Shithole Countries

Our president may have referred to countries such as Haiti and the African nations as “shithole countries” and indicated he didn’t want their peoples to come to the United States. He earlier didn’t want Muslims to come in either.

I believe there was a reference to the Norwegians. Why would they particularly want to come to the United States? Norway is not a shithole country and the standard of living is probably higher in most instances than it is here.

Why did Europeans come to America in the first place? They were facing a sometimes hostile environment in a strange place with no cities or facilities save what they managed to scavenge for themselves.  They had to build shelter, hunt food in unknown terrain and do lots of praying. Why would they leave a nice comfy country to endure this? Because they didn’t. They left shithole countries because life had become unbearable and poverty ruled in places where royalty lived like…well, royalty.

America was built on the idea of allowing religious and racial freedom for all. We’ve certainly had our serious setbacks, such as slavery, but today we should be on track.

Unfortunately, we aren’t on track. There are only too many who believe that we should restrict the United States to white Protestants only.  Maybe we could allow Catholics to stay through Christian charity and the entertainment industry would collapse overnight were it not for Jews behind the screen and on it as well. We could probably allow them to stick around.

Okay, that’s about as far as our Christian charity goes. We don’t necessarily like it but after all, being Christians, we have to be charitable. The citizens of Chinese origin are okay because we all love Chinese restaurants.  Besides, most people of Asian descent keep pretty much to themselves and we only interact when we go out for Chinese, Korean, Pho and so on. America without taquerías wouldn’t be America, but we allow that because those people run legitimate (and very necessary) businesses. They aren’t out robbing and raping. ¡Ay Chihuahua! Everybody loves a taco.

Some speak of making America great again. I don’t believe it was ever particularly great, but it could be a lot better if we just minded our own business and took care of our own crumbling country instead of trying to run the rest of the world while  pouring billions of taxpayer dollars into what amounts to bribes or missiles that run as much as $1,500,000.00 a pop. You read that right!

Imagine what $1,500,000.00 would do for our infrastructure right here. And let’s not forget that shameful wall. Jericho didn’t work. The Great Wall of China didn’t work, and the Berlin Wall didn’t work. I have a gut feeling that (a) walls aren’t very efficient and aren’t worth their cost and (b) instead of walls and all the extra border patrol expense, we could use the same sort of border we share with Canada?

If people slip across, so what? Where else are we going to get our landscapers, dishwashers, busboys, general laborers and field workers? Have you ever tried to weed beets in the heat of summer for so little money it’s risible?

We could get by much more cheaply by simply dealing with aliens on a case-by-case basis. When an alien is arrested for a crime, deal with that particular alien. If an alien comes to the attention of authorities for any reason, we can deal with him/her on an individual basis. This alone could save our taxpayers millions of dollars every year while allowing us the dignity of being to walk with our heads up rather than the shame of skulking around behind walls for fear of aliens invading to rob us and rape our womenfolk. We’re talking about our next-door neighbors here; not aliens from outer space.

It’s time to stop talking political rhetoric and focusing our woes on other peoples. Hitler chose to use Jews. President Trump first wants to use Muslims, and so on. Kim Jong Un uses the US as a horrible threat to keep his people walking in fear of a surprise attack by the hated Americans.

These are dated tactics that everyone should understand and choose not to applaud. It’s time for us to grow up and maybe we can, finally, make America great.

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Getting my Exercise

Recently, shortly after my 90th birthday, my doctor felt that I should try to build up my strength. He suggested I drink Ensure® (I can’t stand anything that closely resembles milk, etc. and told him so, but he wanted me to try Ensure®. He also suggested I get a bicycle for some good but easy daily exercise. Okay, he’s the doctor.

The Ensure® was too much for me even to contemplate since I much prefer a bottle of dark beer with my lunch, but I did think a bike might be fun. I hadn’t ridden in many a year. I looked around and found a nice “old-school” bike with balloon tires, one speed (I’d never be able to master even a three-speed, not to mention like ten and up. An additional plus (for me), this baby had that marvel that used to impress me greatly as a kid: New Departure Coaster Brakes.  Although it had been years since I had ridden a bike, they say you never forget and for the most part, I think they’re right. But you do have to consider age and condition.

