It is their first tour in sixteen years, and Noel pointed out the tenor of the Britpop group hasn’t changed much during their long hiatus. He said, “Oasis isn’t one of these wanker bands like fucking REO Speedwagon or Train, who do yoga and drink cold-pressed juices.  We snort cocaine, drink Jack Daniels, and beat the shit out of each other. So, the possibility that one of us could bite it is always there, isn’t it?  What the fuck is a REO Speedwagon anyway?”

In addition to a general combustibility with the world, which includes press battles with Blur and other bands, there is also an ever-present combustibility between Liam and his brother Noel. The brothers’ clashes have been both verbal and physical, including onstage altercations, musical disputes, and numerous public insults, and have been a defining characteristic of the group

“Liam is the angriest fucker I know,” said Noel. “I expect that he might be the stroker that dies, but again, some of his shite might result in collateral damage and bring some other bloke down. In ‘95, he was tantruming on stage and hit me with a tambourine like he was that little red-headed bird, Tracy from the Partridge Family. I said fuck it, and went to Vegas and booked the Pharaoh suite at the Luxor hotel. Next thing I know, I’m eating burgers and doing cocaine with this fucking attendant dressed like a fucking Pharaoh. I was really wobbly for a few days and could’ve ended myself like fucking John Entwistle. 

“Tamborine?” Liam responded. “That tosser, Noel, once hit me in the head with a fucking cricket bat. You Yanks don’t know this, but a cricket bat is every bit a Louisville Slugger, and fucking Noel goes all Willie Mays on my head. I don’t want to hear any shite from that arsehat about a fucking tambourine.”

Rhythm guitarist Paul “Bonehead” Arthurs is back touring with the brothers for the first time since 1999 and could definitely see someone dying, maybe even himself. “I’ve been with these twats from the start in the early 90s and saw it all, and it isn’t a stretch to say one of us could be done in. After all, the fucking Gallaghers think they’re all kind of special for being City fans, when all the real football fans from Manchester are fucking United supporters, aren’t they? I could see us pissed in the pub and getting in a row about football and beating the shit out of them. They don’t call me “Bonehead” for nothing, do they? And I can see some daft act that will do me or them in for good.”

Tickets for the Toronto show on August 24 and 25 are still available on the secondary market—if the band can make it that far without maiming or killing each other. 

The post Oasis Promises Continued Bickering, Melees And Possibly A Death During Massive World Tour appeared first on buffalomud.com.

Lisa Lemon, a Sloan middle school teacher, related that she’s really ready for a major bender. “Something about telling these kids to put their phones away seven hundred times a day just makes you want to go ape shit with a bottle of Patron. I’ve been visualizing it for weeks, and I just can’t wait to have that woozy lightheaded feeling. Unfortunately, I also see myself making the decision to be in the Walmart parking lot in the back of the school engineer Tony’s pickup truck. The way that guy fills out a flannel shirt—gabba gabba check my oil and all my gauges. I’ll hate myself in the morning, and seeing him when school resumes in the fall will be uncomfortable, but I’ll deal with that then. I need this shit now.”  

Aerial Acosta, a high school English teacher in Hamburg, expressed frustration at parents endlessly monitoring curriculum and her teaching style. “I’m here day after day trying to make goddamn Lady McBeth interesting and relatable to these over-indulged Gen Z slackers while their Mom’s For Liberty parents bust my ass about the appropriateness of Shakespeare, which I don’t know, has been part of sophomore English for about four-hundred-fucking-years. You bet I’m going to drink. And, I’m not looking for wine with hints of oak and a cocoa finish—I’m looking to get hammered. In preparation, I’ve been downing eight glasses of water daily for a month. Both my pee and my blood are translucent at this point.”  

