My novels and short stories shove readers’ brains deep into the messy word world of cultural chaos and raw violence.

But, in most media interviews about Paddy’s Day in Trump Town, my most recent novel, I’ve focused on partisan politics and the distorted way too many people live in Northeastern Pennsylvania hard coal country.

And, yeah, we’re hard coal country whether you like it or not.

Nowadays, with no boss, living and creating in Scranton as an outlaw novelist, I’m a paperback writer whose words might offend more people than when I wrote news columns for the Times Leader in Wilkes-Barre or argued with blockheads on local wasteland radio for a decade.

That’s progress.

WVIA’s Erika Funke understands.

Unlike most media interviewers Funke comes with a well-informed artistic arsenal that recognizes fiction as power and words as weapons of societal self-defense. She gently prods and questions with the ease of the intellectual she is.

Erika Funke gets it.

Our recent conversation gave me a chance to share with her and WVIA listeners some of the method to my madness after transitioning from a decades-long journalism career to the novel world of my imagination where a thin line often exists between fact and fiction.

Funke is a senior producer, morning host of Classical Music, Early Birds, and other programs. “ArtScene”, her award-winning daily arts program, features interviews with creative individuals from the region, the United States and abroad, according to her station bio.

That’s me – a creative individual, a primitive and proud of it, from the region.

I respect and admire Funke.

More people need to understand how edgy, unsafe art, genesis that offends, disturbs and sets the stage for progress that best prepares an uncertain world for a visionary tomorrow. Originality and authenticity trump, no pun intended, the dull self-absorbed moderation of the masses who are too often asses.

So read.

Write.

Think.

Answer the Muse and be yourself by whatever means necessary.

As legendary Parliaments-Funkadelic intrepid traveler George Clinton said, “Free your mind and your ass will follow.”

Here’s the link to the WVIA ArtScene interview.

https://www.wvia.org/radio/artscene/

Like I said on the radio, “You better listen!”

¡Ay caramba!

Putting out the Scranton welcome mat to small business owners of color is one thing. Pulling the rug out from under their American Dream is another.

The affront is all the worse if city officials targeted one of an increasing number of people of Mexican descent in whose hands lies the future of the city.

That’s why the owner, employees and supporters of La Chingada at 512 Cedar Avenue in South Side should stand Scranton strong after the restaurant and so much more finds itself embarrassed and attacked simply because of its name.

City zoning board members Wednesday voted 4-0 to uphold a sign violation against owner Cristian J. Garcia Torres for displaying the sign because the name of the restaurant is a vulgar word that violates the city’s prohibition on obscenity or vulgarities on exterior signs, according to the Scranton Times-Tribune.

The owner said the word he chose for his restaurant’s name has other meanings in the Spanish language. While he acknowledged that one of the meanings is a vulgarity, he testified that the vulgar usage is not what he intends and not how his customers view it, said the Times-Tribune, whose editors failed to name the restaurant.

Whether board members and editors know it or not, the business brand is steeped in deep Mexican history and culture.

Like many words in many languages, “la chingada” carries many interpretations. Go to Italian-American Pittston and ask people if they know what “minghia” means. Ask if they are offended whenever somebody uses the expression of exclamation. Ask my Irish tribe if they know what bollix or bollocks means. Ask any pseudo Scranton hipster about the cute name borne by the now defunct food truck “What the Fork.”

The same goes for “la chingada.”

La Chingada is the name of an actual town in the Mexican state of Veracruz. Among numerous other meanings, the words also serve as an expression of exasperation, as in “go to hell.” The words can also mean “go fuck yourself.”

Can we help it if the Scranton Zoning Board has a dirty mind?

The concept of “la chingada” has been famously critiqued by  1990 Nobel Prize in Literature winner Octavio Paz in his book The Labyrinth of Solitude. Linguists and other scholars have weighed in as well.

When a restaurant with the same name opened earlier this year in Winston-Salem, North Carolina, here’s what Michael Hastings of the Winston-Salem Journal wrote in a February 14 article: “Claudia Valdez, a native of Sonora, Mexico and a teaching professor of Spanish at Wake Forest University, said that though expressions containing “chingada” can have negative connotations, the typical reaction from a Mexican or Spanish-speaking person will not be negative.

