Three Topics

Santa Claus the Dog/Baby and Contrarians

It’s Thanks to Cacophony that the “Pub Crawl” Santa Suit is Now Sold Widely

Saturday is Santaday

August 8th will be the last day of business for the venerable Lloyd Center in Portland, Oregon. A half dozen chaotic events — including Lloyderpalooza — will fill the dead mall for the first time in a decade. Amidst the hubbub, members of the Cacophony Society (and their friends) will make a long-delayed appearance at the mall. In 1996 a mob of 200+ Santas tried to enter the mall to summon the spirit of Olympic figure skater Tonya Harding, who started her ice career there as a child. Thirty years ago police thwarted the Santas, but this Saturday the Red Tide will make a comeback.

The meet-up is at the Broadway Pub at 1:00 in the afternoon. The crowd will gather until a 2:00 short two-block walk to the mall. If you come early, around noon, you can help me inflate some of the hundreds of balloons we’ll be giving away. Age, race and gender will be abolished, and everyone will enter the Utopian mall world as a Santa Claus. You know you want to do this. It’s called closure. #RedTideLloydCenter.

How Could You Cheat Yourself?

A friend sent me this link about recent book deals scotched by suspected A.I. use.

In addition, the popular novel Shy Girl has also been withdrawn, linked here. As Frankie’s Shelf describes the book, the protagonist eventually delivers a stillborn half-human, half-dog baby… then smears the birthing blood all over the house… and eventually confronts the dead infant’s father by consuming the dead dog/baby. (Did you not notice that this endeavor is called Plot Spoiler?)

I ask you, Why use A.I. to write that scene?? Why cheat yourself out of the joy of tackling such a jump-the-shark climax? Are we not writing for the joy and challenge of it anymore? If you want to be “transgressive” you need to get some skin in the game. Decades ago, in his first drafts of In the City of Shy Hunters, my teacher Tom Spanbauer had a character fight the 80s AIDS crisis by raping New York’s Cardinal Cooke, and infecting Cooke with HIV. It wasn’t subtle, but Tom labored forever to make the scene vivid and engaging (despite, you know, raping someone to give them AIDS). Of course his publisher refused to allow that to happen in the eventual book, but at least Tom learned to become a better writer. It was the Challenge, okay?

Where’s the joy and challenge in asking A.I. to write your cannibal/dog/baby scene?

Sheesh.

My Soft Spot for Contrarians

As a lifelong lily-livered coward I’ve always harbored a soft spot for people who deliberately put themselves into opposition with others. Among these folks is Andrew Sullivan who once told me that, due to his parents’ constant fighting, he was addicted to conflict. As the editor of The New Republic his knee jerk reaction was always to oppose his staff. Another nod goes to Bret Ellis, who’s never shied away from a fight. The writer Joy Williams — who once said “You don’t write to make friends” — is another fighter.

A quarter-century ago I used to take my first dog to a Pug Play Day where I met the writer Jim Goad, his wife Amy, and their pug. By then Jim was already notorious for beating his girlfriend and doing time in prison. My long-time editor Gerry Howard was interested in publishing Goad’s The Redneck Manifest but finally lost interest. However, Goad’s writing about his murdered older brother, Bucky, always made me suspect that his outward dick-ness masked the messed-up agony of his childhood.

Whatever the case, Jim Goad has been dead since June 22nd. Whether his death was from cancer or suicide, he joins his brother and his pug dog now. A small world… his ex-wife, Amy, is now married to my barber. This is, indeed, a very small world. At this point my best wishes go out to Goad’s young son. You poor kid.

My eternal thanks to Bruce for letting me know via The Cult. Life is short, come give out balloons to kids on Saturday. I’m toting three cylinders of helium in my little car.

Who are your favorite Contrarians?