Claude Carrintoad, an Earth Science teacher from Riverside, has been working his Peloton and consuming Gatorade for weeks. “I also have been trying to prepare three sections of disinterested, eye-rolling, yung kai obsessed, Nintendo Switch playing mutants for Regents exams. On top of that, I’ve been breaking up fights in both A & B lunches and after school as they get on buses. Oh yeah, and I saw a big chunk of my 403b plan evaporate. So my body, my head, and my bank account are all beaten to shit. You bet I’m ready to dive into a 1.75 liter bottle of Jack Daniels. And I’m going to listen to some real music like Led Zeppelin. None of this yung kai stuff—WTF is that anyway—yung kai?

Area teachers can cleanse and reset from the 24-25 year until September 2, when the 25-26 school year begins.  Drink up.         

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The story begins in the pre-season with photojournalist Kitty Latoris getting a freelance offer from Teen Vogue to go back to her hometown to do a feature on NFL MVP Josh Allen. Latoris, however, is hesitant to take the gig. Three years earlier she developed a debilitating opioid habit that led her down a dark path. At the height of her use she passed hot checks, turned tricks and held up liquor stores. Eventually, she found herself doing an eighteen month stint at the Albion Correctional Facility for Women. 

Upon her release, Latoris was determined to conquer her demons and go straight. She used photography skills learned in high school and later at ECC. She joined the paparazzi, tracking the movements of the Jonas Brothers and developing the unique talent of catching celebrities picking their noses. 

She got the call from Teen Vogue editor Lucy Lackner, a hapless Dolphins fan, because she liked Latoris’s work and hoped she would catch Allen with his finger up his nose or stuck in his ass. Latoris was hesitant, afraid that she might come into contact with old friends and fall back into her destructive ways, but it was a great opportunity that would garner more legitimate, well-paying work. Wishing on a star and praying for strength, she took the gig.

All was going according to plan at St. John Fisher in Rochester, where the Bills held training camp. She was getting great shots of the all-world quarterback Allen, but none of the compromising photos her editor had hoped for. The only notable exception was when Allen was under center, he occasionally lingered a tick or two longer on Conor McGovern’s undercarriage than was necessary.  

But then, at the Blue and Red practice at Highmark Stadium, Dion Dawkins rolled up on Latoris on the sideline after throwing a block on a sweep and tore some ligaments in her right knee. Forced to convalesce in Buffalo, she received treatment from a Physical Therapist named Johnny Rainbow at UB/MD Orthopedics. There was something about Rainbow’s easy manner, receding hairline, and sexy, crooked teeth that Latoris found intriguing. She also couldn’t ignore the hits of electricity coursing through her body every time Rainbow touched her. It was evident from his gentle, caring manner that Rainbow was also drawn to her.

The connection between Latoris and Rainbow didn’t go unnoticed by Bills superfan Captain Dave. After decades of fandom Dave required a little shoulder cleanup from the extreme high fives he commonly dished out at Bills games. Icing up together after their treatment Dave explained his shoulder injury to Latoris and said he was really pushing himself to be ready for the home opener. Then he mentioned how cozy she seemed with Rainbow and asked if he was her boyfriend. Latoris blushed and with a little laugh said, “No, he’s just my therapist.”

But, not long after that Rainbow asked her out, and she happily accepted. The relationship progressed like a storybook romance. But then complications set in. Latoris began to lean on her pain medication in an unhealthy way, leading her to contact old Buffalo friends in the opioid trade. Her girlfriend from the correctional facility, Marlene Maupin, who earned an extra six months of confinement for shiving one of the prison the cooks, showed up, and they spent a steamy night together.

Latoris was quickly devolving into a hot mess, but Rainbow stuck by her, gently encouraging her forward. It all came to a head when he bought them tickets for the Bills-Chiefs Christmas Eve game. Tailgating in the Hammer lot, their relationship was teetering after numerous bowling ball shots of 100-proof Polish Cherry Liquor. As snowflakes trickled down from the stars, Rainbow looked at her with that crooked smile and reminded her that she too, deserved love. Calmly, he said, “We can get past this if you’ll let love win. Kitty, are you ready to let love win?”

