Author: Bill

Men Have Called her Crazy

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Plain-spoken and raw, Anna Marie Tendler bears all in this vulnerable biography.   In short, it covers *most of* her male relationships from pre-teen to present.  They all shape her, the artist, as a single cumulative work – even the ones that are hurtful, traumatic or unfair.  If you’re tuning in like I did in hopes of salacious details on recent ex-husband John Mulaney, you will find nothing here.  Every other dude she crossed paths with, affirmative.  But not one iota about Baby J.  And that’s more than fine.  If the best revenge is “living well”, then this radio silence is a dish served ice-cold.

Confession:  Somehow I could handle the mental health breakdown, suicidal ideation, and the loss of will to live.  But I had to bail at the end of the book when her fur child, Petunia, crossed the rainbow bridge.  May you be stronger.  Incidentally, Petunia was her sole recorded reason to live during inpatient hospitalization.

As evidenced by her leaps and bounds, Tendler clearly draws from a deep well of multidisciplinary artistic talent. And, as it turns out, she’s great at audiobook narration.  However, she portrays her employment story arc as that of an itinerant chimney sweep of a creative.  One minute she’s a struggling art student, the next doing makeup and hair in Hollywood.  Then she’s setting records at art shows — the medium, photography.  The current (and lucrative) endeavor is custom-crafted Victorian lampshades.  Methinks she’s more humble than merely failing upwards.

 

Situation Room

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You might not think it possible, but after the botched Bay of Pigs invasion some people in Washington started pointing fingers.  One of many digits were levelled at a dearth of current and accurate tactical information.  In addition, there was a need to consolidate secure hotline communication anywhere in the world and to foreign governments.  To that end, John F. Kennedy ordered the creation of such a White House apparatus in 1961.  For $35,000, a former Truman-era bowling alley was renovated into a 24-7 complex synthesizing second-by-second global intelligence.  Think the executive branch crossing a surgical theater with NASA’s Mission Control.

Narrated by Stephanopoulos himself, this is the story of the “sit room” and its inhabitants — from Presidents to intrepid overnight duty officers.   George throws a microphone on staff who were at the table during our nation’s most harrowing hours, and tosses in chilling anecdotes from heightened threat levels.  In fact, with the audio version you get to hear authentic audio such as during JFK’s assassination a mere two years after the Situation Room’s founding.  Other highlights include Vietnam, The Cold War, Reagan assassination attempt, 9-11, Operation Neptune Spear (Bin Laden raid), and January 6th, 2021.

Americans aren’t the only ones to use the Situation Room.  In fact, to defuse the brinksmanship of the Cuban Missile crisis the Kremlin announced on Radio Moscow in hopes it would reach Kennedy quicker than through diplomatic channels.  We’re still here because Kruschev was correct.  The Situation Room is always on top of the situation, even when the president has been, ahem, overserved.  The sit room has had several massive renovations — the last to the tune of $50 million in 2023.  But really, it’s more emblematic to envision the brain trust convening in a broom closet to watch bin Laden meet his maker over Skype.  Simplicity on the surface, but deadly effective one you get past the wood veneer.  And you thought you had a killer office.

Hold the Line

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“I‘ve got one of them…Shoot him with his own gun!”  Michael Fanone was one of dozens holding off thousands in a key Capitol access tunnel.  For his trouble, he found himself frog-marched through the horde, speared with a Blue Lives Matter flag, tased repeatedly at the base of his skull, and beaten within an inch of his life.   He suffered a heart attack, traumatic brain injury, and lasting PTSD.  Bear spray inhalation damaged his lungs for months, but the most injurious and lasting remnant of the day were proclamations from half the still-living Congresspeople calling January 6th rioters…peaceful tourists.

Shocking to no one, the Trump and Obama voter Fanone marches to his own drummer.  The DC punk turned Virginia backwoods huntsman is known as  “Spiderman” by perps due to his neck tattoo and proclivity for tackling fleeing drug dealers from above.  Looking like the kind of guy who enjoys recreational narcotics, Michael spent the majority of his law enforcement career in the undercover vice sector.  His best friend was his transgender sex worker drug informant, Leslie.  Now he chats with Nancy Pelosi at 3am, dines with Sean Penn, and maintains a lasting friendship with Don Lemon.  When the curtain was drawn on his MPD career, he spent his last months ostracized behind a desk after speaking truth about the event which left 140 officers injured and five dead.

