6-7-2008 Deconstructing Cour or: Tolerating the intolerable

Since the following e-mail came with “PRINT IT IF YOU HAVE THE STONES!” in the subject line, I figure we should get the lunacy over with first.


THERE is a lunatic who runs a blog called Wilkes-Online who, unbeknownst to me, has taken a shine to me for some reason over the past couple years. His name is Marc Cour, lives somewhere on Thompson St. in WB I believe. He has printed all sorts of garbage and lies about me, though I have never met him and never heard of the flaming fool and apparent mental patient (I found out the name of his psychiatrist(s) and the list of meds this sucker is on). One recoils almost in horror at his rabid viciousness and verbal brutality when speaking of me. It's positively demonic.

There's something to it, I tell you. But I can't put my finger on it. Some sort of longstanding resentment perhaps? Did I unwittingly dabble, in my salad days, among the female issue of his immediate or extended family? Which, just going by the pictures on his blog, appear to be a grotesque assortment of crossbred mutants. I know. I used to work with retarded people at White Haven back in the day. I can pick Klinefelters, microcephalics, and mongolian idiots out a crowd of seemingly normal folk. This Cour clan is without a doubt genetically challenged.

Could it be that I inauspiciously coupled with a few of these monstrosities. God forbid! Though I was highly active, I utterly lacked erotic discrimination in those days. A veritable Don Juan on steroids.

I graduated from Wilkes in 1967. It was my stomping grounds. Thompson Street sounds familiar. Good chance I humped his aunts and his mother.

After someone brought it to my attention, I noticed that Cour has been keeping a dossier on me. He seems to know a lot about me, he can't get enough of me. But he just dreams most of this distorted stuff up in his obviously demented brain; the rest is covertly sent to him by my avowed enemies, who usually get everything ass backwards. I thoroughly enjoy giving him a good ass-paddling from time to time (he goes off his nut real easy, it's so fun). I got his goat good recently. He's a latent gay, so I tweaked him a little bit. Here's his reply, he becomes unglued:

"Me? A homosexual? Nah, don’t get your hope sp, [sic] you deranged non-practicing doctor of all things demented and absurd and really not worth remembering. [Ah! After all that lithium and phenothiazines and prozac over the years, miraculously, the literary stream still bubbles]

I took a beating while trying to grow up. I have the sizable physical and emotional scars to prove it. Despite that troubled upbringing, after a while, I returned that beating to people that probably didn’t deserve it in most cases. And for that, while I feel bad on some rarest of rare occasions, I make no apologies for any of that. And I never will. You mess with the bull--the bull that you and your great society created--and you get the horns. You’d swear I was black after reading that.

[Did you get that one folks?: ME and YOU and the "great society" created HIM, a piece of angry, molested, and psychotic shit from some back alley in Wilkes-Barre! His father(s) should have pounded his ass more. It wasn't enough]

While those lasting scars may have affected me, they didn’t make me into what I would, for better or worse, eventually become. [O Those Bubbles!]. They shaped me. They helped to mold me. They are what they are. They were what they were. And, believe it or not, I’m all good to go. [I have no idea what all that means; whoever can decode it gets an Israel Bond]

So, in conclusion, please keep your long-depressed homosexual fantasies to yourself, okay? Seriously, on comes your word processor and out comes the homosexual tendencies borne of intellectual inadequacy. [?? I never talk of homosex on my blog. It's a pre-conscious fantasy of his. The man is seriously hung up on his cock-sucking tendencies]. It’s really getting old. I now know that you have the hots for my recently departed bother, but necromancy is unbecoming no matter how you may endeavor to characterize it.

[If you disinter him, I will come].

I feel bad for you. I really do. [Your compassion overwhelms me]. But, then again, so do the rest of the unsuspecting folks that have been unfortunate enough to have met you. But have no fear. Despite how easy it might be with both arms tied behind my back, I promise not to kick your ass. You’re old, you’re frustrated, you’re demented and you’re flailing away. And from where I see it, you’re a chip off the old demented block. [My parents I assume you mean? They were great. Gave us much love. By contrast, your father(s) pounded your ass so bad it drove you nuts!]

Now…fu>k off...freak!!! Go back to Burger King and rule the retarded roost, or whatever it is that you do when the underaged girls are not looking. [I deflower them. They love it; in the ladies room. With my huge and dominant apparatus]


Thus, Mr. Marc Cour, from that Dimension Beyond Sight and Sound, a dimension not only of sight and sound but of mind; a journey into a wondrous land whose boundaries are that of imagination and the parameters of prozac, lithium, and Haldol....that signpost up ahead, your next stop: the Nut House.....Hey Marc. I heard you and the missus get under the covers every night and smell each others farts. I got that from Andy, you know him, over at the fire house. He swears it's true.

