By Patrick Brodrick
Hypocrite and hero, coward and courageous, character assassin and criminal – since I’ve started The Independent I’ve been called everyone of those things and more, and those are comments from people I considered acquaintances.
This week I picked up the Times & Courier, its big election blowout, bonanza special, and two of the letters indirectly mentioned yours truly.
“They’ve weathered withering insults and criticisms from the usual backroom politicians in their usual backroom venues, along with defamatory commentary on a particular Internet venue.” Anthony G.P. Marini (Times & Courier, May 1, 2008).
I can only assume Mr. Marini is referring to The Independent, and if that ain’t the pot calling the kettle black… Apparently, Mr. Marini and his ilk of chatroom cohorts are having a hard time swallowing that jagged and bitter pill that is a taste of their own medicine. Mr. Marini, his various schizophrenic online personalities, and his fellow free-speech swine, have never missed an opportunity to assassinate the character of anyone that has the gall to speak out against their back-asswards views through anonymous posts in secret chatrooms. It was those same views that most likely cost Mr. Marini a seat on the Planning Board in last year’s election, after those views and posts were dragged out of the free-speech swamp and dropped onto Clintonians’ kitchen table by Karen Nugent in a courageous piece in the Telegram & Gazette. (Despite my complete distaste for all things Marini, I still think his idea for an Energy Commission to study the town’s energy usage and come up with alternative sources of power to run the town is a great idea and urge anyone to support it.)
The Death of The Independent
But I don’t want this post, since it will be my last, to turn into another one of my screeds against the powers that be – hopefully for only a few more days – and their twisted supporters. I’ve written enough of those, at least for now, and frankly I’m bone tired and I don’t have it in me to crawl back down into the abyss to stalk those dark demons.
Writing was never something that came easy for me. Sometimes I’ll catch myself pouring over the same sentence for hours just trying to find that perfect mixture of the right words or phrasing, phonetic cadence and brutal imagery. It’s a war of attrition that is generally fuelled by dangerous amounts of rotgut whiskey brewed that tastes like it was brewed in an abandoned car radiator and over-the-counter allergy medications. Generally, it’s a battle I always lose, and I can’t tell you how many times I’ve gone on a writing binge and woken up in an abandoned warehouse, or public restroom, next to some sideshow freak, and the Lemur from her act, wondering what hell I raised the night before.
Since I started The Independent, people have questioned who could possibly support the things that spew forth under the guise of some bastardized hybrid of reporting and editorializing. It was something I asked myself a number of times over the course of the past year, and I was surprised by the amount of support I received in the form of e-mails and people stopping me on the street or at the store, urging me to keep hounding the establishment – whether it is the sitting Board of Selectmen, or the local media, particularly the shell of a paper that used to be known as the Times & Courier.
They are you’re friends and neighbors, people that feel their voice has been lost and/or ignored, by power-hungry politicians looking only to serve the needs of the majority their sideways supporters.
So in an effort to give those people back their voice, to let them know that their cries haven’t fallen on deaf ears, I’ve decided to post some of the e-mails I received from them. Because of the fear of reprisals, political or otherwise, all have asked me to let them remain anonymous, and I will respect their wishes and the trust they placed in me, which can oftentimes be a very dangerous thing – I am an addict after all.
“Great column. I just wanted to check in and congratulate you on your consistently great stuff.”
“Keep touching the oven as often as it takes because if the curiosity goes away cynicism sets in.”
“Just keep telling the truth, that seems to make some people very uncomfortable. Keep them on the run like cockroaches when you turn on a light.”
“As for your blog, I’d be very sorry to see it go. You’re such a fearless counterpoint to the idiocy (of the 3) on the Clinton Board of Selectmen. What would we do without you? There’s all this forum stuff…and you alone are the fearless counterpoint in this entire town. Don’t desert us!”
“As usual, your latest article was entertaining and always worth reading.”
“Love the new post. You really made my day this time. Never laughed so hard by myself. Priceless! Great job!”
“I’m sorry to see it go. Pre-Internet, I’d have argued that mainstream media had hijacked the news and made it entertainment existing to solely sell Ad space. Over the last several months, however, I’ve used The Independent as an example that Freedom of the Press does exist. I’ve been proud to be your ‘werewolf’ legal counsel”
“Great factual stories. You must have Bob and Joe running for cover, trying to explain how none of this is the truth to their f’ in cronies. Keep up the good work. I wish that latest story “Drowning In Hypocrisy,” would be printed in the Telegram or Courier. Nobody would have the balls to print it even though it’s the absolute truth.”
Is this a bit of patting myself on the back? Yeah, probably, but it’s also just a small portion of the e-mails or comments that I received from people that have tired of the tyranny of the controlling majority of the Board of Selectmen, and the zealots that blindly support them.
Quittin’ and Quittin’ while you’re ahead
There’s a good chance that this story will run after the election, since I wait until each post is vetted by my werewolf of a lawyer, and hopefully there will be some new faces on the Board of Selectmen, and those people will have representatives that will not just hear their voices, but also listen to them.
I used to work on a honest-to-goodness dairy farm, and there’s something that the owner, Bill, said to me that I’ve never forgotten.
One afternoon during the second round of milking, one of the cows was just being ornery – it wouldn’t let any of the calves feed, every time Bill would try to milk her she’d buck and kick. Eventually, we finished milking the cows, the calves were fed, and Bill and I were carrying the milk into the house to be pasteurized. As Bill stepped behind the cow, she offered up a final parting shot, kicking the pail out of his hands.
Bill calmly walked around the stall, where the cow’s head was secured during milking; he looked at her for a minute and then he hit the bovine with a right cross between the eyes, dropping the beast to it’s knees.
“Quittin’, and quittin’ while you’re ahead ain’t the same thing,” Bill said. “She should’ve quit while she was ahead.”
Aside from being one of the most badass things I’ve ever seen, it also offered up one of life’s lessons.
The Independent has been far more successful than I ever imagined it would be. The fact that more than 16,000 people have read it is staggering, but it’s starting to become more like a job than a labor of love, and I’m dreading coming up with something to write each week. Besides, I’ve also stumbled onto something that scratches me where I itch as far as writing is concerned, and, if done right, has the potential of being far more lucrative.
Am I quitting? Nope, I’m quitting while I’m ahead, and the two ain’t the same thing.