In that moment, after briefly being distracted by Rainbow’s receding hairline, they got lost in each other’s eyes, and then, as if touched by some supernatural force, they kissed. It was magic. They did another bowling-ball shot, and before they climbed atop a school bus to take part in the Bills tradition of breaking a table, Rainbow leaned in and told Kitty he was open to the idea of sharing their bed with her old prison mate, Marlene. 

As they held hands on top of that bus, waiting to seal their love by plunging through a table together, on the horizon for a brief moment, smiling down on them was Bills super fan Captain Dave in his long retired Captain America Bills grab. Captain Dave wasn’t just a Bills superfan; he was a superfan of love. 

Hand in hand Latoris and Rainbow jumped from the bus, safe in the belief their hard-won love would see them through. It was a Buffalo Bills Christmas miracle.

Latoris was concussed in the jump, and Rainbow suffered a broken hip. More importantly, the table did break, and the Bills beat the Chiefs 31-9, thus securing home-field advantage throughout the playoffs. 

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The Friesendorf and Muffs have played Euchre weekly for the last couple of years. They’ve also shared many dinners and concerts and have gone on vacation together. But it wasn’t until the Thursday night Euchre game that any of them had taken the massive step of dropping a number two at the other’s house. 

“That’s big, considering the tragedy at your parent’s house,” Finn said. 

Finn was referring to his unfortunate reaction to some cauliflower bites from the Olive Garden when they first started dating and were out to dinner with Fiona’s parents. The bites, which were discharged in the half-bath off her parent’s family room, left the lower level of the house stinking for three days and resulted in Fiona’s dad calling Finn, Poopypants, until the day he died. Finn could still hear the stinging rebuke—“Poopypants just had to have the eight-dollar cauliflower bites instead of the free breadsticks.” Then he would make an extended flatulent sound, putting his hand over his mouth.

“I know. But there I was with the egg salad and olive wrap I had for lunch taxiing down the runway, and I just took a giant leap and went for it. I told myself, if this goes wrong, our friendship is strong enough that it will survive.”

The following Saturday, after catching a set by the great Niagara Falls cover band The Woodroes at the Griffon Brewery and Gastropub, they stopped at the Friesendorf’s for a nightcap. While sipping their drinks, Fiona giggled and said, “ I have a confession to make.” Finn put up his hand and shook his head not to tell them. “Relax Poopypants, it’ll be fine.” Then she looked at the Muffs directly and told them about the egg salad and olive wrap that left the train station in their bathroom after their Euchre game on Thursday.  

Laughter ensued among both couples, and then Mary reached across the table and put her hand on Fiona’s arm and said, “I appreciate that you had enough faith in our friendship that you felt free to take a shit in my house.” Looking Fiona in the eye, she lingered momentarily and said, “I feel so close to you now.” 

The couples embraced warmly when their drinks were done and it was time to go. Mary again thanked Fiona for her honesty and her faith in their friendship, adding, “I’m glad we got here and I can’t wait to take a shit in your house.” 

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The movie’s narrative will follow traditional Hallmark plot lines of love, conflict, and mystical intervention with a dash of rock-n-roll flavoring. Getting the film made may prove to be a bit tricky, however. Producers are reporting that during initial logistical planning and test shots, Bad Ronald has been a Susan Boyle like diva. He often rages about Owen Power, Hillary Clinton, and the Bills third-down defense. And, of course, the fucking green m&m’s mixed in with the brown ones. What usually calms him down is a discussion of the female leads who potentially will play opposite him. Top names up for consideration include: Lori Loughlin, Fiona Gubelmann, Brook Burns and his favorite, Lacey Chabert.

The actress who lands the role will depict an overworked, underappreciated New York marketing executive named Wanda Wadswallow. Wanda returns to her roots in Western New York to open a little gift shop called—Irv Weinstein and Friends Collectibles. Initially she is happy and prosperous in her new life. Soon though, the former marketing executive falls back into old, take no prisoners habits. When a friend witnesses her blow up a supplier who can’t deliver on Clip Smith bobbleheads, she suggests they go for a drink. The end up at Molly Maguire’s, where Bad Ronald’s band, Punk716 happens to be gigging.

