Category: Life in Dunwich

My Adventures in the Mythical New England Town of Dunwich

Next!!!

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Bureaucrats are one of the things that make American life purgatorial.  But small-town bureaucrats are a special case that is worth discussing because of their emergent characteristics.  When I was young and living in New York City, one of the most horrific ordeals that the city could dish out was a trip to the Department of Motor Vehicles.  The DMV was located in a large old building and there would be many, many lines of New Yorkers waiting to get their business attended to.  Maybe your license was about to expire and you had to pay the fee or get your picture taken or take the eye test or, God forbid, you needed to correct a mistake on the document.  You would wait in one of these lines and hope against hope for quick service.  Eventually, this hope would cruelly die in that first line.  The glacial pace of the line would sooner or later crush your spirit and you took on the same weary, miserable expression of everyone else around you.  And even before you reached the front of the line you would have already sized up the essential traits of the clerk waiting on your line.  She (it was always a woman) had a face that could stop a clock and her IQ probably hovered around 75 and she worked and talked so slowly that you weren’t sure from moment to moment whether she had lapsed into a coma.  But regardless of her demeanor and obvious imbecility the only thing you knew going in was that she would declare your problem didn’t fit her services ands she would redirect you to the back of some other line.  And this same process might be repeated several times until finally you might just flee the building rather than risk arrest for assaulting a public servant.

But small towns do not possess this kind of apparatus.  Even at tax time they do not possess the vast numbers of citizens needed to turn lines into killing fields.  They just don’t.  But what the bureaucracy of a small town does possess in spades is kooks.  Once again, they’re all women (well not the road department but they’re not really bureaucrats) and they often have faces that could stop clocks but their scope of influence is limited.  There just aren’t enough people in town hall to endlessly stall a tax payer from receiving some government service.  So instead of delay they’ve developed the art of obfuscation to a high art form.  I was talking to the assistant town clerk of Dunwich and wanted to clear up a problem having to do with the misspelling of a road name.  And it was complicated.  Both names that were listed in various state databases were incorrect but I wanted to determine who had jurisdiction over what the correct name actually was.  She sent me to the Assessor’s Office but the Assessor was out of the office for a while and so I got the assistant to the Assessor.  I might as well have been speaking to a parrot.  She kept taking the information I gave her and mixing it up in her mind and when I tried to correct her, she just talked over me and tried to solve the wrong problem.  And of course, she just kept getting more and more confused and excited until she was just rattling her mantra about how these kinds of problems were usually the taxpayer’s fault.  Finally, she told me to call the Post Office because they knew what everyone’s address was supposed to be.  But when I mentioned that the Post Office was a federal agency and the state should be the ones with the official records, she told me I had to come back when the Assessor was back because I was upsetting her.

And that’s what I did.  The Assessor knew all about the incorrect names in the databases and told me that the state had issued a statement pointing to the documents that contained the correct name.  It took all of two minutes to answer the question.  The assistant was at her desk with her head buried in her paperwork and studiously ignored my interaction with her boss.  So, is the small-town bureaucrat worse than her city relative?  Absolutely not.  There is none of the moronic sadism that is on display in Gotham.  And honestly, I’m sure the assistant assessor isn’t abysmally stupid.  She’s just a fuzzy headed old lady who isn’t up to any kind of logical thinking when anything is out of the ordinary.  But it does make for an ordeal at Dunwich town Hall.  Next!!!

The Great 2026 Summer Cooldown

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Well, we’re going through a cool-down here in Dunwich.  It’s been in the low seventies today and rainy.  I heard this will be going on for a week or so.  That’s okay.  With the kids going back to school it’s best if it’s not too hot.  Most of the school buildings aren’t air conditioned so summer weather is truly oppressive especially while the kids are still in mourning over summer vacation.

I walked around in the rain and found some interesting bugs.  There was a preying mantis and some hungover bumble bees holding onto the cone flowers for dear life.  And then I found this really tiny, almost microscopic bight yellow spider.  At least I think it’s yellow.  Sometimes it turns out that these things are really some very light, bright green that looks yellow to people like me who are blind to green.  Well, whatever color it was, it was sliding around on a strand of web and moving from flower petal to flower petal, trying to look like part of the plant.  And maybe to someone with color vision, maybe because he’s some kind of green, maybe he does blend in.  But to me he sticks out like a sore thumb.  So, every time he flies off, I watch him trying to blend into his background.  So, then I start trying to get good photos of him.  But he’s unbelievably small and every tiny breath of wind shakes the flower stem and throws off my focus.  So, I probably took dozens of frames that will be just blurred garbage and those files will add to the terabytes of photos that I should be deleting from my desk top hard drive but don’t.