You astute newshounds have likely read anecdotes from January 6th.  Pass the popcorn, however, when Hold the Line recounts FBI interviews of suspects who assaulted him that day apprehended by surveillance cameras and their own sagely social media posts.  In today’s Washington climate of macho posturing theatre, there are a few examples of legit tough-guys.  After self-deploying to the Capitol on January 6th to back up fellow officers, the author of Hold the Line, Michael Fanone and his compatriots stand as the sole reason the former are still in one piece.

While Idaho Slept

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It was your typical bucolic Sunday off the rural small town campus as local police stretched caution tape around a crime scene so sinister it would captivate global attention — a grisly and senseless crime of rage still lacking in reasonable motive.  Police arrested serial killer fanboy Bryan Kohberger six weeks later at his parents’ home on the other side of the country.  Investigators linked Kohberger to the crime scene with surveillance videos, cellphone data, and damning DNA evidence.   A couple years later, there is still no logical motive or psychological workup on the alleged killer.  As such, the vast majority of While Idaho Slept is the lives of the victims and their families.

If you’re looking for new insights about this case before it undoubtedly becomes a Netflix series starring Glenn Howerton from It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia, this is not the book for you.  However, there are a few revelations to impart before we portray Bryan Kohberger as a bargain-basement Hannibal Lecter.  In stark contrast to his beanpole mugshot, Kohberger’s weight topped 300 pounds in high school.  That is, before he took a few gap years to become a heroin addict.  He was still profoundly frustrated with women, no doubt due in part to his social detachment.

Pseudo-authority as a doctoral student in Criminology didn’t assuage those feelings of inadequacy.  In fact, Washington State University was in the process of terminating Bryan from his graduate assistant position for repeated raging at his faculty advisor.  Maybe hamhandedly committing a crime at a different University against the brand of pretty girls who wouldn’t speak to him would provide needed self-validation?  At least then one could inject oneself into the web discussion surrounding the case and play know-it-all.

At the time of his 1:30am arrest, authorities discovered Kohberger wearing latex gloves in the kitchen and placing trash in Ziploc bags. Evidence isn’t looking so circumstantial.  And that’s where things stand as of this pre-trial publication.  Will this be the last professionally-written book on this case?  No, but it was one of the first and best so far.  That’s a nice place to be in if Kohberger pleas out a la Golden State Killer.  But, unfortunately for the taxpayers of Idaho, he probably fancies himself a brilliant legal mind as well.

Dosage of Decency

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We all tried to block it out, but still hearken back to the dark days when a virulent zoonotic virus made the leap to humans two continents away.  Contact tracers sniffed at the vapor trails of interconnected flights harboring known infected.  A high percentage of said infected became fatalities — healthcare workers included.  The crushing burden fell upon the longstanding director of the National Institute of Allergy and Infectious Diseases (NIAID).  As was his custom with every previous viral outbreak, he was afforded a maximum of four hours’ daily sleep.   You remember, of course, the outbreak I’m describing…Ebola. It wasn’t his first epidemic, nor would it be his last.

On Call is the newly-released bio of Tony Fauci, the MD who served seven presidents through smallpox, anthrax, HIV and COVID.  His raspy Brooklyn accent was a source of guidance and comfort while refrigerated morgue trucks hummed outside packed hospitals in 2020.   At the tender age of 79, he’d gone hoarse from being the voice of reason.  And as an octogenarian, he has finally found time to retire and reflect.

A life of public service wasn’t always the destiny of the grandson of Italian immigrants.  Initially, the Dodger fan had athletic aspirations.  However at 5′ 7″, his top grades were indicative of a different vocational path.  From med school onward, it was grounded in his patient-centered approach to compassionate care.  On Call spans that entire journey.  From the stickball yards to stem cell therapy, he handled the asinine slander of his childlike accusers with the same hallmark professional tone.  Such is the voice of this brand new bestseller.

