tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7095210240314334952024-03-14T05:23:59.268-07:00Michael J. MartineckMichael J. Martineckhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17806404898124796097noreply@blogger.comBlogger292125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-709521024031433495.post-44458172193808688542024-03-04T14:14:00.000-08:002024-03-04T14:14:29.013-08:00En Suite Mystery of Life<p>
</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTZe0v2wbcqnAp45j5C-MHVo53uW-e7YAXLNn9Rx9YXeuThSVyf-DGoQYCxrHDVfTgJoSlqhpW6E9l4HIhlOkowzwIUBEBU_vA4PPrD8sKpjk2ro7zaO8G7XvxXAAUHqFsPbN8dzzHvWupuvqLerM3OoqmgSRuu12sBVljd_rcXmNshP_H-iB7_lwwfZA/s2016/IMG_0738.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2016" data-original-width="1512" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTZe0v2wbcqnAp45j5C-MHVo53uW-e7YAXLNn9Rx9YXeuThSVyf-DGoQYCxrHDVfTgJoSlqhpW6E9l4HIhlOkowzwIUBEBU_vA4PPrD8sKpjk2ro7zaO8G7XvxXAAUHqFsPbN8dzzHvWupuvqLerM3OoqmgSRuu12sBVljd_rcXmNshP_H-iB7_lwwfZA/s320/IMG_0738.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>This is a current photo from my bathroom. Two people use this bathroom. Two. Do you see anything wrong here? Why is no one talking about this? Toothbrushes breed, people. Left alone, in damp conditions, they multiply like relatives at the reading of a will. If you believe that the Rothschild’s ordered the Illuminati to keep Trump out of office during their great virus test, that’s fine. <p></p><p>
But I’ve heard that one. How secret is a conspiracy that I know all about? Out here on Grand Island. No, it’s the conspiracies that we haven’t heard about that are shaping our society. </p><p>
One of them involves getting extra toothbrushes into your house. YOUR HOUSE. Look for them.</p><p>
Ah! Sweet mystery of life
<br />At last I've found thee.
</p>Michael J. Martineckhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17806404898124796097noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-709521024031433495.post-84100844820536399532023-08-17T09:17:00.002-07:002023-08-17T09:17:36.456-07:00Super-Earth Mother, Review<p><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Super-Earth-Mother-Engineered-Brave-World-ebook/dp/B0C41F9JWK/ref=sr_1_1?crid=1R9C1C2P6DU4N&keywords=super-earth+mother&qid=1692288932&sprefix=super-earth+mothe%2Caps%2C116&sr=8-1" target="_blank"></a></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjVpWxyZTmtJiHV0eeoqauLH_HAos0i4h1BDgi8YOJDkgvZyy_1tWpXyiUvADShlaw2pPatmGwqXWe3zVkLRPulG4VCvexO6rpBYGXPdptC8UCl_sE1Hh4hivXtqjWzd4bOjxuIV3iGZZG6uDOe3i33uwhjw2RhuVBy2tbGDa79vIrLik8xda11lZ1hdI/s896/sem-cover-final-copy_med.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="896" data-original-width="580" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjVpWxyZTmtJiHV0eeoqauLH_HAos0i4h1BDgi8YOJDkgvZyy_1tWpXyiUvADShlaw2pPatmGwqXWe3zVkLRPulG4VCvexO6rpBYGXPdptC8UCl_sE1Hh4hivXtqjWzd4bOjxuIV3iGZZG6uDOe3i33uwhjw2RhuVBy2tbGDa79vIrLik8xda11lZ1hdI/s320/sem-cover-final-copy_med.jpg" width="207" /></a></div>Super-Earth Mother by Guy Immega gives birth to a complete and fascinating world - raising, educating and challenging the reader along the way. The novel is everything a new work of science fiction wants to be when it grows up: Thoughtful. <p></p><p>
I was immediately enchanted by an AI story in the first person. The reader gets a clear look at immense intelligence, still limited in its understanding of humans and our nature. The approach is enlightening and sometimes just, plain funny.</p><p>
As the novel continued, what I found remarkable about <i><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Super-Earth-Mother-Engineered-Brave-World-ebook/dp/B0C41F9JWK/ref=sr_1_1?crid=1R9C1C2P6DU4N&keywords=super-earth+mother&qid=1692288932&sprefix=super-earth+mothe%2Caps%2C116&sr=8-1" target="_blank">Mother </a></i>is the range of topics and ideas Immega musters in the course of the story. Genetics, Astro physics, linguistics, medicine, computer architecture – it sounds perhaps too much, but it isn’t. He pushes foreword on every subject he needs in order to tell a compelling story. The story is always first, there are no side-trips just to show off some shinny new concept. Nope. We get the opposite, done the hard way. When the story requires interstellar propulsion and navigation, we are treated to the tackle of those issues. When the story leads us to more internal needs, like food, water and company, we examine those issues with fresh insight. The story always leads, which when you step back and look, is kind of amazing. </p><p>
Immega didn’t set out to write about robots because he knew about robots. He set out to write a story set in a fully imagined future and had to learn about everything a world entails - biology, psychology, chemistry, etc. - along the way. Crazy. And correct.
With the story always leading the ideas, the story stays good. This is an enticing, enveloping read, with an organic, realistic pacing and flow. I will be back for more. I hope the gestation of Immega’s next novel is not too terribly long.
</p>Michael J. Martineckhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17806404898124796097noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-709521024031433495.post-79212368089175417042022-10-11T08:04:00.001-07:002022-10-11T08:04:42.675-07:00Started Teaching<p>No time for silly blogs. I started teaching - English 202, Writing and Research - and haven't had time for much beyond lesson plans, grading and trying to stay at least 15 seconds ahead of my students. Perhaps I'll catch up at the holidays. Perhaps . . . </p>Michael J. Martineckhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17806404898124796097noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-709521024031433495.post-41936964168861350162022-08-21T12:53:00.000-07:002022-08-21T12:53:36.865-07:00Rosetta Mind Review<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjncojGgGao4I9TDpu17TsijHY2m2wBPqBTlQOij10VIPns9uX07wepKZKnPWQCQ8djU_H6iponhDOQgJL4qBB_rWg0PN5ZAUwR87WL_C4YDEN-ND1xZfwsiNlUoiAPOiVIXyBug2ML0ANY6LmxeZarLuZXCbunOlWaK3t3hNYIXyTXKO03WEFVOQvR/s2000/stock-photo-165151397.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1307" data-original-width="2000" height="209" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjncojGgGao4I9TDpu17TsijHY2m2wBPqBTlQOij10VIPns9uX07wepKZKnPWQCQ8djU_H6iponhDOQgJL4qBB_rWg0PN5ZAUwR87WL_C4YDEN-ND1xZfwsiNlUoiAPOiVIXyBug2ML0ANY6LmxeZarLuZXCbunOlWaK3t3hNYIXyTXKO03WEFVOQvR/s320/stock-photo-165151397.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>If I were to speak about this book - out loud, not in the blog of a metaphor - I’d say SCIENCE fiction. Emphasis has shifted over the years. I’m not a pure, hard-science loyalist, so I’m not going pop out of my trench and charge at Star Wars fans, waving Claire McCague’s <i>Rosetta Mind </i>as a banner. But, well, if I <i>were</i> going to pick a new book to lob in the cause, this would be the one.<p></p><p>
The novel is packed with so much speculative science, from so many different disciplines, that I finished stunned it was written by one person. McCague is Asimov-like in her command of so many different branches of knowledge, combined with an artist’s sense of timing and story. Only she’s a bit funnier than Isaac, which helps when you think the world is going to end.</p><p>
But don’t let the science pin you in your own trench. McCague has created a cast that includes scientists with different specialties as well as non-scientists. The physicists talk to biologists who talk to doctors as they all need each others' help. The reader benefits from the cross-study conversations. In most cases, when I had a question, someone else inside the book did too. And it was answered.
