Why a carny??..

People often ask me about my life as a carnie. Why and even how I became one.. I generally have a form answer that I tell and that is..
I joined my first show at the age of 16 and it has been in my blood ever since..
That is in-fact the simple answer..

Carnies overall have a terrible reputation for being the "Dregs" of society and well, sometimes that reputation has been well earned. As a child I went to carnivals and theme parks as did many of you.. I remember riding the rides and walking past all the games with all the colorful prizes that were mine for the taking..I remember walking the midway hearing the screams of joy from the people on the rides and the raspy voiced pitchmen in the booths trying to get my mom to spend more money...Not much has changed since on that aspect..You can still walk through a midway and hear the screams and the see the toothless men and women in the games trying to get your money..That is their job..... No matter what I have done over the years, and I have had many real jobs over time.. I have worked as a carpenter, laborer, forklift operator and many many other jobs and few have ever seemed to satisfy my need for adventure and travel... I have learned so much over the years.. Some would call me a "jack of all trades" and we all know what they say about a "jack of all trades"? Can't hold a job.. True.. I could never seem to hold a job of any sort for more than a couple years at a time..With my addictions and inability to sustain anything substantial in life, I always returned to the carnival..

You see, when my mom died I went to a highly dysfunctional environment where quite frankly,I was told more often than not that I wasn't wanted there..So when I had the chance,I left.. I joined the carnival and suddenly I was among people that were just like me.. Misfits of society.. I had a family.. A surrogate one, but albeit a family just the same..

So as a kid of sixteen and making the kind of money I was making I was hooked.. I was given a place to sleep and I had food everyday and virtually no responsibilities to worry about..we were in a different town every week and there was a different girl in every town.. It WAS the life..

I managed to finish high school and did a couple things along the way, but as life went by I always felt the draw to return to the carnival. I am not sure what the lure was.. All that I think is, I believe it was the freedom to come and go as I pleased to, along with the sense of belonging to something, and the feeling of being wanted .. And of course the money was pretty damn good..

In the mid to late eighties and into the early nineties, the money was incredible..I worked for the same guy for about 8 straight seasons and was getting paid, for the most part, to party my ass off..I traveled the united states and had seen things that otherwise I probably would had never seen..For 10 straight years at the end of the season I took my money I had saved,along with the 10% bonus for staying the whole season and spent my winters where ever I wanted.. The last 2 big fairs of the season were the N.C.State fair and the Broward County Fair.. both ten days long and in each spot I came out with an avg. $4500.00 each.. only those two spots.. keep in mind there was 40-45 other spots throughout the season.. the economy was strong and the people played the games .. we were making bank...At 25 years old I was grossing around $70,000 in one half a years time... Staying in the best hotels, driving the best rental cars, and partying on the most beautiful beaches I had ever seen..Of course, with all that money and the ability to indulge in any vice that I chose, I did .. and I did it big.. Cocaine,weed,speed, you name it.. anything that got me amped up, I was in..I had often gotten a real job in some town that I took a shine to and lived a normal life for a while.. However, what was considered normal to most was certainly not my normality..Normal for me was a new town every week of the season and spending the winter just hanging out.. not doing much of anything but living for the day.. living for the next season..

So now another season is upon me and I am about to go out again for another 40 weeks or so.. Sometimes I often wonder where I would be had I done things differently and gone to college and pursued my mechanical engineering degree but then i realize, that would not have been me.. this is what I love to do..I am an entertainer of sorts..I travel and meet some of this countries most interesting people.. Sure, Carnies have earned themselves a bad rap, but overall they are some of the best people you could ever meet..I once had a First Baptist minister tell me that he trusts some of us carnies more than he trust some of his own church members.. I asked him how he could and he said.." Because you people tell it straight up, like it is.."And he was right we do..It takes a rare breed to last in this business.. You either love it or you don't.. There is no in-between..

Perpetual Anxiety..

When life turns on the turbulence
Dreams fade from your grasp...
You ride a wave of uneasiness
that forever seems to last..

When life dictates your fruitfulness
You outgrow the childhood lies..
The regrets and shames that haunt you so.
never seem to die..

When darkness spreads its slander..
to the ones who have left the womb..
you see the light from far away..
amongst the impending doom.. Bobby B...

Heartless confusion

You salute yourself and pretend you have a plan and darkness fades it out..
Mother shows and stunted gets the child..
Find a place to hide..
Christmas Holly in the red dress.
wooded country smells the best..
Play the song that makes you marry for money..
And leave it all behind..Bobby B...

Leave it on the Street

 Led astray by weakness and worshiped as greatness..
Guided through the divides to other realms that surely exist.
 We unknowingly traverse these magnificent majestic worlds together..
 living each simultaneously uncommitted.. Bobby B..

Where were you ??

