Hi. I'm still John Corcoran and I'm still not illiterate, still not a karate expert, still not a “New Yorker” cartoonist, still not dead, still not a political consultant, and I especially still don't have a new book out. Several “John Corcoran's” are. Or have. Or do.
This may cause you to ask the musical question: "Who the hell cares?" Well, THIS John Corcoran does. THIS John Corcoran cares about you, the book buying public. And THIS John Corcoran especially cares about the financial well-being of his family, his friends, even his sworn enemies (And Lord knows there is some overlap there). THIS John Corcoran doesn't want people buying the other John Corcoran's book thinking the royaltie$ will go to me to spend on liquor and unguents. THIS John Corcoran wants book buyers to invest their money wisely instead, so when HIS book comes out (heh-heh-heh), you can buy more than one copy. THIS John Corcoran will stop referring to himself in the third person now.
I'm updating an earlier post because shortly after "Go Google Yourself" was published on this Blog, the other--okay ONE of the other--John Corcoran's came out with a book. Timing. I’ve got a gift for it.
The formerly illiterate John Corcoran’s new book is called “The Bridge to Literacy.” I didn’t write a single word of it. Some of my acquaintances know that. One emailed me to say, and I quote: “I'm guessing this is some other scribing schmuck and that your bridge blew up long ago.” Let me paraphrase Spencer Tracy, speaking of Kathryn Hepburn, and specifically of the “meat on her bones…” which he describd as “… cherce.” I don’t have a lot of friends, but the ones I have are cherce AND weird.
They know, as I do, that I am one of at least four John Corcoran’s I know of who are published authors, and that includes the one who wrote a book about 10,000 names for your boat. MY books are called "A Few Marbles Left" and "True Grits." My books sold well into the high several figures, and none contain boat names. I am currently working on a new book. When it gets peddled to publishers, the letter will begin: "If you LIKED my last book, you're gonna LOVE this one..." I’m hoping they’ll make the same misassumption some have and think I’m cranking books out faster than Steven King. Or maybe I’ll save time and just change my name to Steven King.
If that's illegal and I end up in prison, I'm requesting I be sent to the same hoosegow that houses Charlie Manson and Sirhan Sirhan. That’s Corcoran State Penitentiary. It's in Corcoran, CA, which is also the cotton capital of California. There is a Corcoran Gallery in Washington, DC, too. Years ago, my late father—although not late at the time--Lt. Col. John Corcoran, (USAF, Ret.) called The Corcoran Gallery about his membership status.
"Name please?" he was asked.
"John Corcoran," he replied.
"Would you spell that please?" he was asked.
"You’re kidding," Dad said.
Back when I lived where it rained, I owned a signature umbrella from the Corcoran Gallery Gift Shop. It was a good umbrella and I always prevailed whenever ownership disputes broke out because it said “Corcoran” on it.
I’ve never visited Corcoran State Penitentiary, either as visitor or guest. I live a good life because I was raisd well and I know a guy like me wouldn’t last long in the joint. I’d have to hope my cellmate preferred snappy repartee and movie trivia over that thing they do to pass time between conjugal visits.
This may cause you to ask the musical question: "Who the hell cares?" Well, THIS John Corcoran does. THIS John Corcoran cares about you, the book buying public. And THIS John Corcoran especially cares about the financial well-being of his family, his friends, even his sworn enemies (And Lord knows there is some overlap there). THIS John Corcoran doesn't want people buying the other John Corcoran's book thinking the royaltie$ will go to me to spend on liquor and unguents. THIS John Corcoran wants book buyers to invest their money wisely instead, so when HIS book comes out (heh-heh-heh), you can buy more than one copy. THIS John Corcoran will stop referring to himself in the third person now.
I'm updating an earlier post because shortly after "Go Google Yourself" was published on this Blog, the other--okay ONE of the other--John Corcoran's came out with a book. Timing. I’ve got a gift for it.
The formerly illiterate John Corcoran’s new book is called “The Bridge to Literacy.” I didn’t write a single word of it. Some of my acquaintances know that. One emailed me to say, and I quote: “I'm guessing this is some other scribing schmuck and that your bridge blew up long ago.” Let me paraphrase Spencer Tracy, speaking of Kathryn Hepburn, and specifically of the “meat on her bones…” which he describd as “… cherce.” I don’t have a lot of friends, but the ones I have are cherce AND weird.
They know, as I do, that I am one of at least four John Corcoran’s I know of who are published authors, and that includes the one who wrote a book about 10,000 names for your boat. MY books are called "A Few Marbles Left" and "True Grits." My books sold well into the high several figures, and none contain boat names. I am currently working on a new book. When it gets peddled to publishers, the letter will begin: "If you LIKED my last book, you're gonna LOVE this one..." I’m hoping they’ll make the same misassumption some have and think I’m cranking books out faster than Steven King. Or maybe I’ll save time and just change my name to Steven King.
If that's illegal and I end up in prison, I'm requesting I be sent to the same hoosegow that houses Charlie Manson and Sirhan Sirhan. That’s Corcoran State Penitentiary. It's in Corcoran, CA, which is also the cotton capital of California. There is a Corcoran Gallery in Washington, DC, too. Years ago, my late father—although not late at the time--Lt. Col. John Corcoran, (USAF, Ret.) called The Corcoran Gallery about his membership status.
"Name please?" he was asked.
"John Corcoran," he replied.
"Would you spell that please?" he was asked.
"You’re kidding," Dad said.
Back when I lived where it rained, I owned a signature umbrella from the Corcoran Gallery Gift Shop. It was a good umbrella and I always prevailed whenever ownership disputes broke out because it said “Corcoran” on it.
I’ve never visited Corcoran State Penitentiary, either as visitor or guest. I live a good life because I was raisd well and I know a guy like me wouldn’t last long in the joint. I’d have to hope my cellmate preferred snappy repartee and movie trivia over that thing they do to pass time between conjugal visits.
6 comments:
I've read a couple of stories about the other John Corcoran's literacy book and it's interesting how the stories are headlined with headlines like "Teacher reveals he couldn't read," as if it's new news. I guess every 15 years or so, it qualifies as new news.
John Corcoran never served time in Corcoran Prison and mores the pity: He is a man avoiding poetic justice all his life.
Norman Mark
www.longleggedblond.com
Norm, I've had calls from the horses in the street. They say your picture is scaring them.
"Misassumption" reminds me of the time Roger Clemens said Andy Pettitte must have "misremembered."
I really liked you newest book, "Love and Consequences," about gang life in your LA neighborhood. Especially like how you not only changed your name to Margaret Seltzer, you then wrote the book as Margaret B. Jones. Brilliant, Cork!
Weren't you originally Irving Kaloris? Clarkester
Mr. Clarke has me confused with another legend in his own shorts, Mr. Gus Gonzlegoose
Post a Comment