But it was fun.  I found a monarch butterfly chrysalis on a day lily plant.  It was at least fifty feet from the nearest milkweed plants, so that’s an interesting bit of information that I can use in the future.  I’m trying to decide if I should collect the chrysalis and try to photograph the hatching.  I’m trying to decide what would be the optimal container to allow me to get the best photos of the hatching process.  I probably will have to hurry because they only spend a week or two in the chrysalis and for all I know it may already be ready to hatch.

There’s talk about another kid’s movie in the near future for me.  Princess Sack of Potatoes is back next week for the end of her vacation.  The plan is to see the new Minions movie.  Camera Girl is also a fan of these annoying yellow creatures so the three of us will experience this event together.  Actually, the last Minions movie wasn’t so bad.  It took place in the 1960s in New York and London and the music was very nostalgic.  I haven’t looked into what the theme for this masterpiece will be but it’s a non-Disney production so that is at least one factor in its favor.  Well, here we go into fall!

18AUG2026 – This’N’That

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Tomorrow, I bring some of the grandsons to see the latest Spiderman movie.  What is this, the ten millionth Spiderman movie?  Well, the oldest grandson is boycotting the film because he’s reached Marvel saturation.  And I can’t blame him.  I feel that no matter how many multiverse iterations they manage to shoehorn into the plot, I’ve already seen before what will be flashing across the screen.  But, regardless, I can’t pass up the chance to hang out with my younger descendants in their own element.  I can buy popcorn and their carbonated sugar water of choice and be one of the kids at least one more time.  What’s better than that?

And afterward, Camera Girl has promised them their favorite meal; spaghetti and meatballs.  We will gather around the dining room table and I’ll see what they have to say about Summer 2026 which ends for them next week.  And I’ll tread carefully because mentioning school would be highly insensitive.  I remember only too well how critical it is to forego the s-word this close to Labor Day.  But I am interested in hearing what they enjoyed most this year.  But I also want to just hear what’s on their minds.  They’re growing by leaps and bounds and I almost don’t recognize the little kids they were in the teenagers that they’ve become.  So, it’s important I keep some continuity in the relations so I don’t feel too disoriented by their rapid metamorphoses.

So, I’ve sold over four hundred copies of my book.  Hmmm.  Not exactly a national best seller by any stretch of the imagination.  And in the last ninety days I sold a little more than ten thousand pages on Kindle Unlimited (KU) which equals about fifty full books.  And based on the royalty data that means a book equals about a dollar of royalties to me.  Well, all I need is nine hundred, ninety-nine thousand six hundred more sales and I’ll be a millionaire.  In your face Elon Musk!  Seriously, it apparently takes a lot more than what I did in order to market a book successfully.  It’s a little humbling but I still want to pursue finding a larger audience for the book so since the ninety-day window of Kindle Unlimited ends today, I’m going to suspend KU so that I can include “The Sniper” on the next Based Book Sale.  Getting the book in front of right-leaning sf fans seems like the right way to grow its audience.  We’ll see how that works out.  But regardless of my lack of millionaire author status. I think I’ll start the sequel after the summer.  I have had some complaints that I need to provide closure on a number of plot and character situations.  I think the biggest complaint is that Mel needs to be explored to find out how this AI came about and where she leads to in the story and in Cutter’s life.  Personally, I’m more intrigued (and befuddled) about how Connors is going to stabilize his organization after the events of the nuke attack on his underground facilities.  I think I’m going to devote considerable thought to how he decides to influence the future shape of social/commercial/political life in the radically altered American landscape.

Well, that’s enough.  Enjoy Tuesday.