<br />“Did they stridulate?” Bernie asked.<br />“That’s a fancy word.”
And Bernie goes on to explain it. Not in lecture form. We’re all adults here.</p><p>
Before you plunge into this one, you’re better off reading McCague’s <i>Rosetta Man</i>. But I would’ve told you that before a sequel ever appeared, looming over the literary field like a Zeppelin, with loudspeakers blaring “Peace to all. The science can be as fun as the fiction. I’ve brought squirrels to prove it.”
</p>Michael J. Martineckhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17806404898124796097noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-709521024031433495.post-49423114601911019222022-07-27T11:31:00.000-07:002022-07-27T11:31:04.618-07:00The Rosetta Mind<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMwFgn_4TLdigBl3fYKsm9Tu7hpDcPkoD1CDqTbXzFtaXnaoGZuma6AauQcCTSr1R47qYSO-JbbXUqroKhaWSioG6j6dQrVLXxNAVuTIthhBa2juV1qm27WrPJNUfdd6r-9ekZ-uwUuY_xOBsm-bf3AHsdHLbNh_Nj0zK-jM1mGNeio0oxpDz4_ajl/s500/41ZCY1KBcqL.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="323" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMwFgn_4TLdigBl3fYKsm9Tu7hpDcPkoD1CDqTbXzFtaXnaoGZuma6AauQcCTSr1R47qYSO-JbbXUqroKhaWSioG6j6dQrVLXxNAVuTIthhBa2juV1qm27WrPJNUfdd6r-9ekZ-uwUuY_xOBsm-bf3AHsdHLbNh_Nj0zK-jM1mGNeio0oxpDz4_ajl/s320/41ZCY1KBcqL.jpg" width="207" /></a></div><a href="https://smile.amazon.com/dp/B0B4F71BKX?pd_rd_i=B0B4F71BKX&pd_rd_w=goYA2&content-id=amzn1.sym.365ccefb-5225-499d-99d7-c1efaa26fa22&pf_rd_p=365ccefb-5225-499d-99d7-c1efaa26fa22&pd_rd_wg=PuGp8&pd_rd_r=837df822-4c4a-4a12-9faa-d1d9c76e9041&ref_=pe_26987920_654813050_ssub" target="_blank">The Rosetta Mind</a> comes out Aug. 25. I have not read it, so I can't review it, but this is the second from Claire McCague in this series. I loved the first - <a href="https://smile.amazon.com/gp/product/B013CCVX9E?notRedirectToSDP=1&ref_=dbs_mng_calw_0&storeType=ebooks" target="_blank">The Rosetta Man</a> - so very much. It is a first-contact story that takes the problem of alien communication so seriously it becomes pretty funny. No babble fish or universal translators here. The Rosetta books posit aliens that are, well, alien. Not the inscrutable kind, the more squirrely variety. <p></p>Michael J. Martineckhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17806404898124796097noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-709521024031433495.post-27588299780252386962022-06-21T11:22:00.000-07:002022-06-21T11:22:39.848-07:00Hire me to tear down your swing set<p>
</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwrR2IwoK0SeIaehMLuY3HPozG0jXJqnfv8o9J-8s50aZPwFzUDmnMmumGu_I2MoIsSEv2tF7v6uMEfeyYMD8VGMougJv5P-_iormHOoWxfCoJtunqNDrmjLA07S6hCsk-2jdmS9nrfUgCsd83hrTsCPArZV-M4Y2WN13WJdXDTe3Od_ykUcdO1VsS/s267/refurbished--backyard-adventures-playset.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="250" data-original-width="267" height="250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwrR2IwoK0SeIaehMLuY3HPozG0jXJqnfv8o9J-8s50aZPwFzUDmnMmumGu_I2MoIsSEv2tF7v6uMEfeyYMD8VGMougJv5P-_iormHOoWxfCoJtunqNDrmjLA07S6hCsk-2jdmS9nrfUgCsd83hrTsCPArZV-M4Y2WN13WJdXDTe3Od_ykUcdO1VsS/s1600/refurbished--backyard-adventures-playset.jpg" width="267" /></a></div>If you have an old backyard play set with ladders, fort, slide and swings I will disassemble it for you. That way you won’t have to hear the wees and squeals and laughter that comes with every crack of a board or breaking of a beam. For you, no memories of pirate ships, space stations, and shops that sold you rocks claiming to be ice cream. The best kind of ice cream. The kind that never melts. You won't recall a little one swinging higher than safe, sliding faster than wise, trampling mud where you wanted to grow grass and now don’t care. Nope. Hire me. I work cheap. In fact, I’ll work for nothing. I’ll tear down your old swing set for free if you might tear down mine.
<p></p>Michael J. Martineckhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17806404898124796097noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-709521024031433495.post-49468838050481097122022-06-16T10:51:00.001-07:002022-06-16T10:51:35.155-07:00This podcast will make you feel better<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmRpH35mGvV2D5aOOLAoxHxJLQW21jSXEXhIqQ8uye8YfKf8u8pBsyxbASVBooCBuf_GlptpzlqJV2tw9MUqBwYh7wTyO1QS60FUI6sIwz7wLYvoqLg-zgYXZBTKyVhPF6wM0b-vVa_xyCBaOdoqWHaQEvEJLJBTM_4XwU5gic7prCPqqrSSv4dXuZ/s1280/7fgGiwo2RDmydR5kiO0p_fused_spine_training_43.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmRpH35mGvV2D5aOOLAoxHxJLQW21jSXEXhIqQ8uye8YfKf8u8pBsyxbASVBooCBuf_GlptpzlqJV2tw9MUqBwYh7wTyO1QS60FUI6sIwz7wLYvoqLg-zgYXZBTKyVhPF6wM0b-vVa_xyCBaOdoqWHaQEvEJLJBTM_4XwU5gic7prCPqqrSSv4dXuZ/s320/7fgGiwo2RDmydR5kiO0p_fused_spine_training_43.png" width="320" /></a></div>It is customary at the gym to pay no attention to the other attendees. We're all in various stages of wellness. Thank goodness. Anyone who by chance, or flouting custom, noticed me today would have thought either 1.) this guy can't handle what he's doing or 2.) he is listening to the audio version of <i>The Notebook</i>. I was listening to a podcast.<p></p><p><a href="https://www.t3fitt.com/" target="_blank">Teresa Teuscher at T3fitt</a> got my wife Sarah and our friend Jan to talk about the work they do as <a href="http://www.worldspineoutreach.com/" target="_blank">World Spine Outreach</a>. They don't like to talk about it. Partly because they are shy, partly because they don't want to be the focus - its about the kids. Mostly, I think now, because the story is very, very moving.</p><p>WSO helps children with spine problems, mostly scoliosis. Every year WSO puts together millions of dollars in donations - medical supplies and time and skill - and uses those resources to make lives better. All of it. No overhead, no salaries. You will not find another charity that passes donations through to those in need with less friction. It's an ongoing miracle. </p><p>Ironically, one of the reasons this operation works so well is the selflessness. Which means Sarah and Jan, the founders, never boast or brag. Almost to a fault. Singer, songwriter, and scoliosis warrior <a href="https://www.instagram.com/tinaparol/?hl=en" target="_blank">Tina Parol</a> convinced them that a tiny toot of the horn might help WSO help even more people. T3fitt agrees.</p><p><a href="https://www.t3fitt.com/blog/">Check it out here</a>.</p>Michael J. Martineckhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17806404898124796097noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-709521024031433495.post-90947706608865946982022-06-08T12:07:00.003-07:002022-06-08T12:07:39.672-07:00Guns, cars, armories, solutions<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgf9NWDg5E1Vr_xqhkvoHeziq4-9eFtUtOlW62IGGifsq21CF--lUowMlClHD8wcL3k1JyfIzeVQwWoYwF3eRfM6Wc31Tq_ar6HUr13O0LacAyuUhO1xERxYsZIfV7O1tCBOdzSIAhbDzIwa55EQuLbajUDDCch-auZT03KnKQ-vebOgtxjQv3V0Z9i/s970/Connecticut-St-Facade-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="970" data-original-width="728" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgf9NWDg5E1Vr_xqhkvoHeziq4-9eFtUtOlW62IGGifsq21CF--lUowMlClHD8wcL3k1JyfIzeVQwWoYwF3eRfM6Wc31Tq_ar6HUr13O0LacAyuUhO1xERxYsZIfV7O1tCBOdzSIAhbDzIwa55EQuLbajUDDCch-auZT03KnKQ-vebOgtxjQv3V0Z9i/s320/Connecticut-St-Facade-2.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>I like guns. I’m attracted to all things mechanical. I like helicopters, tractors, Roombas, catapults, pianos, and, most of all – the automobile. The coolest and fastest of which I am not allowed to drive. I do not have a racing license and these cars are not street legal. They are not meant for the roads we all share. They are wondrously powerful and therefore reserved for the trained and for competition. Like most car enthusiasts I put up with this. I understand that cool as it would be to drive a single-seat, opened wheeled racecar up and down Elmwood on a Friday night, it’s not exactly safe for anyone, me included. Headlights (at least 22 inches off the ground), some distance between my car and the pavement, an exhaust system that doesn’t blowout windows as I drive by, bumpers, flaps and fenders, etc. I can buy one. I’m allowed to own a racecar; I’m just not allowed to use it unless I go to a closed course. <p></p><p>
