The Luna Park Gazette

Can I just say something here without people getting all twisted and crazy? All right, here goes: I’m sorry to see John Rowland going to jail. Now, take it easy. Before you leap onto that soapbox or pound that table, I already know what you’re going to say. As Governor of Connecticut, John Rowland violated the public trust. He took gifts and services from businessmen who turned around and won hundreds of millions of dollars in contracts and tax breaks. His actions were outrageous, unconscionable, and unforgivable—not to mention incredibly stupid. And I think he deserves every day of jail time he gets—and probably a hell of a lot more. Yeah, I got all that and I’m a Democrat to boot. And yet I still feel bad for the guy. I’m one of God knows how many people who thought they knew John Rowland. Back in the early Rowland days, I was a reporter at the Waterbury Republican-American, Rowland’s hometown newspaper and in 1996 I got to accompany Rowland on his trade mission to Mexico. This wa...

I saw myself at the movies the other night. I was just going into the BAM Theater in downtown Brooklyn when I turned around and there I was. It didn’t look like me at all. I had glasses and a beard, and I was carrying a bag of popcorn. I was also taller and younger with a full head of hair. But it was me all right. I didn’t need the special effects skills of Industrial Light & Magic to be one person in two bodies that night. All I had to do was take a long look. This guy I was looking at was another person, but we were so alike we could have been clones. We were both alone on a Friday night and we were going to the movies. I don’t know this guy’s story at all, but in a way, I think I do. Movies are my favorite form of entertainment. I love seeing them, talking about them, and I’ve tried writing them, and since I’m going to the theater by myself on a Friday night, you can tell how successful I’ve been in that particular area. Tonight’s feature was a special Italian film selection ca...

Are you a creative, enthusiastic, team player who has tons of initiative? Can you hit the ground running, carry an intense workload, handle heavy call volume, speak seven languages and still maintain your sense of humor? Well, good for you. I’ve been out of work since July and after 9 months of reading classified ad copy I think I’m a little punchy. I’ve answered ad after ad, in newspapers, trade magazines, online and on the backs of buses. The result of all this effort is a handful of interviews, no job, and a non-stop headache from reading all these ridiculous ads. It’s another language, the want ads, written for another world. A world where people love their jobs, are rewarded for working hard, earn the respect of their employers and co-workers and lead happy, productive lives. In other words, Fantasy Land. Who writes this stuff? Who actually believes that anyone is this talented, dedicated or interested in a job? Hey, I’m out of work, I need a paycheck, let’s stop screwing arou...

It’s all Google’s fault. Yes, Google, the great all-seeing eye of Internet search engines, with its unnatural ability to find out anything about anybody, is the cause of all my problems. It’s turned me into Quasi-Modem. Now, thanks to Google, each night I climb into my digital bell tower, a bitter, twisted gnome determined to relive the past. I want to know all about the people I don’t like, people I haven’t seen or heard from in years, so I hurl my queries out into cyberspace only to have them come spinning back and hit me upside the head. It’s the Google-rang. And it gets me every time. I search for anyone who’s done me wrong, two-timing girlfriends, grade school bullies, obnoxious ex-coworkers, and discover the worst possible news imaginable: they’re happy. They’re not rotting away in a filthy dungeon in some sub-equatorial dictatorship; they’re not locked in a B-movie mental institution, trussed up in straitjackets and living on Thorazine and Rice Krispies. And they’re not st...

This has been quite a day: In addition to being the Chinese New Year and Ash Wednesday, it is also the last day of my unemployments benefits. A triple witching indeed. This is the Year of the Rooster, and I was born in that year in 1957, so a Chinese friend assures me this will be my year. I'll take whatever I can get at this point, as I quite nervous about the future. I have to find a place for myself in this world so I can pull my own weight. I don't want to be working at 70, but if I don't get a job soon, it looks like that's where I'm headed. Positive, positive. It is the year of the rooster after all, but if I don't get a job soon my goose will be cooked. Oh, gosh, I couldn't resist making that joke--even if it laid an egg. I wonder what the hell happened to me that I ended up in that situation. No career, no woman, no family--I'm just a middle-aged teen-ager. It's time to grow up and get a life...

There’s nothing like an old movie to teach you a lesson about modern times. I discovered this the other night when I sat down to watch “The Ox-bow Incident,” a classic western directed by William Wellman. The 1943 film stars Henry Fonda, Harry Morgan, Anthony Quinn and a cast of fine character actors straight out of Hollywood’s Golden Age. I thought I was just going to sit back and enjoy a fine old movie, but instead I found myself looking at a frontier rendition of George Bush’s war in Iraq. Sounds crazy? Tell it to Sponge Bob Squarepants—just as soon as he comes out of the closet. Based on Walter Van Tilburg Clark’s novel, “The Oxbow Incident” tells the story of a group of Nevada cowboys in 1885 who, upon hearing about a rancher’s murder, form a posse and inflict some hangman’s justice upon three hapless cattlemen they capture on the trail. In contrast to today’s multiplex McMovies, “The Oxbow Incident” has no digital effects, comic book heroes, vicious mutants, alienated alien...

"...that'll be me." I don't usually care for country music but I find this particular title fits very nicely in my relationship with Blue. Blue*(Not Her Real Name Either)--I don't know why I'm protecting these people since they are surely not innocent--was the one I met in my movie club who was kind of a friend, though I was hoping for a lot more (sex). She sent me an email today suggesting we hook up, and adding that it might be awkward since I now know she has been dating (humping) this fellow for the last two months. How nice. Me, I can barely get a kiss on the cheek and this other guy gets the New Year's Eve pipe job in Vermont. But, awkward?!?! Oh, perish the thought, I'm perfectly comfortable with this. My ass. I'm not comfortable, I am miserable, angry and hurt and I don't want to see Blue ever again, goodbye, see you later, don't let the door hit you on the ass on the way out. I believe most of this is my fault, bec...