She catches Bad Ronald’s eye during a banging version of the Ramones, “Merry Christmas (I Don’t Want to Fight Tonight).” and the connection is instant and hot.

Over coffee Bad Ronald and Wadswallow find common ground—not in things they like, but rather, in things they dislike: pugs, Mighty Taco meat paste, navel lint (both are outties), blue ink and the novels of Philip Roth. They quickly become close and spend quiet evenings trolling Tragically Hip fans on social media and creating artwork for Carol Jason T-shirts—they are so happy.

But Bad Ronald’s bad-boy punk attitude starts to crop up in a negative ways, while Wadswallow’s obsessive work habits also start to surface. A divide in the relationship becomes evident. It all comes to a head during a gig when Wadswallow requests the band play a Depeche Mode song. With unmistakable frostiness, Bad Ronald rebukes her form the stage, “We don’t play that ‘80s electronica bullshit,” putting a final nail in the unlikely romance.

But then, a few days before Christmas, deceased New York Dolls guitarist Johnny Thunders comes to Bad Ronald in his sleep, slaps him upside the head, and says something like, “That girl’s ass—play the fucking Depeche Mode song, you twat.”

On Christmas Eve, Bad Ronald and his band set up on the sidewalk outside Wadswallow’s shop and play “Everything Counts,” thus enshrining another magical Hallmark holiday moment. 

In addition to this film, Kane, the 1.5 millionth most popular Amazon author, is developing a franchise around Bad Ronald due to his recent transformation from scrawny drummer to edgy punk frontman. Kane believes Bad Ronald has mass appeal among the house coat-wearing, afghan-covered grandmas binge-watching the Hallmark channel. Currently, the author is in Hollywood pitching other Bad Ronald related projects—Bad Ronald Mattlock and Bad Ronald Murder He Wrote. 

Personality Crisis at Christmas Time is scheduled for a 2025 holiday release. 

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Punk716 is a cover band playing old-school punk standards by the Sex Pistols and The Clash, newer punk by Green Day and Social Distortion, and punked-up versions of Elvis and Little Richard songs. While the band is still finding itself, they are admirably filling a vacant space in the pub music scene dominated by bands that endlessly vomit up “Don’t Stop Believing” and “Sweet Caroline” ad-nauseam. UNCLE, all-fucking-ready with those tunes. This fresh idea has led to support for the possible reinstatement of the “Bad Ronald” moniker. 

Particular high notes in the Punk716 set were covers of Elvis,’ “Burning Love” and Little Richard’s “The Girl Can’t Help It.” The version of the Little Richard tune is a cover of a cover done by the Trenton, NJ, garage rock band The Swingin’ Neckbreakers. Punk716 didn’t quite hit the ferocity button like the Neckbreakers, but it’s cerainly not out of reach for this upstart band. 

The Rock-n-Roll Board of Governors will convene this weekend at the Chelsea Hotel, 223 West 23rd Street, New York City, to discuss the matter over vodka martinis and numerous eight-balls at the very table where David Bowie and Lou Reed made out in 1973. Word on the street is split over reinstating the “Bad Ronald” name. Those in favor do so with the caveat—play deeper cuts by bands like the Buzzcocks and Oingo Boingo—the latter being the Uriah Heep of the early 80s. Others who are still opposed say we’re getting ahead of ourselves, pointing out the diminutive, and possibly hairless front man needs to create a more punk persona before he can be bestowed with the “Bad Ronald” handle again.

Here are some other perspecives on the Just Ronald/Bad Ronald debate:

Tom McDonnell (Dog Ears Bookstore)—How about we step back from this Just Ronald/Bad Ronald thing and find a middle ground? While we untangle this let’s call him—“Slightly Intimidating Ronald.”  