That was the way with guns. </p><p>
Whenever I hear people talk about not needing an assault rifle to hunt deer, I shake my head a little bit. No one knows this fact better than your average gun enthusiast. There are varmint guns, hunting guns, home protection weapons . . . and then there’s the assault rifle. It is designed, and people own them to, combat a serious aggressor. Like the government. </p><p>
This was always this way with guns.</p><p>
Which is why the Second Amendment of the US Constitution says, “A well regulated Militia, being necessary to the security of a free State, the right of the people to keep and bear Arms, shall not be infringed.” The Founders had just formed a shaky state, by cutting themselves off from a tyrant. The militia is an important – and now often overlooked – part of that sentence. The early United States militias were like volunteer fire companies. They gathered regularly. Trained and drank beer. They built and maintained community arsenals to store their powder and lead and firearms. Maybe even canon. Which weren’t, you know, street legal. Some things are not supposed to be just out there for anyone, no matter how cool.</p><p>
During the Civil War, America’s relationship with militias and their munitions magazines changed. The militias became more formal, morphing into National Guard. The arsenals became armories, and for the most part, the doors closed to the club.</p><p>We should reopen those doors. If we are going to stick with the current Second Amendment, we should go all in. Local, and I mean local, brigades, with local arsenals. Free and open to anyone who wants to train. Just like volunteer fire companies. We can maintain a defense against any aggressor, foreign or domestic, while also keeping continuous checks on the members. </p><p>
Sure you can own an assault rifle, but you’ll need to keep it at the armory. Where you can train with it, learn how best to use it, and prepare for whatever kind of threat you fear. But leave it there. Like a closed course and car that isn’t street legal. </p><p>
It’s a not a loss of liberty, it’s a way to help ensure liberty for everyone.
</p>Michael J. Martineckhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17806404898124796097noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-709521024031433495.post-55557063651269155202022-04-13T06:10:00.005-07:002022-04-13T06:10:51.174-07:00Billsism’s Cathedral<p>
</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo2vFAP5JkrYuGwEn3RKsueKyAORcmf05gJq3lSv1D8LwXSwM1jlizmEPx4ERQjeCpJn1uvdXm5rf_jOk9o7ir715o6xvnVf4PPB1hvrAwo5DGk8vZlXWASuAKBUIwhUI2w2z2Z3mAEVUB_qxppuhuNOvSQcVx9spdMDVWYMnanoAOsq2iU6MmOZTh/s1000/bills-new-stadium-field.webp" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="1000" height="192" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo2vFAP5JkrYuGwEn3RKsueKyAORcmf05gJq3lSv1D8LwXSwM1jlizmEPx4ERQjeCpJn1uvdXm5rf_jOk9o7ir715o6xvnVf4PPB1hvrAwo5DGk8vZlXWASuAKBUIwhUI2w2z2Z3mAEVUB_qxppuhuNOvSQcVx9spdMDVWYMnanoAOsq2iU6MmOZTh/s320/bills-new-stadium-field.webp" width="320" /></a></div>Consternation over a new stadium for the Buffalo Bills is understandable. In fact, it’s almost mandatory, because most people do not fully understand that the Bills are neither a sports team nor a business. The Bills are a religion.<p></p><p>
I’m kind of not joking. Religion is a slippery concept. It does not require a deity. There are a number of nontheistic religions, include Buddhism, which is practiced by about seven percent of the world’s population, making it the fourth most practiced religion in the world. It is not an outlier.</p><p>
At its most basic, the term religion can be any system of beliefs and practices. Devotion to the Buffalo Bills gets past those markers. Though most people would agree that a religion should reach for the large, the spiritual. Billsism does that too. </p><p>
Billieve is plastered on billboards and bumper-stickers all over the region (if not all over the world.) We are encouraged to support the team’s actions and goals pretty much on faith. That faith has been tested in saint-like trails over the years. They went 1 and 13 in 1971. They went to four super bowls in a row, 1990-1993, losing all four. Snowstorms, below zero temperatures, traffic, flaming folding tables – through it all, fans are asked to endure, focus and Billieve. And so we watch every game, shaping our lives around game times. We read newspapers. We listen to AM radio. Am, people. We participate in endless discussions of possibilities, hopes and torments. There are Bills-specific phrases, like wide-right. While general football fans understand the denotation, Bills followers have a much more moribund connation: We have lost at the moment of triumph. It ties into one of the many Bills parables and acolytes. Where would you rather be than right here, right now?</p><p>
The most critical aspect of a religion has, with regard to the stadium conversation, become the most impactful. Like most religions, Billsism defies common logic. People outside the faith cannot be expected to fully comprehend the need for a place of worship. Mesoamerican pyramids ate up unimaginable resources for those civilizations. What kind of people started Notre Dame de Paris in 1163, with no cranes or bulldozers or nail guns? Or nails that weren’t hammered out individually, by hand? Those people were Bills fans . . . the equivalent there of. </p><p>
Understanding that fact can help us understand why there will never be a consensus on how best to build a new stadium. The Buffalo Bills is a private company, making substantial profits. There is no reason to support that endeavor with public funds. Yep. They should build exactly what they need to better their business goals and keep the government out of it. </p><p>
Or the Buffalo Bills are an ever-changing pantheon of near deific heroes worthy of a Parthenon. Also yep. Let’s create an architectural miracle that exemplifies our love and devotion, as well as the profound abilities and stature of our community. </p><p>
Compromising those positions gets you a large bowl surrounded by acers of nothing eighteen miles from the center of this civilization. No retractable roof, with very little utility beyond a dozen or so games a year - three percent of the year - placed conveniently next to the previous, now empty and crumbling billion-dollar bowl. Future archeologists will look back on us and write papers trying to discern why.