So far the results have been mixed but encouraging. I cleaned the bike up on April 30th, made sure everything was oiled and working and the next day, May first, I’d take her for a spin around the neighborhood. It also turned out the first of May was a pick-up day for rubbish, tree branches, limbs, etc. Just pile the stuff in the street by the driveway. My next-door neighbor obediently did just that.

I got on my bike in our garage with my wife doubtfully watching and overall, it felt pretty good. I hit the pedals and started down the driveway.  As I did this, perhaps in a burst of unwarranted overconfidence,  laughing and talking over my shoulder to my wife, I didn’t notice the neighbor’s clean-up pile that waited just ahead.

Talk about exercise! I’ll tell you, there’s a lot more to exercise than meets the eye. Man, what an experience, but still, I find it hard that the city can justify nearly $4,000 for the emergency vehicle that took me three miles to the wrong hospital. And since that hospital didn’t use the plan I have, they billed me nearly $2,000 for emergency services and a three-day stay in ICU just to make sure I was going to be all right.

Unfortunately, my insurance plan would only cover those costs if I called ahead and got prior approval. I’m not so sure they’d have approved anyway if I told them I intended to drive my new bike into a pile of rubbish. But being unconscious, I couldn’t have called, so the joke’s on them.

I really feel bad for my poor wife though.  My exercise accident upset her so much she was a nervous wreck. She followed the emergency vehicle in our new Lexus. The entire incident had so upset her that she didn’t see the red light and a beer truck T-boned her. Insurance will cover most of the damage to the car…well, they determined it to be a total loss, and but whatever we end up getting can go toward another car.

I have no idea what her stay will amount to since she has the same medical plan I do, But with the surgery and all, I imagine it’s going to be a pretty stiff number.  But, as they say, every cloud has a silver lining. The silver lining here is that she’s not suffering at all, and when she comes out of her coma, the doctors tell me she probably won’t remember a thing about the entire incident.

My doctor did manage to come around to see me. He smiled and said, “The last time I saw you we decided you needed more exercise, didn’t we? Well, perhaps a bicycle is a bit too much so perhaps we should try exercising in the garage.” I liked the part where he kept saying “we”, but he’s a very nice doctor, so I said nothing.

When I was discharged, I donated the bike to The St. Vincent de Paul Society and opted to jog in place inside the garage.

We live in a crazy world. The funniest things happen. Well, it’s my own fault that the oil from my old pickup leaked all over the floor. And since I lost my glasses in the neighbor’s rubbish I didn’t notice the oily floor.

I have to laugh though, at the expression on my son’s face when he came by two days later to see why no one answered the phone.

He said, “Dad, why are you lying here on the garage floor? Don’t you see it’s all oily?”

The upside to all this is that now, back in the hospital, I can have a nurse push my wheelchair up to see my sweet wife. Of course, she can’t talk, but I’m sure she knows I’m there holding her hand (it’s a pity they couldn’t save the other hand, the one that got crushed in the accident), but the upside to that is, now she can get out of a lot of housework I supposed I can do for her.

Well, this exercise business has certainly been an eye-opener and I have lost nearly seven pounds I’m glad I no longer have to carry around.

The moment my wife wakes from her coma, I’ll be sure to write a follow-up. (That is if the burns on my hand permit. Up until now I never dreamed the handles on pots and pans could get so hot, but now that I’m the cook, I’m learning quickly.

Old Man on Bike

Whoever knew a little exercise could be so exciting?

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Islamic Terrorism?

We keep hearing the buzzwords “Islamic Terrorism” from the media.

It’s easy to understand the media’s need to keep people interested and following. Advertising money is what keeps the media rolling. Readers and/or viewers see the advertising. If the media has little to offer, interest dies off and advertisers look elsewhere to peddle their products.