Having the Relatives Over

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Farmer Cthulhu in His Fields

So, this week, in the middle of all the usual crises in Dunwich I got a visit from the First Selectman.  I was out in the fields when suddenly the shadow of a five-hundred-foot eldritch horror darkened my path.  Now tact is always the key survival trait when dealing with the First Selectman.  So, I greeted him respectfully and asked him to what I owed the honor of his attention.

He got right to the point.  His kin were having a visit to Dunwich and he wanted to make sure they had a nice stay.  Well, when Azathoth, Yog-Sothoth and Nyarlathotep come to town, they’re bound to be hungry from the interdimensional transit and will expect something substantial with which to restore the tissues.  So, Cthulhu wanted me to arrange the menu.  Since Dunwich is a farming town, I suggested cattle.  He gave me a shake of his cephalopodic head and reminded me that all three visitors were obligate anthropophages.  Well, that would make this a tricky assignment.  Even though I’m regularly fed up with most of my neighbors, I’m not really comfortable with them being eaten alive by monsters from beyond space.  And I especially don’t want to be the one feeding them to the hideous entities.  But neither did I want to be next on the menu for refusing.  So, what to do?

Well, it took a little work but by the creative lowering of our fairground fees I was able to attract and book the Democratic Socialists of America’s New England political rally for that weekend.  And wouldn’t you know Graham Plattner was the keynote speaker!  Now without a doubt an oysterman would provide just the tang of New England cuisine that the First Selectman’s family would find irresistible.  My plan is to let the rally reach a crescendo of communistic agitation and then use a couple of fire houses to marinate the crowd.  I gave the First Selectman his choice of sauces; classic Worcestershire cocktail, garlic butter, Bang Bang or a Remoulade.  Being old fashioned he went with the garlic butter.

I know, I know.  What kind of heartless monster would feed his fellow humans to creatures of cosmic horror.  I did think a while about it.  But then I remembered that Bernie Sanders and AOC were also supposed to be attending.  So that seemed to assuage my conscience.

But today I had new pangs of guilt.  I mean Azathoth, Yog-Sothoth and Nyarlathotep have never caused me any harm and here I was feeding them some of the most toxic creatures on the planet.  I mean, what if they got really sick.  It would be my fault.  At the very least maybe I should provide a photo of Plattner to the Great Old Ones and warn them that he probably had at least a sixty-proof rating and anyone with an alcohol problem should probably steer clear of the pugnacious oysterman and stick to something a little less spicy.  Well, anyway, the First Selectman seems pleased with the menu.  That’s something.

Mid-Summer Mumblings

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Here we are in the last week of July.  Wow.  The days fly by when you’re too busy with annoying drudgery.  So that’s a strange way of looking at it.  While engaged in the drudgery it’s crawling along.  But when I finally escape, the day is already wasted away.  And what’s left flies down the gravity drain into the past in the blink of an eye.  So, I’m just annoyed at the present situation.  And it’s only gonna get worse in August and so I’m terribly disgruntled.  But until I figure a way out of the trap I’m in, it’s gonna be status quo.  Enough.  Well, at least I have the weekend off so I’m going to enjoy the next two days as much as is humanly possible.  So, stop complaining!

We’re five episodes into the first season of “Landman” and it’s a very odd experience.  The main story of Billy Bob Thornton’s character trying to manage a chaotic mix of oil field accidental mayhem, narcotraficante related mayhem and roughneck related mayhem is interesting but the subplot involving his terminally self-absorbed ex-wife is extremely annoying.  The other themes associated with his son and daughter are pretty good and his son’s story is expanding into a larger role.  Camera Girl and I are enjoying the experience of having a show that we can both watch with at least some degree of interest.  There was one scene that I found particularly funny.  Tommy Norris’s ex-wife is trying to stage a “family” dinner with herself, Tommy, their two kids and the two oil company guys who are staying at the company “house.”  She insists that they all join hands around the table for a prayer and after it’s over the two outsiders are talking about it and one guy says, “Well, that was the first dinner prayer I can remember that was explicitly blasphemous.”

Friday, Saturday and Sunday’s weather is supposed to be beautiful.  The kids came over to use the pool today and they said the temperature was perfect.  And the butterfly bush is finally in full flower and monarchs and swallowtails (tiger and pipevine) are increasingly present as photographic subjects.  And the raspberry canes are starting to produce a bumper crop of berries.  So, this is peak mid-summer experience and if I wasn’t committed to an annoying task I would be in seventh heaven.  Well, I guess it’s not that bad if I can take the time to complain this much about it.

