Monthly Archives: September 2009

Please don’t blame Jeremy Piven.

Here’s a piece of news that will annoy some and delight others.

I’ve been writing this blog since March, sticking to it pretty diligently, as a matter of fact, and attracting quite a few regular followers along the way. Thanks, everyone, for that. Although I secretly wish we’d soared into hundreds of thousands of hits each day – that would have been amazing. Somehow I lack the time and the marketing skills.

And it’s “time” that I’m writing about today. I have to take a small break from the blog. There’s other stuff I’m writing and I must apply myself to that for the next few very important weeks. It’s an obligation thing.

jeremy_piven_shirtlessIt’s not, contrary to what many may think, because of Jeremy Piven. Or because, no matter what else I put on here each day, that story I told months ago about spotting Piven in a clothes store trying on shirts still gets the vast bulk of the traffic. That’s not it at all.

There are simply too many other things to be done.

I will continue to post stuff now and then. Interesting videos, odd points I feel need making. Check my website for updates on everything else.  AND of course you can still get a hold of me through Facebook and on Twitter  @cashpeters. So relax, all is not lost.

But for now, we’re done. The Swami is rolling up his magic carpet, storing it in its special cupboard, and retiring into the shadows, from where, obscured by darkness, he will sit staring out at you spookily until he’s absolutely sure you’re gone.

My emotions at this moment are probably best expressed by this year’s Eurovision Song Contest entry from Iceland.

Bye for now.

www.cashpeters.com

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The Invisible Man Returns?

It was my father’s birthday this weekend.

I have no idea where he is or what he’s doing. To tell you the truth, I don’t even know if he’s still alive, though intuition tells me he is. Still playing golf. Still drinking with his buddies in the village pub. Still doing his card tricks. For that reason, when his birthday comes around – he’s in his mid-80s now – I like to dash off a ‘many happy returns’ -type email and press send.  Hey, he’s still my father. It’s the right thing to do.  

INvisible ManOur relationship is strange. Mostly one way. Like waltzing with the Invisible Man. Not something I can explain, and probably not something you’re interested in hearing. You have your own problems. Suffice it to say that he’s extremely angry with me right now.

Right now and for the past couple of decades, as a matter of fact. 

One day in the early 90s, something insignificant I said or did lit his blue touch paper, sending him up like a bottle rocket, and he never came warback down. That was it. Since then, he’s been at war – if that’s even possible when your enemy’s imaginary – single-handedly fighting his own Afghanistan, refusing to pull out, even though the polls are against him and despite the evidence of defeat all around. 

Such a stand does not make an iota of sense, of course. Fighting for fighting’s sake. Twenty years of revenge just Galaxyto make a point nobody else gives a damn about. Not, that is, unless you were born into our family. In our family, when you have a grudge, you hang onto it for dear life ’til your fingernails almost shred the fibers. You wear it like a badge of honor into Hell, if necessary. Never surrender, never give up. Winning is all that matters.

My mother and her sister engineered a similar spat. They were estranged, same way my dad and I are, the exact details never to be spilled. Not to me anyway. Even so, I’m prepared to wager that the reason, whatever it might have been, was miniscule and unimportant and certainly not worth sacrificing a relationship for. Yet they allowed this petty grievance to foam and fester between them for the bulk of their adult lives. Until eventually, inevitably, the black tar of mutual animosity ate away at their bodies, and both women died. At the same age and of exactly the same thing! Physical diagnosis: cancer. Emotional diagnosis: deep anger, unresolved conflict, lack of forgiveness. Result: needless waste. There were no winners. There never are.

What’s weird is that, of all of us, I appear to be the exception. An oddball. Mother Theresa to my father’s Dick Cheney. I’ve lived broader and seen the world; so naturally I have a more pragmatic perspective.

I believe totally in getting over yourself. Talk it out, reach a settlement, forgive, forget, move on. To me, it’s not a sign of weakness. Far from it. In fact, I happen to think that that’s what life is all about. It’s part of the learning and growing process. Everything else is your ego talking. Fighting, then making up afterwards leads to redemption and forges stronger relationships all round.