However, keeping the public interested doesn’t necessarily mean we have to use words that are not only untrue, but serve rather to arouse anger and intolerance in others.

Christians have arguably started and/or become involved in more wars and bloodshed than peoples of any other nation.

Starting in the Middle Ages with the intention of wiping out Islam (still an almost unknown religion in most of Europe without the ease of communication we enjoy today), and located across the Mediterranean where few Europeans ever expected to go, good Christians took it upon themselves to make numerous Crusades to wipe these Infidels off the face of our world map.

Before and since that time, not content with waging only religious wars, Christians have managed to become involved in an almost constant stream of warfare for some of the vaguest and most improbable reasons imaginable.

The point here is that, no matter how many wars Christians believers wage, few have ever referred to these conflicts as Christian Terrorism, or the Christian war in Korea or Viet Nam. No one calls our invasion of Iraq the Christian Movement to get Saddam.

Terrorism exists. No doubt of that, and it’s worldwide, but Islam has little or nothing to do with this. While it is true that many factions hide their violent assaults on other peoples behind the veil of Islam, the truth is that they use this as a cover, an excuse for their actions. The real focus of their anger is the common practice of the United States to meddle in the affairs of other countries. It’s true that as a world leader, the United States has a vested interest in keeping an eye on other countries, especially repressive countries. We have an interest in protecting human rights. But where does our interest in human rights end and our interest in the protection of oil wells, and other resources supersede these?

Neither Christian beliefs nor Muslim beliefs promote violence nor intolerance. In Christian communities, some people carry a Bible and many have spent years in close study of this document. Yet everything a Christian needs to know and heed has been stated by Jesus. His words are words to live by, yet we conveniently forget or twist these around so they can fit our purposes. People smile and say, “Do unto others before they do unto you”.

The message brought by Jesus is so simple and straightforward that even the most uneducated should be able to understand and follow it. Mohammed taught essentially the same ideas. In fact, almost all world religions teach exactly the same teachings.

From the very beginnings of life on earth, until today, we  — each and every one, black white, yellow or blue — are related. We’re brothers and sisters. While it’s true that siblings sometimes have disagreements, they seldom attack and even kill one another.

Rodney King may not have been an educator, nor even an upstanding pillar in our society, but he said something very penetrating when he said, “Can’t we all just get along?”

That’s how I see it.

 

 

Are We In Trouble Yet?

65745314As Cheech and Chong once said, “Things are tough all over.”

We constantly hear of the need for more education, and I heartily agree that  every citizen should have the right to a college education. Children are forced by law to attend grammar school. In most instances, high school and beyond is optional. If children were properly prepared for high school while still in grammar school, and understanding that a free college education would follow that, perhaps they might be more interested in pursuing their education. Just knowing that the paycheck after four years of college combined with the respect that sheepskin brings along with it, should be an incentive for many children to buckle down and study.

Obviously not every child would study. Every human is different, and like or not, our world is better off this way. Imagine a world in which, like robots, we looked and acted exactly alike.

But there’s a flip side to all this college education. Maybe the “Animal House” story is closer to the truth than we know.

In keeping my eyes open, and looking over résumés from college-educated, experienced individuals, I wonder just how much college has taught them.

Not only in writing do we see egregious errors, but TV newscasters and commentators often mispronounce words, names and/or use bad grammar, as do “off the cuff” politicos. Thank heaven for professionally crafted speeches and Teleprompters!

Here are a few written examples of what I mean. These are from actual résumés of persons looking for a position in journalism, individuals who profess to have college degrees and considerable experience as well. Some of the following are grammatically incorrect while some are simply confusing. Did these writers even take a moment to edit their own writing? I’d have to say no to that, but I’ll let the reader be the judge.

“over a scope of divisions”

“I am prepared at making duplicate for different”

“composed, altered or edit scholarly”

“with regards to composing and editing, I demand getting words…a good fit for the reason”

“I appreciate molding content that is promptly reasonable”

“We are a gathering of — …s into a group”

“decision for all you’re composing needs”

“keep readers returning for additional.” (that’s a period there. End of sentence)

“look no more remote than”

“We will surpass your most prominent desires”

“a top-notch degree”

“have the mastery to convey an extensive variety of ventures”

“typesetting administrations for”

“With..years of distributed and venture administration encounter, regardless of what stage your undertaking is at, I can help you with its culmination”

Okay, as my daughter used to say when criticized, “Well, nobody’s perfect.”

 

I ‘m like Hercule Poirot, sort of.

Hercule Poirot,  Agatha Christie’s famed detective, and I share a good many physical as well at mental and daily habit qualities.
Poirot

The other day after shaving,  I stood looking into the mirror and there he was: Hercule Poirot! I suddenly realized how much alike we are.

Okay, I’m six feet tall while he was only about 5′ 4″, but if I hunch my shoulders and bend my knees a little…

He had an egg-shaped head. Mine isn’t quite egg-shaped. A bit more pointy perhaps, but with a bowler on, maybe —

His mustache was of course famous. I have a mustache. Well, I did have one before my wife made me shave it off. I can speak with a very clever French accent and throw in a mon ami, merci or tiens! here and there. That adds a touch of authenticity as well as considerable color to the conversation.

M. Poirot prefers chocolate for breakfast. I don’t care for chocolate for breakfast, but my wife does.

Poirot was a meticulous dresser. Ask anyone at the Goodwill Store and they’ll tell you I’m very picky when it comes to choosing my clothing.(10% discount on Tues. and Wed.. The Belgians, like the French, are thought to be frugal. As for me, I have to be frugal!)

I have a cane. Okay, it may not be a real whangee walking stick like M. Poirot had, but it’s finished to look like one, sort of.

I wear patent leather shoes. Well again, sort of. They’re leather on top and my socks are pattin’ on the sidewalk.

And the little grey cells! Ah, this is where I really shine. My little gray cells are even smaller and more darker grey than M. Poirot’s! I’d say something like the fuzzy dark grey lint that comes from the dryer. In his day he probably didn’t even have a dryer.

So there we have it. My argument why I’m almost as much like Poirot as David Suchet. But I have to admit a secret: I still like Mr. Suchet better. In spite of the similarities between M. Poirot and me, Mr. Suchet is as close to the real Poirot as anyone could ever get. We’ll say no more on the subject.

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Madison Avenue’s Unknown Secret

The advertising gurus on Madison Avenue have a secret that is so well-hidden (in plain sight) that even they haven’t yet discovered its value…

That secret lies in the names they come up with for products.

I hesitate to point a finger at unknown and very possibly nice well-meaning advertising people such as Darrin Stevens. These individuals are harassed and befuddled and bewitched by their wives who are undoubtedly crosses between Lucy and Samantha, but…

I have a gut feeling that only drug induced dreams could account for most of the imaginative if inappropriate names advertising campaigns come up with for new and older products. I’m thinking primarily of the automobile and pharmaceutical industries.

Otezla is a pharmaceutical product, but can’t you just envision the arrival on the showroom floor of the new Ford Otezla, or the Honda Abreva, all new for 2017? How about the Dodge Viagra with its new 400 hp. engine?  Or a new health aid for those in hospital called Enclave? The new medical breakthrough for male enhancement, The Veloster? Or that new hybrid family SUV, the Cialis.

Azera could be a great treatment for that nasal congestion we sometimes get, and of course Genesis might be a great name for a cream that keeps you looking young forever.

Of course that new bodybuilding vitamin-enriched capsule, the Impreza, is guaranteed to be a winner.

Admittedly not all car manufacturers pay big bucks to acquire fancy names for their vehicles. Most European manufacturers show a more subtle if still imaginative approach to assigning a model name to their vehicles. Numbers and/or combinations of numbers and letters create a presumably more upscale and dignified way of giving each vehicle style its personal identity without naming it after a wild beast or what might well be a pharmaceutical product. Of course, since nearly all the vehicles on the road today are so nearly identical in appearance, it’s really more necessary now than ever before to give us some means to identify them.

Hey, if funny names help sell cars, then I suppose we can’t blame the automakers. But if that’s what sells cars, it’s no wonder our country is in such a distasteful position, hated by most of the world (even though nearly everything we buy and use comes from outside the United States), we find ourselves to be the object of ridicule, especially for our disorganized political disaster. From our once proud position as the country other countries strive to emulate, we’re now a third world country, and should be driving around in our new, improved 2016 Acyclovir with our heads hanging in shame.

The dismal hope of getting a president who can even try to address some of our many much-needed improvements from bridges and highways to the universal healthcare and education that should be the birthright of every citizen is barely imaginable. With a congress of old men who should never have been allowed to spend more than eight years, if that, fiddling around in Washington “serving” their country (read: serving their own self-interests), a president is not a dictator.

President Obama, in eight years, has been quite fortunate in being able to accomplish the good things he has managed to squeak past our lawmakers in the face of almost 100% opposition from the Senate and the House of Reprehensibles.

We need change in America, and the first step would be to limit the terms of representatives and senators to – at most – eight years, just as our president is limited to eight years. Anything longer than that tends to open the gates of Washington to the few who manage to get a permanent grip on our government. While technically these “presidents” etc., in many countries refer to themselves as presidents, in reality, they become kings, the real old-style “off with his head” type kings. Such kings also enjoy the privilege of designating their successors. Did someone mention nepotism? Hey, anything’s possible in a country that lets too many venal “servants” serve for far too long.

But getting back to Madison Avenue, another possibility has occurred to me. It’s quite possible that a brigade of interns spends its first few years in the advertising business with one sole responsibility (aside from bringing coffee and picking up dry-cleaning for the upper echelons of suits), and that is to spend all their free time thinking up catchy new names for products. Never mind what products. The intern’s job is simply to think up catchy new names. Has to be something different, unusual, and something that a high-school dropout can remember. All these unassociated names go into a special computer file called: Names.

When a new vehicle comes out from Nissan and they need a model name for it, all they have to do is call the agency. An agent looks into the Names file and bingo! The Vytorin! The All-New and Improved Nissan Vytorin, the only family vehicle you’ll ever need!

I’m thinking of buying that new camera from Canon. You know, the Xanax. Makes me think of that old-time household name, Kodak. At one time any old camera was called a Kodak. Who says catchy names don’t matter?

 

 

#advertising #automobile names #pharmaceutical names #Madison Ave. #politics #congress #senate #politicians #United States

A dream come true

In my latest effort, Hail Mary, I took a daring (for me) step left, getting away from the mystery/detective genre and noir fiction that I love and usually write.

This time, Hail Mary was different. I didn’t consciously plan it, I hadn’t even thought about such a thing and if I had thought about it, I’m sure I’d have quickly discarded the premise.

But it didn’t happen that way. One night not too far removed from this night I began dreaming and unlike so many dreams that skip around like bees pollinating flowers, I watched this dream unfold before my very eyes. It actually had continuity and made sense, at least to me.

I woke from this dream around four in the morning and it was as if I’d been watching a movie. It had been very visual and not only made sense in its own way, but I knew I had to get up and do something before it faded from memory as so many dreams quickly do.

Within a week I had at least a first draft. It wouldn’t have taken that long, but aside from writing, I do have a life (well, sort of). I mean I have some coffee, shave, etc. Have more coffee. Go about turning off the exterior lights, More coffee. I’ve read that Honoré de Balzac downed something like seventy-odd cups of coffee a day. I called Guiness and threatened to drink ninety, but they haven’t called back. Maybe I’ll have to talk about an even hundred.

Then there are all the other little things that have to be done. Take out the garbage, check my email, cook. Oh yes, I’m the head cook around here and I get to clean up the kitchen and wash the dishes as well. My wife and I like to go together for lunch, about the only quiet time we get to spend together without constant interruption during the day. Besides, I can sit at the computer only so long before I feel so sleepy I just have to go lie down for a bit. Half the night I can’t sleep, but during the day I can, especially if I’m doing something important.

