Groucho, Woody, Mel, and Me.

It's that special Wednesday, the Insecure Writer's support group.

You can find CAPT Alex and the ninja army of insecure writers at the link here.

So, this is a nice place to begin again. We've tried a couple of elements of web presence and with this Wednesday, we launch the first edition of the mayhem of observation.

I've long admired Woody Allen and Mel Brooks.

I like Woody's early works the best but then, they had a certain rebelliousness that came through a bit more than perhaps in the later works.

Brooks - well. Who can fault a man who wrote _The History of the World, Part 1_ ? The stand-up philosopher alone should have earned the man a Nobel prize.

What little I share with these two is a world view that seems to be different from my peers. I see a new garden in the neighborhood, a sign on the telephone pole for a lost dog named "moppet" and I hold my neighbor in higher esteem. Horrible, you say.

Yes. It is.

There is a curse among those of use who are iconoclasts.

Where I come from - there is a saying about funerals. Sometimes there's a big crowd because so many hearts were broken the day he died. Sometimes the crowd is big just because so many people want to make sure the bastard is put under. Hard to tell which is which just from the number of cars in the parking lot.

It's taken a bit of searching; but, these are the characters I love to write about most. The relieved husband of a woman who commits suicide (ought to cure half a dozen neurosci) . The disgruntled history professor who founds despot island - the land of misfit dictators and tyrants. The county sheriff whose brother shoots the banker (to much public adoration and acclaim). The youth who suggests his friend cannot swim across a pond, only to know that the friend will try to do so and will likely drown.

The are my people. These are the joyful sort.

Murderers? check. Unrepentant sinners? check. You know, the interesting sorts.

I like most the fallen angels. I'm attracted to things that are bad for me. I suspect you are as well.

Groucho ? What's he doing here? Before we get too chummy, know his advice: I'd never join any club that'd have me as a member.

Sort of wraps up the whole independent spirit bit in the nutshell, doesn't it?

Join the e-hermits. We're a lovely band of poor self-promoters. We ignore opportunities to network. We like nothing better than to hang at the back of the bar. We have jackets (we never wear them). We have a lovely convention in Nashville (nobody goes).

We don't belong. We see things differently. We love mayhem and mischief and the tired sad souls who in desperation achieve for one shining moment the glint of independent action - and then are crushed by the machine.

We are our heroes. I've told you mine. They aren't so much insecure as unconventional.

Say the magic word, win a prize.