</p>Michael J. Martineckhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17806404898124796097noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-709521024031433495.post-85145432430637320122022-03-31T05:55:00.001-07:002022-03-31T06:22:34.722-07:00The Oppenheimer Alternative<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBe6Rwvsa4nWhn_PA9UF1nRW0VFq4U8MvjIcqQBLL2YNwtt_OY4Y3NaZmE0VX-ZdW3OcIwS_Spe0w4tMNcKSBDjiDj6KTwjc83d9dlqAEY_eYQemZVBnXhwe06-DuyoCH2oEW4wCuFwTQTHFAP2dC-SgIv06LSWVjXUc4LUi1guIbKx7oc7JKVXqMl/s500/51ix-2GhfcL.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="348" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBe6Rwvsa4nWhn_PA9UF1nRW0VFq4U8MvjIcqQBLL2YNwtt_OY4Y3NaZmE0VX-ZdW3OcIwS_Spe0w4tMNcKSBDjiDj6KTwjc83d9dlqAEY_eYQemZVBnXhwe06-DuyoCH2oEW4wCuFwTQTHFAP2dC-SgIv06LSWVjXUc4LUi1guIbKx7oc7JKVXqMl/s320/51ix-2GhfcL.jpg" width="223" /></a></div>Robert J. Sawyer's book is not what you think and I think more books should be that way. At first it feels like historical fiction - exceptionally thorough and well-researched. Then it bends a bit, giving us the alternative hinted at the title. By the end, though, the book is something else all together. I will give nothing away, other than my admiration. This novel is like a painting that you first encounter three inches from your nose. You can't fully appreciate it until you've backed up. Or, in this case, read through to the end. Loved it.<p></p><p>I read the electronic version, not that the method matters much, other than the ability to search things, which came in handy.</p><p><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Oppenheimer-Alternative-Robert-J-Sawyer-ebook/dp/B084H26X5S" target="_blank">The Oppenheimer Alternative</a>, by Robert J. Sawyer.</p><br />Michael J. Martineckhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17806404898124796097noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-709521024031433495.post-16968405122407824832022-03-24T11:40:00.001-07:002022-03-24T11:40:50.419-07:00Tom Mullen Talks Freedom<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifsruyVz4jiLyVoFeIG1uWRRvTccrEVz3JL4Z9SIXMSTnpE687gqhFsqB1wIZHPsYPYH8hb0xsJ4jGvGtOOAQ1ywPE1xKH9z17kSPN_kCUqX8lkw7dFV_EaWmhjhhRLOhII-6WZhR8zjEJLNLz6BrAC1L2dAAwiCdvenDvP-N0CvHnAR8H1RmH-Mf4/s3000/K74kmaXcD7Z0IBwo_h-YhxLw.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Tom Mullen Talks Freedom Podcast" border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="3000" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifsruyVz4jiLyVoFeIG1uWRRvTccrEVz3JL4Z9SIXMSTnpE687gqhFsqB1wIZHPsYPYH8hb0xsJ4jGvGtOOAQ1ywPE1xKH9z17kSPN_kCUqX8lkw7dFV_EaWmhjhhRLOhII-6WZhR8zjEJLNLz6BrAC1L2dAAwiCdvenDvP-N0CvHnAR8H1RmH-Mf4/w320-h320/K74kmaXcD7Z0IBwo_h-YhxLw.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Like a straight guy going to a gay bar, but a safe one. Maybe you're a marathon runner who wants to try a cigar - take a puff of this. I have a new podcast on rotation. Tom is a capital-friendly libertarian, but rational and reasonable. So I get to listen to someone outside of my echo chamber without a blood pressure cuff and a tin of pills. His topics include democracy as a value, the American empire, and a recent spat of Ukraine-related topics that might help round out your world view. If you're a Volvo-driving, Picpoul-drinking, NPR listener who thinks AOC should be POTUS, this is your chance to hear how others think. <br /><a href="https://tommullen.net/podcast/" target="_blank">Tom Mullen Talks Freedom</a><p></p>Michael J. Martineckhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17806404898124796097noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-709521024031433495.post-79409478184998280802022-02-11T06:57:00.005-08:002022-02-11T06:58:08.137-08:00Kingo is real<p>
<i></i></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgjIJnDxbkSJhcTyYFKIT6Rl0VL8xMsPXY6WI1CozDAlr1J_soW79wwcxF6N7d_TSxTV0SyzBto1ssUCzOT7UIiPkD2wEJ1ivjb64Yg8nxLY5b6zJ4BeqDdN8_mCaX9zUx1Ph6_Tms0Ue2FU9yseimmo4SxB93HQp7KeYPnJMD2Mvg_ZctF3RXbOE1T=s1200" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="675" data-original-width="1200" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgjIJnDxbkSJhcTyYFKIT6Rl0VL8xMsPXY6WI1CozDAlr1J_soW79wwcxF6N7d_TSxTV0SyzBto1ssUCzOT7UIiPkD2wEJ1ivjb64Yg8nxLY5b6zJ4BeqDdN8_mCaX9zUx1Ph6_Tms0Ue2FU9yseimmo4SxB93HQp7KeYPnJMD2Mvg_ZctF3RXbOE1T=s320" width="320" /></a></i></div><i>Eternals</i>, Chloé Zhao’s entry into the Marvel Cinematic Universe, was not the best reviewed movie of the 27-feature film set. It is not the worst. And ranking them at all is pointless. Movies are not horses in a race. I can love or hate many films simultaneously. Or, as in the case of Eternals, land somewhere in the middle, and curious as to why.<p></p><p>
I love all Marvel movies without shame or irony. Zhao’s take on the superhero world is lovable and laudable, though it didn’t fill me with glee as did almost every other movie and TV show set in this world. It gave me a fair amount of glee - perhaps 80% the norm – but it didn’t top me off. I just watched it again to figure out why. And one of the reasons is Kingo.</p><p>
If you have not seen this movie, you should stop here and go read other things I’ve written. Most are better than this post anyway.</p><p>
As you may or may not remember, Kingo is part of a band of superbeings sent to protect humanity from Deviants. Sort of like angels sent by God to keep demons at bay. Kingo can shoot blasts of energy from his hands. He is played by Kumail Nanjiani, who is absolutely not my problem with the character. Nope. Nanjiani’s performance is delightful – funny, touching, heroic from a place of reluctance (which is hard to pull off in a movie dealing eleven other major characters) and most of all, real. </p><p>
That last adjective is the problem. In the lead up the climax, Zhao has Kingo exit. He leaves before the big fight. I fully expected him to return at a critical moment. Yes, a plot device we’ve seen done to death, but hey, it’s common because it generally works. Zhao never takes that tool out of the drawer and it’s brave, artistic, original and so un-superhero like that it bothered me. </p><p>
At the end of the second act, Kingo is given a choice: He can side with the Eternals that want the Earth to crack like a big egg releasing a being that will help save the universe, or he can side the Eternals that want to stave off the cracking and save humanity. Tough choice, really. The people you see versus the multitude you do not. The tangible versus the hypothetical. Now v. future.</p><p>
Kingo doesn’t choose. He picks door number three. He walks away, leaving this philosophical mess to the others. It’s a crazy choice for a Marvel superhero. It’s also crazy realistic. Most of us don’t know what to do in an emergency. We like to think we do but faced with completely new and unpredicted situations most of us – most, I stress – hesitate and contemplate. It’s why first-responders train. It’s why pilots, Navy SEALS and surgeons train. Practice mitigates chaos. We find people who can handle chaos heroic because they react like we all want to react. </p><p>
Regardless of his training – or programming or whatever Eternals go through – Kingo acts like a common human. It’s a bold move in a world of Captain Americas, Iron people and Asgardians. I respect about as much as it disturbed me. I read comic books and watch superhero movies to break these human boundaries. Sure, there’s plenty of other characters in this movie who serve as heroic ideals. One dissenter should not have marred the effect. And yet it did.</p><p>
The movie is about order’s never-ending fight with chaos. The Eternals exist to dispel the Deviants because they deviated from their orders. The Eternals were created by Celestials, who’s purpose in the universe is to reduce entropy. They will destroy Earth and all of us who live here to hold off disorder. Kingo found this fight unwinnable and unnecessary and went home to chillax and accept the inevitable. Even though some of his family brought forth a stay of execution for humanity, they did not change the second law of thermodynamics. Entropy always increases with time. </p><p>
Kingo will be right, eventually. A real hero.
