In this collection of thirty-eight chiseled short stories, George Thomas Clark introduces readers to actors, alcoholics, addicts, writers famous and unknown, a general, a lovelorn farmer, a family besieged by cancer, extraterrestrials threatening the world, a couple time traveling back to a critical battle, a deranged husband chasing his wife, and many more memorable people and events.
In compressed language George Thomas Clark presents Snapshots of Distressing Events. A distraught man confronts noisy neighbors, one couple is enveloped by infidelity, another’s destroyed by violence, drinkers and drug users have some fun but more trouble, people stumble in matters of money, medical destiny is determined by mishaps, malice, and chance, members of the media send strange messages, mass murderers and gun lovers disrupt society, those seeking liberation in religion are sometimes imprisoned, and from World War II to the present powerful people blunder.
Boxing is practiced by abnormally tough and determined men compelled to risk their health for a long chance at fleeting glory. In Uppercuts, George Foreman young and old knocks out almost everyone. Joe Frazier mauls Muhammad Ali, Ali destroys Frazier, and boxing ruins both. Jerry Quarry tells about his decline and that of his brother. Hector Camacho recalls the fire in his head. Emanuel Steward, Oscar Bonavena, Alexis Arguello, Archie Moore, Roberto Duran, Jack Johnson, Manny Pacquiao, Oscar de la Hoya, and other also lace on their gloves.
Joseph McCarthy says he’s a tough and dedicated guy in the boxing ring and U.S. Senate. Richard Nixon denies he’s an awkward, resentful, and paranoid president. Fidel Castro asserts he’s an appealing and inevitable historical character while embracing megalomania. And all three frigid warriors tell their stories as they fight again.
Monthly Archives: August 2011
Soon after moving into current home Joe walked out front to trim bushes and met next door neighbors, lady and gentleman both about eighty. She introduced herself and said, “This is George.” Joe said hello and enjoyed lady’s vivacity and charm but thought what rude bastard husband was, bearing silly semi-smile and not looking at […]
Listen, some people have been saying I’m jealous of Michele Bachmann since she’s been getting all the publicity and won some straw poll in Iowa. That’s silly. I could’ve won that but didn’t want to sweat for something nobody cares about. That’s why I quit as Governor of Alaska. I was bored as well as […]
The chronology unfolded about like this: I recently visited my hometown Sacramento, which I’d left in 1991, and was as ever moved by familiar places laden with ancient memories, and shortly after returning to Bakersfield I wondered what had become of several television newscasters from my youth. And in particular I was interested in Harry […]
(Late last night, after being driven to a confidential location, I interviewed Republican presidential candidate Rick Perry.) George Thomas Clark – Good evening, Governor Perry. Rick Perry – Howdy. GTC – You’ve been touting, rather loudly, your record as a producer of jobs in the state of Texas. RP – Damn right. Texas, under my […]
On the final afternoon of the San Francisco Jewish Film Festival, before a near capacity audience in the large theater, Adolf Eichmann – looking typically banal, bespectacled, and grim – was wheeled in a glass cage onto a stage in front of the screen after completion of “Eichmann’s End: Love, Betrayal, Death,” and he demanded: […]
Immersed in my own trivial but heartfelt concerns, the principal of which was that my six-week summer vacation had, as ever, lasted at least a fortnight too long and, despite a couple of stimulating vacations, left me feeling isolated and resentful and anxious to return to the camaraderie and energy of a large adult school. […]
I first ask then urge directors at the De Young Museum in San Francisco to let me in two hours early so characters in “Picasso, Masterpieces from the Musée National Picasso, Paris” can relax and speak to me before hordes enter and distract them. The directors ultimately agree, and at seven thirty in the morning […]
Would I ever want to live in Madrid? I didn’t know. I hadn’t been there so before going prepared vigorously, studying maps and scouring cyberspace and printing out stacks of material that bulged from three folders. In Madrid I annotated my reference material and encouraged local citizens to also do so. I jumped into dozens […]
After years of studying websites, scouring maps, and making many wrong turns en route to art galleries usually difficult to park near and often closed during listed business hours, or that had quietly gone out of business, I said screw it. I’m simply going to Bergamot Station in Santa Monica, a constellation of about thirty-five […]
One morning in Madrid, en route to the sumptuous Prado National Museum, I told the taxi driver that the day before I’d visited and been shocked by the harsh industrial neighborhood Villaverde where around the clock provocatively dressed women stand on streets, waiting to rent their bodies. “I know a place a thousand times worse […]
My first evening in Madrid I strolled from my hotel a hundred yards to Gran Via, the most celebrated street in Spain and frequent scene from movies highlighting its ornate old buildings and statues that hold up balconies bordered by iron railings. After waiting for frenetic traffic to stop at a red light, many people […]
The double-deck tour bus with top open had just completed its modern Madrid route north of downtown on shady Paseo del Prado into the chic Salamanca neighborhood where renowned Real Madrid plays soccer in a massive stadium and the most exclusive shops are found, and then back down Calle Serrano past several elegant foreign embassies […]
My journey to Madrid began on a Sunday morning as I drove from blistering Bakersfield down Highway 99 toward Los Angeles and punched sports talk radio but heard an ESPN guy strain to be funny and cool but sounding lame: most jockeys lack comedic skills and can’t sustain the purported subject matter of their shows. […]
My god, I thought I was rid of the Nazis after World War II. For years they’d been calling my paintings perverse and defective, and in 1937 Adolf Ziegler, the man named by Hitler as President of the National Chamber of Fine Arts and thus arbiter of everything that could and could not exist in […]
I’m no longer angry with Pablo Picasso though I should be. His most famous work, and perhaps the most powerful of the Twentieth Century, “Guernica,” is celebrated as a passionate denunciation of war, particularly when hostilities result in deaths of civilians. I absolutely agree. I swear I didn’t order the attack on the Republican stronghold […]