Posts Tagged ‘ Kindle ’

Sister Mercedes and the Temple of Doom FREE June 6, 7 & 8

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My ebook, “Sister Mercedes and the Temple of Doom” will be FREE on Amazon on Friday, June 6th, Saturday, June 7th and Sunday, June 8th!  http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00C479TN6/

“Sister Mercedes and the Temple of Doom” is a collection of blog posts from this very blog!  From the depiction of the author’s upbringing as a fat, shy Catholic school boy to the vagaries of family life to trying to live hand-to-mouth while on disability, “Sister Mercedes” is a sometimes hysterically funny, sometimes tragic and always human glimpse behind the veil of parenthood, marriage, pop culture and the world in general.

If you’ve enjoyed reading this blog, please spread the word to anyone you think would be interested.  It’s FREE!

Thanks,

Brian

 

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Sister Mercedes and the Temple of Doom FREE 9/20-22

Beginning September 20th through Sunday the 22nd, my ebook “Sister Mercedes and the Temple of Doom” will be available as a FREE download on Amazon. If you haven’t read it yet, download it! If you know anyone who’d be interested, please share! Thanks.

Sister Mercedes and the Temple of Doom

Non-Fiction/Humor, 5 stars/19 reviews

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00C479TN6/ref=rdr_kindle_ext_tmb

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“Sister Mercedes and the Temple of Doom” is a collection of blog posts from playwright and author Brian C. Petti. From the depiction of the author’s upbringing as a fat, shy Catholic school boy to the vagaries of family life to trying to live hand-to-mouth while on disability, “Sister Mercedes” is a sometimes hysterically funny, sometimes tragic and always human glimpse behind the veil of parenthood, marriage, pop culture and the world in general.

The Paperless Trail to Eventual Ruin–A Red-Ring Fantasy

I think all electronics are made with a tiny virus in them that is set to explode the moment you’re out of warranty. I have never had a computer that didn’t show signs of slowing to a crawl within six months of purchase. I’ve heard that my kids’ X-Box 360 is designed with a permanent flaw in its cooling apparatus that ensures that it will “red ring” within two years. You know what they do with red ringed X-Box 360s? They charge you $80, send you a new one and use it for parts. NOTHING ever works the way it should for long. Dammit, I need two different channel changers to work my TV, and my DVD player hasn’t been hooked right up since we moved!

Maybe I should be like my Dad and refuse to get a Kindle because it makes it too easy for the “forces that be” to cut the supply of words. He sees all this Kindle stuff leading to an Atwoodian dystopia where all hard copies are suddenly gone from the shelves, incinerated in some shady, stony basement of hell, never to be read or discussed again by thinking, breathing human beings. You know, the way we were all scared that our computer was going to eat our term papers. Except with Nazi-like book burning.

It’s too late. We’re hooked. We use technology for everything from our bills, to our socialization to our jobs. It’s never going away now. The social network has consumed us all, and then it pressed “Like”. Our wretched future has been given a cool little “thumbs up”!

But it’s not wretched, is it. We’re enjoying it way too much for it to be bad for us! No one thought cars would replace horses or that we would fly in jumbo jets through the sky. With every technological advance there is always suspicion that what is new is dangerous and will probably kill us. With cell phones it happened to be true, but that’s beside the point. What do I want, to have to walk everywhere and raise pigs and send freakin’ letters by pigeon? Certainly not! Although the pigeon thing might be cool, but it would have to be really organized or I’d end up getting responses from crazy people like Mike Tyson or that German guy in The Producers.

There’s an upside here, right? The games they’re making now are incredible looking, although I haven’t played one since The Adventures of Link. Televisions are thinner than an Olsen twin. I haven’t had to answer my phone since the 90s. I’m writing this ON MY LAP! (and man is it hard to get the ink out my skin in the shower, for all my literal, wise-ass friends). I don’t have an I-Pad, but I heard they’re super-cool. Everything should be copacetic, right?