</p>Michael J. Martineckhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17806404898124796097noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-709521024031433495.post-72930756181796777142021-12-13T16:41:00.002-08:002021-12-13T16:41:40.372-08:00In the dark<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEif6kgrtpjGqTm-M03BNK7Oykm666CzniLXyvK-iq0N2K3aUQUkOPrQGkyfPxsniZT_I19dnJ0kA6ggKRDgk2Qp314QUxxkiqGKo-UCbgXVVbuRBAPVK-O_DNr6R1_46DcqOJ6VdUCMqAX-czGZW3xmcxoLbs7S2DBOvPiH8t1u3QwUtmv5eLeHfEQO=s259" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="194" data-original-width="259" height="194" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEif6kgrtpjGqTm-M03BNK7Oykm666CzniLXyvK-iq0N2K3aUQUkOPrQGkyfPxsniZT_I19dnJ0kA6ggKRDgk2Qp314QUxxkiqGKo-UCbgXVVbuRBAPVK-O_DNr6R1_46DcqOJ6VdUCMqAX-czGZW3xmcxoLbs7S2DBOvPiH8t1u3QwUtmv5eLeHfEQO" width="259" /></a></div>So I’m walking around in the dark, flailing my arms like a chicken. I’m at the gym on a Saturday night. It’s only 5:30, but this time of year that means dead of night and there are no lights. I got in with one those fobs, no problem. Now I’m trying not to stumble over kettle balls and dumb bells and negate my modest attempt to stay healthy. I figured the lights would go on with a motion sensor. Makes sense, right?<p></p><p>
Wrong. I’m just getting some weak, blue ambience down from distant street lights and through the tinted windows.
After a few minutes of this, I decide to workout anyway. I’m here, this is the time, and light shouldn’t matter much to the bone density I want to protect. I change into my shorts. I use the light on my iPhone to find the settings on the machine and put my ear buds in.</p><p>
Here’s the weird part. I have to take the ear buds out. I can’t sit in the dark AND tune out the world. I can’t listen to a pod cast about grammar. I can’t listen to music. I have to keep the ear buds out because I’m so freaked out working out in the dark.
I think now losing one sense does not make the others stronger – it makes you cherish them more. It makes you want to wring more out of them. As we should with just about everything. I listen to my huffing and puffing. It's not pleasant, nor informative.</p><p>
I did not injure myself attempting to stay healthy. Yeah me.
</p><br />Michael J. Martineckhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17806404898124796097noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-709521024031433495.post-45118699313763855272021-11-04T11:02:00.000-07:002021-11-04T11:02:03.797-07:00Dumpster Diving<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ9ZU8AcOZZc1kDJ5AsJEg6x5jkzfE2FwLYzeYGXKu7BQEH8Dudu-LaY-vZ7Gq9N1e8mbpe1aRiIx1dL0bnQCgNPreNkbIwc3JJaWp53gpvACMRGctZkNKAZl8gnQmOt_0oGIshlh-CT4/s262/download.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="192" data-original-width="262" height="192" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ9ZU8AcOZZc1kDJ5AsJEg6x5jkzfE2FwLYzeYGXKu7BQEH8Dudu-LaY-vZ7Gq9N1e8mbpe1aRiIx1dL0bnQCgNPreNkbIwc3JJaWp53gpvACMRGctZkNKAZl8gnQmOt_0oGIshlh-CT4/s0/download.jpg" width="262" /></a></div>
So I stop at the Dollar Store because I want a new luffa. Being the Dollar Store I buy all kinds of other crap - candy bars, tissues, Band-Aids – you know how it goes. I bring my own nylon bag, but in my checkout haze the cashier puts everything in an unmarked, brown paper bag. This unsettles me, but fine. It’s not worth dumping stuff from container one to another, even though this is not my system. I’m trying to be more flexible in my life and not make a huge deal out of such things. It is in trying to be better that I am wrong.
I drop the bag somewhere in the house, I don’t care where, and go about doing things. <p></p><p>The next day is Sunday, I decide to take all my paper recycling up to the church. As a family, we put out a lot of paper. Junk mail, schoolwork, old manuscripts, new manuscripts – I put them in brown paper bags and when there seems like too many, I load up the trucklet and head for St. Stephen’s. I think they make like twenty bucks a month from everyone tossing their paper in the shed-sized bin. Part of me wants to believe it also makes me a better citizen. It is in this belief that I am also wrong.</p><p>
Later that day I remember my bag from the Dollar Store. I can’t find it. I in the familyroom, kitchen, bathroom . . . the bag has vanished. It’s not small. We’re not hoarders. We should be able to find a brown paper bag . . . </p><p>
No, I tell myself. I am not that out-of-it. There’s no way I chucked a bag of candy and bathroom supplies thinking it was scrap paper. No way. I’m not that daffy. And I would’ve had to be that daffy twice. Once to load the SUV, then again to snatch it up and hurl it into the bin. No. I’m not that . . . touched.
After another search, I decided there’s no other course of action. I announce that I’m returning to St. Stephen’s to see if my Dollar Store bag is in the dumpster. Max, for reasons that escape me, says he’s in. We drive up to the church and look inside. Someone else has been there and deposited several hundred pounds of shredded documents. Light, wormy snow. Oodles of it. There’s a light rain, and the temperature has dropped, and Max climbs in anyway. We dig around finding a couple of the bags I chucked. They are easy to spot. Most of the stuff says “Martineck” in the upper right corners.</p><p>
We do not find the bag of Band-Aids, tissues, luffas and candy. </p><p>
I return home not know if I’m going crazy, already crazy or if rolling around in wet shreddings proves I am simply nuts, no other modifier necessary. It is a depressing internal conversation. Do the mad know they’re mad? Is there a moment, like this one, that tips you from kooky to insane?</p><p>
Two days go by and I go down to the basement to get the Firestick off the old TV. Between the old TV and the couch facing it sits a brown paper bag. Inside are Band-Aids, a box of tissues, two luffas and a mess of candy wrappers. There are more of those on the couch. My first thought is mice. But they don’t unwrap. And they don’t lug bags down a flight of stairs so they can relax. Mice never relax. I realize I’m wrong one more time . . . in my choice of mammal of interest.</p><p>
I take the bag up to Max and show him. Max – after watching me search the house, drive up to the church, and rummage through a soggy dumpster for thirty minutes says, “Oh that bag?”