Iggy Pop (legendary punk front man)—Dude needs to lose the shirt and eat some broken glass.  

Maria Genero (former TV weather anchor)—You can’t front a punk band without getting spit on. I’d like to spit on that kid. I don’t care what his name is. I just want to spit on him. 

Aunt Edna (Ronald’s aunt)—Oh Ronald, you were such a nice boy with so much potential. Now you’re mixed up in this punk rock suff. Why couldn’t you stick to playing nice music like Bob Seger and Frank Zappa?  

Tim Watts (long-time friend)—Ron, I don’t care about your stupid name, When. Are. You. Going. To. Pay. That. Fifty. Back. To. Me. Motherfucker? 

Movement To Demote Local Drummer “Bad Ronald” To “Just Ronald” Growing

Lack Of Response Further Proof “Just Ronald” Demotion Warranted

Woman Narrowly Escapes Night Out With Local Drummer “Bad Ronald”

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The show’s narrative will see Kane as an aging but resplendent lifeguard who both patrols the beach and distills emotional support to rich, empty Malibu housewives and their mothers. He’ll remind these ladies they are more than their boob jobs and the Botox that puffs up their lips. He’ll set up the grandma’s umbrellas and offer them a kind hand up from beach chairs. He’ll also reassure them Papa’s floppy erectile dysfunction is his problem and his problem alone. Mostly, in the breezy California sunshine he’ll sing their praises and remind them they are good and worthy of love. And, of course, if they forget or misplace their sunscreen—he’ll always have a tube of creamy SPF50 handy.

Co-starring with Kane will be the totally awesome and equally resplendent 80’s supermodel Paulina Porizkova. She’ll run a taco stand on the beach and lean on Kane, the 1.5 millionth ranked most popular Amazon author, as she continues to heal from the dissolution of her marriage to former Cars frontman Ric Ocasek, who had written her out of his will a few months prior to his death in 2019.

Kane is unsure about the story arc with Porizkova, but given the abundance of resplendeness between them the chemistry should be a fine mix of blue skies and sunshine with the occasional dose of thunder. Kane said, “It’ll be the kind of alchemy that will cause eyes to grow big and jaws to drop, like when Julia Roberts lost her mind and married Lyle Lovett.”

Readers of Buffalo Mud will also recall that Kane was tapped to play the role of Mitch Buchannon, in the original 1989 series. The part eventually went to David Hasselhoff , because producers, according to Kane, were shallow and shortsighted. After rejecting various storylines he developed, including one that incorporated T.S, Elliott’s “The Waste Land,” he stepped away from the project citing irreconcilable artistic differences.

Separated by three decades since the original Kane is neither young nor idealistic anymore. “I just want to have fun,” he said.  “And I want to bring the hairy back. I was tapped to be the first “Golden Bachelor,” but turned it down because my hairy gloriousness would have been muted or worse, manscaped away by producers. Yeah, myself and Ryan Fitzpatrick, we’re going to bring back the hairy to the culture.”

Episodes written thus far include: Nana’s Sexy Two-Piece; Irene Gets Thumped; Blisters Everywhere; P.A. and Paulina’s Crazy Tequila Night; Birdie’s Broken Hip; Mystery Shits Fouling The Beach; Another Crab Story; Betty’s Brand New Double D’s . . . and others.

Kane isn’t sure how long he’ll be away from Buffalo Mud but emphasized his leave is temporary and he’ll return as soon as possible to again provide readers with the best in lean, antibiotic free, environmentally friendly fake news/satire. He is grateful for all the support he has received through the years. 

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After a long day of viewing rock memorabilia and seeing a fat guy in a Night Ranger t-shirt shake his head at the Lady Gaga exhibit and say, ‘Lady Gaga, gimme a break,’ they made one last stop in the gift shop. His dad bought a Gram Parsons biography for himself and Frankie scored a Ramones tee, a “Velvet Underground & Nico” album and the haunting postcard. 