It goes without having to say, but I will say anyway. Everyone in the civilized world knows where they were on 9/11/01, and everyone knows exactly what they were doing at exactly the time that they heard what had happened.

Myself, I was on a platform 150 feet up in the air on a smoke stack of a power plant in Oswego, New York. I worked for a company that Audited the C.E.M's (continued emissions monitoring systems)of which every power plant in America must have to abide by the pollution standards that the E.P.A has set forth.

It was the beginning of a great day and we had been over the days testing protocol and made our way to the platform. We had partied hard the night before so I was actually dreading the climb to the top on one hand, and looking forward to getting up there so not to return to the ground until the days testing was complete.

Lunch would have been sent up via our pulley system that we used to send up the testing equipment. A bottle and a bucket we had as well for other emergencies.

Our crew consisted of six, three engineers, three technicians. The plant was a gas burning facility with four 600 megawatt gas turbines with two stacks. We had completed testing on two of the turbines and made the move to the other stack and were in the final two days of the testing protocols. Myself and Ronnie were on the stack and Jimmy was the runner between the lab truck and the pulley to send the impingers back and forth from the stack to the ground. The three engineers in the lab truck shuffling through the myriad of data that was running through the different gas analyzers inside the truck.

Once we are settled in and the testing began, Sean, the chemist of the group had climbed up to where Ronnie and I were and went over some more of the days testing. When we had finished and had agreed that we were on the same page, he prepares to head back to the ground. While donning his climbing gear, he non-chalantly says,"Oh by the way two planes have slammed into the twin towers." Now Sean, being the practical joker that he was, and he was often playing pranks and such, had a grin on his face that made me sure that he was again playing a joke. He tried his best to convince us that he was totally for real. I for one was not convinced. While we were in the middle of a testing scheme, nether one of us assigned to the stack could go to the ground to hear the news for ourselves.

Sean returned to the ground and we were left to ponder if in- fact this was true. I started to look above me and was eerily aware that the skies were absent of any airplanes.

A few hours go by and we are finally able to get a break between test schemes and both Ronnie and I returned to the ground to see for ourselves on the TV that, yes, Sean was NOT playing a joke. My heart sunk, my mind shattered and my thoughts were immediately on my family. I called my girl to make sure that all were safe. I reached her finally and she was insanely concerned for my safety, for all that she knew was that I was in New York. What she didn't know was that I was clear on the other side of the state. I was safe. My family was safe. She was relieved and so was I.

Well now, we still have a job to do and we return to work. We first go to the local "Radio Shack" to get a radio to bring to the top with us so we can listen to this tragic news.The TV's in Radio Shack were all turned to the same channel.  While watching the news of this tragedy we are informed that it was a terrorist attack and there may be more. That being said we buy a wind-up radio so if we lose power we can always here what is going on. The irony of that is this.

As practical as it seemed, we are at a Power generating facility and if we lose power, we most likely would have lost our lives as well... Sitting on the stack with our wind-up radio, searching the skies, we begin hearing sirens and vehicles screaming down the road in front of the plant we are at. Turns out that there is a Nuclear power plant just one mile away from where we were and the military was now locking that facility down. We could see the stacks of that plant from where we were but it never registered that we may be in some real danger now, if in fact, someone was to breach the security there. Not knowing the extent of this terrorist attack on our nation, anything could have been possible.

We finished testing the facility. They passed their compliance requirements and we returned to Foxboro Mass.

Driving home we had to drive over the George Washington Bridge in N.Y.C and that was a chore in and of itself. I could see the smoke and the dust looming over the city and it presented to me that, the fact is, we are not entirely safe anymore and we probably will not be forever more.

It was a trying time for all, and I get excited with the same angstnow speaking of it as I had the day we were attacked.

So that is where i was and what i went through . I would love to hear stories from you..

The Angry G.I...

I was young, proud, full of myself and not afraid of anything but snakes, bees and perhaps an angry girlfriend or two. This had not always been the case though. As a child I was a scared little eggheaded runt of a boy. Not eggheaded as in smart either, I mean head shaped as an egg, literally. As kids can be cruel, I had heard all the jokes and had been beaten up by the toughest kids around. As the old adage goes, “what doesn’t kill you only makes you stronger”. And Stronger I was indeed. What also I didn’t know was, “what didn’t kill me was making me an angry son of a bitch”.

Well upon returning from military boot camp, I was a fighting machine. I had left all my fears at Fort Dix, New Jersey. I had survived the hardest thing in my life to date. I had signed up to be an American soldier. A soldier I had become. Although, going back to serve in the National Guard was in fact an honorable duty, I wanted more. While training at Fort Sill, Oklahoma during my “AIT” (Advanced individual Training), I had requested to be transferred from the National Guard to the regular army so I could go to jump school to become an “Airborne Ranger”. Though I was an exceptional soldier, I could not just make the switch without returning to my permanent duty for a period of six months before requesting again to become one of the elite that the American armed forces had to offer. I took it on the chin as I had so many times before.