‘My husband and I are both linguists, and when he told me about it, we both thought how interesting and smart a title. My attitude was totally positive,’ Valdez said.

An internet search revealed that other businesses, primarily restaurants, have used La Chingada as a name in such cities as London; Paris, Toronto; San Jose, Ca.; and Scranton, Pa.

Many sources attribute the origin of the negative, vulgar connotations to a historical reference to La Malinche, the Indian mistress of Spanish conquistador Herman Cortez.

Valdez said that the word ‘chingada’ and its root ‘chingar’ have generated so many slang words that they have their own dictionary called ‘El Chingonario.’

‘The meanings change with the context, different syntax, even the intonation,’ she said.”

So will we Scranton gabachos (another interesting Mexican word you can look up) discriminate against our new neighbors? Do the people of a city that once welcomed countless white immigrants, including my grandfather who spoke Irish and English, shun other languages, cultures and traditions? Do we lash out in ignorance?

Or do we raise high the banner of free speech, liberty and justice for all?

By the way, “ay caramba” is a Mexican curse so innocent that TV cartoon hero Bart Simpson used the phrase regularly. Loosely translated, caramba is a euphemism that means penis.

Hoist that on a flashing neon sign and see if anybody complains.

Seriously perplexed, Mikey Hoyle stood in the corner of the bar by the pool table.

We won, right?

Wilkes-Barre Mayor Spuds McAnus snapped like a moody red setter.

Of course we won, said McAnus, who also served as Irish Guys social club president.

Jesus, that’s a relief, said club vice president Hoyle.

If Biden doesn’t steal the election, that is, McAnus said.

Mikey Hoyle stopped drinking his beer in mid-chug and stared at his cultural mentor.

But I thought…

You think too much.

Thanks, mayor.

Bad things happen in Philadelphia, McAnus said, remember in 1985 when those Africans holed up in their houses and the mayor had to bomb the whole block to get them out?

That MOVE gang, like George Jefferson moving on up on TV reruns, right?

Then this year the Democrats took down the Frank Rizzo statue, McAnus said.

Next thing you know they be pulling Rocky down the Art Museum steps like he’s some Confederate general, Mikey Hoyle said.

So the libtards are rigging the election in Philly, he said.

Fake votes, McAnus said.

Can’t we do something?

Mr. Trump knows we’re standing by.

For what?

We’ll know when we get there.

Should we protest?

And look like antifa socialists?

Mikey grabbed his crotch.

Yeah, feel this burn, Bern.

Money talks, Mikey.

So we keep donating to Mr. Trump even though the election’s over.

It’s never over for us.

Especially if Mr. Trump gets arrested after the Dems rob the election, Mikey said.

We got time, at least until inauguration day.

I got an idea, Mikey said.

This should be good, McAnus said.

You know that place up in Scranton where Biden goes, that Hank’s Hoagies?

I saw him posing there on the news.

We can drive up and moon the lunch crowd.

What are you, Mikey, 14?

What’s the matter with that?

We’re adults, McAnus said.

Listen to the guy who blew up a dozen condoms and pasted a picture of Biden’s face on them.

We called them dickhead balloons and sold them outside the Trump rally for twenty dollars a pop, McAnus said.

I still think mooning Hank’s Hoagies is a good idea.

At least Mr. Trump won Luzerne County, McAnus said.

Mikey threw his arms into the air, flashing two thumbs up.

Victory, he said.

Irish Guys never lose, McAnus said.

Mikey Hoyle put on that grin his aging mother hated.

Some things never change, he said.

You vote yet?

After lunch.

Irish Guys Vice President Mikey Hoyle loved talking about food a lot more than talking about politics.

What are you having?

Large ham hoagie, said Irish Guys President and Wilkes-Barre Mayor Spuds McAnus.

The doctor says I have to cut down on red meat.

Your doctor trying to turn you into a homosexual?

What’s that supposed to mean?

The libs, gays and the socialists mostly, want to take away our guns and our chops.  

I didn’t know that, said Mikey Hoyle.

They had it on FOX, McAnus said, I’ll bet Mr. Trump’s excited about today.

You think he’s scared?

Of Joe Biden?

I seen Biden on the TV up in Scranton this morning at his old house, Mikey Hoyle said.

Mr. Trump is having a party tonight at the White House.

You think he might lose?

