I know what you’ve been thinking.
Who the hell is Ron Cunningham anyway?
This maverick maven. This nattering nabob of negativism. He who presumes to pop up on my Facebook page uninvited. And it’s a fair question.
Who the hell am I?
Well, I am the mastermind behind the Free GNV blog. So there’s that.
And here’s the rest of the story.
I am not Ron DeSantis.
I am that much nicer Ron who does not aspire to autocracy, official censorship, homophobia, race-bating or inciting a second American Civil War.
I do not think teachers and professors are enemies of the state.
I do believe that the green gunk in our fresh water and that red stuff in our sea water are real and present dangers that we actually ought to do something about.
Oh, and that “open carry” stuff? Sheer insanity.
(My mom once told me that she named me after Ronald Reagan. But I’m pretty sure she was messing with my head.)
Let me say this about that. I met Lance Armstrong once. He was an arrogant bore. And this was after he had already been disgraced by the whole race doping thing.
I on the other hand, never doped up for a race. Hell, I’ve never even been in a race. But I do cycle. And unlike Lance, I do not require a full crew to fix my flat tires. Just an hour and a half and lots of profanity.
I am an opinion writer, aka editorialist.
Being an opinion writer in the Church of Journalism is rather like being a defrocked priest. I’m going to go to hell, but getting there is more fun than attending, say, the opera or a goat rodeo.
Also I like to talk to statues. Not that there’s anything wrong with that. Right? Right?
Don’t wanna brag here. But I’ve hiked some mountains, ridden some trails, forded some rushing streams endured some blizzards and ate tons popcorn while watching movies in which guys like Bruce Willis and that Rock fella pretended to be me.
Not to be modest, but they are not as good at it.
There is only one reason I do not openly refer to myself as a Renaissance Man. I’m not entirely sure how to spell Renaissance.
I write politics. I write theater reviews. I review books. I dabble in sarcasm. I am a Trained Observer Of The Human Condition. I have a license to engage in the Daily Argument Of Life.
P.S. If anything I write runs over the 600-words I break out in hives. My only unrealized ambition is to write the world’s shortest Pulitzer Prize winning novel. On deadline. In 45 minutes flat.
When I was 19 I joined the navy and saw the world from the deck of a destroyer. The navy took me to exotic places, gave me money and told me not to get arrested. That is all.
Listen, if you haven’t been to Havana, Florida, I don’t know why I’m even bothering to talk to you. (OK, that’s not actually Havana in the photo. It’s Flagler Beach. I have a terrible sense of direction. That Florida is surrounded on three sides by water is the only thing that keeps me, um, grounded.)
Like every other man of my generation I saw “Easy Rider” when I was young. I once borrowed a friend’s motorcycle in Charleston and promptly got arrested for speeding and not being able to prove it was my motorcycle. I’ve never been arrested on my bicycle.
Like that newspaper guy in “The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance” said: When the legend becomes fact, print the legend.