My Star Wars New Year’s Resolutions - by Wal Ozello

Everything right now is Star Wars-themed and we at Pencilstorm hope it’s not too late to hop on the bandwagon. I don’t claim to have some confounded theory on who Rey is related to, but I do have some ideas on how I can better myself in 2016 through life lessons learned in the Star Wars movies. So here’s my three New Year’s Resolutions through the lens of the greatest science fiction movies ever.

Ignore the fear; embrace the light.

If you’re a Star Wars geek, you must be familiar with the Yoda quote. If not, know that it’s basically a math equation: fear=hate=anger=suffering=dark side. With the coming election year, many politicians will try to capitalize on our emotion of fear: scary immigrants, loss of employment, terrorism, gun violence, taking away your guns, taking away your reproductive rights, and general destruction of the American lifestyle that you know.  I commit to not fall victim to this fear-mongering. America is the greatest country in the world. I’m not scared of any of this crap the media or the politicians are trying to feed me. I’m done with fear and all about believing in the good in this country. This would be a wonderful resolution for everyone at a personal level. Can you imagine the power of light side of the force in all of us?

Have My Friends’ Back More Often in 2016.

One of my favorite moments in all the Star Wars movies is at the end of A New Hope when Han Solo shows back up during the attack on the Death Star to cover Luke, hit Darth Vader’s ship, and send it reeling into space.  An on-going theme throughout all of the movies is the power of strong friendship. As we get older, life gets more complex and we tend to focus on tactical things to get us through: groceries, work, shuffling the kids to a sporting event, go here, get this, run, run, run. Time well spent with others seem to slip through the cracks. Frankly, I want 2016 to be more about YOU and less about ME. Wouldn’t it be an awesome year if all of us were more like the Han Solo of “You're all clear, kid, now let's blow this thing and go home!” than the “I ain't in this for your revolution, and I'm not in it for you, Princess. I expect to be well paid. I'm in it for the money.” Han Solo?

Believe There’s Always A Simple Solution.

Did you ever notice that there’s always a simple solution to destroy the big bad thing that the Empire has concocted? Remember the Death Star? The ultimate power in the universe? Luke destroyed it by sending a blast down a thermal exhaust port. While many thought it was impossible, Luke knew he could hit it because he used to bullseye womp rats in his T-16 back home. There are many more examples of dire situations they got stuck in: the trash compactor, trapped on Cloud City, Han Solo carbonite, the new bigger badder Death Star, and the even bigger badder Starkiller in The Force Awakens. There’s always something that seems impossible that all of a sudden there’s simple solution to defeat. In 2016, I’m committing to believing in simple solutions for everything. Whether it’s the impossible feat of lower gun violence or helping my son with his overwhelming math homework, there’s a simple solution around the corner.  All I have to do is believe it can be done.

The year ahead will be a rough ride… a kind of transition year until we get to 2017. Things may get worse before they get better. But I do know one thing: I’ve already pre-ordered my copy of The Force Awakens on Blu-Ray which releases in April. I’ll be watching that over and over instead of the election hype.

From all of us here at Pencilstorm, may the force be with you in 2016. Happy New Year.

Wal Ozello is a science fiction techno-thriller novelist and the author of Assignment 1989 ,  Revolution 1990, and Sacrifice 2086. He's the lead singer of the former Columbus rock band Armada and a frequent customer at Colin's Coffee.

America's Biggest Loser: Gun Policy or the Cleveland Browns? - by Colin Gawel

 I have a question and I know you have it too: Which is America's biggest loser, our current gun policy or the Cleveland Browns? 

Now before all you Dawgs and gun nutz lose your shit, just hear me out. I'm not proposing any changes to current gun policy or the Browns. I have no answers.  More guns or less guns? More Manziel or less Manziel? Hell, I don't know. (Click here to read my open letter to Rep. Steve Stivers) What I do know is that going strictly by the numbers, both the Browns and America's gun policies are an unmitigated disaster. A total embarrassment. Or put another way, they both suck. Bad.

As a huge fan of both the Browns and the USA, it brings me no pleasure to point out the obvious. In fact, I'd much prefer to squint my eyes and tell you i see some hope on the horizon.  However, the cold hard numbers tell a different story and it isn't pretty. This isn't personal and it isn't my opinion. This is just how it is. Hopefully somebody smarter than myself figures something to get both things trending in the right direction in 2016. Until then, I'll leave it to you to decide which is America's biggest loser. From my vantage point, it's too close to call.  - Colin G.

                                                          Gun Policy

Click here to read "27 Americans were shot and killed on Christmas Day". 

                                                                vs                                                       

                                                    Cleveland Browns

Click here to read The Cleveland Browns are the suckiest bunch of sucks to ever suck. 