One of our neighbors put out a bit of video from her bird feeder.  It was of a black bear’s nose stuck up against the camera.  The bear’s claws were fairly impressive and a good reminder that even a black bear is not a Disney character that you can approach with impunity.  We have a bunch of blueberry bushes that are just about ripe so we may be getting a visit from Yogi and company at any time.  I have a game camera mounted but I didn’t return the memory stick last time I downloaded the files.  I probably should.

Well, that’s enough for now.  Just regular stuff going on.  Enjoy July.

Lights, Camera, Cthulhu!

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I was thinking about trying to start a YouTube channel.  But I’m not sure if I can do it the way I want to.  My idea is to host an animated version of First Selectman Cthulhu expounding for five minutes about whatever was on my mind that week.  So, what this will require is some kind of free animation program that can be used to present the First Selectman speaking with a voice that would be appropriate for his status and personality.  It would also be useful if from time to time he could do more than just stand there and talk.  Possibly from time to time he could extract a human from a jar on his desk and swallow him.  And I’d like to be able to make those humans recognizable images of famous people like politicians, film actors and other pompous asses.

Now I realize this is easier said than done.  First of all, I have to develop an interesting persona for Cthulhu.  Then I have to be able to produce these videos at least once a week.  So that means they can’t take too long to produce and load onto YouTube.  Also, I have to learn what rules there are on YouTube that I’m not allowed to break.  I’ve seen that there are words like rape and murder that people cannot say on YouTube.  I assume that is because using them results in demonetization.  Now I wasn’t specifically trying to make money directly from YouTube.  I wanted to use it to grow an audience for my writing but maybe demonetization goes hand in hand with throttling visibility so I need to learn all about those aspects of the site.  If the restrictions are too limiting, I may not want to bother.  After all humor can be kind of cruel and cruel seems to be the mortal sin of the woke generation.

I’m sure this will take a long time to roll out because my plate is already too full now.  But I wanted to see if it’s doable.  My website has never grown to the point where I can reach thousands of people.  So, I figure I should try other platforms to see if I can expand my audience by several orders of magnitude.  Obviously, I won’t interest the really largest segments of the population but I have seen where people who are adjacent to things I’m interested in can reach a larger audience.  So, I figure I’ll try.  Hopefully it will be fun.

Maybe I’ll have Cthulhu interview other supernatural celebrities like Dracula or the ghost of Lindsey Graham.  Who knows, my version of Donald Trump might even show up.  After all Cthulhu is a Great Old One and Trump is always talking about “great.”  Or maybe he can do a cooking show where he shows how to make a jambalaya using Democrat and Republican politicians together.  The possibilities are endless.  But of course, all of this will be in bad taste so it may never see daylight on YouTube.

Books and Bugs

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So, today’s post is about nothing.  I’m involved in a bunch of random things right now.  I’m reading two novels.  I’ve got Jim Butcher’s latest Harry Dresden book “Twelve Months” and I’m also reading a very old book called “Buddenbrooks” by the German author Thomas Mann.  And you couldn’t hope to find two more completely different stories if you tried.  But I have an interest in reading both.  But the Dresden book flies by while Mann’s description of the 19th century events in the lives of the merchant family Buddenbrook is a task that I peck away at a few pages at a sitting.  The translator saw fit to preserve the large chunks of French that Mann incorporated in the speech of some of his characters.  And the religiosity and the local customs of Northern Germany are curiosities for a modern American reader.

I’m also involved in a microscopic inspection of the flora in the fields.  I mentioned in an earlier post that I couldn’t find any preying mantis egg sacs in the yard this year and assumed that the mantids that I introduced into the yard in the last couple of years weren’t capable of surviving New England winters.  Well, either that isn’t correct or the native populations are making their appearance this year.  In two different areas of the yard on two different species of flowering plants (cone flowers and day lilies) I found the specimens photographed below.

Now, these critters are infinitesimally small.  And considering my old eyes, I’m shocked I found then at all.  And as things stand now, I haven’t been able to locate them again on the plants where I originally spotted them.  But this doesn’t discourage me.  After following some of the mantids around the fields last year I know that they get around and move quite a lot to find the diet of tiny bugs they need to fuel their substantial growth potential.

