Samuel Menashe Reads at the Harvard Club

On this blog, in addition to my atheistic screeds, I like to keep my readers up to date with stuff I publish elsewhere. Usually this kind of stuff has to make it past editors, so it’s kosher (the kids can read it). Here is a poem of mine that came out in the Winter 2011 issue of Italian Americana. It’s not online so, if you don’t subscribe, this may be your only chance to read it. Like you were going to lose sleep over it.

The bad news is that I had to upload this as an image because WordPress blogs can’t really handle poetry. Neither, apparently, can GoogleDocs. Anyway, click on the image above to read the whole thing. It’s the best I could manage.

Note: Samuel Menashe is a real, living poet. I didn’t make him up. He lives in New York City. In 2004 he was – really! – awarded the “Neglected Masters Award” by the Poetry Foundation. The above poem is based on many true events jumbled by memory and then recorded years later by close attention to music and meter.

100% nonsense

Despite Phil Plait’s infamous “Don’t Be a Dick” talk last year, I still like him. I just didn’t like his message much. But that’s fine, because disagreement is what I do best (if you don’t count foot massages and omelets). He’s especially good – and kind of dickish in a mild-mannered way – on things like astrology. Here are a few words that should be written on a t-shirt. I know I’d wear it.

We knew this already, but it's still good to hear.

Introducing Monicks

There is a blog I’ve been reading for a few days now by a woman named Monica (hey, my sister’s name is Monica!), who calls herself Monicks. She has made a super-long list of atheists on Twitter to which my name (@godlessinitaly, duh) should be added sometime soon, I hope. So if you’ve never checked out Monicks Unleashed I suggest you do so. She’s way cool.