Elephants…smelephants…they all look alike

August 12 was world elephant day and I celebrated by watching a couple of shows on the National Geographic channel.  One episode was devoted to their communication skills and another to their memory.

OK…hang in there with me you might enjoy this.

dan carney painting



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A September visit by the little girl with the pink glasses.

Try to remember the kind of September

When life was slow and oh, so mellow.

Try to remember the kind of September

When grass was green and grain was yellow.

Try to remember the kind of September

When you were a tender and callow fellow.

Try to remember, and if you remember,

Then follow.

Try to remember when life was so tender

That no one wept except the willow.

Try to remember when life was so tender

That dreams were kept beside your pillow.

Try to remember when life was so tender

That love was an ember about to billow.

Try to remember, and if you remember,

Then follow.

Deep in December, it’s nice to remember,

Although you know the snow will follow.

Deep in December, it’s nice to remember,

Without a hurt the heart is hollow.

Deep in December, it’s nice to remember,

The fire of September that made us mellow.

Deep in December, our hearts should remember

And follow.

                                                                                           Tom Jones

...and follow the little girl in pink glasses

Her name is Mae.  She was born in Dublin, Ireland and lives there with her mother, father, Maria and Jake.

Her limited vocabulary is in Spanish (thanks to Maria) and English and I do believe Jake now barks in Spanish.  She is 18 months young and lights up a room or beach with her smile and her love.



She is my sunrise…and perhaps you might agree

that the little girl in the pink glasses

 is just like me

up with the sunrise

to make castles and run free

on an empty sandy beach

save a seagull out of reach

as buzzards bay


my little granddaughter

wearing pink glasses

and me




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Just thinking…again

OK…I’ll give you 5, no that’s 10 minutes, if you stay away from politics.   Thanks Nancy …I can’t get into trouble in 10 minutes…

…then again.

Do you ever check out “people you may know” on Facebook?  I don’t understand why Tom will have a picture of a dog and Sally has two people in the picture.  I don’t recognize the dog and which one is Sally?  Am I alone on this.

Summer should get multiple speeding tickets …for that matter so should “life”.

To date I have caught one fish this summer and by writing about my lack of fishing skills my luck will change.  Maybe I should stick with quahoging.

A friend of mine says I lack communication skills.

A while back I wrote about the “Untuck it” shirt company.  Their ads were on TV all the time.  I projected that they would soon go out of business.  Haven’t seen any ads lately…the venture capital guys and girls must have put an end to this one.  

OK … 91 wins before the end of August…107 for the season…World Series and Mookie MVP…maybe J.D.

I’m going to an acupuncturist…did OK with my back but the rest of me is falling apart.  I’m going to ask him to leave all the needles in next time.

Thinking about Ronald Reagan and Tip O’Neil and how well they worked together.  Sadly times have changed.

A quick Tip story.  My friend and I were going to a lobster cookout that would be graced by Ted Kennedy and 299 other Democrats including the Speaker.  Parking was limited so we had to walk up a steep driveway. Half way up a limousine came up behind us.  I knew the driver, he was the owner of the company, and I waved him to stop.  He did and rolled down the window, I said Maurice can you give us a ride up and he said I can’t the Speaker is in the back.  Just then the back window came down and Tip says jump in boys this ride is on me.

A real class act.

The Patriots 12-4…Super Bowl bound.

The other day a friend and I had a discussion about Amy Winehouse and how great she was…and oh ya the Rolling Stones are still the best rock and roll band on the planet.



John Henry is a fucking asshole.  The Yawkey foundation has given so much to the city…and you, John Henry, how much have you given?

Worth repeating.  My neighbors have a 5 year old girl and my other neighbors are doing some renovations to their home.  Little Suzie started to visit the workers while they worked on the house.  The men gave her odd jobs after a few days and she was just delighted and so were the men.  After the week was over they gave her $10 and she ran home to show her mother.  Her mother took her to a local bank and met with the assistant manager, her mother knew him, to open a savings account.  The manager praised Suzie for earning the money and for opening an account and asked her if she would be working the next week.  Suzie told him she would… “if Home Depot would deliver the fucking sheet rock in time”.

Hang in there Aretha…back stage tickets to see her at the Newport Jazz festival with my daughter…great show and night.

