New Amazon Review: Characters to care alot about

A new review for Harkness on Amazon:

Characters to care alot about

Amazon Verified Purchase(What's this?)

This review is from: Harkness: A High Desert Mystery (Kindle Edition)

It's always a throw of the dice to buy and read a first-time novel from a new writer. I won, with this one. Mr. Bigham has given us a real community, a gruesome murder, and a detective we can care about. Harkness is flawed, not quite sure he is up to the job, yet in his quiet, uncertain way, shows us the woman he loves, the politics of a true small community, and he manages to figure things things out.

I have to admit I am disappointed there aren't more books from Michael Bigham. Readers who love a filled-out character, a real place, and a true mystery will love Harkness. I'm a real fan. Let's hope Bigham is working on more of Harkness to give us.

 Yup, I'm working on the next installment in the Harkness series. The working title is An Alien of a Different Sort. I'm hoping to have it out by the end of the year.

If you're interested in reading Harkness: A High Desert Mystery, it is available on Amazon and Barnes and Noble.

Revising the manuscript

In a previous post, I mentioned that I tend to revise drastically.  An example, this is the first draft of  first page of Chapter 1 of my mystery novel in progress:

 

The wiener dog growled at the footsteps on the stairs.  Two men by the sound of them, one wearing taps. “Jesus H. Christ,” I said when they reached the bottom, “you fellers sure are quick.  Agnes Flehardy just left.”

“I don’t know to what you are referring,” the tall one said.  He was all Adam’s apple, elbows and the brash arrogance of youth.

“You’re government men,” I said.

“How so?” said the short, broad one.  He looked the type that went into bars looking for fights. I’d done it myself.

“Florsheims, fedoras, grey flannel and packing heat.  You’re either G-men or gangsters, and there ain’t no reason for gangsters to be sneaking around God’s country.”

“I’m Ivy,” the short one said.  His suit was something from a mail order catalog. “This is Slocum.  We’re with the FBI.” He flashed his identification card.

I glanced at the card. “Sheriff Matthew Harkness at your service. You’ve come regarding the flying saucers,”

“Flying saucers?”  Slocum put his hands in his pockets. Better suit, tailored.  East coast money, I figured.

“I’ve had half a dozen reports of lights in the sky over Grizzly Mountain. Folks think we’re about to be invaded by aliens.”

Not bad, but not what I was seeking.  Here's my next pass:

Blood dripped from the maw of the log grinder. Bits of viscera hung to the blades. “Ollie,” I said, “go back to college so you won’t have to deal with this shit for the rest of your life.”

It wasn’t as if I hated lumber mills. I’d worked in this one after the War, pulling green chain, sorting finished lumber; brutal work, sweltering in summer, freezing in winter; choking on the sawdust that plugged my pores, settled into my clothes; after a shift, all I could smell was the dust.

The dust, the heat and the hard work were tolerable, but I couldn’t stand the noise; the screaming whine of the head saw biting into fresh logs. A scream you heard miles away. Always there, hammering at me, a presence more than a sound, it vibrated down into the soul, pushing up dark voices, pushing me into madness. I still worried about the madness.

The mill was quiet now; just me, a young mill jock named Ollie Binam and some poor sod that had gone through the grinder. Only bits of flesh and chunks of bone remained. Whoever this had been, we’d have to pack him back to the morgue in buckets.

My knees cracked as I stood up. “Run me through how you discovered the body,” I said to Ollie.

Chapter One is preceded by a prologue which I've completed but won't post here. ( A writer has to have his secrets). My first pass spoke to elements of the plot, but the second attempt speaks to the inciting incident, the murder. When I was plotting the book out in my head, I figured that the discovery of the body would be at the end of Chapter 1 or the beginning of Chapter 2, but I  realized that the murder would be the compelling force for Harkness, my protagonist. The lights in the sky and the FBI are important, but since the story is from Harkness' POV, I have to go with what drives him.

There's a poem in them there hills.

Blogs of Note

Bookendings by Yvonne Horton

After leaving police work, I got an MFA at Vermont College of Fine Arts. Being a fiction writer, I hung out with other fiction writers. We didn't talk much, but spent most of our time hammering away on our stories in the computer lab. The creative non-fiction folks were there too, though they would take time off to debate the true nature of creative non-fiction. Hint: Never, ever ask a creative non-fiction writer about the rules of their genre unless you have a couple of hours to kill. They're very passionate about it and everyone has a different opinion. Then there were the poets, ah the poets, they'd sit out on the grass, smoke cigarettes, drink wine and chat. Just chat. God, how I wanted to be a poet.

Yvonne Horton's blog is a true poet's website: great design, passionate poems, weighty, well-thought out essays. It is a blog to which I aspire.


sljameswriting

sljameswriting is another poet's blog. Sian James is a poet and fiction writer from Derby in the East Midlands of England. She's currently working on a poem a day project.  It's well worth a visit.

Photo of the Day

Birthing a novel

God, I hate starting a new writing project - I'm not a notecard kind of guy, so I try to pull together the whole thing in my head - developing plot points, fleshing out characters, establishing narrative peaks. Oh, I do write stuff down, but I'm not organized enough to do a detailed outline. Julian May once said that she does a very detailed outline, then does one draft - just one draft.  Ha! As if.

My last novel was a straight mystery.  This one might be a little more adventurous. Same era, 1952; same setting, Oregon High Desert; same protagonist; Sheriff Matthew Harkness, but with more added punch - maybe Commie hunting FBI agents and flying saucers.  Then again, maybe not. Where I begin and where I end in my writing often are two widely disparate places.  When I revise, especially from first draft to second, it's usually not just a word here or there, but massive changes in direction Here's a sample of the second scene of a very rough Chapter 1.

-->

I squinted up against the slanting late afternoon sunlight and meandered down Main Street.  The old, lame and diseased sat in rocking chairs on the covered portico that fronted the south side of the Ochoco Inn.  It almost being the weekend, those poor folks had come into town from all over the state, seeking the healing touch of our local faith healer, Jessica Love. Among them, were a couple of locals, Prometheus Hawthorne and some old fart I’d seen before, but couldn’t name.

Theus hailed me.  “Sheriff, come and meet my grandfather.”

“Sisyphus Jones, I presume.”

The old man glanced at me with flint eyes.  “You’re not as funny a feller as you think you are,” he said.

“Some people like my humor.”

“His name is Hank.” Theus spit a brown glob of tobacco off the porch and onto the pine board sidewalk. “Grandpa was telling me about the time he met Wyatt Earp down in Arizona.”

“So you were around when the Earps shot it out with the Clanton gang?” I said.

“Gunned them down, more like.”  The old man’s face was like scarred up leather, brown and broken.  “It wasn’t much of a fair fight.”

“No need to fight fair when your life is on the line.”

“Gramps is here to see Jessie Love and get healed.”

“Rheumatism,” the old man added.

As we chatted, Ed Dilkes sidled up to us.  He poked me in the ribs with a finger.  “Here tell we’ve got reports of flying saucers.” Dilkes was the editor and publisher of the local newspaper.  I’d deck a lesser man for that. Dilkes was a pesky man, but one with a certain moral compass. I admired him for that.

“Pardon the interruption, boys,” I said. “but Mr.  Dilkes has no sense of couth.”

“Don’t know a newspaper man worth his salt that does,” Dilkes said. “Now about them saucers.”

I grabbed Dilkes by the elbow and steered him away from the Joneses. “You’re crazy.”

“And federal agents are poking around, looking for little green men.” