Monday, June 24, 2019

Missing Stories Part 3

Today's interview focuses on the missing story titled "The Boxwood Garden."


Sunday, June 23, 2019

Preserving Instapunk for those who will come after.

Instapunk.com, an RFL blog that spanned 10 years, is only available now via the Wayback machine. While some believe the Wayback machine will be around for a long time, we don't. Today we are asking fans to go to Instapunk via the link below, find an interesting entry you like, and print and keep it. We are trying to preserve the items for future generations, the ones who will come after. Please let us know what you print and why you chose it. We want to hear from you.

https://web.archive.org/web/20160624040700/http://www.instapunk.com/archives/IPLArchive.php3

You can also find an assortment of Instapunk entries in the book "(P)articles of Instapunk."


Saturday, June 22, 2019

Friday, June 21, 2019

Our Furry Friends


Have you ever loved a pet? Had your heart stolen? Grieved the loss of your best companion?

I love the stories in this book.  All about life with dogs, cats, and other critters. They make me smile, laugh, cry.  They will touch your heart the way they do mine.

https://www.amazon.com/Sighthounds-Other-Strangers-R-Laird-ebook/dp/B01LXRDLXP/ref=sr_1_4?keywords=Sighthounds+and+Other+Strangers+R.+F.+Laird&qid=1561146002&s=gateway&sr=8-4

Tuesday, June 18, 2019

Leaving a Record

RFL came across this song in a movie. He has always said he's leaving a record for the ones who come after.

https://youtu.be/mSgnC5eQ5u0

Monday, June 17, 2019

Latest Book Release


Available today, after many long months of battle with the Amazon publishing monopoly.
You need to buy it. Proof that R. F. Laird has understood and anticipated all the political wars of the past 20 years. The long and short of it: in all that time he has never been wrong about anything important while all his supposed allies stood around pontificating. He warned us McCain was no good but fought for McCain because the alternative was Obama. He declared in his InstaPunk blog that Romney would never be president but fought for him despite withering conservative invective because the alternative was Obama. He wanted to bow out then, 2012, but he was the only voice who proposed that it might be the time for one Donald Trump. He’s stayed in since, because all the idiot Never-Trumpers were still rattling their empty saber sheaths around and, more disturbingly, all you fair weather pro-Trump pundits were still rattling your empty saber sheaths around. He knew who you were. Has always known. Read “Gloves Off.”
From here on, books on Amazon and Kindle are likely to be your only access to the mind of a man who makes the unusual FB genius pundits look like the kindergartners they are.
RFL tells me “No.” I’m the only one on earth with the power to overrule him. The Amazon author page:

Saturday, June 15, 2019

Friday, June 7, 2019

Our Favorite Driver

Today practices begin in preparation for the Canadian Grand Prix this Sunday. We look at our favorite driver's writing about his experiences with cars.


http://rflaird3.simplesite.com/440313942

Wednesday, June 5, 2019

A Love Hate Relationship


R. F. Laird created Shuteye Town 1999 as an amazing graphic suite. Huge. What is it? Shuteye Town 1999 is a game, but not completely. A puzzle but not completely. A book but not completely. Think Labyrinth. Think Satire. Think Harder than beating a computer at chess. You know. Challenging entertainment. And if you've never played a video game? Doesn't matter at all. There isn't anything anywhere quite like this.

Sometimes we have to engage with lawyers.  Sometimes we need them, sometimes they are after us.Yesterday R. F. had a long go round with a lawyer who was trying to intimidate him and accuse him of being threatening to a client.  By the end, they were on collegial speaking terms, Could you do that? Try this piece of Shuteye Town.

http://rflaird.com/archive/Shuteye%20Town/Shuteye%20Town%20HTML/st99files/loyerstn2.html


Tuesday, June 4, 2019

The Warrior Awakened



He's been in a funk.  Not knowing what to do next or if he had anything more to do.  And out of the blue comes a letter from his prep school, Mercersburg Academy. They announced the completion of a 2-year "investigation" into allegations of improper sexual conduct by former faculty.  One of those faculty was his teacher and friend.  Allegations made 7 years after his death. No defense accorded him, no police involved. But they conclude allegations of activities that allegedly took place in the '90s are legitimate and strip this long dead man of his honors for his many years of service to the school.  He's a nonperson.

Now he has a mission.  Get the school to retract what they've done.  Period.  So he's gone to war.


A Flourish of Razors

by Boz Baker
1.
RRRRRRRRRRooooooooooooooaaaaaaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr!!!!!!!!!!! Omigod, I’m thinking, feeling this Harley noise under my all too soft and thoroughly unprepared butt, I’m going to die, right here on South Street, before I get word one of this Great American Cultural Movement on paper. Screeeeeech!!!! Oh Jesus! Did I say Cultural Movement? Did I even think it? No, this is nothing less than cultural war, and that’s kultural with a K, the way almost everything’s spelled with a K by the punk bands of Philadelphia. K for kayo and K for kill and, now that I mention it, K for kamikaze, like this feeling I’m having right now on the back of a deathbound chopper that’s being piloted by an honest to God madman who calls himself Johnny Dodge. And then we’re perpendicular to the ground and the Harley wheel is pawing the air — I’m staring straight ahead at a baby blue heaven that has preempted my horizon and all thoughts of such minutiae as the connotative difference between cultural with a c and kultural with a k — and Johnny is wailing like a banshee above me, a frozen mountain climber dangling from a chrome precipice of handlebars, my hands clawing and digging into his almost nonexistent gut, and I have this sudden instantaneous revelation, lasting no more than the split second of motionlessness at the apogee of our wheelie, of what this punk thing is all about and why I haven’t been able to get the hang of it till now.

Monday, June 3, 2019

All Things R. F. Laird



This fan site is dedicated to sharing some of the internet available works of R. F. Laird. We encourage fans to discuss and suggest items for this blog. Who is R. F. Laird? Here's the short version:

R. F. (Robert) Laird was born in Salem, New Jersey, the son of a World War II fighter pilot and the grandson of a World War I infantry captain. As a member of the notorious Baby Boom generation, he came of age during the late 1960s and witnessed firsthand the radicalization of American college campuses, the explosion of the drug culture, and the sexual revolution. He was educated at Harvard University and went on to do graduate work at the Cornell University business school, where he observed former radicals and hippies rededicating their lives to the pursuit of material prosperity.

After pursuing a successful career as a management and communication consultant, Laird took a sabbatical from the world of business in the late 1980s to complete a work of satirical fiction he had begun nearly 10 years previously. The Boomer Bible, A Testament for Our Times, was published in October 1991 by Workman Publishing of New York and was named by the Wall Street Journal as one of the 10 most significant books published that year.

Laird has since published Shuteye Town 1999 and Shuteye Nation, both blistering multimedia topical satires published at the website Deerhound Diary, The Indictment, An Obama Diary, Why is there a Boomer Bible, The ABCs of Shuteye Nation, Writing Down America, The Lounge Conversations, The Zeezer Bible and The Snowflake Bible, Sighthounds and Other Strangers, and White Privilege.

Meanwhile, R. F. Laird continues to work and write from his home in Salem, New Jersey.

Today's choice for sharing is this link to 



 Don't Send Me Dead Flowers This is probably the greatest work of fiction since the 19th century. Think Moby Dick. Or the 20th century. ...