Not surprisingly, my dad fully disagrees. On the odd occasion that I tried to reconcile with him in the past, bafflingly it only missilesmade things worse. Nothing – nothing – gets the old fella more riled up than a kind word or a well-intended greeting. And NOTHING is more likely to send him ballistic, I’ve found from tragic experience, than being told, “I love you.” Oh boy, did I land myself in a whole heap of trouble once for that gaffe! His normally terse one-line emails gave way to great exploding fireballs of rage, and I think he cut me out of his will soon after.

Yet still I try. What can I say? That’s me. I’m an optimist.

INvisibleLike an adopted kid who spends a lifetime doggedly seeking out his birth parents, refusing to throw in the towel, I sit down once a year and send a message to the Invisible Man, in the vain hope that, someday, a light bulb will flicker on and he’ll say to himself, “Holy shit, what was I thinking? Afghanistan’s a dump, we need to get out of here” and set off to find me.

It’s a loser’s scenario – don’t even say it; I know – and bound to fail. But I don’t care. Hope, as a motivator, is Teflon-coated. It keeps me going, and will continue to for years to come no doubt, until word finally reaches me that he’s dead. If it ever does. And if it doesn’t, then those ‘many happy returns’ messages that land in his inbox every September 18th are going to start seeming miiiiiighty creepy.

Ho-hum.

For the time being, I’m just going to duck down behind this four-foot thick lead radioactive shield over here, say, “Happy birthday, dad. Have a wonderful year, wherever you are,” then continue on as if nothing has happened.

Because nothing will.

explosion

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The silverish orb has arrived. Ooooooooh.

BioS_Silver_GtabsObserve and admire. The BioElectric Shield. As worn by Dr. Wayne Dyer, Tony Blair’s wife, and now me.

Before you ask, because I know you will, it’s a crystal matrix that resonates with your body energy, helping fend off disharmonious energies from external sources, including rays from cellphones, computers, and satellite radios.  It also refracts other people’s anger, as you would expect.

Added to which, it’s actually quite beautiful. A lot nicer than it looks in the picture. In case you don’t quite get what it does, here’s a diagram.

shield 2Now, any further questions? Yes, the gentleman holding the big Q.

Q: How much did it cost you?

shieldNothing as yet. They cost five hundred bucks each, but I have it on a 60 day trial to see if it does what they say it will do. If it doesn’t, back it goes to Montana, where it was crafted by experts and “charged up” in a special charging room.

Anyone else got a question?

Q: D’you think it’s a scam and you’ve been duped?    

Anyone else?

Q: Yes, over here! Pick me! 

In that case, this press conference is at an end. I’ll keep you posted on what happens. Stay tuned.

Here’s a video about it.

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Look, I bought a big gay ribbon for five hundred bucks.

shieldNo blog today – sorry, guys. Eagerly awaiting arrival of my new BioElectric Shield and I simply can’t concentrate on anything else. In case you don’t know, it’s an EMF protector. It also deflects other people’s anger. How cool is that?

I’m not sure how it works, but the effects are apparently astounding. It basically takes the average human being shield 2(see fig 1) and wraps him in a lovely swirling multi-colored  ribbon (see fig 2). Which also makes it a great way of drawing attention to yourself in the street, I should think.

“Who’s that jerk with the multi-colored swirling ribbon around him?”

“I don’t know. Freakin’ show-off. Let’s go beat him up.”

This is from the website Spirit of Nature.

“I’ve been wearing one every day since around 1994. They have made a huge difference in my life – in my ability to stay calm and centered, to think more clearly, to not get sucked into other people’s dramas, and to not become extremely fatigued and irritated when exposed to electromagnetics.

And these days, with cell phones, computer screens, fluorescent lights, the electrical field created inside an airplane and large buildings, getting away from the influence of electromagnetics is virtually impossible.

You’ve heard of Tony Blair, former Prime Minister of England? Well his wife wears one. So does Dr. Wayne Dyer, a very famous author you may have heard of. Dannion Brinkley, the guy struck by lightening, also wears a BioElectric Shield. Olympic Gold Medalist, Dianne Golden – she wears one too!

Musicians love it – particularly if they spend much time in the recording studio. Why? Just think about all the electronics they have to deal with.

From housewives to CEOs and everything in between, BioElectric Shields are used around the globe to protect people and their loved ones from the disharmonious energy coming off of electronic devices.

 

That’s what I need, protection from disharmonious energy. Total cost of the device? $500.

Hey, don’t laugh. If they charge a whopping five hundred bucks then it must work, right? Otherwise they’d be duping us. And anyway, that’s cheap. The top of the line model is $2,200.  

All I can say is: I’m sitting by the door like a puppy, waiting for the mailman to bring my BioElectric Shield to me. I’ll let you know what happens.

www.cashpeters.com

Watch Cash’s movie, Fast and Very Loose, HERE.

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Weekend glee.

This is remarkable.

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First Adam Lambert, now this.

“Best show on TV this year?” you ask.

Oh, that’s easy.

lambertI could also have said the campest. If anyone thought Fox had blown the gay meter with Adam Lambert on American Idol last season, then they need to watch Glee. Compared to this, Lambert is Hulk Hogan in thigh-length boots.

Up until now my favorite show was Better Off Ted. And that’s still an amazing sitcom. But I LOVE Glee, and it’s not often you’ll hear me say that about a scripted show. I love it to bits and shreds and I want to have its children. Seriously. My uterus belongs to Fox. In Gleeterms of originality, wit, infectiousness, excitement, fearlessness, funny lines per episode, and the sheer genius of the idea, there is nothing – nothin‘, I tells ya – to beat Glee.

The basics: bunch of hormone-raged misfit high schoolers try to find their identity by performing in a glee club, coached by a visionary teacher who’s also busy fending off the various forces of evil trying  to shut the club down. That’s the nutshell version.  But it’s so much more. Funny, involving, surprising, bitchy, sexy. There’s something for everyone. Black diva, hunky jock, acid-tongued queen….and I ask you, how many dance troupes feature McLovin’ in a wheelchair? It reminds me of the first season of Desperate Housewives before it grew old and tired.

I love that some TV executive at Fox had the balls to greenlight this. Whoever that is, I want to find him and kiss him thank-you. (So he might want to leave town now. I’m just saying.) Suddenly, maybe television isn’t doomed after all.

Watch this show, I implore you, or miss out on a major cultural experience that’s about to sweep the world. One of so many. First Barack Obama, then Adam Lambert and Better Off Ted, now Glee. America – you’re back.  

Glee gets FIVE magic carpets out of Five.

TV Swami – he says YES to original TV programming finally.

 

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Payback.

It’s official, I guess: people just love to fight.

fighting 3Anyone who read yesterday’s Swami will know that there’s a major political battle being waged over there about that vile demon “socialism”, one that even throwing buckets of water over the participants hasn’t managed to quell or assuage as yet. It’s still going on. You should check it out.

BAM! POW!

I too have been caught up in a lot of involuntary bare-knuckle scraps in my time, mostly with critics and radio listeners who hate my work. When you’re in radio, on TV, or in the public eye in any way, however minisculely, you’re setting yourself up for inevitable ambushes from time to time. Face it, there’s bound to be somebody out there who is jealous of you, and who somehow manages to find time in their busy day to write in and say how much you suck. Or else they just hate you indiscriminately. I have that too.

Indeed, I believe I still hold the record for the highest number of threats of physical injury made against a commentator on public radio, for a report I did many years ago about a 12th Century prison in Ireland.

Kilmainham Jail is beyond dreary, and the bleak, drizzly Dublin weather did nothing prisonto enhance it. So, during a tour of this gray granite hellhole I happened to volunteer a number of ways that it might be cheered up. Drapes, benches in the courtyard, potted plants, a feature pond with carp…nothing drastic, just something to take off the harsher edges and give it eye-appeal.

Well, the response was nothing short of vitriolic. Listeners in their hundreds objected – they were incensed! – to the idea that a monument of such standing and with such a bleak history should be in any way dressed up. We differed over terminology. They called it desecration; I called it a makeover. But the result was dire: a lot of fighting Irish in Boston calling the show, volunteering, at no cost, to cave my head in for me.

BIFF! WHACK!