Thirteen years later at the age of twenty-four Frankie, or as he calls himself Fender Bender Ferraro, is a musician in his own right and that postcard, which is pinned to a cork board three feet from where he works stuff out on his guitar makes him feel incredibly anxious. 

Distressed, Ferraro points to the postcard, “Look at him, in that leather and those aviators, holding that guitar with the little cubes in the corner that say ‘I’m Cold.’ I’ll never be that cool. Sure I can play a little and I’m trying to put together a look, but compared to Lou Reed, I’m a freaking joke. Behind those shades I know he knows I was a little douchebag that got endless participation trophies and was James B. Madison Middle School’s, Hall Monitor of the Year 2012. I mean, this is the guy who wrote “Sweet Jane” and “Street Hassle”.” That monosyllabic name Lou Reed might as well be Rock God. I suck so hard next to him.

Asked why he doesn’t just put the postcard in a drawer and remove the problem Ferraro becomes indignant. “Everybody—my parents, bandmates and my therapist, Feelgood Felicia—says that’s what I should do, but then I would be a quitter like Pete Townshend on the “Lifehouse” project. On top of that, I grew up in this suburban wonderland called Clarence, NY where I had an endless supply of fruit roll ups and pizza logs. I pitted my guilty parents against each other to the tune of double vacations, birthday gifts and Christmases. I got anything I wanted. Lou Reed’s parents on the other hand put him through electroshock therapy to crush his homosexual urges. No, I need the negative energy of the postcard to grow. I need to suffer for my art.”

Ferraro also mentioned that Reed came into contact with some of the coolest people in his formative years. People like Delmore Schwartz and Andy Warhol whereas the most radical person he knows is Josh from Spalding Lake. Josh lives in his parents basement and has these off the hook three day Dungeons and Dragons raves when his parents go to their lodge in the Poconos. Ferraro’s sure at some point a real monster is going to be hired and a real person will be sacrificed.

Coupled with time, effort and the anxiety and judgment from the Lou Reed postcard Ferraro thinks he’ll be able move beyond his current situation of playing lead in a Journey cover band—The Lovin’ Touchin’ Squeezin’ Experience and become the artist that would make the man in the leather and aviators proud. Or, at least the kind of artist he wouldn’t spit on. 

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In a novella titled “Player,” we find Fillmore post-presidency traveling to Great Britain on a diplomatic mission to boost U.S. interests. During tea in the court of Queen Victoria , Fillmore is giving her the eye. Later, after one too many sherries the Queen sends an attendant for Fillmore and in the English moonlight seduces him. In her diary she writes: Such a playful bug prancing around in my bloomers and corset. And never, and I mean never has such a mediocre man done me so good.

In another chapter we find Fillmore stranded at the WGRZ studios with meteorologist Patrick Hammer during the Christmas Blizzard of 2022. The always prepared Fillmore shows up early for a “Daybreak” interview, but the station loses power and everyone is sent home. The flighty Hammer doesn’t get the message and staff forgets Fillmore in the green room. Facing this emergency together as the snow piles up and the studios descend into a deep freeze, Hammer becomes scared and vulnerable and says he needs someone to hold him. Fillmore then takes him by the hand and soothes the always too bright and chipper forecaster and eventually shows him some real hammering skills.

In a book of essays titled “Jokes On You,” Sokowtowski portrays Fillmore in a lighter, less serious way. Here we see him exchanging momma jokes with Mark Twain, who was a Buffalo resident from 1869-1871.
MF: Yo momma’s so fat cows in a pasture use her for shade.
MT: Yo momma’s so fat Magellan died of old age trying to sail around her.
MF: Yo momma’s so stupid she think Vivek Ramaswamy is a muslim holiday.
MT: Yo momma’s so stupid she think sugar in her bed will give her sweet dreams.
MF: Yo momma’s so old I signed her yearbook.
MT: Yo momma’s so old she started her diary on stone tablets. 