And I don’t mind saying that finding these little monsters cheered me up considerably.  I really do enjoy hunting them around the fields and watching them go about their work of stalking, killing and eating tiny flies and other arthropods.  Their skill is considerable and their appetites remarkable for something so small.

And the other thing keeping me busy is preparation for an upcoming birthday party for one of the grandchildren.  I found out that the propane cylinder I was trying to get refilled was too old.  Apparently after five years it’s considered unsafe and has to be recertified for use.  So, the Tractor Supply folks sold me a new twenty-pound cylinder for eighty bucks and now I have both.  I wonder how much they’ll charge me to “recertify” the old one?  I’m guessing something like eighty bucks.  After all, we’ve got to do whatever we can to discourage the use of evil hydrocarbons!  But it’s fine.  The burgers and dogs will still taste just as good cooked by the new propane.

Well, that’s enough for now.  I’m watching my Amazon account today.  I sold 613 pages of “The Sniper” on Kindle Unlimited today.  That’s almost three books worth and that is pretty good for my sales output so I want to see if it increases before I go to bed.

A Special Message from the First Selectman

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Good morning my fellow Dunwichians.  I come to you today with a heavy heart but a firm resolve.  I’m sure that all of you are aware of the enormous scandal that has unfolded over the allegations that have swirled around my old friend Graham Platner.  As you all know he and I go way back to the early days of the oyster farming craze of the twenty teens.  After all, as a cephalopod I naturally gravitate to shellfish eating pursuits.  And for many years we’ve made the rounds of the New England dive bar circuit.  Of course, he was entering them looking for drunk chicks and after he was done I would rip the building from the ground and swallow all of the organic contents.  But we were always very chummy.  He would show me his death’s head tattoo and I would show him my keychain with the skulls of anybody who didn’t get out of my way that week.  But we were always good pals.

But things have gone too far.  His disrespect for women has crossed a line.  Now, sure, I’ve had my moments of ribaldry with the fairer sex.  That time I crashed the Smith College orientation day and ate the whole freshman class in a swimming pool full of barbecue sauce was a bit “forward” of me but I maintained the highest levels of decorum, always keeping my pinky fingers outstretched and never talking while chewing.  And I did send an apology to the Dean of Students for neglecting to get a pool pass in advance.  But in my heart, I’ve always been a true gentleman and have never disrespected women.

So, it is my sad duty to condemn Graham for his awful behavior and shocking actions.  As the political head of the Dunwich Democratic Party, I must take the sad but necessary action of cancelling Graham Platner’s status as keynote speaker at the Dunwich Labor Day Jamboree.  And I must further demand the return of all the free passes to the rides and attractions that have already been mailed to him.  These passes represent a value of over eleven dollars and are much sought after by patrons of the event.  I would hope that Graham would have the decency of mailing the passes in time for their use at the Labor Day festivities.  He may have sunk into sexual moral depravity and criminality but at least let’s hope he hasn’t also become a selfish jerk too.

But as much as it is my sad duty to denounce Graham for his outrageous behavior, I feel it’s also necessary to extend the hope of redemption to this lost soul.  During the Middle Ages the Church of Rome was famous for their carefully calibrated table of alms linked to indulgences for various terrible sins.  In the same vein I’d like to offer Graham the chance to pay alms to Dunwich for the indulgence of his offences.  I think three tons of oysters would cover the moral lapses in question quite nicely.  If he could convey the alms to my refrigerator by the end of July, I think we could see him attending the Labor Day Jamboree as a “prodigal son” without too much squawking by the gals, in my estimation.  Think about it Graham.  I’m sure you’ll do the right thing, amigo.

Papaya, Jerry, Papaya!

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Here it is the Fourth of July and Camera Girl and I are home alone with the dogs and various other captive living organisms.  The kids and the grandkids have headed for the ocean and we must fend for ourselves.  And we had a nice dinner and finished up our chores (except this one) so I said let’s watch a movie to celebrate the Fourth.  And I left the choice of movie up to her.  What would she pick?  Independence Day?  Yankee Doodle Dandy?  Ah, Wilderness?  No, her pick was inspired.