</p><br />Michael J. Martineckhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17806404898124796097noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-709521024031433495.post-4943531741210530962021-10-28T12:48:00.000-07:002021-10-28T12:48:11.605-07:00First Ever?<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg154Bin89Vn1-wfwDgNch4N6NU41qwklUKEyd9hJrhyphenhyphenBouTGKsef2cwaScYukoNJs4yIb0GRlMXl7vuT8c-NQ1-0l50aOV5-vwa5WGlvM5mHPQc9AGzp5rQe2RDS0LfbRn9wser0_qOHo/s733/Screenshot+2021-10-15+103758.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="435" data-original-width="733" height="190" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg154Bin89Vn1-wfwDgNch4N6NU41qwklUKEyd9hJrhyphenhyphenBouTGKsef2cwaScYukoNJs4yIb0GRlMXl7vuT8c-NQ1-0l50aOV5-vwa5WGlvM5mHPQc9AGzp5rQe2RDS0LfbRn9wser0_qOHo/s320/Screenshot+2021-10-15+103758.png" width="320" /></a></div>For the life of me I don’t understand the trend over the past few years to advertise something – usually a car – as The First Ever. Ad agencies continue to repeat the technique, so it must have shown some value early on. Personally, I’m hoping it dies soon, as I do with every trite, over-used, dead-horse phrase. <p></p><p>Auto companies should be especially concerned with hackneyed headlines. Hackneyed is an old term that refers use of a horse used for ordinary rides. Not to show off, race or impress others. None of things one might want out of their Lexus or BMW.</p><p>
The First Ever also strikes me as a dubious feature. It’s good because it’s first? That’s how you want me to spend my $50 large? Yeah, it’s nice to own the newest and all, but how many of us like to have some of the bugs worked out? </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzQJqM_ya8Pvkz3WEGU9HgVn1s1-3s02P0ieG0oW9N1EyEybU0seZrp4W_tohKmeFpADXTiCTuzJ3gkJeziefRcG3H_F8bALRiIFjY61bVGsRDdkUP-hI0LUZIw4-MzVeVnrF8btF5aT4/s630/BMW_first_ever.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="125" data-original-width="630" height="63" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzQJqM_ya8Pvkz3WEGU9HgVn1s1-3s02P0ieG0oW9N1EyEybU0seZrp4W_tohKmeFpADXTiCTuzJ3gkJeziefRcG3H_F8bALRiIFjY61bVGsRDdkUP-hI0LUZIw4-MzVeVnrF8btF5aT4/s320/BMW_first_ever.png" width="320" /></a></div><br />Usually just under 30-percent of any population will consider themselves early adopters. Maybe that trends higher in the luxury car world, where you are paying not to see your car passing you every couple of miles. Still, is that the salient feature? Speed, mileage, safety, comfort – none of these things matter more than being first? Regardless, the headlines alienate two-thirds of your market. <p></p><p>
In the case of Lexus and BMW, I get it. The cars are, in fact, bum-spanking new; you’re not going to get patient adopters anyway. At least in theory. I think trust in the brand goes a long way. Lexus and BMW customers are less hesitant to buy in the first model year because the makers make good cars, so maybe being first has appeal that's not countered by being unseasoned. Still, we're talking cars. Not this year's spring line. Not even a new iPhone. A car is the second biggest purchase most people ever make in one shot. Being the new kid on the block is a weak raison d'acheter. </p><p>And the phrase is tired. Another word that should never be associated with your very new, very expensive automobile. Or your horse.</p><p>
</p>Michael J. Martineckhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17806404898124796097noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-709521024031433495.post-18854342231575831502021-10-04T11:57:00.001-07:002021-10-04T11:57:29.466-07:00<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwMYBUwKTvG-sCq13hwFspMJI6NZ_n0xvf93qN39UgxAsZVvw7Co_uk5IU5ovA_gVpBnflbZGHShvaKewMmLOUn_rHJT-ABzVkXRVyjlJtGXs2MlHcBNqjcX83YpyyWNZVRyQjR-Pn9Co/s320/Face+House.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="320" data-original-width="211" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwMYBUwKTvG-sCq13hwFspMJI6NZ_n0xvf93qN39UgxAsZVvw7Co_uk5IU5ovA_gVpBnflbZGHShvaKewMmLOUn_rHJT-ABzVkXRVyjlJtGXs2MlHcBNqjcX83YpyyWNZVRyQjR-Pn9Co/s0/Face+House.jpg" width="211" /></a></div>I missed the whole month of September. I hate doing that. I don’t want to abandon this blog all together. But, I started writing another novel and I own a home. Or, more accurately perhaps. I live in a home to which I share a deed. It never occurred to me until lately that the house is also on the deed and I’m starting to think the whole deal is a bit of a con. <p></p><p> Do I own the house or does the house own me?</p><p>
The painting, cleaning, tweaking, duct-taping – just trying to figure what to do with the damn thing (what IS that chirping sound?) takes up so much time. Money, yes. But time is the real cost. I can’t get this back. Even hiring people to help takes time. Like I’m feeding my hours to a great, insatiable beast.</p><p>
And so a month goes by without the silliest of posts. A whole month of shoveling minutes into a gaping maw. Sigh.