Biden?

No, Mr. Trump.

Mayor McAnus closed his eyes.

Bite your tongue in half, Mikey Hoyle.

I’m just asking.

Mr. Trump never loses and he’s never been captured in Vietnam.

But what if he does lose? What do we do then?

McAnus spoke through clenched teeth.

We don’t talk about that.

Biden says he’ll get us better health care, Mikey Hoyle said.

What’s wrong with what you got?

I don’t have any.

Mr. Trump has a plan, McAnus said.

He got the COVID, too.

Where are you going with this?

Even with his gold standard medical coverage he caught the COVID.

You see how he came out of it, though, didn’t you? Better than ever.

So I should catch the COVID to get stronger.

Just like Mr. Trump.

I feel better already, Mikey Hoyle said.

Election Day was looking up.

Throwing his arm around Mikey Hoyle’s shoulders, McAnus knew he and his buddy were in this together.

You want a ham hoagie, pal?

Mikey Hoyle pulled away with a serious question.

Who’s paying?

Bowing his head, Mikey Hoyle spoke in reverential terms.

Twelve Pack Flynn died.

Mayor Spuds McAnus’ mouth sprung open quick as a gallows trap door in the Molly Maguires’ movie.

He didn’t.

He did.

He never did that before.

The COVID got him, Mikey said.

It’s no wonder, McAnus said, did you see the size of him?

His wife said he was bigger than the ventilator.

He did put on some weight.

And that was before he won the hot dog eating contest at the bar.

So Twelve Pack died from a heart attack instead of the COVID like the lib doctors want us to believe, McAnus said.

Did he have a chance to vote before he passed I wonder?

I got his absentee ballot right here in my pocket, McAnus said, I got a dozen or so from the senior center to drop off after the rally with Mr. Trump at the airport.

Can I get a ride with you?

I’m going up on the Irish Guys’ bus from the bar. We got a half keg for the ride up and back.

I told you Mr. Trump wouldn’t forget us, Hoyle said.

The mines still aren’t open, though, McAnus said.

Let the Mexicans did coal, Hoyle said, I’m putting in an application for a security job at the federal courthouse.

Cleaning services for me, McAnus said, speaking as president of the ghost janitorial company I’m starting.

That’ll be the life, Hoyle said, sick days and everything.

Mileage, too, McAnus said.

That Socialist Biden and his colored girlfriend don’t have a chance.

They don’t, do they?

Go on.

Mikey Hoyle led the pledge of allegiance as vice president of the Irish Guys social club then got down to business at the emergency meeting.

Can we wear our MAGA caps when we protest Joe Biden landing Saturday at the airport?

I bought a new one special for the occasion, said Irish Guys president and Wilkes-Barre Mayor Spuds McAnus.

Holding aloft their MAGA caps the guys in the bar backroom all cheered.

A shaky Mikey Hoyle seemed particularly nervous.

Won’t security stop us?

Some of our guys are working security, the mayor said.

I don’t want to get arrested again, Mikey Hoyle said.

A man’s got to do what a man’s got to do.

My probation officer says I should stay home.

He’s just another turncoat riding with Biden, the mayor said.

His mother’s a Democratic committeewoman who bought him the job with the county.

He’s like a looter taking something that shouldn’t belong to him, the mayor said.

Biden isn’t even coming to Wilkes-Barre city, is he?

Biden’s going where all those libtard suburban housewives live near Dallas borough, the mayor said.

You think Biden will think he’s in Dallas, Texas instead of Northeastern Pennsylvania?

There’s a Puerto Rican and almost no Mexicans living in our Dallas, McAnus said.

The killers and rapists are all locked up at the state prison near there.

The Blacks are here, though.

They moved here from Philadelphia to take our affirmative action jobs in the prison.

There can’t be too many of them.

No, you always had to be white to be a state prison guard here and have a good reference from somebody like me. I got lots of Irish Guys jobs working out there.

Good state benefits at the prison, Mikey Hoyle said.

Except for those people.

You know they catch the COVID more than anybody.

Super spreaders, McAnus said.

Probably a colored White House waiter gave it to Mr. Trump, Hoyle said.

Biden wants to throw open the cell doors and let them out.

You think that’s why Biden’ coming here tomorrow, to spring the coloreds?