Except that all this cool junk is made out of plastic, scotch-tape and bubble gum. You know how Dell makes their computers? They meet all the manufacturers for all the various parts in a big parking lot, where all the companies that make hard drives, screens, modems, mice, processors, etc. park their trucks and instigate a bidding war. If one company is making a keyboard or AC cord for three cents less than its competitors, guess what ends up in your configuration? I heard this from a Dell rep himself. Ever wonder why you used to pay two grand for a computer and now you can pick one up for $1.50? Because it’s made from the cheapest available materials. No matter what it is, from a laptop to a game system to a Blackberry, it cost them maybe fifty bucks. If they could get away with selling it to you for a million they would. Like cars, that have a 50,000 percent markup. Ever want to end a conversation with a car salesman real quick. Ask him what his margin is, then watch him scurry away like his ass is on fire. If they have enough money to pummel you with ads during the Super Bowl, they’re overcharging you for cheap garbage that WILL break sooner or later. Along with all your pictures, your writings, your bookmarks, your bank account and your soul.

I found this quote completely by mistake while I was looking up “dystopia” to make sure I used it correctly. It’s from the queen of futuristic paranoia herself, Margaret Atwood:

“Electronic storage is pretty fragile. If you want to keep something permanently you should probably keep it in paper form, and that is why an e-version of your will is unacceptable.” Her three reasons for keeping physical books are solar flares, grid overload and fear of running out of room on the internet because of too much porn. Sing it sister! Have you ever met my Dad?

Here’s the Atwood interview for anyone interested http://bigthink.com/users/margaretatwood?utm_source=Big+Think+Main+Subscribers&utm_campaign=7f4b1ac85d-Margaret_Atwood_September_30_20109_29_2010&utm_medium=email#!video_idea_id=24257. She’s a loony old bat, but I love her. Too much porn…you can’t make this stuff up! Everyone knows there is EXACTLY the right amount of porn on the internet… For those who remember her, is she Anita White or what?

Overdue thanks to Jonathan at http://www.speechmasteryblog.com/ –I used many of his examples of mispronounced words in yesterday’s blog and he was kind enough to include the blog on his site.  Check him out, he’s got a cool site himself.

Sneak Peek–Next Year in Jerusalem

This was certainly my most ambitious play, and perhaps my best.  We did an excellent version of it locally, with some of my favorite actors (Joe Gayton, Rich Aufiero, Rich Hotaling, Ellen Boswell, Laura Carter (now Epstein!), among many, many others).  The play is available as a Kindle ebook at http://www.amazon.com/Next-Year-in-Jerusalem-ebook/dp/B0032JTW4G/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&m=AG56TWVU5XWC2&s=books&qid=1292437779&sr=8-1   If you saw it or were in it, feel free to leave a review.

Also like to announce Pettiplay alum (Masquerade and The Measure of a Man) Matt Meinsen has his own website at http://www.mattmeinsen.com/  The Measure of a Man is available as a perusal script or Kindle ebook at http://www.amazon.com/Measure-Man-Brian-C-Petti/dp/1605130079/ref=ntt_at_ep_dpt_2

Enjoy.

Next Year in Jerusalem
a play in two acts
by Brian C. Petti
PO Box 361
East Durham, NY 12423
(518) 239-6267 bcpkid AT gmail.com
Copyright © 1999/2009 by Brian C. Petti

ACT ONE

scene 1

Benjamin enters a small hotel room holding two suitcases. He is young rabbi in his thirties, dressed neatly in a dark suit. As Benjamin puts down the suitcases, Moshe follows him into the room. He is a man in his eighties, but he does not show many of the trappings of old age. He is dressed much more casually than his son.

Benjamin
Here you go, Dad.

Moshe
Where’s the rest of it?

Benjamin
What, you give a speech and you want they should put you up in the Ritz?

Moshe
I’d settle for a room bigger than a closet.

Benjamin
There’s enough room to write and sleep. What more do you want?

Moshe
I want to be home where I belong.

Benjamin
Don’t start with that again.

Moshe
Why am even doing this? What does anyone want to hear from me?

Benjamin
You lived through a lot, Dad. They want to know about it.