</p><br />Michael J. Martineckhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17806404898124796097noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-709521024031433495.post-75409984628958974382021-08-24T11:55:00.002-07:002021-08-24T11:56:37.851-07:00Ninety minutes of smiles<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKWKpuDdvTtvJVCCSl0InLKKzIBa_Njv_fBpvHdKmH-7vD_y6Y-au3Jng9gHTCn2ZrOmZxMdAu-Bu3ahDCZtqBRKeMpnRlFutqQuoZsCdFll7c3bQ14rthz7Fm4ddGOUerR2wIsQguyHU/s500/JB-Civil-Writes-transparent-1-min-e1617734802587.png" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="252" data-original-width="500" height="161" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKWKpuDdvTtvJVCCSl0InLKKzIBa_Njv_fBpvHdKmH-7vD_y6Y-au3Jng9gHTCn2ZrOmZxMdAu-Bu3ahDCZtqBRKeMpnRlFutqQuoZsCdFll7c3bQ14rthz7Fm4ddGOUerR2wIsQguyHU/s320/JB-Civil-Writes-transparent-1-min-e1617734802587.png" width="320" /></a></div>I attended poetry reading Sunday hosted by the <a href="https://www.justbuffalo.org/" target="_blank">Just Buffalo Literary Center</a>. They held it at a glen, in Buffalo's Silo City, under at Cottonwood tree that is probably older than all of poet's ages combined. Times four. The readers and writers ranged in age from 13 to 18 and in every case - each one - surpassed my expectations. I am not an easy audience. Writing is serious business for me. And yet every participant left me moved, touched, grinning or thinking. <p></p><p>Sometimes, when I'm writing advertising copy I purposely flip over my notes. I let time pass and see what sits in my memory. What holds the value of recall. These were the grains of gold that stayed in my pan:</p><p>"My voice is a grain of sand on a beach" Keira Lorelei Van Der Beck. <br />"Every 10 days a country celebrates their freedom from British rule." Theo Bellavia-Frank. <br />"It's easy to feel tall in a shallow pool" Nzingha.<br />"You are a tower of book spines" Zanaya Hussain.</p><p>I looked the author names up later, after deciding what resonated. I had access to a online collection and I am really thankful for it. There were even more pieces in the album to provoke me, make me want to read. </p><p>The event was called <i>Hope Blooms from Shattered Roots</i>. It's a strong title except these young people showed strong, sturdy roots drinking in all the literary nutrients they could find. If they ever were shattered, they healed quick . . . like the young can.</p>Michael J. Martineckhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17806404898124796097noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-709521024031433495.post-63539235091993817742021-08-03T10:03:00.003-07:002021-08-03T10:03:49.955-07:00Swinging my machete<p> </p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqcmcJBH7qnLBtXSdCDy2SAHHSFtAh4MrOHHL83Aga4Bsq-clOWM_UtRtTKxC5x0f6ILnB9hZsjvhR2t8OaKEEzgolul7H-7Zx3Pf0oJxa8whRKhPSRapaX_qA_CSB0AyfqF-nojpA6CQ/s1440/222154113_4395590770463006_3875411097462292459_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1440" data-original-width="1440" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqcmcJBH7qnLBtXSdCDy2SAHHSFtAh4MrOHHL83Aga4Bsq-clOWM_UtRtTKxC5x0f6ILnB9hZsjvhR2t8OaKEEzgolul7H-7Zx3Pf0oJxa8whRKhPSRapaX_qA_CSB0AyfqF-nojpA6CQ/s320/222154113_4395590770463006_3875411097462292459_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>I want to walk around swinging my machete. I like doing it
and it is my right. I like exercising that right. Grocery stores, movie
theater, concerts at the Town Ball Room – I want to walk in swinging and swing
whenever I feel like it. My intention is not to hurt anyone.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Still, I will swing wildly and at random from
my truck, through the parking lot, into the dollar store and out again, swiping
back and forth and back and forth. I’m not worried about swinging near children.
I tend to swing high and they tend to be short. I’m not worried about swinging
my machete near old people because they are old. Why do I like swishing my
machete in wide arcs as I move through life? That’s personal. What if I nick,
cut or slice someone along the way? That is a matter of their personal
responsibility. This is the land of freedom.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Express that freedom. Revel in the freedom. Swing your machete. Or bat
or axe or even just your firsts. Don’t let anyone tell you no. They are trying
to control you and that’s a slippery slope. If you let them stop you from
swinging a machete, soon you will find yourself on a collective farm raising
quinoa for the elites. Fight it now. Swing, batta batta batta, swing.<o:p></o:p><p></p>Michael J. Martineckhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17806404898124796097noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-709521024031433495.post-16288483410995596862021-06-25T06:50:00.000-07:002021-06-25T06:50:08.486-07:00Lessons in imagination<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnI2DZaMVkOv3DIfQi41sSUIolpMQItfYsi_SIx09-KSHJHx2shyphenhyphenDO9lOsi8krzXRwrEM9TBiC0e0Yrp5LHOhk4lGNDFDzB34_5k3qkvFeJrhxvwF1PEsjzUVOCTfzJAn6u-ea2JxctUM/s500/61hboQvbfVL.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="336" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnI2DZaMVkOv3DIfQi41sSUIolpMQItfYsi_SIx09-KSHJHx2shyphenhyphenDO9lOsi8krzXRwrEM9TBiC0e0Yrp5LHOhk4lGNDFDzB34_5k3qkvFeJrhxvwF1PEsjzUVOCTfzJAn6u-ea2JxctUM/s320/61hboQvbfVL.jpg" /></a></div>I had the honor of speaking to a Ms. Brown’s seventh-grade reading room a few weeks ago. They had just finished <i>The Misspellers</i>, my first novel, and therefore more than special to me. The novel was written with reluctant readers in mind and Ms. Brown is the first teacher I’ve come across in eighteen years who caught on. Of course, that could be more my fault than the whole of the teaching profession, but it’s probably more an exposure issue. The book was never a runaway bestseller. <p></p><p>
The students asked amazing questions. And I use that word the way Oxford intends: They filled me with wonder. Startled me. </p><p>
“How did you write about a bulldozer fighting an excavator if you’ve never seen it.” Love this question. Gets the heart of why anyone writes – or why anyone reads. We all want to stretch are known experiences into the unknown. It helped our ancestors survive lions and tigers and snow. I’ve seen a snake before, could one be hiding in that hole? This is how imagination saves our lives. Exercising it makes it work better. Which is how writers and artists ensure the existence of humanity. </p><p>
“Does Carlin really like Jack?” I love this question, too. It comes from a cunning insight: Is Jack simply a decent person tossed into Carlin’s world or is there genuine affection? It’s the question of a new person, growing into their world. How much of any of this is real? The same imagination that helps us envision a rock beneath the waves and makes us hesitate before a jump, can also keep us from leaps of the heart. </p><p>
That’s a lot from a little class, reading a little book. It’s the best any writer could ever hope.