Bottom line asshole: You just cannot stand the fact that I am an infinitely better scribbler than you. It's a festering wound that never heals. You have been playing to a gallery of morons and bottom feeders like yourself for so long that the self-adulation clings to you like a Nessus shirt. Then you discover me, a gifted stylist, only 15 miles away, and you immediately become disoriented and began to suffer kierkegaardian panic and intense hatred. You begin to brutally attack me ...

It's nothing new. The old literary Latin set called it "odium figulinum" (odium fig), an intense resentment of those in the same profession. Which is doubly compounded when a superior wit such as myself looks down scornfully from the heights of Parnassus at impostors and shitheads like you. You have even gone so low as to blatantly lift words and phrases from my blog.....But Drink! Drink deep from that Pierian Spring, fool. It's on me. It's the closest you'll ever come to anything even remotely resembling the sprightly wit and flawless repartee that flows effortlessly from my pen....DEF

Does blogging qualify as a “profession?” Interesting.

Here’s the scoop, Mr. Foglietta: The only reason I’ve continued posting your redundant drivel here is so that my readers can laugh at your expense. All of the feedback I get runs along the lines of “what is wrong with this guy?” Do you want to read some of it? I’d be happy to oblige.

You think we’re going toe-to-toe? Not even close. You are allowed here, by me, so that people in the Wilkes-Barre area can chortle at your every exercise in literary futility. Oh, and speculate about what exactly is in that Old Forge pizza…hallucinogenics?

Yes, you are a talented wordsmith, but that talent should be confined to a keyboard contained within the walls of the Waymart State Correctional Facility. That’s the place where they put the people who turn their parents into soup, people who hear voices and act on them and people who think they are Julius Caesar‘s chauffer. Those sort of people. Your sort.

And now you want to draw me into a fight on a newly created forum page? Um, I think you’re way out of your element, champ. I think you ought to be hanging out with the MySpace crowd--the adolescents and those who stalk them. You’d be a big hit over there, provided that you didn’t post a picture of yourself.

What’s more, I guess you didn’t learn anything from your recent run-in with Entercom Communications. Since you can no longer stalk and harass them, you’ve moved on to moi? Whatever. Have at it, tough guy. I actually look forward to your banal and sophomoric magniloquence. In short, you’re funny. Well, it a sad way.

So, in conclusion, you’ve gone and done it again. Yep, secret dossiers, smelling farts, humping aunts and moms, posts from avowed enemies, Don Juan on steroids and once again, you’ve diagnosed all of my many problems. That’s a well-rounded example of your typical imbecility passing as eloquent prose. Seriously, you done good. Real good.

Oh, and let’s cover this gay thing, okay? If I was gay, I’d have to cling to the positive. Because, there are worse things than being gay. Yes, it could be much, much, much, much worse.

I could be you.

We now return you to your regularly scheduled internet tomfoolery.

Believe it or not, the 20th annual installment of the Thompson Street block party is only two months away. Yes sir, August 9th will be here before we know it and this year’s party is going to be a monster. If you’re interested, drop me a line.

A couple of new things have been added for the kiddies, who attend for free if under 16 years of age. We’ve added a 15X15 inflatable moon walk. I hope Kayak Dude doesn’t protest it or anything. That word, inflatable, always catches his attention. Um, we’ve got rub-on tattoos, face painting, and we’re working on having a local balloon sculpture guy here. Er, a balloon twister. Whatever.

A bit of review: There’s plenty of off-street parking. With the giant tents, it’s rain or shine. No rain date needed. Again, we will have an off-duty Wilkes-Barre police officer on the scene, so you need not worry about anything you might normally worry about. It’s $15 for adults, children under 16 are free. Everyone will be required to wear a colored wrist bracelet which denotes who should and who should not be approaching any alcohol. The way I’m hearing it, the supreme commander of horseshoe tournaments everywhere--George--will be in attendance, so bring your entrance fees.

Some have asked about them, and my son-in-law promised me that he, Peace, Gage and Taylor will be making the trek north from Knoxville that weekend. Over the years, Gage has made himself quite a few friends here in Wilkes-Barre, so expect to see him here. Oh, and don’t be shocked if he’s now taller than you. They tell me he’s been sprouting of late.

Being that eggs and water balloons and chocolate cream pies are always a part of the organized games, you might want to bring spare clothing for the kids. And some wet wipes.

If you’ve got any questions, please send them along. We need an accurate body count as early as possible. So, if you’re planning on being here, let me know. And if you’ve rather not drive after the big event, there’s always plenty of floor space available. A hard floor sure beats a concrete cell.