Here’s Johnny

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Is one a poseur to be nostalgic for a time period in which they didn’t exist?  Does it count if you were in a diaper?  Then sit back and hear about the 70’s Hollywood scrapes of a skinny charismatic kid born in Iowa (yes, we get the credit).  When we first meet Johnny, he is getting fleeced on multiple fronts from shoddily-crafted contracts and hemorrhaging business deals.  In one such Faustian pact,  William Morris demanded a larger percentage than Johnny’s actual take-home pay.  Enter the author, Henry Bushkin, Esq., Carson’s longtime consigliere, attorney, tennis partner, drinking buddy and personal fixer.   Eventually his fortunes reversed, inking in 1981 a $25 million annual contract for 37 three-day workweeks per year.  This lead us to the unforgivable sin of Jay Leno, but that is neither here nor there.

Johnny kept Bushkin so busy he became his sole client.  Matrimony be damned, Johnny liked the ladies and they liked him right back.  For example, husband Carson was caught flirting with a high-class dame at one of his elite watering holes unaware she was the mistress of mob boss Joseph Colombo.   Johnny called in sick a few days.  Phone calls were made.  Eventually the contract on Johnny’s life was lifted.  However, though a notoriously gifted womanizer and bar hopper, Carson quixotically revered the title of married man.  Occasionally he’d marry one and seek the author’s wise counsel for the costly reverse procedure.

Spiteful, cruel, and mercurial, Johnny contained multitudes.  He was gregarious, yet incredibly guarded in his privacy.  Generous to his friends, Johnny regularly practiced pettiness and self-absorption.  Bushkin covers it all in this unvarnished portrayal, Johnny Carson by Henry Bushkin, written after the attorney-client privilege expired along with Johnny in 2005. However if you were expecting any anecdotes about Ed McMahon or Doc Severinsen, this book is not for you.

Consider this an open invitation to watch the reruns on WQAD 8.2 at 9PM M-F (10PM Saturdays)….if you can stay up that late.

Human Highlight Reel

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There once was a boy named Vincent, whose life lent itself easily to hyperbole.  One of ten children born to a single mother in abject Alabama poverty, Vincent had a severe stutter and a mean streak a mile wide.  That’s where his resemblance to mortals ended.  Superlatives lacking, tales of his exploits resembled that of baby Paul Bunyan, John Henry, and Bill Brasky.   Thing is, most of them were true.  The laws of physics and the rules of sport simply didn’t apply to Vincent.

Vincent was what analysts call a pretty decent athlete once he found an outlet for his aggression.  He landed in the state track finals in an event he first attempted a couple weeks prior…as a high school freshman.  Despite a hatred of lifting weights, Vincent exhibited Herculean feats of strength the few times he actually entered the weight room.  Not content to be good at one sport, he ridiculously dominated in all of them.   His duplicity extended into adulthood, being a star in both the NFL and MLB at the same time.    Okay, game is over.    You know Vincent better by his  nickname “Bo”, an athlete in a class all his own.  You have to go back to Jim Thorpe to find anyone of such DC Comics omnipotence.

If you made the mistake of throwing Bo a fastball , you might still be on Youtube today.  Sometimes those 500-foot home runs would damage stadium lights and scoreboards a la The Natural.  Bo regularly clocked sub-4.2 second 40m dash times.  A pedestrian 4.2 AFTER destroying his hip.  Ever see that in the NFL draft?  No, you do not.  As a running back, Bo would trample defenders so soundly their ancestors could feel it.  With a howitzer as an arm, Vincent would throw men out at home from the warning track — skipping the cutoff man.  He ran up an outfield wall.  He broke a bat over his head.  Alas, anyone of age in the late 80’s or with an internet connection has likely seen video of these exploits.

That being said, the best parts of this book are recollections of the “human” mashing those NASA mission homers.  Despite possessing great generosity,  he is someone against whom you should not quarrel.  Prior to high school he was on a pathway to prison.  Since the age of 18 he has been a man beset on all sides by unrelenting autograph hounds.  He has a degree in Family and Child Development.   He has been married to Dr. Linda Jackson for 35 years.  That’s the real Bo Jackson, and the reason to check out this book, The Last Folk Hero: The Life and Myth of Bo Jackson by Jeff Pearlman.

