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Men I am Missing Today ... an accounting

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February is a month of mourning for me and some of my family. I know people are born in this month, too. But a lot my family chose to drop dead in this month. Who can blame them? They are almost all Northerners with a largely North European ancestry and they know March is a slog and April a long shot.

That has something to do with this list I compiled. This is a list of men I have known and I think about each of them, some more than others, but they all occupy a place in my memory vault. Their common link is their deadness. One of them, Russell Means, I never knew in person, but he speaks to me. All of these men, even though dead, speak to me. It is, in fact, easier to hold a conversation with them now, then it was when they were alive. I don't know why that is, but I have a hunch it's because I'm a better listener to the dead, then to the living. They all know something we do not. I do not have a quote for them all.

Here they are:

My Dad, Albert Clayton Crawford, at his desk with a sextant and a compass: "The magnetic north is shifting."

My Brother, Douglas Jay Crawford, KIA Vietnam, 1971 (laughing): "We're all under a terrible strain, Frankie. Mom, Dad and Sis, the dogs and cats – me and you and the guinea pig too. The neighbors, the president, – all us are under a terrible strain."

Grady Wells, quoting Bukowski: " 'Remember your Bach, your Brahms and Your Beer.' ... You got a good heart, but I think you're gay, Franklin."

Paul Bartishevich. "You're one of the best we got, so when you do shit work, it upsets me."

David M., on his therapeutic sidekick, Chauncey the boxer: "Chauncey always farts when he sees you. It's love. "

Jake Ryan: "You need some socks? C'mon, I'll go buy you some socks for your birthday."

Steve Landesman, "Franklin, some times I want to throw something at you."

Grant Payne: "Shave that dopey thing off your face and get in here on time."

Peter Potenza, after a Holiday Inn fire alarm sent us out into the freezing night and I rode him back inside the lounge on a luggage rack: "That was fun -- but I'm sorry: I don't tip dumb waiters."

Steve Galaida, "Let's get together some time, you know, not here, and play music together."

Carl, the Colonel: Made a "raspberry" noise every time I walked into House of Shalimar to say hello to Katie. He so loved Katie.

Bill the Street Guy: "No thanks."

Thomas Giventer: "Hi"

Robert LaHood:

Steve Gilbert, dying of liver cancer: "I know about pain pretty well now; after they poke you in the liver with a cryogenic tube, you became pretty well acquainted with it."

Tyke Kohm, during Happy Hour at Petes, circa 1980: "Franklin, I gave you that $15 as a joke, now I want it back."

Bill Rosen, walking his dog Ben. First man I knew who had Lyme Disease. Now I've had it, too.

Sammy Nitzios, The Mayor of Cayuga Street: "Franco, you getta wife, you live long time."

The Three Nefaris Brothers -- George: "The girls go crazy for me after they see limbo."

Jerry Shriner, on the longest standing personal resentment I've known: "I'd tell that sonofabitch Joe Joch to lick my asshole but his tongue's too dirty."

Russell Aucoin: "I was shaking like a leaf in my skin."

Maugus McGriff (suicide):  "You don't understand Frank, I'm in real trouble."

Michael Popowich, dying of emphysema: "You are looking at me like you think I know something important ... Well I DON'T!!!"

Nathan Threadgill (after he got busted robbing a drive-through bank on a 10-speed bike, Riverhead County Jail): "I saw your pops in jail here, Frank. He's a nice guy."

Jon Christiansen, died with a Wetson straw in his mouth after getting hit by a car on Sunrise Hwy.

Eric Seidler: "You remind me of a 50s lover who lost."

Dirty Dan:

Jeremy Werbin (as I carried him to the toilet while he was dying from advanced diabetes): "I wish life wasn't so hard for you."

Alex Malone (after an all-night party, about noon, playing the sweetest guitar you'd ever wanna hear on a Green Street front porch): "Frank, what was it you think they put in that punch last night cuz I still feel kinda high. (LSD)"

Louis Robbins: "Gimme two dollah frank, I know you got it."

Russell Means: 'You can handle anything life throws at you ... by any means necessary ... find out who you are."

... so many more ...

Last Updated on Sunday, 17 February 2013 22:27

Real things to Worry About In Case of a Frankenstorm

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By now I guess everyone but me knew about this Super-PAC storm that is threatening to bring Freak Shows back to the Catskills and hanging chads back to Florida.

The weather team here at tinytowntimes.com has been at a loss as to what to say about Frankenstorm Preparation.

First and foremost, We think it's important that you understand one essential truth: There is no such thing as a "Frankenstorm."

Even so we advise anyone with a drug addiction or alcohol problem: Lay in plenty of supplies and rations in the unlikely event that Jackie Mason and bunch of other frankenstormJewish comedians blow into town and start a Shriner's Club in the Old Masonic Temple.

All people who live in trailer parks best get their affairs in order and make peace with their maker because they are all gonna die.

If any National Guard troops disturb your silent terror with megaphones ordering you to evacuate, throw Halloween candy at them.

Don't bother the Mayor with questions about "emergency preparedness." We don't have a plan, ok? And if we did, would you really go along with it?  Besides, this is the city that kicked Hydrilla's Ass! You think the Powers That Be are worried about some zombie-shuffling swirl of bad intentions with big boots, a rigor mortis grin and a flat top? Oh yeh – and rheumy eyes?

If you're really scared, go hide in the salt mine. Ever been down there? I was. Real long time ago. Part of some Vision Quest Tour with this little guy from Fantasy Island. "Tattoo" he called himself, but there wasn't a mark on him. He just looked ridiculous in white formal evening wear. Ever been to Fantasy Island? It's soooooo cool! Everyone there drives the Chrysler Cordoba with its fine Corinthian Leather ...

Our crew here will weather this swirling gas giant with the 12-Tribes crowd if we can handle the bird whistling guy. He's good the first 30 Tennessee warbler impersonations but then I get a little edgy and my eye wanders toward  the large kitchen cutlery. Still, I enjoy a nice matté latté and they don't skimp on the butter with their muffins.

Once it's all over I expect a new day will dawn and employers will want people, if they are still alive, to "assume the position." Don't be surprised  that gas costs $28 per gallon and lemons are about $36 a pound,

But remember: The end of the World means it's okay to eat shit right out of the jar. Get the biggest tub of Nutella and a bucket of peanut butter and grape jelly if you can find it; and if you don't already have an over-sized spoon, get one.

A  word of caution: Please don't use this Frankenberry storm as a way to loot and pillage places like Potter's Robbery on the Commons. You think I don't want one of those oversized ceramic figurines of peri-menopausal women laughing joyously about having inherited the entire trust fund because their gay brother died from AIDS in a Lourdes hospital in France? Just ... please. Throw a mail box through the B of A window but don't steal Fine Art just because it's there.

Finally, take good care of your pets and try to maintain regular bowel movements during this FEMA fete, and, if you get the hiccups, eat celery. Works perfect.

– Franklin Crawford, Son of Chaos

Last Updated on Monday, 29 October 2012 04:16

Yonkers Bob The Weatha Guy is on the inside of an emergent weather pattern

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Last Updated on Friday, 20 January 2012 17:52

Haywire Winds from California Flatten Ellis Hollow Cornfield

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Tiny Town Weather Flash Update!: With Bobo The Yonkers Weather Guy and Ike the Weather Dog

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Last Updated on Monday, 05 December 2011 01:03
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