Then of course there’s Klondike 3 card draw solitaire. That somehow seems an important part of the day.

But in Hail Mary’s case, the book pretty much wrote itself. Mediums used to talk of automatic writing (perhaps they still do). It was something like that. The book poured out as quickly as I could type. Of course I can type much faster than I can think so frequently I have to go back and translate what I’ve written into legible English.

Still, the entire little book took only a short time and required very little revision, mostly typos, etc. It just flowed along and if I could take credit, I’d say I dreamed up a clever and devious plot.

What happened is that Mary and Harry “Bulldog” Drummond, a retired cop, have been married over forty years. Mary was a wild party girl, a true free-spirit, while the Bulldog was not only conservative, but a by-the-book no-nonsense cop. When he was called to Whitey’s Tavern one night because of a disturbance, he found the disturbance to be Mary. He cuffed her and took her out of the building, but by the time he got her to the station, they both realized they’d found their soul mate. Okay, seems unlikely that water and electricity could form a soul mate duo, but they did and they realized it right away.

Shortly after their marriage Estelle came along. She was a future cop just like dad.

Creighton followed, but completely unlike dad, Cray was a diffident, non-confrontational fellow who did not want anything to do with being a police officer. He became a pretty good accountant however.

This starts with a bad day for Cray. His father dies and Cray gets fired the same day. Then hoping to keep Mary at home with him and his family until after the funeral, he brings her home, but the day after the funeral, unlicensed Mary “borrows” Cray’s car and recruits a couple of old girlfriends she’s known since the seventh grade. They go off together to comfort Mary and that’s when things really go crazy.

Somehow in the end however, everything works out. Mary it turns out isn’t quite as flaky as everyone thought and nobody got killed or hurt…well except for the four dejected and bandaged bikers sitting in jail where they rue the day they ever messed with those three little old ladies.

Hail Marry will be out this month at amazon.com and all the usual suspect book venders and can be pre-ordered at http://writewordsinc.com (Cambridge Books)

I really think you’ll like this one.

Hail Mary, a dream come true

In my latest effort, Hail Mary, I took a daring (for me) step left and, getting away from the mystery/detective genre and noir fiction that I love and usually write.

This time, Hail Mary was different. I didn’t consciously plan it, I hadn’t even thought about such a thing and if I had thought about it, I’m sure I’d have quickly discarded the premise.

But it didn’t happen that way. One night not too far removed from this night I began dreaming and unlike so many dreams that skip around like bees pollinating flowers, I watched this dream unfold before my very eyes. It actually had continuity and made sense, at least to me.

I woke from this dream around four in the morning and it was as if I’d been watching a movie. It had been very visual and not only made sense in its own way, but I knew I had to get up and do something before it faded from memory as so many dreams quickly do.

Within a week I had at least a first draft. It wouldn’t have taken that long, but aside from writing, I do have a life (well, sort of). I mean I have some coffee, shave, etc. Have more coffee. Go about turning off the exterior lights, More coffee. I’ve read that Honoré de Balzac downed something like seventy-odd cups of coffee a day. I called Guiness and threatened to drink ninety, but they haven’t called back. Maybe I’ll have to talk about an even hundred.

Then there are all the other little things that have to be done. Take out the garbage, check my email, cook. Oh yes, I’m the head cook around here and I get to clean up the kitchen and wash the dishes as well. My wife and I like to go together for lunch, about the only quiet time we get to spend together without constant interruption during the day. Besides, I can sit at the computer only so long before I feel so sleepy I just have to go lie down for a bit. Half the night I can’t sleep, but during the day I can, especially if I’m doing something important.

Then of course there’s Klondike 3 card draw solitaire. That somehow seems an important part of the day.

But in Hail Marys case, the book pretty much wrote itself. Mediums used to talk of automatic writing (perhaps they still do). It was something like that. The book poured out as quickly as I could type. Of course I can type much faster than I can think so frequently I have to go back and translate what I’ve written into legible English.