Those Who Fight Monsters

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The scariest monsters are the ones who hide in plain sight.    Unsuspecting men with a penchant for casual cruelty.   Murder-for-hire, extortion, and lurid sex crimes bought and sold by doughy dweebs, trusted father figures, and secret millionaires operating in the public library stacks.   This book is nonfiction.

Tracers in the Dark: the Global Hunt for the Crime Lords of Cryptocurrency is  a globetrotting technological thriller, from Bangkok to far flung data centers in Scandinavia.

Shortly after cryptocurrency’s birth in 2009, its inability to be traced financially made it a bastion for purchasing unspeakable acts on the darkweb.
Who can find and vanquish these faceless ghouls?  Enter a cast of intrepid heroes seemingly plucked from a technological Homeric tradition.   We have Tigran Gambaryan, the forensic IRS agent born into abject Soviet poverty.  Sarah Meiklejohn is  the computer scientist weaned on cryptographs.  At the age of ten she hunted in Mom’s law office for patterns among cancelled checks.  She beat the NYTimes Crossword daily by 14 and became obsessed with the Rosetta stone and cracking ancient languages.  She’ll do nicely.  And then, of course, Michael Gronager – Cofounder of Chainalysis. The man who turned cryptocurrency from assumed anonymity to a permanent breadcrumb trail back to far-flung dens of villany.  All savant superheroes in their own regard.
Evil was outrageously outmatched.

It’s satisfying to hear how this crew uses their powers…impossible to pity the ones that get caught.

Sure, I’ll Join Your Cult

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The extremely-likable Maria Bamford recounts with candor a lifetime of mental health battles in her book Sure, I’ll Join Your Cult.  Her sincere quest for wellness has passed through a number of cloistered organizations, (Debtors Anonymous, Sex and Love Addicts Anonymous, and Overeaters Anonymous) hence this work’s title.

If you are blessed enough to listen to this book, you’ll recognize her default state vocally as an animated Nickelodeon child.  Periodically Maria seamlessly lapses into a dozen distinct audio impressions of women with various degrees of entitlement.   Several are, yes, permutations of mother.

Maria is remarkably candid about the less-than-flattering moments from her personal life, including the hilarious as well as mortifying.  You’ll laugh at both.  Her romantic experiences from 25-50 alone warrant a checkout.  You’ve heard the standup routines.  Now meet the person.  You’ll like her quite a bit.

Interested? Download Libby, by Overdrive and find the ebook!

 

The Joy of Costco by David & Susan Schwartz, illustrations by Martin Hargreaves

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Borne of a love of all things Costco, a husband and wife duo created their own press and were given backstage access to Costco for this casual read.    In all, they visited 200 of Costco’s 850 worldwide locations.

Skim for a couple hours, you’ll be able to amaze your friends with tidbits such as:

  • Costco parking spots are 2ft wider
  • They sell 11 million eggs per day
  • Starbucks roasts all the Kirkland brand coffee
  • Costco sells 7x as many hotdogs as all MLB ballparks combined — at $1.50 of course, a doff of the cap to the same high prevailing price from 1985.
  • The record for hotdogs, incidentally, FAR from middle America…Shin Masato Japan with 64,512 hotdog combos in one month.

Speaking of baseball, one of the coolest features of this book is the inside baseball of their internal processes and terminology, i.e. “the cage” and “deathstar”.  Costco employees are incentivized to find  ways to reduce costs, internally known as a “Save Story”.  Mere tweaks to packaging and pallets, for example, result in seismic shifts to reduce CO2 emissions and landfill waste.

Due to Costco’s sheer size, they have incredible negotiating power as an entity.  Enter CWI, (Costco Wholesale Industries), a manufacturing subsidiary solely to reduce costs on products such as glasses, hotdogs, and ground beef.  Ostensibly, this benefit is exercised to pass the value on to members.  You don’t have to have a Gold Star membership to check The Joy of Costco: A Treasure Hunt from A to Z out of our collection, either.   Heck, we won’t even check for your card at the door.