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route66 cover - 2 - final“Dogging Steinbeck,” in case you are among the 318,543,866 Americans who  haven’t gotten around to reading it yet, is a new genre I’m trying to popularize called “True Nonfiction.”

Half literary expose and half American road book, “Dogging Steinbeck” is the honest and accurate account of my long journey with the great John Steinbeck and his beloved work of BS, “Travels With Charley.”

It details how I discovered the truth about Steinbeck’s iconic 1960 road trip with his dog Charley and how I exposed the fraudulent nature of the allegedly nonfiction book Steinbeck wrote about his journey.

As I explain and prove at length, “Charley” is not very true or honest. It’s mostly fiction and a few lies. For every true thing you want to know about Steinbeck’s trip, my trip and his book without having to fork over a lousy $5.99 for “Dogging Steinbeck,” I’d advise going to TruthAboutCharley.com.

My book, which I swear is 103 percent true, is a literary detective story, a traditional American road book and a primer in drive-by journalism and how the media work. All from a libertarian point of view.

It’s also part history lesson of 1960 America, part book review, part Steinbeck bio and part indictment of the negligence of Steinbeck scholars who failed to discover Steinbeck’s literary deceit for 50 years and then blithely excused it as inconsequential or irrelevant after I told them about it.

Guess I should have included footnotes.

The liberals manning the New York Times editorial page liked what I learned. So did the leftward boys at “On the Media” on NPR. So did Paul Theroux, Brian Lamb and my 96-year-old Mom.

But a lot of people — especially young and/or romantic diehard “Charley” fans — don’t appreciate me for ruining the romance of Steinbeck’s flawed book. Just look at the dumb 1-star reviews on Amazon.

But sorry, Steinbeckies, what I did with my humble work of journalism has changed the way “Travels With Charley” will be read forevermore.

In the fall of 2012 the book’s publisher, Penguin Group, issued a 50th anniversary edition of “Travels With Charley” that admitted that what I had learned and exposed was correct — as in “the truth.”

“Charley’s” introduction, first written by Steinbeck biographer Jay Parini in 1997, from now on will contain a major disclaimer warning gullible readers that the famous book they are about to read is so full of fiction and fictional techniques that it should not be taken literally or considered to be a work of nonfiction. In layman’s terms, it should be considered a work of bullshit.

Parini’s disclaimer includes this stark sentence: “It should be kept in mind, when reading this travelogue, that Steinbeck took liberties with the facts, inventing freely when it served his purposes, using everything in the arsenal of the novelist to make this book a readable, vivid narrative.”

I wasn’t given credit for this discovery of this ugly truth. I was identified only as a former Pittsburgh Post-Gazette reporter who did some light “fact-checking” (and made lazy fools of the Steinbeck scholars).

But at least from now on no 14-year-old who reads Steinbeck’s classic road book will ever be tricked into thinking it’s a true story. I hope.

Here’s a bit more from my Liberty.me interview with Kyle Platt. I flailed about drug legalization.

I am also pro-coffee legalization, clearly

 

In which Kyle Platt asks questions, and I flail and rant about government hypocrisy in response:

More Liberty.me videos starring some of my favorite non-dead thinkers are over here.

lucy-steigerwald-previewClearly cool human and excellent radio host Guillermo Jimenez had me on his podcast last weekend. In his words:

On this edition of Traces of Reality Radio: Guillermo is joined by VICE columnist, Lucy Steigerwald. We discuss Lucy’s latest articles, including “LEGALIZE HEROIN!” and “Politicians Finally Realize They Can Stop Pretending to Hate Weed.

Mormons, Ted Cruz fanboys, and “conservatives” who are anti gun prohibition but pro drug prohibition: you’re all on notice. Listener discretion, yadda, yadda, yadda.

The listener discretion is for profanity! He started it! But I indulged as well. I haven’t listened yet, but I remember it being a ranty, pleasant conversation. Check it out. 

I have done Jimenez’s radio show twice before. The first, from May, has us discussing the MOVE bombing, among other topics. The second, from August, is an all round libertarian issues chat, including a good tangent into anti-authoritarian songs that mentions Joe’s excellent list. 

Though it sadly didn’t end in Nashville, 2013 at least began there. And other non-chronological highlights of that somewhat rocky year were as follows:

by Jayel Aheram

by Jayel Aheram

  • Visited LA, my glorious city of birth. There I met, then ran amok with, Jayel Aheram. This culminated in the most bad-ass photo of me ever taken, seen at right.
  • Took an Amtrak journey (one way with my Ma, one way by myself) and loved it because A) Trains are a lot of fun, dang it. If only they were economically sensible. And B) Because every kind of cross-country travel feels luxurious when you have taken a Greyhound from Pennsylvania to Montana to California, then back again.
  • Visited a (lefty) Anarchist Book-Fair with anarcho-capitalist Anthony Gregory in San Francisco. Should have written about the contrasts and clashes that resulted.
  • Went to New York City, met Pamela Stubbart who recently wrote this piece for the Daily Caller. She’s pretty neat, that Pam.
  • I also met Andrew Kirell, who is good people and writes good, snarky things for Mediaite. He’s good people, that Andrew, even though I still can’t remember how many ls and rs his name contains without checking.
  • Wrote for VICE, eventually became columnist for VICE
  • Became contributing editor for Antiwar.com, blogged there frustratingly infrequently became I am the worst.
  • Spent summer as D.J. Stagger Lee (it works on so many levels — for once!) with my Old Time (More Or Less) radio show. Loved it. Loved it. Hire me for your radio show.
  • Had Antiwar.com blog post quoted by John Stossel twice, which in context suggested he might just agree with me on the NSA. At least a little.

Stossel argued with me a little.

  • Saw Ralph Stanley and reacted like a 12-year-old meeting Harry Styles, or whomever is now most important in the lives of 12-year-olds.
  • Saw Old Crow Medicine Show be on the radio in Nashville. Ate Prince’s Hot Chicken and shrimp po-boys and again mused on living in that city. Was told, “you look familar” by Critter Fuqua, and responded with far too many exclamation points.

Steve and Critter Fuqua from Old Crow Medicine Show talking history nerd stuff

  • Saw other excellent bands and artists including La Plebe, Pokey LaFarge, Jason Isbell, and the best thing to ever come out of Johnstown, PA, as well as the makers of one of my favorite albums of all time, Endless Mike the and the Beagle Club.
  • Brother began blogging for the Stag Blog, culminating in his under-appreciated classic pretend parable, which can be read here.
  • Did not go to a baseball game for the second year in a row in which I intended to do so. (Yes, 2012 had “go on TV” and “go to a baseball game” on the to-do list, and the former happened, but the latter did not!) However, I did watch at least two entire baseball games on television. New record! Plus I watched Catching Hell, so I have a lot of feelings and opinions about Steve Bartman and that one catcher dude for I think the Red Sox? I forget.
  • Had to reject several invitations to go on an RT show, which was not a good thing, but it still made me feel slightly important.
  • Visited questionable North Carolina military surplus store and fired questionable guns with former Reason intern not named here. (Damn gov’mint.)
  • Read some killer books by Jesse Walker and Radley Balko, then wrote some things about that. I briefly browsed a record store in Pittsburgh with Jesse Walker as well, so that makes me feel pretty cool.
  • Decided to elect J. D. Tuccille king of anarchy.
  • Thought a lot about nuclear war.
  • Saw a very big duck.
  • 10351880233_2e9b255dd0_oI mean, that’s a great duck.

 

This fun little parable was written by my father, the great Bill Steigerwald, and I, the good Joe Steigerwald. Originally written as a children’s book, it was turned into a serial and rewritten to appeal to a more mature audience when we found out that there is no market for a non-liberal kids book. First published at Townhall and Watts Up With That? It’s now being re-released in full at Steigerwald Post.

G. P. Bear goes to Washington

The true story of a libertarian carnivore

George Orwell used satire and talking pigs in “Animal Farm.” Now, with a foot of snow in Jerusalem signaling the start of the next ice age, veteran libertarian journalist Bill Steigerwald shamelessly steals Orwell’s idea and uses talking polar bears to poke fun at global warming alarmists and their fellow travelers in Washington and the media.

Twisting the title of director Frank Capra’s movie masterpiece to his own evil ends, Steigerwald and his son Joe have created “G.P. Bear Goes to Washington.”  The 6-part serialized “docu-fable” stars Grandpa, a magical, media-savvy and proudly skeptical libertarian polar bear who understands his species is in far greater danger from the interventions of the federal government, Barbara Boxer, Al Gore, Leonardo DiCaprio and overzealous wildlife scientists than from anthropogenic climate change.

 Part 1

“Are we not polar bears?”

Of all the animals the Inuit traditionally hunted, Nanuk, the polar bear, was the most prized. Native hunters considered Nanuk to be wise, powerful, and “almost a man.” Some called the bear “the great lonely roamer.” Many tribes told legends of strange polar-bear men that lived in igloos. These bears walked upright, just like men, and were able to talk. Natives believed they shed their skins in the privacy of their homes.

– Polar Bears International

 TASIILAQ, EAST GREENLAND

 

Grandpa Polar Bear was relaxing in his easy chair watching a special news report on TV called “Plight of the Polar Bears.” As a mother bear and her cub stood forlornly on a tiny shrinking iceberg somewhere near the Arctic Circle, the dashing reporter from CNN sounded like he was going to cry.

“…. because of global climate change, polar bears are suffering population losses and may soon become extinct. Rising temperatures are melting the sea ice earlier and earlier each summer, leaving the bears less time to hunt for their primary food ­ — ringed seals. If we don’t reduce our burning of fossil fuels soon, scientists say the only place our children will be able to see these magnificent creatures will be in a zoo or in a Walt Disney movie. For CNN, I’m Anderson Cooper.”

“Extinct!?” Grandpa roared, slapping the arms of his leather chair with his huge paws. “Melting sea ice!? Shrinking bear populations? Who writes this junk, Al Gore?”

“Don’t get upset, Dad,” said Mother, looking up from her latest copy of Reason magazine. “It’s CNN. What do you expect? Fairness? Balance?”

“What were they saying about polar bears dying, Grandpa?” asked Junior, looking worried as he came in from the kitchen with a bottle of Coke.

“Nothing, Junior. Nothing,” Grandpa grumbled. “Just a lot of make-believe.”

After dinner, Grandpa read Junior a bedtime story. As Grandpa was about to turn off the nightlight, Junior asked, “Grandpa, why do you yell at the TV? The people in it can’t hear you.”

“I know,” Grandpa said with a smile. “They live far away in New York and Washington. That’s why they don’t know anything about polar bears or the Arctic.”

Junior looked anxiously at Grandpa. “Mother said your heart will get attacked if you keep yelling at the news.”

“Don’t you worry,” Grandpa chuckled. “I just get mad when humans make us look like sissies who can’t handle a little change in the weather. We’re polar bears, for Pete’s sake. We’re not helpless victims. We don’t need the government, Keith Olbermann, Greenpeace, Leonardo DiCaprio or anyone else to protect us from Mother Nature.

“If humans just left us alone ­ and if their scientists stopped chasing us with helicopters and shooting us with dart guns ­ we’d be fine.”

“Why don’t you go to where the humans on TV live and yell at them?” wondered Junior. “Everyone always listens when you yell.”

“They wouldn’t believe a thing I’d tell them. But that’s a good idea, Junior,” Grandpa said, clicking off the nightlight. “A darn good idea. ”

*****

“Guess what I learned today?” Junior asked as he came running in from school.

“I can’t imagine,” Grandpa mumbled.

“Shush, Dad,” said Mother. “What did you learn, Junior?”

“I learned all about ‘global melting,’ ” Junior began breathlessly. “The whole world is getting hotter because humans drive too many cars. The sea ice is going to go away forever and — ”

“Whoa!” interrupted Grandpa. “Who taught you that stuff? Rachel Maddow?”

“No,” said Junior. “Principal Hansen. She came to homeroom today. Her big computer says Earth is getting hotter and hotter and Greenland is melting really, really fast. All the ice will be gone when I get as old as you.”

“That’s preposterous,” Grandpa said.

“Principal Hansen said the oceans will get taller and taller,” Junior said with a worried look on his face. “Principal Hansen said polar bears and lots of other animals will get ‘stinkt if humans keep burning stuff like coal. It’s really scary, Grandpa.”

“Principal Hansen’s crazier than Al Gore,” Grandpa said to Mother so Junior couldn’t hear. “Didn’t I tell you that boy should have been home-schooled?”

Later that same night, after midnight, Grandpa was at his desk. He was sending his usual round of disparaging e-mails to the politicians in Washington when Junior’s cry pierced the stillness.

“Grandpa!” Junior wailed. “Help me. I’m burning!”

Grandpa and Mother raced to Junior’s bedside. Junior was crying in his sleep. “Help me, Grandpa,” he pleaded mournfully. “I’m too young to melt.”

“Junior, wake up,” Grandpa said, shaking him. “You’re dreaming.”

Junior’s eyes popped open. “Grandpa! Mother! The ice was all gone! We were stuck on a tiny iceberg. The ocean was boiling!”

“It was just a silly nightmare, Junior,” soothed Mother. “The ice isn’t melting. See?” she said, patting the rock-hard wall of their cave.

Grandpa was fuming. He gritted his big teeth and looked Junior straight in his teary eyes.

“Boy,” he said firmly, “I’m going to tell you something I want you to remember for the rest of your life. We are polar bears. We are the largest land carnivores on Earth. We are the species ursus maritimus — ­ ‘bears of the sea.’ We can swim 200 miles. We can walk 100 miles a day.

“We learned how to live on this frozen wasteland thousands of years before humans discovered fire. There are 25,000 of us alive today ­ — twice as many as 50 years ago. We are not going to become extinct ­ no matter what Principal Hansen and her big computers say. Now go to sleep ­ and no more silly nightmares.”

