These are the thoughts of a Texas transplant in West Michigan who makes his living as a newspaper reporter by evening, and a struggling novelist by day.

Saturday, July 26, 2008

an angry place

i decided to steal a blog title from a friend's blog because i can find no other way than that to describe what's going on in our community.

wednesday night a motorcyclist was struck and then run over by a mimivan in a busy area on the north side of town. he died at the scene. we reported it that night for the following day's paper. we did a follow up and then we did a third follow, where we learned the driver of the minivan didn't have a driver's license and was an illegal immigrant recently moved to the holland area.

well, the phone calls, e-mails and voice-mails started coming in the next day, in addition to online comments to the articles. we've gotten calls from the people who were there when he died to others calling about why we used a former co-worker of the deceased in our second article.

at first the attacks were aimed at the reporter who wrote the articles, calling her a bad journalist and insensative. then comments were aimed at the driver's illegal status, attacking illegals and the person's place of employment.

i'm a little surprised by all of the attention this has received. it's not the first time a motorcyclist gets killed when being run down. i'm sure it's not even the bloodiest crash or most neinous. hell, not even the recent murder trial received this much exchanges.

i can't even say that the anger started when people found out that the driver was illegal. the phone calls started before then. it's the community has banded together and stir the pot on this one.

i'm baffled by it. it was a tragic event.
let's hope the community heals quickly and moves on to happier things.

Sunday, July 20, 2008

electrical banana

funny verse of song, who knows what the hell donovan meant,
but i've got my guesses. all nasty, i'd bet. but who knows.
a homeric grammarian once said,
"let the trails lead to nowhere,
yet nowhere leads to my heart..."

homeric grammarians suck! they're dead, man.
they don't exist anymore. and anyone who thinks
they're a homeric gram arian is dead, man.

i bet you think this blog is about you,
but you've never been to saragota or nova scotia,
so don't bother psychoanalying it.
you're dead and in the water, floating fishhead.

who the hell is she talking about anyway?
i think dick knows, but i know he's not telling.
he promised after all.
he's not dead, though.

steamboat willy's dead. waaaay dead, too.
his companion dead shortly after.
it saddned me to no end. i'd had them for years.

and ramirez? he lived for centuries
until his head was gone. he went out ofh is mind.
and now? nothing to say .

jackie d. -- finally spotted you at a glance, where'd you be?
you be on different shifts.
we kept missing you. oh well the pattern
was broken.

i swear i shot no one! ot even deputy dog!
raging fool, come to my door and sniffs
around, useless 'coonhound.

slip away now, go and find out
who was the werewolve, who was vain,
who was there and who wasn't.
ah, michael stipe come to me soon.