 

Revisiting A Very Pencilstorm Christmas 2015

How The Kinks Captured the Reason for the Season - by James A. Baumann

Holiday music is one of those things that is truly difficult to judge on its own merits. So much of the experience of hearing it is framed around setting and context. And, when you consider that much of the setting and context of holiday music – at least in today’s America – is based around the retail experience, well, it’s fighting an uphill battle from the get-go.

This concept first began to settle in my mind around 1990. If memory serves, that was the first Christmas that I worked at a family-owned flower shop, doing deliveries, handling shipments, and cleaning out the backroom. The money was good and needed. But it also meant weeks of driving on icy streets, frozen fingers and toes, and 12-hour-long working days; during most of which I was surrounded by Christmas music. 

When I was out in the delivery van I had free reign to listen to whatever I wanted. I made good use of the radio’s volume knob as well as the Sony Walkman and scattered tapes that sat on the passenger seat. But when I was in the store, I was at the mercy of what was playing.

The store was too small to splurge on a Muzak system, so the playlist was about three cassettes that would continually play through tinny speakers. From time to time someone would remember to switch them out, but when things were busy one tape would just play through again and again. It should be noted that this was also about the time that the world discovered that you could program dog barks to sound like “Jingle Bells.” It would have been like the music they play to break up hostage situations except I wasn’t allowed to leave.

Flash-forward to 2002 or 2003. I’m in the middle of my first day-to-day office job that would eventually be capped off by that corporate tradition of the lay-off. Before that, though, I also had to navigate the corporate tradition of office holiday decorations and – as most germane to this topic – the holiday-music-obsessed co-worker. Her name was Megan. She was smart, fun, nice, and really was about all one could ask for in an officemate save for the fact that, starting at Thanksgiving, her radio was locked-in to the Columbus radio station Sunny 95 and their all-Christmas music format. Headphones could only block so much. I quickly needed a coping mechanism.

I took my inspiration from Steve McQueen in “The Great Escape” who passed his time in isolation by bouncing a ball and counting the days with tally marks on the wall. I commandeered an erasable white board and began my own count of how many times particular songs were played. It quickly began to fill up with the more popular titles and rows of hash marks.

Springsteen’s “Santa Claus is Coming to Town” had to have been the tote board leader. Needless to say, I never again have to hear the Boss asking me if I’ve been good this year. Close behind was probably Paul McCartney’s “Wonderful Christmastime” which – particularly after it being drummed into your head for a month straight – comes dangerously close to undoing all goodwill he had ever built up with the Beatles. I’m sure I was inundated by the Mariah Carey song, though I swear I can’t think of a note of it right now.

I suppose a highlight would have been when David Bowie and Bing Crosby’s “Little Drummer Boy” would come up on the playlist, but mostly because it was as though David Lynch had been given control of the holiday for a moment.

All of this may lead one to think I am opposed to all holiday music. That is not true. Year after year, I would get misty during Darlene Love’s annual appearance on Letterman to sing  “Christmas (Baby, Please Come Home).” The Pretenders’ “2000 Miles” is stirring. Who doesn’t like John Lennon’s “Merry Xmas (War Is Over)?” “Fairytale of New York” remains a poetic short story with backing music. And, at the risk of sounding like a Pencilstorm suck-up, I will comfortably put Watershed’s “Still Love Christmas,” with its sleigh bells and Casio keyboards, in this neighborhood. 

This all brings me to The Kinks’ “Father Christmas,” my unquestioned favorite holiday song. There are several reasons for this, not the least of which is it rocks with the buzzsaw guitar and thunderstorm drums that kicks it off. Plus, there is the added benefit that, due to the face-value of its lyrical content, it rarely, if ever, makes it onto any piped-in holiday music set. It remains pure and unsullied in my mind.

One might deem me a Scrooge for loving a song that denies the existence of Santa within the first 20 words, but stick with it. The protagonist still revels in his childhood presents and, once he reaches adulthood, even takes the time to be a Salvation Army Santa in his neighborhood.

Granted, he is promptly mugged by a group of street urchins who profess their need for cold, hard cash versus typical playthings. But could a Kinks’ Christmas song have any other sentiment? 

This is Ray Davies’ England after the Village Green was paved over and Muswell Hill was flattened. Even still, he never looses the true spirit of the season. The threats and complaints of the kids are bookended between blissful memories of his childhood Christmas and then gentle, adult reminder that, even if you’re doing pretty good this year, there is someone out there who isn’t. 