Still, the entire little book took only a short time and required very little revision, mostly typos, etc. It just flowed along and if I could take credit, I’d say I dreamed up a clever and devious plot.

What happened is that Mary and Harry “Bulldog” Drummond, a retired cop, have been married over forty years. Mary was a wild party girl, a true free-spirit, while the Bulldog was not only conservative, but a by-the-book no-nonsense cop. When he was called to Whitey’s Tavern one night because of a disturbance, he found the disturbance to be Mary. He cuffed her and took her out of the building, but by the time he got her to the station, they both realized they’d found their soul mate. Okay, seems unlikely that water and electricity could form a soul mate duo, but they did and they realized it right away.

Shortly after their marriage Estelle came along. She was a future cop just like dad.

Creighton followed, but completely unlike dad, Cray was a diffident, non-confrontational fellow who did not want anything to do with being a police officer. He became a pretty good accountant however.

Bad day for Cray. His father died and Cray got fired the same day. Then hoping to keep Mary at home with him and his family until after the funeral, he brings her home, but the day after the funeral, unlicensed Mary “borrows” Cray’s car and recruits a couple of old girlfriends she’s known since the seventh grade. They go off together to comfort Mary and that’s when things really go crazy.

Somehow in the end however, everything works out. Mary it turns out isn’t quite as flaky as everyone thought and nobody got killed or hurt…well except for the four dejected and bandaged bikers sitting in jail where they rue the day they ever messed with those three little old ladies.

Hail Marry will be out this month at amazon.com and all the usual suspect book venders and can be pre-ordered at http://writewordsinc.com (Cambridge Books)

I really think you’ll like this one.Hail Mary jpeg 2

“Hail Mary”

At last! My short novel “Hail Mary” is about to be published, probably before the end of June. July  at the latest.

A notable departure from my usual crime/mystery and/or noir fiction, this Hail Mary jpeg 2tragicomedy, “Hail Mary” follows three, well make that four people as they survive a couple of days of confusion, fear, danger, laughter and grief.

Many find it hard to believe that free-spirit Mary and hard-nosed, by-the-book retired cop, Harry “Bulldog” Drummond could be soul mates, but they are. Make that were. After over forty years of fighting and making up, Mary awakes to find the Bulldog dead.

As this happens, their diffident son, Creighton, an accountant goes to work happily expecting the raise his boss, John McClatchy has practically promised. Instead of a raise however, Creighton sees a plum payroll account slip through his fingers and in the ensuing discussion, actually trying to assert himself for once, Cray goes about it in the wrong way and gets himself fired on the spot.

Now, coming home despondent and jobless with a wife and two kids, two mortgages, payments on his wife’s SUV and a lazy dog, Cray learns the news that his father has just died.

Creighton and his wife, Celie, decide to help Mary get through this by bringing her to stay with them until after the funeral.

It turns out that their attentions are not quite enough and Mary gets in touch with a couple of women from their school days. She “borrows” Cray’s car, and the trio go off on what turns out to be one wild ride, not just on the ground but in the air as they get high in more than one way.

After two days of harrowing experiences for the women as well as for a hapless Creighton, Mary comes back down to earth help Cray and his family get back on track.

The only unhappy participants at the end of this ride are the four hard-ass bikers in jail nursing their injuries and regretting ever having messed with those three little old ladies.

That’s just a small part of the goings-on when these three slightly tarnished “Golden Girls” get out and about.

“Hail Mary”

     ISBN — Print:  978-1-61386-369-5 — e-book:  978-1-61386-370-1

Pre-order your copy today from http://writewordsinc.com

Soon available as a Kindle book, Nook etc.

“A study in family dynamics. This is a fine tale with lessons for those who face tragic situations.” — Anne K. Edwards “Murder in Paradise”

“I laughed more in this book than in any I’ve ever read.” — Martha A. Cheves  “The good, the Bad, the Maybe”

 

 

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