“The Hot Dog Program.”  It’s a documentary from a guy from Pittsburgh who did documentaries for PBS (boo!!!).  The show travels across the country from Coney Island in Brooklyn to Anchorage, Alaska describing the local variations in the toppings, condiments and preparations of hot dogs in various places in the United States.  And to tie it into the Fourth, the show features the Fourth of July hot dog eating contest at Coney Island.

But the real reason why this movie was a brilliant selection for the holiday is because back in 1999 when this special was made there were people in all parts of the country who were excited to describe hot dogs as the most American of American foods.  And even the foreigners who were interviewed were visibly excited about associating with the American culture that the hot dog was emblematic of.

In place as different as Chicago IL and a small town in Alabama everyone thought of their local hot dog stand or store as a touchstone to their childhood memories and local life.  It linked up with summer barbecues, baseball games and summer fun.  And everyone from lawyers in Manhattan to Hollywood actors in Los Angeles to small town policemen in Georgia were sure that they knew the best place to get a hot and a drink.  Of course, they wouldn’t agree whether that drink was papaya juice in Times Square or a Coke in a glass bottle in small-town South Carolina.  But the disagreement is the point.  It’s local flavor.

And the movie was also highly educational.  We saw the awful cut of beef that is used in their manufacture and watched as the disgusting puree that eventually becomes hot dog is shaped, cooked and shot at high speed into a storage bin.  What could be more appetizing?

But what makes this movie most enjoyable is seeing Americans from 1999 talk about an America that was still the one we all remember as kids.  A place full of happy people who can enjoy a simple thing like having a hot dog for lunch without there being any political, cultural or ethnic baggage associated with an iconic American food.  Back then no one was making the point that we should consider the taco or the egg roll (or even worse some vegan grass burger) should be the new American cuisine and we all should renounce the hot dog as anathema and bad for the planet.  And that’s probably why we both enjoyed watching this so much.  Happy Independence Day.

Blow-Up Godzilla and Highway Mayhem

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The Third of July was a busy day.  We had to get the pool vacuumed before guests arrived and then there were chores around the yard.  And then we had a good summer cookout with burgers and potato salad, corn on the cob, sausage and peppers and watermelon.  No wonder losing weight is such a slog!

And it was a good visit with reminiscences about summers up in Maine when my kids were young and other trips.  And I had an interesting conversation with Princess Sack of Potatoes.  She said something about how useful mothers were.  So, I mentioned to her what fathers were useful for.  I asked her if she ever got tired while out somewhere and her father carried her around like a sack of potatoes?  Or what exactly would happen if the car got a flat tire far away from a tow truck?  Or if suddenly traffic stopped on a crowded highway in the middle of summer and after an hour someone would have to get out and walk up the road to see how long the stoppage would be.  And this caused a yelp from Princess Sack of Potatoes’ mother.  She remembered that day very well after all these years.  And she was still upset by it, remembering how certain she had been that I would never come back alive.  We all got a big laugh out of that.

This was shortly after I had moved out of New York City but I was driving into Manhattan to attend a wedding in SoHo.  It was a science fiction themed wedding with a blow-up Godzilla in attendance.  We were on the FDR Drive when the traffic screeched to a halt and nothing happened for about forty minutes.  So, since it was very hot that day and my car’s air conditioning was non-existent, I shut off the engine and started walking between lanes of traffic to see what was going on.  And about a half mile up the road there were police, fire and emergency vehicles blocking the road in both directions.  And along with several crashed cars there was a very fancy sports car that was upside down and wrapped around a light pole and some other parts of the highway infrastructure.  The firemen were cutting away what was left of the frame to get at what was left of the driver.  It looked pretty grim.

The good news for us was that our direction on the highway would be released as soon as the ambulances got their patients stowed away and headed to the hospital.   The other side looked like it would be stuck for hours.  So, after satisfying my morbid curiosity for a few minutes I headed back to my car with the news that we would be moving in less than another half hour.  And my youngest daughter looked so relieved when I managed to return before the traffic had started to move.  She was convinced that if I hadn’t gotten back before it started to move then of necessity I would be squashed like a bug in a cartoon.

It’s funny, up until today I hadn’t thought of that day in thirty-some-odd years.  Funny what stuff just pops into your head.