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T-Rex, piping plovers and Godzilla

Tyrannosaurus was a carnivore. It lived in the Cretaceous period and inhabited North America. Its fossils have been found in places such as Texas, Nebraska, Montana and Little East Beach South Dartmouth, Massachusetts.


Named for its melodic mating call, the piping plover (Charadrius melodus) is a small shorebird, one of several plovers in the Americas that shows a single black neck-band in breeding plumage. Its combination of a short and stout bill, pale upperparts and orange legs are key to its identification.

Because they need a very specific habitat to thrive, piping plovers are an indicator species for barrier beaches like Little East Beach in South Dartmouth, Massachusetts.

A “few” years before the Audubon Society was established a group of cavemen formed the buga buga “save the T-Rex” club.  This select assembly of cavemen “only” noticed that the T-Rex population was diminishing at an alarming rate and thought it was in the best interest of all to save them.

One artistic caveman started painting pictures of the Rex on cave walls.  Others roped off areas that they were known to roam.  They seduced young “interns” to keep track of couples, births and those less fortunate.  The interns were in play because if they were eaten the club could easily replace them.  While back at the headquarters the members would reap the benefits of land, cash donations and subsidies from the buga buga government.

Visitors to the cave art museum and interns continued to be eaten but all was good for the charter members of the club.  That is until one of their own was carried away by a T-Rex and presumed eaten.

The club reluctantly abandoned the “Save the Rex” campaign and contracted with Godzilla’s agent to eliminate the species.  The club members then became what we now know as the Democrat Party.

I swear the Audubon is made up of blue blooded constipated Republicans that have convinced our government to fund the care of endangered species.  THE PIPING PLOVERS for one.

They have roped off a good part of our beach and patrol up and down with armed interns that would sooner feed you to the blue fish than talk to you.

I plan to ask the head of Allens Pond Sanctuary

at our next beach meeting if they, Audubon, would continue to protect the plovers if our government (tax payers) pulled their financial support.

I think I’ll call Godzilla’s agent to see if the big guy will go with me.  In the mean time George has some insight into endangered species.


I am happy to report (seriously) that two of the four plovers eggs on our property have hatched and the little ones are fearfully  guarded by mommy and daddy plover.

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A day to confess


This is a long blog.  You will find no pictures and no humor in it.  It might disturb you and two names have been changed in it.

It has been sometime since I wrote about my experience with disgraced former FBI agent John Connolly and Whitey Bulger.  I was reluctant to do so until both were behind bars.

I have also been wrestling with writing about a day in time of years past.  On occasions I would say, what the heck no one will believe it and on others, I have been hesitant because it might identify the person involved.  I don’t want that to happen. With that said I now put pen to paper.

I will call my companion of this day Sean and you decide if his confessions are true or not.

I must mention that I have told of this day to several Irish born people.  Some are believers, others have discounted Sean as another IRA want to be.

Sean is from a small notorious IRA town on the border of Northern Ireland.  He came to the states in the 70s and has lived, worked, married and had kids since he arrived.

Sean, a friend and I were trying to start up a company.  The concept was solid and a business plan was written. The three of us had extensive experience in advertising, music delivery and television/radio.

Sean and I met at a bar on the north shore of Boston to discuss our next step.  We decided to set up meetings with companies that we had contacts with to see what they thought of our business plan and to test the waters.  At the end of our meeting Sean asked me about my connection to Ireland and then asked what I thought of the IRA. I answered, they’re terrorists.  Our meeting ended with a plan to set up appointments with potential clients during the next week. Once that was accomplished we would hit the road.

Off we go.  As soon as we got on the highway, Sean said “ last week, I asked you what you thought of the IRA and you called them terrorists.  I was in the IRA and I was not a terrorist.” I have listened to many a drunk South Boston guy, that has never been to Ireland, claim they were in the IRA.  Some guy passed a hat around raising money for the cause and they put a buck into it and felt they were now in the IRA.

Sean was different.  I asked him if they had ranks in the IRA.  He came back with “didn’t you have a rank in the Marines?”  I then asked what his rank was. His answer was chilling. “Brigadier General”.  I followed with what did a Brigadier General in the IRA do? He said he was the head of operations under Gerry Adams and Martin McGuinness.  I thought dam, if he is telling the truth he was in the top tier of the IRA.

I then asked what did the head of operations do.  That was all it took, bone chilling stories came one after the other.

“Do you know anything about the helicopter escape at Mountjoy prison?”  he asked. No I didn’t. He said “ I planned it and put all the pieces together.”

The Mountjoy Prison helicopter escape occurred on 31 October 1973 when three Provisional Irish Republican Army (IRA) volunteers escaped from Mountjoy Prison in Dublin, Ireland, aboard a hijacked Alouette II helicopter, which briefly landed in the prison exercise yard.

The history books will detail what happened that day, but the things Sean told me about the planning, kidnapping and practice runs are not in any book or newspaper file.

After asking about my connections to Ireland Sean knew where I went when traveling there.  He told me of his participation and planning of an art heist near where I visited and now live.

Rose Dugdale a posh, rich, well bred young English socialite smashed her way into Wicklow’s Russborough House and pulled off an art heist that made her infamous around the world.  The gang made off with 19 masterpieces by Rubens, Gainsborough and Goya, and the only privately held Vermeer in the world.

He went on about being responsible for getting weapons and briefly mentioning ties to Whitey Bulger and Patrick N**.  His main source was Colonel Gaddafi of Libya. Muammar Gaddafi, who took over Libya in a 1969 coup, saw the IRA as a comrade-in-arms fighting British imperialism and he was partly responsible for providing it with more modern weaponry.

I asked him if he traveled to Libya to purchase the weapons and if he did, wouldn’t his passport indicate his frequent travels there.  His response was “How naive you are Dan, I had eight passports”.

Were you ever arrested?  “Yes, for a minor charge and was placed in a cell with a young drunk Irishman serving in the British Army.  He looked at me and said I know you and I say no you don’t we have never met. The kid says I had your picture taped to my leg with the instructions to kill on sight,”  At that point I didn’t have to ask if he had killed anyone, I knew the answer.

He talked about how small in numbers the IRA was and practically no one knew who was in it.  He attended an operational meeting to deliver instructions for an upcoming operation and those in attendance were strangers as was he to them.

He talked about the British taking his brother up in a helicopter to interrogate him and pushing him out at 30 feet breaking his legs.

I asked him if he was married in Ireland.  Yes he says I was married to the children of Ireland.  Does his American wife know of his IRA background? No!  Does anyone? Yes, you. Why did you leave Ireland? “I was a soldier, we had beaten the British but had no politician to negotiate a settlement.  I felt, my job was done.”

After a long day we parted.  Believe me when I say I was looking over my shoulder all the way home.  We set a date to meet to review potential client notes and to plan our next move.  That meeting never took place. Another week goes by and I start calling. No reply.  I call several times a day for the next week, still no answer or reply. It was at that point I realized that he must regret telling me about his “association” with the IRA and that disappearing from my life would be in his best interest.  I have not heard from him since that day.

Ask yourself why would anyone make this up, if made up why would you not tell other people, and why did Sean disappear from my life.

Sean lives in a small town in Maryland, he is an Eucharistic Minister in the Catholic Church and I wonder if he has confessed to anyone besides me.

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Looking for the “Bone Setter”or Herman the pig?

Six years ago I wrote about the “Bone Setter” and there is not a week that goes by without someone contacting me thinking I am the Bone Setter.  I can’t understand how anyone can read that blog (at the end) and think I am the “Setter”.  This posting is for those that google the “Bone Setter” and get me.

I am not the Bone Setter … the Bone Setter is Dan O’Neill from Myshel, Ireland  and I don’t know how to reach him.  I found him by going there and asking people in the village where he lives.  How Herman the pig found him, I have no idea.

True friends should be acknowledged more often … they know who they are and I value my relationship with them.  Just wanted to share that.

The Kentucky Derby is coming up on Cinco de Mayo and I will be holding court at a watering hole to be determined soon.

Just wondering if what I do at Irish race tracks would work over here.

The above reads…

To whom it may concern:

XXXStar Farm is one of the leading thoroughbred horse farms in the United States.  We have delivered winners to proud horse men and women for over 50 years.

I respectfully ask that you extend admittance privileges to my representatives.  They are in Ireland visiting race courses, thoroughbred farms, and training facilities.

Respectfully yours,

XXXXXXXX                                                                                                                                    Owner       


I have been doing this for 6 years.  Each year a different theme.  My attire is aways, cowboy hat/boots and a lot of balls.

What it gets me, all free mind you, and those that dare to come with me, is VIP parking, admittance, private dinning room/bar, pictures with the President of Ireland and a hello to Bono and the Edge.  At one track a 5 course meal, open bar and sitting at a table with some of the big money people in Ireland.