Mr. Trump won’t do that.

Yeah, Mr. Trump would never free the slaves.

No, said Wilkes-Barre Mayor Spuds McAnus.

We could make money for our Notre Dame Fund by packing in the Irish Guys here at the bar, Mikey Hoyle said.

I’m boycotting the debate because of what they’re doing to Mr. Trump, McAnus said.

Open up the Coal Hole at 5 for Happy Hour and offer drink specials when Mr. Trump and the Scranton Scrapper kick off at eight, Hoyle said.

Fake news, McAnus said.

C’mon, mayor, we can make a killing taking bets, having a look-a-like contest, turning the debate into a regular circus.

It’s already a circus.

So what do we do?

Can we have classic rock karaoke when it’s over?

You’re on, Hoyle said.

OK, we watch the debate, McAnus said.

Mikey Hoyle perked up.

Who you betting on?

Mr. Trump has to knock him out to win, McAnus said.

Like Rocky, Hoyle said.

Mr. Trump needs a KO to pull this off because the lame stream media is against him. That why NBC’s got that colored girl as the moderator? So she can cut off Mr. Trump’s mic, the mayor said.

Another man-hating feminazi, Mikey Hoyle said.

I heard she’s Carmella Harris’ sister, McAnus said.

Go awn.

Seriously, she’s adopted.

You’re making that up.

Do you doubt Mr. Trump when he says something you never thought of before?

Mr. Trump tells it like it is.

Mayor McAnus loved sharing breaking news.

Carmella Harris and debate moderator Kristen Welker are some kind of Indians, right? And Welker’s father was one of them ganja smoking, gun-toting, reggae rapping Rastafarian California college professors, I heard.

No, that was Carmella’s father, Hoyle said.

Maybe they’re twins.

They all look alike to me, Hoyle said.

So-called journalist Kristen Welker changed her name to keep from being found out that they adopted her in Jamaica, the mayor said.

What’s her real name?

Christian, not Kristen. She’s embarrassed she’s named after Jesus so she changed it.

Trying to throw God-fearing Irish Guys like us off the track.

We’re too smart for that, Mikey.

Disguised her name but we recognize her as the atheist she is, Hoyle said.

Probably a Socialist, too, the mayor said.

We have Socialists in Wilkes-Barre, mayor?

Nah, they all moved to Scranton when the coal mines closed.

What kind of work they doing now?

Professional voter fraud.

Do we have to like Jews, mayor?

What kind of question is that, Mikey?

I don’t know, I just don’t like them.

Me, neither, says Wilkes-Barre Mayor Spuds McAnus.

So I’m not wrong, says Mikey Hoyle.

Look, you’re vice president of the Irish Guys. I’m president. Irish Guys don’t have to like anybody.

Jesus, that’s a relief.

Why do you ask?

A shitload of Jews around town have Trump signs in their yards.

That’s because Trump moved the Israeli capital to JEW-rusalem.

Mikey and the mayor laugh.

Where was it before that?

New York, McAnus says.

But that doesn’t mean we’re on the same side as them, does it?

It means we’ll take their votes for Mr. Trump, the mayor says.

Mikey Hoyle gets nostalgic.

Remember before Eddie O died he said he never saw a Jew in Vietnam.

Not one, McAnus says.

Eddie O said that’s because their fathers were too busy making money off the war and pulled strings to keep their boys out of the draft.

The mayor pops another 16 oz. can of Guinness.

The Jews control media. They make up fake news. They take our money from the sports cable TV stations, too, says McAnus.

Hoyle gets agitated.

Do any Jews play football for Notre Dame?

The team’s mostly Black.

Remember when Raghib “The Rocket” Ismail from Wilkes-Bare played for Notre Dame and almost won the Heisman?

He was colored and a Muslim.

At least he wasn’t a Jew, Mickey Hoyle says.

Now McAnus gets agitated.

You know what Mr. Trump said about Jews sticking together. Not being able to trust them. Mr. Trump said all them skull cap wearers are good for is counting his money, McAnus says.

Mikey Hoyle puts on that baffled look he wears more often than he puts on a coat and tie.

So why does Trump like them?

His daughter married a Jew.

Can you imagine having to deal with such a thing?

I’ll bet if the truth be told Mr. Trump doesn’t like the grandkids, either, the mayor says.