I returned to my town to show off my new self. I sported my Class A’s in style and went to visit all my friends that were still doing the same thing they were doing when I had left. They were shocked to see me with my head buzzed down to nothing, standing tall and looking good. They were also taken aback some because these were the same folks who had went to the recruiting office with me and thought that they also wanted to join. We were all supposed to join together in the “buddy” system but on the day to go swear ourselves in, no one wanted to follow through. I, on the other hand had made my decision and it was not an option for me to not go.

So here I was back home, ready to do what the military taught me best to do, get drunk. Well, they also taught us how to fight, shoot people, run obstacle courses and all the stuff needed to go to war to kill people. But it seemed that they wanted us to drink more than anything. During basic training, whenever we would get a pass for the weekend we were simply and only confined to the base, more accurately, the “Flamingo Club”, the bowling alley, or the PX, all of which sold beer. When I had gone to Oklahoma, the passes were to all of the same except here we could leave the post, and right outside the gate was “the strip”. Yes folks a strip of about twenty to thirty clubs marketed directly at the G.I. fresh out of the field or boot camp. There was beer, girls, girls, and more girls. A young mans Dream.

Well apparently I was trained well because the first thing that I do is get a bottle of Jack and a case of beer and immediately starts pounding beers with my long time friends. We start to reminisce about old times and decide it is time to go out and hit the clubs to perhaps to find some company of the female persuasion. As luck would have it, a local restaurant was right up the street that had a bar inside. Before I had left, I frequented this bar very often while underage. I was, as you say a regular here and during the eight months I had been gone, was not forgotten. Paula served me up my regular drink that she so often served me as a minor. A simple “Budweiser “in a bottle with a root beer Schnapps shot beside it. I downed the shot, choked it down and almost puked. “What the fuck was that” I asked , answering myself at the very moment I asked.
And so the anger began to surface.. More to come….

Biker party in the town forest..

This is a true story....Back in the day i once worked for a rubbish company humping trash all day long. we had the standard garbage trucks as well as a pickup truck with a rack body with a canvas top on it to get to hard to reach backroad homes who needed their trashed hauled away as well..

So one night i am using the pickup for my personal use and was heading to the town forest to a biker party that was being held there deep into the forest. I was prospecting for the "Reapers" at that time and basically was mandated to be there.

On the way there we spotted someone hitchhiking on the road and stop to pick him up.He is well dressed with a shirt and tie and explains he is going as far as we can take him. I tell him to hop in and he climbs in the back. The cab of the truck was full and well the only room was in the back.Keep in mind, we use this truck daily to haul rubbish in and in the summer months, the smell gets pretty rank.I tell him this and he agrees and states he has no problem with it. A ride is a ride..well after closing the gates and essentially locking him in we make our way to the forest.
The roads leading to the party are not the best for driving down and our passenger is being tossed around in the back like a rag doll and he is not even complaining.This guy is crazy..

We get to the party and our faces hurt from laughing so hard on the way.. we put this poor guy through the worst ride he has ever had.

So this is a biker party and there are all bikers and scooter tramps hanging around smoking weed and drinking around a huge fire..One of the requirements to attend this party was to wear your leathers and/or your colors/patch..Our hitcher was the only one without.This could have posed a problem for me,because i brought him here,but fortunately i had an old leather jacket in the truck for him to wear. Being a prospect for a bike club is a demanding thing. You are expected to act a certain way and abide by several rules, one of which is to bring no strangers to a club only party. i broke that rule and could have been reprimanded severly. I had explained this to my new friend and he goes along with my ruse as to safe us both an ass beating..i introduce Randy to my handler and convince him that he is cool and he has been a friend of mine for a while..He is accepted and everything starts off nicely..

Now comes the funniest thing i had ever seen ..

Randy is hanging out and seems to be having a good time.. he has a couple scooter tramps hanging around him doing what they do best and he seems to have it all under control..

Well apparently the hitcher is messing with the wrong girl and her old man walks up and starts to question what is going on.. The hitcher starts to show some nut and tells the biker,a patched biker, that he's crazy so dont mess with him.. the accredited biker pulls out his gun and says ,"Crazy?, i'll show you crazy", and blows a hole in his own leg and starts rolling around on the ground screaming and writhing in pain. This totally freaks my hitchhiking friend out and he starts screaming for someone to help this guy who apparently just shot himself..One of the scooter tramps tell Randy to calm down and do as she says.. He does, he gathers himself together and she tells him to pull of the bikers boot of the leg he shot.He does as she had instructed him to do and as Randy gives a strong pull, the guys prosthetic leg comes off in his hands and poor Randy loses his shit and disappears into the woods not to be seen again.The party goes on less one undesirable..