</p>Michael J. Martineckhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17806404898124796097noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-709521024031433495.post-38582700775340011512021-05-18T10:06:00.000-07:002021-05-18T10:06:38.470-07:00Hotdogs, Scotch and the Mona Lisa . . .<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNlOzCheLfy2_hgjKAGM4pSQ12bSTUC3TKK2sV-IG3bpbaWNyriWCMPfKs9qR1zTstN11e6uL07RZt4sk0bRUKpdaW8OK64Hxmd6bsr9mAtCYaI3UWSG74_EcjphDk792SYSzOseAtaQk/s522/Header-Inside-the-Mind-3.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="239" data-original-width="522" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNlOzCheLfy2_hgjKAGM4pSQ12bSTUC3TKK2sV-IG3bpbaWNyriWCMPfKs9qR1zTstN11e6uL07RZt4sk0bRUKpdaW8OK64Hxmd6bsr9mAtCYaI3UWSG74_EcjphDk792SYSzOseAtaQk/s320/Header-Inside-the-Mind-3.png" width="320" /></a></div><br />For those willing and fearless, go <a href="https://www.thefaeriereview.com/2021/05/inside-the-mind-michael-j-martineck/" target="_blank">inside the mind of Michael Martineck</a>. This was my first interview in quite some time, so I was a little rusty. Being interesting ain't like riding a bike - supposing I was ever interesting in the first place. Spoiler Alert: I'm not. There is a discussion of wiener classification as it pertains to literary communication paradigms. You won't be getting that anyplace else. <p></p>Michael J. Martineckhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17806404898124796097noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-709521024031433495.post-61526554622114604682021-05-05T10:26:00.005-07:002021-05-05T10:26:47.399-07:00<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKhzhSJCX82AbjcC4mRBdqfyOViWxVArBevrwY0lh2kM2cvas4YcLtAtUPebmqk4WTr6nbx4o8QWGvTnE7ZEugFcJzuc9cQ-kPM9GlWSnUWO3cuGhzxMPmCj_8vFtDWex4vqpAF5i0Cpk/s320/51GQhdwkvIL._SX321_BO1%252C204%252C203%252C200_.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="320" data-original-width="207" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKhzhSJCX82AbjcC4mRBdqfyOViWxVArBevrwY0lh2kM2cvas4YcLtAtUPebmqk4WTr6nbx4o8QWGvTnE7ZEugFcJzuc9cQ-kPM9GlWSnUWO3cuGhzxMPmCj_8vFtDWex4vqpAF5i0Cpk/s0/51GQhdwkvIL._SX321_BO1%252C204%252C203%252C200_.jpg" /></a></div><br />Happy Cinco De Mayo everyone. Margaritas and tortas are great, but if you really want to celebrate, crack open your copy and read a favorite passage tonight. That's what I'll be doing.<p></p>Michael J. Martineckhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17806404898124796097noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-709521024031433495.post-17675427184661583822021-05-03T10:40:00.002-07:002021-05-03T10:40:53.688-07:00A little reluctant love<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjir_qTBLDFQwt7_BGo0qj7DtcCJT78ke5mM7_wkbkEblJQlI9WGw0rpTdOnBbsNwCbH44a6EnAeX_2Rlpk9-rCR2TRfIgL9VJ9i7zApiPu3o0dYmO32sW_RIju4CjxEEy4gEkEJrVm71I/s774/Lily.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="210" data-original-width="774" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjir_qTBLDFQwt7_BGo0qj7DtcCJT78ke5mM7_wkbkEblJQlI9WGw0rpTdOnBbsNwCbH44a6EnAeX_2Rlpk9-rCR2TRfIgL9VJ9i7zApiPu3o0dYmO32sW_RIju4CjxEEy4gEkEJrVm71I/s320/Lily.png" width="320" /></a></div>Good reviews are like children. You shouldn't have favorites. Still, we can appreciate certain qualities we find special, right? I love this review form <a href="https://lshadowlynauthor.com/2021/05/03/review-untouchable/" target="_blank">Liliyana Shadowlyn</a> because she wasn't sure she was going to like a book with the art world as a backdrop. She tried it, as one might snails or caviar, and found it quite delightful. Which is also kind of a great meta-metaphor for <i><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Untouchable-Michael-J-Martineck/dp/0972097821/ref=sr_1_3?dchild=1&keywords=untouchable+martineck&qid=1620062854&sr=8-3" target="_blank">Untouchable</a></i>. Not everything is as it first appears. Or even second. Check out her reviews <a href="https://lshadowlynauthor.com/2021/05/03/review-untouchable/" target="_blank">here</a> or <a href="https://www.thefaeriereview.com/2021/05/review-untouchable/" target="_blank">here</a>. They are the same, but that second one, the Faerie review, is better because Lily thinks the book might be of interest outside the usual mystery-novel community. Me too.<p></p>Michael J. Martineckhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17806404898124796097noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-709521024031433495.post-90506871452967608522021-04-27T12:28:00.000-07:002021-04-27T12:28:56.714-07:00From Melisende<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPdYpdz7Qo7q8_p62Djo6yG2Slmg0AFNPoZZvtswTiox_CyagxvDDpF2yzsAGSEh8VLYCfI0sNqkFsFxGaB1eNzLhL3_Hq8W3zmVZObYBYlaF8h8ziVgf-KpNmjIoHmTcVYEMgHfV0gEM/s475/Screen+Shot+2021-04-22+at+1.34.12+PM.png" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="154" data-original-width="475" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPdYpdz7Qo7q8_p62Djo6yG2Slmg0AFNPoZZvtswTiox_CyagxvDDpF2yzsAGSEh8VLYCfI0sNqkFsFxGaB1eNzLhL3_Hq8W3zmVZObYBYlaF8h8ziVgf-KpNmjIoHmTcVYEMgHfV0gEM/s320/Screen+Shot+2021-04-22+at+1.34.12+PM.png" width="320" /></a></div><br />"<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: verdana; font-size: 14px; text-align: justify;">Quite an entertaining caper!"<br /></span>I'll take that. <a href="http://melisendeslibrary.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Melisende</a> has quite an entertaining blog. Always happy when someone likes the book, obviously. Little known fact - I'm just as fascinated when they don't. I have not yet read a bad review of <i>Untouchable</i> - probably because it is universally beloved - but you can learn just as must from a negative comment as you can from a gush. <br /><div><br /></div><div><br /><p></p></div>Michael J. Martineckhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17806404898124796097noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-709521024031433495.post-4623220429805557392021-04-22T10:10:00.000-07:002021-04-22T10:10:04.944-07:00Shout-out . . .<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhp6lvS4zYAzgkcTG4sl3v769-Uxho3GAB1NHkJdNTXz_1sgDtQ5YdTgHHMcLO3R578C4Rk6CI-0BXSQyUXi6XjOvRtA4oxwTaRXUQ13_vYNv49wJfLmb3VaUmaRRzNB4DbqW_Jdp9rw08/s881/header.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="350" data-original-width="881" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhp6lvS4zYAzgkcTG4sl3v769-Uxho3GAB1NHkJdNTXz_1sgDtQ5YdTgHHMcLO3R578C4Rk6CI-0BXSQyUXi6XjOvRtA4oxwTaRXUQ13_vYNv49wJfLmb3VaUmaRRzNB4DbqW_Jdp9rw08/s320/header.png" width="320" /></a></div><br />. . . to <a href="http://themarybookreader.blogspot.com/2021/04/untouchable-by-michael-martineck.html" target="_blank">The Mary Reader </a>for her post featuring <i><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Untouchable-Michael-J-Martineck/dp/0972097821/ref=tmm_pap_swatch_0?_encoding=UTF8&qid=1617466966&sr=1-1" target="_blank">Untouchable</a></i>. So glad she found the time and space. It's a great resource if you're looking for something fresh with which to cozy up. The site curates quick mentions of books, which I find quite helpful, especially if I'm in the library and the book I want is out and I'm like, what was the name of that other book by that other person? Then I get the log flume of all the dead trees in my head. It jams up everything. In my head, mental beavers laugh at the flow they stanched. They laugh still, even as a trickle leaks through, allowing me to post this post. <p></p>Michael J. Martineckhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17806404898124796097noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-709521024031433495.post-16461004806563780142021-04-13T07:13:00.003-07:002021-04-13T08:08:03.492-07:00The Rushing of the Sea - Fund Me!<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1tJ3FYgqqf047S-S1NZxuNDWeTmsAO3d84Y3kwxd6o0reKvQYINjtBpo6tjjVsoJtBA2vaqZeyQVVX6stMjQOw6xv_6dwXiLa8rFf-C1f8GPLuZhOvw8WshjXoW6i3cLoCuJ8x1EiTXs/s580/Screen+Shot+2021-04-13+at+10.11.14+AM.png" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="408" data-original-width="580" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1tJ3FYgqqf047S-S1NZxuNDWeTmsAO3d84Y3kwxd6o0reKvQYINjtBpo6tjjVsoJtBA2vaqZeyQVVX6stMjQOw6xv_6dwXiLa8rFf-C1f8GPLuZhOvw8WshjXoW6i3cLoCuJ8x1EiTXs/s320/Screen+Shot+2021-04-13+at+10.11.14+AM.png" width="320" /></a></div>If you're looking for a way to support the arts - that doesn't include books - look no further. <a href="https://seedandspark.com/fund/the-rushing-of-the-sea#story" target="_blank">The Rushing of the Sea </a>is a short film project from the delightful Dani Martineck. Related by marriage, they have no novelistic gene. Dani writes for the screen, in addition to producing and performing. You can help fund the project <a href="https://seedandspark.com/fund/the-rushing-of-the-sea#story" target="_blank">here</a>, and we're not talking about millions. You too can be a Hollywood mogul for like $20.<p></p>Michael J. Martineckhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17806404898124796097noreply@blogger.com0