Moshe
Bunch of middle aged women with too much money and too much time on their hands.

Benjamin
The Jewish Ladies Auxiliary is just sponsoring it.

Moshe
They just need something to talk about the next time they play mahjong.

Benjamin
Who plays mahjong?

Moshe
Jewish Ladies Auxiliaries.

Benjamin
There will be a lot of people there tomorrow, all kinds of people, who chose to celebrate their Passovers by listening to you. It’s a great honor…

Moshe
I don’t want honor, I want sleep. In my bed. I want to be left alone to forget.

Benjamin
That’s not what Mom would have wanted.

Moshe
In 48 years of marriage I couldn’t figure out what she wanted and all of a sudden you know.

Benjamin
She just wanted you to tell what you know. (Benjamin puts a pad and paper on the small desk.)

Moshe
What I know. After 81 years on this planet, I’m still overwhelmed by the enormity of what I do not know. Ah, I’m lucky if I remember to get up in the morning.

Benjamin
That’s why I brought you the pad and pencil. Write it down as it comes to you. You should have done this a week ago. You owe it to them, Dad, you owe it to the ones that didn’t have a chance to have memories, we all do.

Moshe
Stop with the “owe” business. I was lucky. I survived. Now I just want to live and try to forget…

Benjamin
That will make a wonderful speech. “How I Forgot the Holocaust” by Moshe Zydowski.

Moshe
Don’t be sarcastic; you inherited that from your mother. Too bad you didn’t get anything useful, like your father’s good looks.

Benjamin
(Losing his patience a bit.) You promised her you would do this.

Moshe
Easy, easy…my son is so serious. The solemn rabbi. How did you become such a righteous man with me as a father? Either your mother raised you right or I didn’t corrupt you enough.

Benjamin
Maybe a little of both.

Moshe
Look at my son. Why didn’t you stop wearing your yarmulke in college and marry a shiksa like the rest of the Jewish boys?

Benjamin
Mom would have killed me dead.

Moshe
She was very proud of you.

Benjamin
I know. Let’s both of us make her proud tomorrow. I’ll unpack your suitcase and then I’ll leave you alone to think. (He begins to lay out Moshe’s clothes, and leaves an apple on the writing desk.)

Moshe
Don’t they have a TV in this place? It says in the Torah that no Jew over eighty is to go to sleep without watching the news.

Benjamin
I must have missed that passage.

Moshe
It’s right after the mahjong rule.

Benjamin
You don’t need a TV or any other distractions. You need to write.

Moshe
How about if I just tell them a few jokes? A priest and a rabbi walk into a bar…

Benjamin
No jokes, Dad. I laid out your clothes for tomorrow.

Moshe
The child has become the adult.

Benjamin
I’ll see you in the morning. (He turns to leave.)

Moshe
Benjamin. (Benjamin stops.)

Benjamin
What, Dad?

Moshe
What if I can’t remember?

Benjamin
What do you mean?

Moshe
I’ve spent so many years trying to forget. What if the memories are gone? I’m an old man…

Benjamin
Dad, I’ve seen you sit at my dinner table and tell stories from dessert until two in the morning.

Moshe
This isn’t the same. This isn’t easy, what you ask me to do. You don’t know from memories, you have too much still in front of you. You don’t just remember and then, phhtt, it’s down on the paper. You remember a person. They make you think of another person, and pretty soon you’ve remembered a whole town, an entire village. All the faces…it’s too much, it will drown me.

Benjamin
Have courage. You will be among friends. I only wish my kids could have been here to listen to you.

Moshe
You will miss having seder with them.

Benjamin
That is my sacrifice. But tomorrow will be worth it. The survivors will be my family for a day.

Moshe
This whole thing is crazy. I haven’t observed Passover since you were a boy.

Benjamin
I know, Dad. God speaks to us all in different ways, perhaps this speech is His way of speaking to you.

Moshe
Ah, you talk like a rabbi.

Benjamin
I am proud of you for doing this. Mom would have been too.

Moshe
More rabbi guilt.

Benjamin
Good night, Dad. Get to work.