hits the road to dreamland.