“That was no nightmare,” Grandpa whispered angrily to Mother. “That boy’s being brainwashed by a bunch of kooks.”

“That’s all the schools teach,” said Mother. “It’s like a new religion. Every cub I know thinks the ice will be gone before they grow up. All the mothers are complaining.”

Grandpa was fuming. “Polar bears having nightmares,” he snarled. “That’s pathetic. It’s time somebody stood up to lunatics like Hansen and their doomsday stories.”

 

READ PARTS 2-6 OF THIS MAGICAL ADVENTURE HERE.

  • Here is the most recent stuff I’ve written for VICE, which you should read if you have no already done so.
  • And here are two different HuffPost Live segments I have done in the last odd-week. I am never sure how they go, because it’s a fundamentally slightly weird format for a discussion. But they call me back when they need a spare libertarian, so that bodes well. One is on the zombie rise of neoconservative, and the other is on Rand Paul and the Fed.
  • And finally, finishing up the self-promotion, I uploaded my last five radio shows to Mixcloud, in case anyone is interested, or missed them because they were at 3 pm and people have jobs, for God’s sake. Listen, your life needs more “Old Time (More Or Less).” When I listen I marvel at my inconsistency in quality for mic breaks. When I have something to say on the song, be it “Poor Ellen Smith” or “Strange Fruit,” on the other hand, I am not half bad.
  • An impassioned defense of breakfast, and its essential greasy qualities. [H/T: John Glaser]
  • I have just discovered a new love — Fortean Times Magazine. I haven’t really checked out the website, but the print mag was delicious and well worth $11. I aim to contribute sometime soon. (I Google Image searched “fortean” and got the above, awesome Terry Colon cartoon. If Terry Colon every does a cartoon of me/you/anyone, they’ve made it in life. Spiritually, at least.
  • Terry Colon also explains the mechanics of UFO fuel in a way that makes at least as much sense as anything ever on Doctor Who — except maybe “The Empty Child/The Doctor Dances.”
  • Speaking of things Fortean, sort of, please do check out Jesse Walker’s new United States of Paranoia. It is excellent and mentions most of the most interesting things about America such as witch trials, Indian captives, communists, drugs, The X Files, militias, and the fear that Satan is sending children secret backwards messages in their music.
  • Can we talk for a second about how all of the Satanist sex abuse panics happened in the 20th century — the LATE 20th century? I will say it again, forget the blacklist, Arthur Miller should have written an awkwardly unsubtle allegory that is still really kick-ass about that shit. Some of those investigators might as well have used spectral evidence for all of the real-world basis their allegations had. Vile.
  • Those horrible Koch brothers strike again.
  • Reminder that John Bolton deserves to be booed. 
  • Important Youtube finds during an insomnia internet journey: 1938 anti-STD film Sex Madness!; and what professes to be the only known recording of H.L. Mencken speaking.
  • I would love to see Jezebel do a lot more of this: this blog says would-be NYC Mayor Christine Quinn cannot be against street harassment/cat-calling if she also supports Stop and Frisk. THIS, Jezebel — apply your support of abortion rights to the bodily autonomy issues related to, say the drug war, or myriad other issues. Take your good feminist inclinations and correctness about smaller issues, and extend into life and death and imprisonment and freedom level of issues. Please.
  • VICE’s Harry Cheadle on the horrible conservative response to Chelsea Manning (formerly Bradley) and her preferred pronoun. Calling her a traitor wasn’t enough, she’s also crazy now. Blech.
  • Today I read this disturbing, fascinating Verge story on the new science of face transplants.

Today’s video does a good job demonstrating the happiness which can be found in a moshpit, particularly the uber-earnest folk punk sort:

And here’s the album version, which is a better auditory experience:

 

Self portraits 188For the rest of the summer, you can catch me on WPTS 92.1, which is the University of Pittsburgh’s radio station. Every Wednesday from 3 p.m. to 5 p.m. I try to play a good combination of old time, jug bands, string bands, blues, bluegrass, country, punk, rock, alt this and that, folk, etc. It’s been great fun so far, and people seem to like it. Or, the four libertarians on twitter who have killer taste in music seem to like it.*

You can stream it live on Wednesdays at 3 (though sometimes I start a little late) over this way. During those hours, I tend to tweet @wptsrequest, but I don’t have a lot to work with, so if you want a request, I suggest giving it to me a week early.

It’s a good show, if I say so myself. Even if I am a radio pipsqueak, turns out people are right, and it’s a hell of a lot of fun.

* Somebody fund this gold and gave us four a radio show. Unpopular politics¹+unpopular music²= $$$

¹ No, Rand Paul does not count.

² No, Mumford and Sons does not count.