The following morning i report to work and get the route schedule that i was on for the day..As luck would have it, i was on the backroad route..i get to my first stop, remove the canvas top and throw over side two bags full of someones houshold trash.. all of a sudden i hear a moan coming fromm inside the back of the truck..I open the back door and there is Randy,my infamous hitchhiker, lying under the two bags i had just thrown into the truck..Oh the poor bastard ...

The Brain - is wider than the Sky -
For - put them side by side -
The one the other will contain
With ease - and You - beside -
The Brain is deeper than the sea -
For - hold them - Blue to Blue -
The one the other will absorb -
As sponges - Buckets - do

The Brain is just the weight of God -
For - Heft them - Pound for Pound -
And they will differ - if they do -
As syllable from Sound -


Emily Dickinson

All that we see or seem, is but a dream within a dream”--Edgar Allen Poe

"I became insane,with long intervals of horrible sanity"--Edgar Allen Poe

the story..

This is the story of a child who had come to be snatched from the warm,safe,caring bosom of a nurturing loving mother and thrust into the dysfunction of a bitter old man and his loyal, obediant wife. She in fact, bound by the vows of a loveless marriage.


The boy remembers much of mother, whom in his eyes, was nothing less than a saint. However, according to the nasty,alcoholic grandfather, she was nothing of the sort.You see, mother had gotten herself pregnant out of wedlock and had been tainted by a good for nothing "gangster type" and had become an embarrasement to the family name..


While boy struggles through puberty,he begins to live his life dictated by the behaviors and beliefs instilled into his fragile little mind from the many years of major dysfunction that had become his world. As an adult he destroys all his succeses with the belief he is undeserving. Not knowing of course what drives the destruction..


Being the son of a gangster and a whore had presented to him many challenges throughout his coming up. As a child he was taught the things about who he was and what he would become, as a man he lived them.


So now the boy is man, and finally, as full grown, he sees who he truly had become from the years of carrying on with the destructiveness that had been his way.. The way he was told.
Now, armed with this knowledge about who he is and why he is, can he find his true path for a happy fulfilling life, or is it to late for him..

To all the children who survived the 50's 60's and 70's..

First, we survived being born to mothers who smoked and/or drank while they were pregnant. They took aspirin, ate blue cheese dressing, tuna from a can and didn't get tested for diabetes.
Then after that trauma, we were put to sleep on our tummies in baby cribs covered with bright colored lead-base paints. We had no childproof lids on medicine bottles, locks on doors or cabinets and when we rode our bikes,we had baseball caps not helmets on our heads..

As infants & children, we would ride in cars with no car seats, nobooster seats, no seat belts, no air bags, bald tires and sometimes no brakes.

Riding in the back of a pick- up truck on a warm day was always a special treat.
We drank water from the garden hose and not from a bottle. We shared one soft drink with four friends, from one bottle and no one actually died from this.
We ate cupcakes, white bread, real butter and bacon. We drank Kool-Aid made with real white sugar. And, we weren't overweight.. WHY?
Because we were always outside playing....that's why!
We would leave home in the morning and play all day, as long as we were back when the streetlights came on..
No one was able to reach us all day. And, we were OKAY. We would spend hours building our go-carts out of scraps and then ride them downthe hill, only to find out we forgot the brakes. After running into the bushes a few times, we learned to solvethe problem.


We did not have Play stations, Nintendo's and X-boxes. There were no video games, no 150 channels on cable, no video movies or DVD's,no surround-sound or CD's, no cell phones, no personal computers, no Internet and no chat rooms. WE HAD FRIENDS and we went outside and found them!

We fell out of trees, got cut, broke bones and teeth and there were no lawsuits from these accidents.


We would get spankings with wooden spoons, switches, ping pong paddles, or just a bare hand and no one would call child services to report abuse. We ate worms and mud pies made from dirt, and the worms did not live in us forever.
We were given BB guns for our 10th birthdays, made up games with sticks and tennis balls and, although we were told it would happen, we did not poke out very many eyes.
We rode bikes or walked to a friend's house and knocked on the door or rang the bell, or just walked in and talked to them.
Little League had tryouts and not everyone made the team. Those who didn't had to learn to deal with disappointment. Imagine that!! The idea of a parent bailing us out if we broke the law was unheard of. They actually sided with the law! These generations have produced some of the best risk-takers, problem solvers and inventors ever.
The past 50 years have been an explosion of innovation and new ideas. We had freedom, failure, success and responsibility, and we learned how to deal with it all.
If YOU are one of them, CONGRATULATIONS!

At last..The beginning..

I am new to this blogging world that i have heard so much about and now i wish to share my stories with the world. Ahough I've yet to be published, i pride myself to be a talented writer . I have a many story to be told and i shall begin here today..Each day there will be something different. Please enjoy my words.