Friday, November 19, 2010



Fr. Joseph Grassi (S.J.) is being
picked up & carried away by EMTS
as I type this. Tonite, his Film Series
now named after him, continues what

he did for the people he cared for
where he lived. Here, as its its DVD-
projector operator, I’m writing his name
everywhere I can think of in his honor.

The Jesuit community will remember
him, as will as his wife & children,
& everyone who ever met him. He
was caring & helpful, astute in whom

he picked to do what he thought needed
to be done for others. (He picked me.)

(19 NOV 10, Santa Clara CA)

UPDATE: (ex. Fr.) Joseph Grassi (S.J.)
died @ Valley Village in Santa Clara CA
on Thurs. 09 DEC 2010


CHENEY dreams of publishing
a sold-wood edition of his memoirs
suitable for cold WYoming evenings
before the blazing stone fireplace:

“Hell, they don’t have to read them;
they can just be warmed to the heart
as they feel the paper burn to ash:
The First Book you burn, not read!”

A deathly smile spreads across
CHENEY’s chilly jaws prefiguring
his long-desired DC-monument.
“They will come & kneel before me!”

(he thinks), “Kneel their gratitude!”
(dreaming of grateful generations.)

(19 NOV 10, Santa Clara CA)

Friday, November 12, 2010


from my "AUTOBIOGRAPH" (4th-installment) on the TypePad blog cakecakecake edited by Ann Wainwright in Leven, nr Beverley, nr Hull, Humberside, GB.

Intermarriage with Jews was a contentious matter in my life. But it had earlier origins: in the 1920s, the popular New York stage-play “Abie’s Irish Rose” (May 1922- Oct.1927), film (1946) dramatized the intermarriage of Abie (Jewish) & Rose (Irish). In my extended family, my father’s uncle Eddie (Scottish) married Kathy (Jewish), and lived in Winthrop MA, two cities closer to Boston. A toll-collector on the Mystic River (now Tobin) bridge into Boston, Billy Whitebone (Weissbein) was openly acknowledged as the illegitimate son of a Boston cousin of ours

My mother’s virulent Polish anti-semitism was prohibitive. Ex. When I was going to Harvard Summer School (1962), I met Jane Falk, niece of New York actor Peter Falk (The Police Chief in Genet’s “The Balcony”, the rumpled L.A. police detective in the USA TV-series ‘Columbo’) & invited her to come up from Cambridge to Lynn to see where I lived. When I telephoned home & said who was coming with me I had no idea what would happen – when we arrived by bus, the house was locked,, nobody was home. So we quickly went back to Boston by bus. Later that night, when I came home, my parents were there, and warned me to never bring a Jewish girl home because it was an admission of her acceptability for marriage. I just wanted to go to bed with her: we tumbled half-dressed on her apt. bed , which she later said was ‘making love’.

In 1963, when Ann Gorman introduced me to her friend Ellen Kriegsman (Jewish), I lusted after her; so when Ann was not in her apt., Ellen & I were. After Ann & I broke up, disastrously, Ellen & I got together again a few times.

The first time my mother saw Joan Helen Budyk (Budianski, daughter of a Russian Jewish landowner’s socialist son who fled Russia to escape the Bolsheviks), she instantly eyeballed her as a Jew. Technically, she wasn’t – her Michigan U.P. mother was Nettie Adriensen, a Belgian-American R.C. To my mother, the Jews had (ironically) penetrated her family with Joan, & our 2 children were 'half'-Jewish (Jewishly speaking, they aren’t Jewish at all, nor is Joan, whose mother was an R.C., as was Joan when I met her.)

[update, 2010]: A Polish-speaking woman, here where I live, recently woke me up from a sound nap on a park-bench here, saying (in Polish) “You look like a dead Jew.” I’m not Jewish! but I must look like a dead Jew only when I’m asleep, because of the Jewish women I’ve slept with. That explains a lot, Polishly!

~ Bill [Kulik] Costley

Thursday, November 11, 2010



Ex-Fr. Joseph Grassi (S.J.) is dying.
We’ve renamed his film series after him.
Most recently he showed my & Woody
Allen’s favorite film: “Bicycle Thieves”
(1948, Italy), directed by.Vittorio De Sica.

We’ve just showed “Bite the Bullet” (1975),
next up is “The Professionals” (1966) both
written & directed by Richard Brooks
who directed “Elmer Gantry” (1960), Sinclair
Lewis' satire on freewheeling '20s evangelism.

We’re doing what we can to continue Joe’s
service to the senior citizens who live here
at Valley Village in Santa Clara. We may
choose less famous films, but we’ve added
a commentator who was on the set & met

the director, a gesture of authentication,
something rare in these times of rabidly
projected partiginous economics intent
on dismantling this country quickly while
we’re trying to keep this country in frame.

(10 NOV 10, Santa Clara CA)v9
UPDATE: (ex. Fr.) Joseph Grassi (S.J.)
died @ Valley Village in Santa Clara CA
on Thurs. 09 DEC 2010

Wednesday, November 3, 2010

In a Boston Tea-shop...

"A Hard Day's TEA"

[A secret meeting prior to an 'action' of The Sons of Liberty]

Location: A dark cellar tea-shop somewhere in Boston Harbor.

Date: Dec. 16, 1773

Tea (not a) Party members discuss how to stop what they think is too much having been done by doing too much too fast in return, not knowing how to do it safely other than by dumping wooden English tea-crates into the Harbor.

Mr Chainey practices disciplining the tea-ship boarding (not a) party by whipping its porters with dull brass chains.

Porters: “Ow, ow, Mister Chainey! Why must we be whip’t so?” (Repeat ad lib., pitifully.)

Master Ropey pounds the back-up boarding-crew with salty rope-knots:

Crew: “Bow, wow, Master Ropey! Be not so hard on us!” (Repeat ad lib., pitifully.)

{flash-ahead:} "The "Architect" of stolen election 2010 was Karl Rove (who) raised & spent hundreds of millions in secret money, sat at FOX spinning lies, & ran smear attack ads to defeat Democrats & elect a new generation of rightwing Republicans who are loyal to him." -Bob Fertik,

The original Boston Tea (not a) Party ) [an 'action' of The Sons of Liberty] was probably much more pragmatical; they must have salvaged that tea, brewed it, drunk it, & burnt the boxes. I've never seen any of the originals in the Boston National Historical Park museum/store, only miniature white-pine souvenir boxes filled with contemporary English Breakfast tea. -Bill Costley 03 NOV 10

"Today’s TEA!"

Time: The present. A tea-tourist enters the same tea-shop in 2010:

Tea-tourist: Do you have any of those wooden tea-boxes the Tea Party dumped in Boston Harbor?”

Tea-shop master: “Only miniatures.” [He shows the tea-tourist a stack of them.]

Tea-Tourist: “Are they still full of tea?”

Tea-shop Master: “Yes, even better, they’re all quite dry now.”

Tea-Tourist: “What brand of tea?”

Tea-shop Master: “English Breakfast.”

Tea-Tourist: “That sounds right. I’ll take a crate full.”

Tea-Master: “That’ll be USD$500.00”

Tea-Tourist: “That sounds pretty steep!”

Tea-shop Master: “One bag steeps a pot. We sell genuine English Tea-Pots, too.”

[Voices of a rowdy crowd are heard outside the tea-shop.]

Tea-Tourist: "Is there some special tea anti-tax?"

Tea-shop Master: (Silently nods: No.}

Tea-tourist: "Well, why can't you hurry it up?" (Spins around) "I'd better get out of!" (Anxiously, conspiratorially) "Is there a secret back way out?"

(03 NOV 10, Santa Clara CA)v8

Tea-shop Master: "It will cost you (mumbles: "Benjamins") to go out thru the secret back way."

Tea-Tourist: "Anything, anything, here are a stack of Benjamins." (Fans & hands them over as the Tea-shop Master points to the secret exit. )

Tea-shopMaster: "Come back again." (Stiltedly:) "We're pleased to have had your custom."

Tea-tourist: (fretting:) "I'm not accustomed to buying my tea under seige."

Tea-shop Master: "Well, then, welcome to today's Tea-Party Boston!"

Tea-tourist: "You can't be serious! The Tea-Party runs Boston now?"

Tea-shop Master: "Who do you think has the tea-franchise now?" (Breaks into a broad grin)

Tea-shop Tourist: "Tell me this is all just a renactment, a dramatization!"

Tea-shop Master: "Where money's concerned, business is business in Boston."

Tea-Tourist: "Why...that's a commercial tautology!"

Tea-Master:" And you are being taught to watch your step; you're evidently unfamiliar with Boston's historical cobblestones." (Smirks, knowingly.)

Tea-tourist: "What do cobblestones have to do with tea?"

Tea-Master" "Cobblestones replaced tea-boxes, one-for-one, on the return trips to England. They weighed the same."

Tea-toursist: "No - they couldn't have!" (Angry now.)

Tea-Master: "Right then, I've just cobbled-together an answer to confuse you." (Smirks smartly.)

Tea-tourist: "Who the hell are you, really?" (Bewildered.)

Tea-Master: "I'm the lineal-descendant of Mr. Ropey, Tea Party Master, who originally owned this shop; now I own it. (Conspiratorially:) The Tea Party still meets here, so I suggest you leave quickly." (Fans the Benjamins:) "Thank you for your kind custom. Leave by the door below."

[A crusty half-door opens onto a small dock where a rickety ladder runs up to to today's street-level. The Tea-Tourist barely squeezes through the half-door and onto the dock as the half-door quickly closes automatically.]

[Alone on the small dock he's unsure where to go but up; so he climbs up the rickety ladder to a solid railing and scales it. Traffic whizzes by inches away.]

A Boston traffic cop notices him, strides over, and speaks: "Whatwasya doin' down theah? Donchya know that's private propatea?"

The Tea-Tourist answers without thinking: "It's owned by The Tea Party now."

Boston Cop: "And what Tea Pahty would that be?"

Tea-Tourist: "You know, THE Boston Tea Party!"

Boston Cop: "That was a few yeahs ago, y'kno. Ah you frum...wayback in Time?"

Tea-Tourist: "No." (looks bewildered. "Yes...maybe I am."

Boston Cop: "You bin drinkin?"

Tea-Tourist" "Yes, of course, Tea. This is Boston."

Boston Cop: " I don' think you bin drinkin' tea. How many Sams ya had?"

Tea-Tourist: "What's a Sam?"

Boston-Cop: "That's it. That proves it. Come along."

Tea-Tourist: (now under arrest) "Boston isn't what I expected."

Boston Cop: "You didn' expect Bahstin? So why ya heah then?" (viciously:) "We don' needya kind heah!" (throws him into the traffic whizzing by)

Tea-tourist: (spinning around dangerously) "Help! I could get killed here!"

Boston Cop: "Maybe you will. Serve ya right! This is Bahstin!"

Boston Cop: "Maybe you will. Serve ya right! This is Bahstin!"

Tea-Tourist: (falls into a passing Sam Adams beer truck that stops abruptly across the street at an alleyway, dumping him onto the cobblestone sidewalk.)

Tea-tourist: "That was close!" (bewildered) "I thought traffic cops were supposed to help pedestrians, but.. maybe not in Boston."

Tea-Tourist: "What's this? Another Tea-Shop? Above ground?" (Reaches for the door-knob as he looks at its sign: TEA CHINESE CHAI) "Chinese? but I thought...what kind of tea was in The Boston Tea Party shop? English? Indian? Assam?" (Steps inside.)

Tea-shop Owner: "Herro. Wercome to owl tea-shop." (It's Master Rovey's lineal heir again, pretending to be Chinese.)

Tea-Tourist: "Can this be real? What are you doing here?"

Tea-shop Owner: "I own this shop, too. (Historically) Some people prefer Chinese oolong chai to Indian assam tea. So we work both sides of the street, underground & above, crossing by a bridge hidden underneath. "Just as we did for the original Tea Party. Where do you thing that wet tea went?"

Tea-Tourist "I don't know. Nobody seems to know anymore."

Tea-shop Owner: "Nonsense, (conspiratorially) It's a secret. I keep the original records. We were not against private propertea, just tea-taxes."

Tea-Tourist: "without representation."

Tea-shop Owner: "Bosh! We were against taxes then and we still are now."

Tea-Tourist: (Bemused) "Then the word tax means something else in this tea-shop?

Tea-shop Owner: " Of course! (Explains) If the Tea (not a) Party still owns this shop, doing business at the same location, it's hereditary. If we call it chinese now, we can call anything anything. This is Boston, after all, Sam Adams' town, then and now. Taxing means tiring, exhausting. How tired are you?"

Tea-Tourist: "Very tired." (Sits on the nearest chinese chair.)

Tea-shop Owner: "Then you don't want to be overtaxed anymore, do you?"

Tea-tourist: (Convinced) "Of course not! I can't take much more of this. It's cost me a wad of Benjamins and I'm scared half-to-death. I've had it!"

Tea-shop Owner: "Hardly! (with enthusiasm) "You've only begun exploring Boston! What have you learnt?

Tea-Tourist: "Things aren't what they appear to be in Boston!"

Tea-shop Owner" "Exactly! Nor should they be! If they were, Time would have stopped."

Tea-Tourist: "But it Boston!" (Stands; Sits. Stands; Sits.)

Tea-shop Owner: "Are you a mimicking a chinese water-clock?"

Tea-Tourist: "No! I've never heard of one!"

Tea-shop Owner: "Now you have and you're also acting like one. See what coming to Boston has done for you? Imagine what might have happened if you came to Salem instead?"

Tea Tourist: (wide-eyed) "I'd have turned into a witch?"

Tea-shop Owner: "Well, there really were no witches in 1692, but there is an official Salem City Witch now...Laurie Cabot. Anyone can become a witch without risk or shame in Salem now, but you have to want to be one."

Tea-Tourist: "I don't want to be a witch..."

Tea-shop Owner: "So you aren't! That's Salem now. But here in Boston, it's not the same. As you see, I appear to be chinese, (smiles) for commercial purposes. In Salem, the original home of the China-clipper trade, nobody was chinese, nor did they wish to be. The city museum held all manner of chinoiserie for careful examination, inspection, but never for sale. Chinese tea, however, was shipped to Boston for warehousing and distribution."

Tea-touriust: "Do you mean that the Boston Tea (not a) Party dumped Salem's chinese tea into Boston's harbor?"

Tea-shop Owner: "Exactly. That was the perfectly accepted system. Nathaniel Hawthorne worked it: as the Essex county customs agent in Salem, his city of birth, and later in Boston, at the federal Custom House."

Tea-tourist: "Was Hawthorne for or against taxes?"

Tea-shop Owner: (amused) "For them, obviously, they paid his salary! He is not one of our heroes. Have you read his books?"

Tea-Tourist: "Well....No."

"Tea-shop Owner: "DON'T!"

(They stop. Thirsty now, they seek the appropriate means to slake it: tea.)

Tea-shop Owner: (cordially) "Would you like warm tea to rest your mouth?"

Tea-Tourist: "(surprised) "Why, yes, I would! What..."

Tea-shop Owner: (interrupting him) "We have a simple plan. For the price of one Benjamin-note annually, you will be registered with our major tea-shops in Boston, New York, Philadelphia, and Washington DC, (pauses), as well as our minor shops in Salem (Massachusetts), Newburyport (Massachusetts) , Bridgeport (Connecticut) , Portland [Maine], and Westerly, (Rhode Island) where your first cup of tea shall be free after you are welcomed as a Boston Tea Party regular. Your most relevant remarks will be recorded and reported to our corresponding secretary (webmaster) and society (website) for other regulars to read and appreciate.

Tea-shop Tourist: "(uncertainly) "Is that safe? I, mean, really, is that...?"

Tea-shop Owner: "(laughing) "Safe? Haven't you read the Constitution? It's protected by the First Amendment to the Original Constitution!"

Tea-shop tourist: "(determined) "No, I mean, is that safe for me to say and for you to transcribe and transmit?"

Tea-shop Owner: (confidently) "Oh, yes, it's also pre-paid. What could be more secure? Commercial membership has its the Supreme Court has now determined."

Tea-Tourist: (amazed) "Well I'll be damned! You are really up-to-the-minute!"

Tea-shop Owner: "Up to the commercial minute, I can assure you."

Tea-Tourist: "Commercial, yes, of course, commercial."

Tea-shop Owner: "And you will NOT be damned. We abolished that! This is not Salem, 1692!"

Tea-Tourist: (relieved) "What a relief!"