Do I win any money?  Sometimes, but who gives a fuck.

This posting probably blew it all going forward, or it just makes for a greater challenge.

Speaking of challenges, our Celtics with all their injuries have a “bit” of a hard road ahead.  I hope they are still in it when you read this.  As a dear friend of mine says they are entertaining.

Are we not fortunate to have two teams in the  playoffs and one playing in the regular season with the best start ever.  As I write this the Sox are 20-7 … fucking brilliant I might say.

Since I got back it has been snowing, raining and cold.  I came home to get away from all that shit.  I just have to play this again.  I can’t help it.  If you haven’t seen it click on the line directly below and then the video…believe me it is funny.

Irish weather reporting (adults)



Those that are interested in joining me at JJ’s Cafe to kick off the “time to” club, please let me know if a week day works for you or does a Saturday fit your schedule better.


How can anyone interpret this to be me.

: http://danielncarney.com/2012/01/the-bone-setter-…ther-forecasting

At the end of the above posting you will get a sample of some of the responses.

I heard from Herman the pig last week and he is doing fine and is scheduled to run in the Pork Belly Stakes next month.



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Back to work? Really!


Readers of this blog, outside of Ireland, may not follow Irish politics and therefore don’t give a shit about the Presidentbut they may be interested in my quest for employment.

President Michael D Higgins is seeking a second term of office, according to sources in Leinster House.

The Irish Times is reporting that the President will announce his intentions in July.  He had previously said that he would reveal in September whether he planned to run again, with a presidential election due to take place in November.

There has been a groundswell of opinion in Ireland for the unanimous re-election of current Irish President Michael D Higgins.

At 74, he shows no sign of slowing down. Indeed he keeps an even busier schedule than any recent president by all accounts.

Higgins is a renaissance man, a poet, author, politician and statesman, wonderfully fluent in the Irish language and easily able to hold his own on the world stage.

Of course I am a bit of a renaissance man myself.  Writer, violin player (hey I can play the violin solo in John Cage’s 4’33”), painter, driftwood artist and wonderful person. 

Incredibly he was born into abject poverty in Clare and at age five was sent away from his alcoholic father to live with relatives. From such a humble beginning he overcame tremendous adversity to become a member of the Dail and later a minister.

 I recently met him at a horse track VIP function (that story is for another time) and as a result, we have developed a friendship that may become a working relationship.

On the other hand, his insider “tips” on the ponies, I can’t talk about.  His guidance and recommendations  continue to produce some serious coin.

For sometime now I have been looking for opportunities to work part time in Ireland and in the US.  Since meeting President Higgins I have had a number of productve discussions with his staff about a position promoting and presenting Ireland  to New England businesses.

I would travel back and forth six times a year, business class yet, bringing the appropriate people with me with an objective of expanding US operations in Ireland.  Most importantly, I will be able to keep my quahoging position with the Carney Shell Fish company.

My next meeting with the President will be at my second  art exhibition at (ArtBank) in Bunclody.  I would hope that his staff and I can finalize the details of this working arrangement.

The meeting is scheduled for today at 4pm.  Wish me well and I do hope the little commie leprechaun fucker doesn’t read this blog.

I  also hope that you enjoy this first day in April and that you can find the time to listen to John Cage’s work, if you listen closely you can hear me, just click on the following link.


I’m a comin home … so let me know if you are interested in attending the 1st meeting of the “time to” club…


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the “time to” club


The other day I posted on FB that Yelp, a company that operates a platform that connects people with local businesses, had listed their top 100 places to eat in the United States.  The only restaurant in Massachusetts to make the list was JJ’s Café in Brockton and they only serve breakfast and lunch.

I believe it was my sister that left a comment “why don’t we all go” and it got me thinking, which is a thing in itself, why not…

My niece has coined a phase “time should get a speeding ticket” and I have stolen it and offer up the “time to” club and propose we have our first meeting at JJ’s.

Sometime back two friends of mine started a moon watch night and on a full moon they would meet at different places, have a beverage or two, play “Werewolves of London” and just enjoy the night.  I went a couple of times and came home with bite marks on my neck.  I have never been the same since.  Now when people are around me they don’t say “watch your back” it’s “watch your neck”.

It seems that every time I see a post from them on FB they are off watching the moon from some Caribbean Island or Himalayan mountain.  