Probably someone forced to listen to those dogs barking “Jingle Bells.” - James A. Baumann


THE KINKS – FATHER CHRISTMAS  (video below)

When I was small I believed in Santa Claus
Though I knew it was my dad
And I would hang up my stocking at Christmas
Open my presents and I'd be glad

But the last time I played Father Christmas
I stood outside a department store
A gang of kids came over and mugged me
And knocked my reindeer to the floor

They said
Father Christmas, give us some money
Don't mess around with those silly toys
We'll beat you up if you don't hand it over
We want your bread so don't make us annoyed
Give all the toys to the little rich boys

Don't give my brother a Steve Austin outfit
Don't give my sister a cuddly toy
We don't want a jigsaw or Monopoly money
We only want the real McCoy

Father Christmas, give us some money
We'll beat you up if you make us annoyed
Father Christmas, give us some money
Don't mess around with those silly toys

But give my daddy a job 'cause he needs one
He's got lots of mouths to feed
But if you've got one I'll have a machine gun
So I can scare all the kids on the street

Father Christmas, give us some money
We got no time for your silly toys
We'll beat you up if you don't hand it over
Give all the toys to the little rich boys

Have yourself a merry merry Christmas
Have yourself a good time
But remember the kids who got nothin'
While you're drinkin' down your wine

Father Christmas, give us some money
We got no time for your silly toys
Father Christmas, please hand it over
We'll beat you up so don't make us annoyed

Father Christmas, give us some money
We got no time for your silly toys
We'll beat you up if you don't hand it over
We want your bread so don't make us annoyed
Give all the toys to the little rich boys

The Kinks (Ray Davies) on German TV in 1977 "father Christmas"....Father Christmas, give us some money Don't mess around with those silly toys.

One of the best Christmas songs EVER !!! ******************************************************* When I was small I believed in Santa Claus Though I knew it was my dad And I would hang up my stocking at Christmas Open my presents and I'd be glad But the last time I played Father Christmas I stood outside a department store A gang of kids came over and mugged me And knocked my reindeer to the floor They said: Father Christmas, give us some money Don't mess around with those silly toys.


I Hate Thanksgiving by Wal Ozello

I hate Thanksgiving. Hate it. Loathe it. Despise it.

It started as child when I was forced to watch that annoying Macy’s parade. The inflatable balloons of Snoopy and the Red Baron, Kermit, or Papa Smurf looked miniature plastic figures swimming across my TV screen. The singers who showed up lip syncing to musical tracks while dancing on moving floats seemed like dozens of Milli Vanilli’s in a row. And while a marching band always moves me beyond belief in person, experiencing them miles away on my couch was certainly not as awe inspiring.

I could never get away from the Macy’s Day parade as it was on every channel. (We had only three at the time.)

Later in the day, I was forced to watch football. Born and raised in Cleveland, I rarely saw my Browns play on Thanksgiving Day. I was left to watch some other team lose to the Dallas Cowboys that Thursday. I couldn’t even be justifiably disappointed on Thanksgiving.

I was also forced to eat that awful food. Turkey. Yuk. What other time of year do you cook turkey?  You don’t because it’s a nasty tasting bird. It’s full of tough meat that even the richest gravy can’t elevate to the lusciousness of prime rib or fluffiness of sea bass. Mashed potatoes, even with butter, are the equivalent of eating a thick potato milkshake. No texture. No flavor. Stuffing used to be my favorite, until cooking it within the turkey became the standard. Typically, I starve away the day on Thanksgiving sustaining myself on chips, fresh cut vegetables, and coffee.

Worse, yet, is the abundance of leftovers.  Every Thanksgiving feast I’ve been at has been cooked for twice as many people as are in attendance.  Each guest could go home with their own Tupperware containers of turkey meat and my refrigerator is still stocked with dozens of zip lock bags of turkey.  I’m forced to eat it for the next week.

Last year, my wife finally let me cook the Thanksgiving dinner.  I made Prime Rib, sea salted steamed broccoli, marshmallow crusted sweet potatoes, and butter sautéed mushrooms. Done in less than 90 minutes. Best Thanksgiving meal ever.

I think what annoys me most about Thanksgiving is I’m forced to be thankful. Why do we need a holiday to commemorate thankfulness?  Being grateful shouldn’t be a forced requirement every fourth Thursday in November. As human beings, and especially as Americans, we should be grateful every day of the year. Grateful that when I turn on my faucet, water comes out. That the street I live on is paved. When it gets cold I can turn on the heat and when it gets hot I can cool down with central air. I can buy Star Wars tickets weeks in advance and use free wi-fi just about where ever I go. I can choose to like Donald Trump or I can hate him. And when it comes times to vote… everybody can. It doesn’t matter what genitalia you have or what your skin color is.

We should give thanks every day.

Even though Thanksgiving is my least favor holiday of the year, I’ll be grateful that day. But not because I’m forced to, but because I want to. But when my wife passes me the plate of turkey meat, I’ll politely say, “No, thanks.”

Wal Ozello is a science fiction techno-thriller novelist and the author of Assignment 1989 ,  Revolution 1990, and Sacrifice 2086. He's a resident of Upper Arlington, Ohio and a frequent customer at Colin's Coffee.