James Protzman

My 94-year-old father-in-law nearly died last night.

To put things in perspective, Pop has generally enjoyed good health and is one of those people who loves living life. He sleeps a lot, of course, and between naps he eats and takes walks down his farmhouse lane in Rising Sun, Maryland. His farm, 200 years old, is a Nottingham Lot of some historical interest.

Two days ago, Pop came down with a fever. After much deliberation and the visit of a doctor who makes house calls, he was taken by ambulance to the local hospital where he was diagnosed with pneumonia and severe dehydration. He is still there, in a private room because he is contagious.

We almost said "no" to the doctor's hospital recommendation. At 94, Pop has lived life to its fullest and loves being at home. But he was in pain, and not quite ready for hospice. So off the hospital he went.

Dear James,

It's not too often I write an author after reading a book. Especially when it comes to fiction. Come to think of it, the last time was after reading a comic novel in my teens. Then again, it's not too often that a book passes by that matches your all time favorite. And that's what happened to me with Jesus Swept. One day I was browsing through Amazon looking for something to read, something apart from political science that is. I used A Confederacy of Dunces (John Kennedy Toole), my all time favorite, as a starting point. And your book showed up on the top of the list.

The opening paragraph of a new chapter.

She eases into life as she does most days in October, buried under blankets. That happens when you’re obsessed with your personal carbon footprint, you set your thermostat all the way down to freeze-your-butt-off. Be one with the cold, she thinks, reaching for socks on the floor. Visitors find that mantra tough to swallow through chattering teeth, but still they come around. It’s hard to resist a red-headed witch who can read your palm just as surely as she can read your mind.

More here.

The first draft of another chapter, now available.

__________________________________________

Chapter 9

Jock Shaw switches from spiked coffee to pure Scotch at eight o’clock sharp, a habit he developed soon after his divorce ten years ago. That humiliating affair had almost been his downfall, but he’d turned the tables on the bitch. She never learned to submit like Jesus said a wife should, not even after he smacked her around. His lawyers said he should let her go quietly, but the woman got greedy and sued to steal his fortune. Nobody fucks with Jock Shaw like that. Nobody. A few weeks after she walked out, he pulled some strings and had her committed to a psych ward, with him as sole guardian. She wasn’t crazy then, but she is now. And she’s still locked up.

I made some progress on my next novel during my recent break from blogging. Here's the opening of a revised chapter four. The rest of the chapter is here.

Ten miles away on the dark side of Hillsborough, Sheriff Jock Shaw, half-uncle of Tommy Roy Foster and president of Madmax Enterprises, has been up for hours, plotting the final stages of a corporate takeover. It’s not another shopping mall he’s after, not this time. It’s not another school board either. Been there, done that. No, this time Sheriff Shaw is making his biggest power play yet. He's taking control of the state supreme court. The election is Tuesday.

It's hard to overstate my outrage at the corporate takeover we've allowed to happen here in North Carolina. It has been years in the making, a slow-motion train wreck that many saw coming, yet no one was able to stop.

BlueNC has done its part, as much as any blog can do to raise the alarm of imminent danger. But those responsible for governing, those elected to protect our state and our people, have failed to do their parts, utterly and completely.

After working on the front lines and the sidelines for five years now at BlueNC, it's clear to me that the leadership necessary to preserve and protect our democracy does not exist in North Carolina. Governor Perdue owns the problem, but it goes far deeper. It goes all the way to us. We failed to hold them accountable. We allowed our state government and our institutions to roll along with business as usual, neither angry enough nor smart enough to change their tragic course.

In light of my own contribution to our collective failure, I'm taking a few weeks to regroup and reset, and discover what's next for me, if anything, in today's disturbing political environment.

The floor is yours.

I need some help here, folks, in a few areas.

First, a question. What is the community view of allowing right-wing attack posts from people like Randy Right? My current position is to grudgingly permit them, unless they are intolerably obnoxious. That said, I routinely change headlines to suit my preferences, as would any managing editor.

Second, a request. If the site is running slow, which it does sometimes, please don't click "Save" for your post multiple times. When that happens, somebody has to fix it (usually me) by deleting your multiple posts or comments. Any help you can provide in cleaning up after yourself will be appreciated.

Third, if you are a serial anonymous troll, please go away. We will put up with a lot, but one thing we will not tolerate is intentional deception by people who have been previously blocked. We are currently looking into whether such behavior constitutes online stalking, which is illegal in North Carolina.

A bit more discussion below the fold.

Though I've seen it coming for years, I still find it hard to believe that I turned 60 today. Apparently, a few others have a hard time believing it too.

"Damn," a conservative blogger wrote. "I thought you were some punk-assed kid living in mommy's basement. You're sixty? That's f*cking pathetic, Protzman. Grow the hell up."

Truth is, I love being an old man, a crotchety old man, at that. Old enough to be able to say exactly what I think, without worrying about the harsh judgment of others. Even better, I don't have to spend a minute considering that some future employer might be using my posts and comments as an excuse for firing me or not hiring me or whatever. I'm going to retire in three years, assuming I'm still alive.

Until then, blogging keeps me young. Though I can't say it does all that much for my blood pressure these days.