They are true “time to’ers”

So how bout the rest of us, perhaps we can convience them to be our first guest speakers at the “time to” club.

This should be a perfect segway to…time to invite a guest to write an upcoming blog.  The last time I did this the blog was great and the response to it even better.

“Personal Museums” by Mark Southworth on www.danielncarney.com — with Mark Southworth.

back to time getting a speeding ticket.  My last post “A letter for tomorrow” is a letter to my granddaughter offering advice and direction.  It is unfortunate that time will not allow me to witness her acceptance or rejection of same.

Time should get a speeding ticket.

So I ask you to prepare your “time to” list, make plans to attend the first “time to” club meeting and send me a written original,  500 words or less.  Believe me, people from over 34 countries  read this shit.

Last week I posted on FB that Jake cut the lawn. dam good job, well he better get the snow shovel out today cuz this country will be shut down for awhile.  Time to go to work apparently doesn’t apply after this “massive” snow storm.


I also mentioned he was abandoned at our door.  A few days ago he goes on an excursion with a couple of other stray dogs and a farmer miles away brought him back.  He has a phone number on his collar. 


…and finally… it is time to come home.

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A letter for tomorrow…


February 24, 2018


My Dear Mae,

Today is your first birthday and this letter is written for tomorrow.

I hope someday your mother and father will let you read it.  Most of contents are just comments on the simple things in life and it is the simple things that will make your days special.

There will be a period of time when these comments will be meaningless and boring to you.  Then things change.  Experiences, failures, successes and mistakes will begin to influence the road you take…and that road will have many bumps and forks along the way.

As one of my favorite movie characters said “Life moves pretty fast and if you don’t stop and look around once in a while it will pass you by”.

Read, read everything you can get your hands on. Ask a lot of questions and don’t stop until you are satisfied and comfortable with the answers.  Grandfathers are a great source.

Write, write more, for it is the written word that will become a painting of your imagination.

Dream, think and create. Formulate ideas, make decisions and mistakes are sure to follow.  Mistakes build character and teach you not to make the same again.

Trust in yourself, you belong to no one.  Absorb, digest and on most occasions, accept and follow the advice and direction given by your parents.  No one will be more loving, supportive and forgiving than them.

Lead…it is more rewarding than to follow. Seek out a mentor. Choose friends wisely for you will be lucky to make three close friends in your life.

Time and love are the most precious of commodities, time is limited and love is living. Treat the street sweepers like you treat the street makers. Be yourself, loyal, truthful and the best at what you do.  

Listen.  Listen to people, listen to nature and listen to silence.  John Cage’s composition 4′ 33″ might help to fully understand the importance of listening.

Remember where you came from and especially where you’re going.

…and while your living large make sure your priorities are in proper order…

…and most importantly…

…be happy, have fun and dance with the pigeons.

Happy Birthday Mae Carney O’Sullivan.

Love p d


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2017 Favorite


In that this was my favorite post of the past year and it, “the weather” is always a subject of conversation and most importantly I am running out of time to keep my posting streak going.

Irish weather reporting (adults)

And you wonder why my vocabulary turns  to fucking shit when I return to the states.

The two words most used here are brilliant and fucking.  Used together and it describes the highest level of excellence…fucking brilliant (or when I want to clean it up a bit FB)

The video that follows is fucking hilarious.  The broadcast was recent.




A honest to goodness letter to an Irish Magazine follows.  I have included this letter into a few stories but after this video I had to include it again.

Here comes the summer

I am writing to complain about the weather. No wonder we Irish are all half fucking mad.  The fucking weather keeps on fucking changing all the fucking time.

As I write, it’s slightly fucking drizzly and very fucking overcast.  Only ten fucking minutes ago it was fucking sunny!  I suppose in another ten fucking minutes it’ll be  fucking torrential fucking monsoon type fucking rain.

Followed shortly thereafter by fucking Hurricane Biddy (or fucking something) and a fucking asteroid shower!!  For fuck’s sake, fuck this truly fucking Gawdawful bastardin shit!!




 I am a comin fucking home soon and the snow better be gone and this April shower shit on hold and fucking hurricane Biddy is years away.

…and you ask….how was your stay in Ireland?  It was fucking brilliant.  The weather broadcast …. I believe it was on the 1st of April.

Gotta cut back on the “F” word Mae Carney O’Sullivan will soon be dancing in the rain.

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