Christopher Cooper

Cooper finds the weather in Alna, Maine this March morning damp and chilly (although the pond ice eroding). But he is warmed by the affection of his readers and is pleased to bring them something good and decent just this one time. Persons still wishing to find him should try coop@tidewater.net.

Articles by this author

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Wednesday, March 14, 2012 - 12:58pm
Unless It Comes Out Of Your Soul Like a Rocket; Unless Being Still Would Drive You To Madness
Well usually, you know, I just let my ill-temper and bile and caustic thoughts spill out until I come to what I feel is just enough of a reasonable summation that my readers will not carry with them only the dark and despairing thoughts with which I have for so many paragraphs hammered them, but that some might find underneath the hopelessness and futility some measure of the humanity that compels me to write.
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Monday, March 12, 2012 - 8:17am
I Don’t Want To See Their Faces; I Don’t Want To Hear Them Scream
The whole thing is regrettable, really. Shocking, truth to tell. And so sad, I’m sure, for those people, those blanket-wearing, beard-growing, false-god-worshiping, probably-related-to-terrorists, citizens of Afghanistan whose wives and children and babies were gunned down in their beds, shot, murdered, slaughtered, and then burned by one of America’s finest Sunday morning. But hey, what are ya gonna do? These things happen.
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Friday, July 29, 2011 - 8:25am
I Counseled All My Clients To Plead Insanity
I complain. Not endlessly, not I hope, bitterly or boringly. Not without wit and often spontaneous alliteration and sometimes startling and unbidden rhyme. But I do complain (or share or vent or express my feelings), for not to do so might cause me to turn more sullen and reclusive than the disturbing degree to which I am already inclined.
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Tuesday, August 31, 2010 - 9:35am
"Is a Dream a Lie If It Don't Come True, Or Is It Something Worse?"
This evening, Tuesday, the last day of the month of August, 2010, our president Barack Obama will lie to us. You can be sure of it. It is a fact that all presidents lie. This particular untruth will be a big one. It will hang with us and infect our lives for years after its moment of utterance.
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Monday, April 19, 2010 - 9:01am
It's a Never-Ending Highway for a Dust Bowl Refugee
There are times I think working in the woods without pay at thirty-nine degrees in a persistent drizzle is better than sex. So far none of those times or those thoughts have coincided with any of the activities immediately preparatory to or inclusive in any of the commonly practiced sex acts with which I have filled a few hours of my six decades.
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Thursday, March 18, 2010 - 9:18am
Everybody Knows The Deal Is Rotten
I don't want to do this. I shouldn't have to do this. But the burden is well-settled upon me; the letters and telephone calls and E-mail messages from the several hundred mostly strangers who have given numerous of my previous essays their praise and who have told me that I must continue to write when I am as troubled as I now find myself-these persons deserve what small insight or comfort or advice I can generate for them. Would that I could summon for them, for us all, some reason to hope.
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Thursday, November 12, 2009 - 7:53am
If Any Question Why We Died, Tell Them Because Our Fathers Lied
We can win in Afghanistan! Let no one convince you otherwise. We have the men; we have the money; we have the bullets and the bombs and the body bags. Our top military men and policy analysts talk of "The Long War', which centrists and middlebrow thinkers and pack-joiners and general-purpose followers of several stripes like to call "The Global War On Terror" and liberals of one kind and another denounce as "a quagmire." I see no reason to consider this a difficult or dangerous or protracted problem.
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Sunday, October 11, 2009 - 9:41am
They Oughta Give Me The Wurlitzer Prize
Members of the Committee, Distinguished guests, Fellow honorees, Friends, and Family Members not too embarrassed to attend: I humbly and gratefully accept the Nobel Prize in Physics, the recognition, the honor, the plaque, the trophy, the discount coupons, the windbreaker, the keychain, the bumper sticker, the Alfred Nobel bobblehead and the generous cash award which, if I may, I would like to receive in twenties and fifties.
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Thursday, September 17, 2009 - 12:49am
Once Again The Animals Were Conscious of A Vague Uneasiness
People tell me how wrong I am in my opinions concerning important public issues. Some of this instruction I receive by reading essays and interviews, and a good deal is delivered to me personally by acquaintances or co-workers, much of it rendered in an exasperated or condescending voice. That I remain recalcitrant may simply be evidence of my perverse nature and the inability of even good pedagogy to reach and save every soul. I may be crazy. Or I may be right.
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Friday, September 4, 2009 - 9:22am
Just A Boy And His Dog
It comes to this, then: the dog is better served than the man. Perhaps this is as it should be, considering the relative amounts of mischief and mal-intention we might fairly assign to the account of each species in the operation of its affairs. Maybe this is fair and proportionate and those of us who find ourselves built of Homo rather than Canis DNA should accept the rightness of such a world. But it looks to me more like I'm being buggered by my fellow man than punished by god or nature or blind chance.
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