Let me know.

Despite what the impatient Doubting Thomas’ would have you believe, Wilkes-Barre continues to inch it’s way back to respectability.

Just yesterday, the Citizens’ Voice had three stories that had to lift your spirits if you’re emotionally invested in Wilkes-Barre.

Pepperjam head to address business association

Hardware Bar owner starts construction on second venue

Business owner excited about downtown W-B move

If you bother to notice, it’s happening all over the city. Long, long dormant buildings are either being remodeled, or completely removed from the urban landscape. A few yards from this modest adobe is a commercial building that has been boarded-up since I was a kid. And it’s now being refurbished from top to bottom. And directly across the street, an abandoned eyesore was demolished and hauled away. So one of the two neighbors will likely scoop that property up, as many do, and make themselves a nice green space. Something we can always use more of in the city. While it’s not very sexy, I like to call this the progress that no one notices. And, as I said, it’s there, if you bother to notice.

Yet, Steve Rodham Corbett of WILK fame continues to tell his audience that Wilkes-Barre--for lack of a better word--sucks. Every chance he gets, he purposely does this city a great disservice. And I’m really getting sick of it because he bashes this city for the most personal and self-serving of reasons.

Until Mayor Tom Leighton relents to Corbett’s bullying ways and becomes a regular contributor to Corbett’s inane show, Wilkes-Barre will continue to be bashed upside the head. Until Corbett gets what he wants, what he feels he needs, Wilkes-Barre will be unfairly tarnished.

Yet, Corbett will tell you we cannot attract Fortune 500 companies to this area because of foolish practices at the hands of our county government. But what of talk radio? If talk radio bashes the area over the airwaves, is that not counterproductive? In particular, Rodham Corbett tells anyone who will have him that this area is home to unabashed racists too completely stupid to hang with the likes of him, the guy who shuns his political party just as soon as the black guy wins. He tells those unfortunate enough to hear him that we’re a bunch of savages hooked on hockey fights. Couple that with the self-centered bashing of the county seat--Wilkes-Barre--and it’s a wonder that anything of note ever settles in this area.

And the guy is relentless. Yesterday he said the following to a caller while they were discussing having potential vice president candidates tour the area:

“The Mayor in Wilkes-Barre lacks social skills and I don’t want to embarrass him.”

Tom Leighton lacks social skills? The guy who brought together everyone and anyone willing to invest anything in Wilkes-Barre? The guy who went to New York City and convinced skeptical bond insurers on Wall Street that Wilkes-Barre deserved to be put back in their good graces? The guy who convinced a governor and senators that investing federal monies in Wilkes-Barre was a smart, a safe move again? Tom Leighton lacks social skills?

Excuse me?

I think an on-air apology is in order here, but don’t hold your baited breath. Because it’s obvious that the management of WILK thinks nothing of unfair insults coming from the mouths of the on-air talk show hosts, evidenced by Kevin Lynn’s constant use of phrases and words like “knuckle draggers,” “droolers” and “idiots.” You either agree with him, or you are obviously far, far beneath his utter brilliance. And the same thing goes with Rodham Corbett. You’re either in ideological lockstep with him, or you’re a member of the “Flat Earth Society.” Or, as he likes to say, “You’ll grow out of it.”

I’ll grow out of it? And become just like him? Nah, I’d rather be a knuckle dragger, a drooler or whatever it is you call people that never grew into it. This from one guy who can’t even remember “The Dark Years.” And from another who needed the discipline of martial arts (?) to save himself from himself.

These two dare to berate and insult me? And you. These two are highly superior to us in every way determinable? And these two have decided to unfairly tarnish this city’s reputation for purely personal reasons?

Tom Leighton lacks social skills? When compared to whom? Former mayor Tom McGroarty?

Hey, Al! Refresh my memory, here. How much does one of those newfangled satellite radios cost?

It’s time.

From the e-mail inbox Good afternoon,

I don't know about you, but seeing Barak Obama claim the democratic nomination for president made me proud to be an American. Maybe we are finally ridding ourselves of the bigotry and ignorance that has so stained our nation.

We are faced with choosing between two democrats this November; both good and decent men from very different backgrounds. At this point, I have not made a firm decision. In the past I simply found the candidate beside the "R" and pulled the lever. The Bush-Cheney debacle has forever changed that method of voting for me.

We have five months to ponder our options but, in the meantime, I'm feeling a lot more confident about the future.