So after we win we can go back to the way life was before.

Just like the good old days.

McAnus raises his Guinness can.

Here’s to the good old days.

Trump dodged the draft, didn’t he?

Wilkes-Barre Mayor and Irish Guys President Spuds McAnus shakes his head at Coal Hole bartender and Irish Guys Vice President Mikey Hoyle.

Please show some respect to the president.

Well, did he or didn’t he?

McAnus puts down his beer and explains.

Mr. Trump is America’s commander-in-chief. Our soldiers all over the world follow his orders. Rambo does what he says.

But he lied about bone spurs to keep from going to Vietnam.

You didn’t go, the mayor says.

I wasn’t born then, Mikey says.

But you’re not fighting Talibans now, are you? They’re so scared of Mr. Trump they support his re-election. Mr. Trump says he’s making up for not serving by rebuilding our military into the greatest military ever. For next time.

I’ll go to Vietnam next time, Mikey says.

The vets love Trump, says the mayor.

The president called our troops suckers and losers, Mikey Hoyle says.

Mr. Trump didn’t get captured, did he?

Mikey seems confused.

John McCain was the sucker loser Mr. Trump was talking about, McAnus says.

Thinking hard now, Mikey fires up a Marlboro.

Eddie O went to Vietnam, he says.

McAnus drains his beer.

Eddie O got medals in combat with the 9th Marines, Mikey says.

The mayor looks into Mikey’s eyes.

Could Eddie O have been president of the United States?

C’mon.

Can you imagine him in the Oval Office?

Mikey isn’t sure what to say.

But you can easily see Mr. Trump in the Oval Office, the mayor says.

Of course, Mikey says, Mr. Trump’s in there draining the swamp right now with Ivanka. She can sit on my lap anytime.

I knew you’d see the big picture, Mikey.

So the president wasn’t a draft dodger.

Mayor McAnus gives a final recap.

Look, Mr. Trump said avoiding getting sexually transmitted diseases was his personal Vietnam. He said a woman’s vagina was a potential landmine.

Like a ticking VD bomb, Mikey says.

VC, VD, it’s all the same. Mr. Trump went through hell as a young businessman, Mikey, to keep from stepping on all them IUDs with girls from all over the world throwing themselves at him.

They could have been spies, Mikey says.

Just primed to detonate, the mayor says.

Mikey walks to the jukebox and plays Lee Greenwood singing “God Bless the USA.” Turning to McAnus with a tear in his eye, Mikey’s voice turns mushy as a frozen banana daiquiri.

You think Eddie O would like Mr. Trump?

The mayor wraps it up.

Eddie O hated the same people Mr. Trump hates. Remember when Eddie O called Larry King on the radio to criticize the Jews? How the only Blacks Eddie O liked were German Shepherds?

Mr. Trump would have loved Eddie O, Mikey says.

Yeah, Eddie O would definitely vote for Trump, the mayor says.

Eddie O hated Bill Clinton, Mikey says.

We all did, the mayor says, draft dodging hippie scum.

At 10 am, Irish Guys Vice President Mikey Hoyle finishes his first beer of what is shaping up as a fine Tuesday morning. Blessing himself, he makes his first prolific announcement of the day.

The president says he’s healed.

Two bar stools down, Wilkes-Barre Mayor and Irish Guys President Spuds McAnus says, thank God.

Thank steroids, Mikey says.

Hey, watch your mouth, Mikey.

Prescribed drugs, mayor, like when you ask me at last call if I have any painkillers. My doctor prescribed them. I just shared them with you.

All that matters is Mr. Trump is cured, the mayor says.

Like a big fat smoked ham.

Goddammit, Mikey.

I meant that as a compliment. The steroids couldn’t have done it without him.  I mean, the steroids needed him more than he needed them. Mr. Trump could have found another medicine. The steroids just worked quicker because the president’s so strong and healthy.

A great American, McAnus says.

Yeah, a warrior like the SEALS, John Wick in the movies and the Green Berets all put together.

You think John Wick could take James Bond?

Chuck Norris could take them both, Mikey says.

What about Steven Seagal?

Mr. Trump could take them all.

And kick Joe Biden’s ass in his sleep, McAnus says.

Four more years, Mikey says.

McAnus chugs his beer.

Four more years, he says.