I'm happy​ to annou​nce the launc​h of a brand​ new onlin​e magaz​ine.​ Stone​'​s Throw​ is based​ in Bilin​gs,​ Monta​na but it featu​res write​rs and artis​ts from all over the world​.​ We'​ll be publi​shing​ this zine quart​erly,​ and we welco​me submi​ssion​s.​ Check​ out the site for submi​ssion​ guide​lines​,​ and make sure you read the fine stori​es and poems​ that came our way this time aroun​d.​

www. stone​sthro​wmaga​zine.​ com

This is the last call for submissions to Stone's Throw, a new quarterly literary magazine. We will be posting out first issue on October 15th. We're looking for fiction, poetry, photography, and especially short slice of life pieces from other countries for our 'Scenes from Daily Life' feature. There is no payment, and multiple submissions are welcome. Fiction should be less than 5000 words. Submit to stonesthrowmagazine@gmail.com, and check out the site at stonesthrowmagazine.com.

The deadline for The Smoking Poet's First Annual Short Story contest is approaching fast. We will be accepting submissions until May 31, one week from today. There will be cash prizes for the top three stories, plus the usual exposure this webzine offers, averaging 7000 hits per month. Visit the site for submission guidelines at http://thesmokingpoet.tripod.com

Good luck to those who enter!

Seeing as how it's a new year and all, and seeing as how that's always a time for reflection, and starting anew. Seeing as how part of starting anew seems to be about telling people stuff you probably don't want to carry around with you for the rest of your life....well, seeing as how all that is considered to be fairly important, and vital to our sense of peace in this world, I have something I need to get off my chest.

Just once...well no, actually, it was several times. This year, due to a rash that I couldn't seem to get rid of, a rash that I apparently got from some kind of fungus in my hot tub, or so the doctor speculated....I used steroids. I wanted to admit it before the tests came back. I wanted to make sure I don't fall into the trap that so many of these other guys are of trying to hide behind their lawyers, or saying they didn't know what it was they were taking. I did it. I used steroids. And they worked. They made the rash go away. Now does that justify my using them? That is where the real ethical question comes into play here. Did it make me a better writer? Did I type faster, or was I able to stay up and write late into the night because of these steroids? How can we ever know? Should any rewards I get in the upcoming year be afixed with an asterisk? Should I perhaps even be disqualified from consideration for the Pulitzer this year?

I contend that the most vital part of writing, the work of exploring yourself, and observing those around you for the foibles that you either do or don't understand, and trying to recreate these fantastic human qualities, cannot be enhanced by artificial means. Perhaps my performance was enhanced, but only in areas that have nothing to do with my brain. Or did I really want to get an edge? Was that why I agreed to take them? I had a choice, after all. I knew they could perhaps give me an edge, an edge that other writers don't enjoy. I knew it and I took them anyway. Perhaps it really was greed, and a desire to push myself just a bit further, without actually having to do the work. I can't possibly know this. But it's clear from what's happening in the rest of the world that admitting to this stuff is just not fashionable. So I'd like to at least be recognized for taking this difficult step. That ought to be worth something, shouldn't it? I just don't think I could live with myself if was standing on that stage, giving my acceptance speech, feeling that unnatural strength in my forearm that wasn't there a year ago, knowing where it came from, and wondering, wondering, wondering whether it contributed to the recognition I received. It's a matter of freedom in the end. Freedom from guilt. And I do feel better. Whether the rest of the world will forgive me is now immaterial. I have laid down my burden.

A friend of mine recently sang the Banana Fana song to me, something I haven't heard in years. It brought back memories of singing that thing for hours with my friends, trying every name we could think of and then laughing our asses off as we warbled 'Jesse Jesse Jo Jesse, banana fana mo messy, fe fi fo fessy, Jesse.' It also made me think of my dad. Not because Dad was a Banana Fana freak. I don't remember Dad ever singing Banana Fana, in fact, or any other silly song except perhaps Mairsy Dotes. No, the reason it made me think of my dad is because my dad's name is Chuck. And of course, as everyone knows, Chuck is the one name that is verboten when you sing the Banana Fana song. At least in front of your parents. But once they're out of the room, forgetaboutit. The opportunity to say fuck and have it be semi-legitimate probably inspired more renditions of the Chuck version of Banana Fana than any song in the history of children. I can even remember trying to get away with singing that goofy song in front of adults just to see if they were aware of this subtlety. The glares made it apparent. No, there was no sneaking 'fuck' by my parents, in any form. I remember watching one of those cheesy variety shows around the time Banana Fana was really popular, probably the Andy Williams Show. And they had a segment with a bunch of young dancers prancing around and posing, singing the Banana Fana song. And we sat staring at the TV, our attention rapt, wondering whether they would be so bold as to do Chuck. They didn't, of course. But I wonder now whether there was any discussion about it in the production meetings. Do you think they pondered the possibility of trying to sneak that one by the censors? It was the sixties, after all. Those rebellious years. Maybe the idea of getting that first 'fuck' out on the airwaves did come up. I'd like to think so. Because if there's one thing that never changes, either as we get older or as the culture evolves, it's that juvenile satisfaction we get from sneaking a good swear word past those damn authority figures. Fuckers. 

We reached a new low in the world of televised sports last night. In the late innings of one of the more exciting world series games we've seen in a while, Joe Buck announced breaking news. Was it another terrorist attack? An assassination? Did we finally catch bin Laden? No....no, it was much more important than any of those trivial matters. Fox decided it was appropriate and necessary, in the midst of the World Series, to pander to the biggest ego in baseball and announce that Alex Rodriguez had decided to opt out of his contract with the Yankees. And they didn't just announce it, but they apparently insisted that Joe Buck, one of the best play-by-play announcers around, spend the next ten minutes discussing the ramifications of this enormous piece of news rather than tell us what was happening on the field.

This is why Alex Rodriguez has always played for losing teams. Because while Mike Lowell, David Ortiz, Manny Ramirez, and Jason Varitek were on the field, sacrificing a bit of personal glory to contribute to another world championship, Alex Rodriguez couldn't handle the fact that people in the United States weren't talking about him. So he apparently decided right then, rather than watching the game like the rest of us mere mortals, that it was the right time to make this crucial decision in his life, so that his agent could pass along the news to the Fox News crew, and they could interrupt this game for an important announcement.

There are sports figures who never grasp the concept that sacrificing a bit of personal glory for the sake of the team will bring even more personal glory in the long run. Michael Jordan understood this. Derek Jeter understands it. Mike Lowell understands. And they also understand that giving up that kind of personal attention motivates their teammates to want to play better, too. For each other. The likes of Alex Rodriguez, Kobe Bryant, and Barry Bonds have never grasped this concept. And that is why they never have, and never will, lead their teams to championships. Yes, I know Kobe has been on championship teams. But everyone knows he was not the leader of those teams. Everyone also knows what happened when he took over the leadership of that team.

As I listened to Joe Buck and Tim McCarver speculate about the Red Sox making a run for A-Rod, I could barely restrain myself from calling Theo Epstein and trying to make him listen to reason. Mike Lowell led the Red Sox in RBI's this season. He was the MVP of the World Series. And this is the second time he has been on a world championship team. Alex might pile up the best stats in all of baseball, but anyone who can take the spirit out of a team that includes Derek Jeter, Jorge Posada and Roger Clemens is a cancer. There is a reason that every team A-Rod has played for has improved after he left. Please, Red Sox Nation, let Alex find his big money elsewhere. We waited too long to find this championship form. It will only take him one season to spoil it. Re-sign Mike Lowell instead. 

Sincerely, Red Sox Nation inhabitant number 1,309,504.