You know, I wouldn’t buy into too much of that racial harmony stuff just yet. I mean, I’d like to. I really, really would. But I’m still hearing that oft-repeated declaration that while things might have changed to a significant degree, for some, things will never change: “I’m not voting for no n****r.” That’s what they say. Blue collars. White collars. And some with no collars at all.

From what I’ve seen so far, if Obama becomes the next president, he will be the very first president to be above criticism. Because, just as soon as you get to disagreeing with any minute aspect of his threadbare resume, his giveaway platform, his dubious tactics, his proposed policies or his shady associates and what have you…it starts. “It” being the calls to shut your racist mouth.

Nothing, no criticism, no matter how scathing or vitriolic is off-limits for Hillary Clinton or John McCain. To listen to some tell it, they are worthless scumbags through and through. But, as for Barack Obama, he is virtue and goodness and wholesomeness personified. And any criticism of him is offered as proof of racism. Actually, it’s getting kind of old and he hasn’t been elected to anything yet. I’m not sure if I can take four, possibly eight years of this kid gloves treatment.

Two democrats. Yeah, I hear that. Personally, I don’t like John McCain. But, I wouldn’t go so far as to tar and feather him as the leftie bloggers are currently doing. McCain has a long, long record of military and public service and the like to dissect. On the other hand, Obama has a very short record (if any at all), all of which seems to be off-limits. And he continually gets away with deflecting every question and every criticism with a single wave of his much overworked “Politics as usual” wand.

Basically, the press wants us to elect America’s first Unknown President, ala, the Unknown Comic on the Gong Show. McCain’s past is fair game and then some. But Obama’s past is encased in glass and marked: Break only in the event of the election being over. That troubles me. And immensely so.

Honestly, he’s proven to me over and over that he’s woefully inexperienced, and that he often knows not of what he’s talking about. Capital gains taxes comes to mind. Change? Hope? Yeah, that’s nice-sounding and all, but those are just words. The promised “new tone in Washington” was equally naïve, no? Don’t get me wrong, Bush deserves much of the guff he’s gotten, but he came to the big dance singing that same unworldly tune. If Barack Obama actually managed to go to Washington D.C. and make it into a kind and wonderful and fair place, I’d vote to make him king. Right after I catch me a barrel full of those fifty-dollar bills floating down from out of the clouds.

And what of that hope? We’re going to address our numerous energy woes by attacking Global Warming? We’re going to address wasteful spending by embracing free health care for everyone? We’re going to put Iran in it’s place by sitting down and talking to a raving madman? And Iraq? I really hate to rain on anyone’s “pull-out now” parade, but the Iraq mess is fast becoming a non-mess. Five months from now, it might not even be an issue at all.

Seriously, I rarely get the impression that Obama knows what he’s going on and on about. But, he’s the black candidate, so I need to keep that sort of stuff to myself. Right?

Who would I vote for? The guy I do not support in the least? Or the guy I do not trust with the keys to the place? Perhaps I should write-in “Kayak Dude” all over again. At the very least, he’d see to it that the Susquehanna River gets cleaned up. Something our current congressman seems not to care about. We’ll see.

I’ll be glad to have the Bush years in the rear-view mirror. I’ve grown weary of the constant rancor bordering on hate. The guy sucked, but that doesn’t mean he needs to be boiled alive. Some need a big time chill pill in these regards.

Am I more confident about the future?

No, not really. If the democrats take control of all three branches of our federal government, energy prices will remain as high as they are, and might even go higher. We’ll sell-out to the Global Warming crowd, which will further hamstring our economy, and take a further damaging toll on our half-empty wallets. On a personal note, my health care program will likely go from pretty good to horribly convoluted. And far more expensive than it is now. As far as foreign policy is concerned, the entire world will let out with a collective cheer when that bad old Bush finally goes away. But the hatred for and jealousy of America will quickly reemerge. There are certain realities that will never change. Realities that may have to be dealt with. And militarily, too.

Confident? Nah, try nervously hopeful. And fully expecting to be further disappointed. Our problems are too complex to be fixed anytime soon. But, with that said, the beauty of this country is that, no matter how many and how severe our most complex of problems may seem to be, I still have hope. The thing is, I’d rather be here than anywhere else.

Stay in touch.

From the e-mail inbox I would like to invite your readers, liberal or conservative (moderates if they do indeed exist as well), to join our forum. This invite is open to any and all bloggers that you may know that currently do not have a forum on their site for their readers to interact, so please pass this on. BTW please ask them to tell us where they came from etc, after joining....thanks



Have at it, anonymous kiddies. Fight nice.

Well, it’s supposed to be, like, a hundred degrees today. And, as usual, there is an expensive bicycle calling out to me. Sounds like a total sweat fest in the making. A good workout. I’m on it.