Mercifully, I don’t receive all that many compaints as a rule. Though some of the worst came during my TV show, when for some reason people who absolutely hated it insisted on watching every episode anyway and writing to tell me how vile it was, using language so salty it would make a nun’s ears bleed. Of course, being seasoned in the complaints biz, I took it all in my stride. Besides, even after three years, I still hear from people every single day who absolutely loved Stranded. So the critics were wrong. And you simply have to step over their words as you would vomit on the sidewalk and move on.

naked book 2Some complaints, though, are motivated by unspoken factors and are harder to reconcile.  Last week, for instance, I received a horrible put-down, this time on my Facebook page. About my new book, Naked in Dangerous Places.

“Although I do like your sense of humor,” the guy wrote, “and the book was an interesting read….”

So far I’m quite enjoying this. But wait, there’s more.

Having got the faint praise out of the way, he went on, “…I was surprised at how you think you can say whatever you please and expect people to still like you. Have you never heard the expression “Don’t bite the hand that feeds you”? ….. I finished this book of yours, but I won’t buy or read another.”

He signed himself ‘Disappointed.’

Oh yeah? Well, not half as disappointed as I am, believe me, Disappointed. No author wants readers to walk away from his work disgruntled, right?

But then I thought about it some more, and probed a bit, and realized that Disappointed had an agenda.

In Naked, as you’ll know if you’ve read it, I’m not shy about saying how evil Christian evangelicals are when it comes to complaining. In fact, I’d go so far as to say that nobody, in my experience, writes hate-mail quite like a right-wing Christian fanatic. As the gay marriage debate has shown time and again, they judge when they shouldn’t be judging, they threaten and despise when they should be spreading love and acceptance, and they’re quick with an unkind word when they feel the situation calls for it. It’s the exact opposite of what Jesus preached, I’ve always thought. But they don’t see that. Indeed, I’ve argued with my father for years that if he just practiced all the principles spread by Jesus, we’d have a great relationship and be best buddies. But he’s a Christian, so I don’t see that happening any time soon.

KABOOOOM!

Anyway, it turns out that the guy who wrote telling me he didn’t like Naked has his own book coming out. Well, how very exciting. Self-published, by the looks of it. (Nothing wrong with that,  I’m about to self-publish one of my own  Still…) Here’s an extract from the blurb on the back cover to whet your appetite:

After stopping to admire the view on his leisurely hike down a mountain, Jesusour main character realizes that he is now in Heaven….. “Wasn’t I supposed to walk out of fog-like clouds to see the shimmering, pearly gates of Heaven? I had always imagined being waved in, walking on a street of gold with people who have passed before me on either side clapping. I knew that I would shortly meet Jesus…”

No, it’s not a comedy. At least, I don’t think.  But seeing this and knowing what I now know, I would have told Disappointed ahead of time – pleaded with him actually: “Don’t read my books. They’ll only offend you. If you full-on buy into this streets of gold in Heaven stuff, there’s nothing – nothing at all – about the worldly reality I present in my work that’s going to do anything but unsettle you.”

That said, oddly – and call me strange – the blurb works well for me: I now very much want to read this and plan to buy a copy at the first opportunity. I know many other people will too. It looks like an instant classic.

For instance, I don’t think there’s a book jacket in existence that refers to the main character as “our main character” – is there?  Don’t they usually tell you his name to draw you in? For some reason, that gives me hope that I’m really going to enjoy everything else Disappointed writes too.

Anyway, more to come once I’ve read it. If it’s any good, the TV Swami will do his bit and help promote the book he currently refuses to name.

BOOOOOM! ZAAAAAP!

Oh, and since I’m talking about spats, let me wind up with a couple of TV clips. Remember a few weeks ago, when David Letterman made a joke – a crude joke, but a joke – about Sarah Palin’s daughter, and an almighty kerfuffle broke out, forcing Dave into a massive retraction?

No? Then bring yourself up to speed here.

It was all pretty turgid back then, but it’s over. Or so we thought. Dave, it seems, having been humbled, can’t let it go. Last week, using the possibility of having Dick Cheney run for president in 2012 as a launching point, he got a chance to revisit the Palin moment. He handled it so well that I thought it was worth rerunning here. Enjoy.  And God bless.

www.cashpeters.com

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