In another essay we find a mischievous Fillmore seated in the office of Buffalo Mayor Byron Brown having a pleasant chat about traversing the city during snow events. The jocular Fillmore relates an anecdote about how he was thrown from his  carriage when one of his skis snapped after a night of frivolity at the Eagle House in 1837. As the two men chuckle about the mishap, for which Fillmore received a ticket: Driving Carriage While Intoxicated or a—DCWI, the mayor becomes visibly upset when he notices every picture and every framed artifact in his office had been replaced with images of his rival, Erie County Executive, Mark Polancarz. “Karen . . . KaREN . . . KAREN,” the mayor yelled for his assistant as Fillmore leaned back in his chair with folded hands and an impish grin.     

Here are a few other Fillmore legends created by Sokowtowski:

-On January 24,1968 sparks from a welder’s torch working on the South Park Bridge ignited an oil slick on the Buffalo River and set the water on fire. Fillmore was there to heroically extinguish the burning river.
-In 2016 at Bills game against the Patriots not only was Fillmore shooting Blue Lights and breaking tables in the Hammer Lot, but he was the the guy that threw the dildo on the field as the Pats prepared to score.
-In another scenario Fillmore is in the room doing lines with Rick James when he comes up with the bass line for Superfreak.
-Just prior to going on camera during another Buffalo blizzard in 1985 Fillmore fed Jimmy Griffin the line: Go home, buy a six pack of beer and watch a good football game.
-And, of course, Fillmore pleaded with Sean McDermott NOT to kick it out of the endzone with thirteen seconds in the Bills 2021 playoff loss to the Chiefs.

Look for more exciting Millard Fillmore fan fiction at www.Sokotowski.com

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Anchored by the grand matriarch, Dolores Cuddihy, on Friday night with the sun falling from the sky the families set sail along the Buffalo waterfront on the Moondance catamaran with food, drink and a good deal of boisterous talking, laughing and reminiscing. On Saturday they gathered for the reunion proper—a catered backyard happening where they did more talking, laughing and reminiscing while the kids swam, played in the hot tub and kicked a soccer ball. All of this was followed by a peaceful Sunday morning brunch. Over the three day reunion the local author didn’t witness one snippy word or argument, he didn’t hear any passive-aggressive statements and no shade was thrown behind anyone’s back. And the only eye-rolls he saw were the ones directed at him by his own kids— otherwise, it was all light and loveliness.

Of course, the local author did feel the slight tinge of resentment coming his way as a result of his literary accomplishments. Striking a modest stance he said, “Look, you don’t become the 1.5 millionth ranked most popular Amazon author and not expect to engender some jealousy. It’s human nature and the bit of enviousness aimed at me in no way took the bloom off the flower that was the weekend.”

Kane did admit he too had moments of weakness over the weekend. Like when his wife was lolly-gagging along on the way to the catamaran ride on Friday night and he told her: “If you keep walking like an asshole we’re not going to make the boat.” And when the Paul Anka song came on during the evocative slideshow, that was a walk down memory lane, it took all of his strength to not make some snarky remark or put-down at the cheesy song. Instead the wordsmith just thought about plunging a fork into his eye while the song played.

And while fantasizing about the self-injurious act of plunging a fork into one’s eye might seem demented to some—it was growth for Kane. This fantasy removed him from the horror of the Paul Anka tune and coming out the other side he was struck by all that he had been through with these people. From the lumpy Carnation powdered milk, to waiting in line among his nine siblings to use the bathroom to Uncle Bob Cuddihy telling his mom—the bearer of those nine siblings— “Pat, the grass grows when you walk up the driveway.” 

Instead of being in his own head he was able to be in the moment with these beautiful people and he saw the vast reserves of love and goodness that had been cultivated over four generations. 

The experience was nothing short of amazing and it left the prickly author who perpetually has his middle finger raised against an unjust world and a too hard life wanting to try harder and wanting to be a better person.   

Family Photo: Mark Mulville

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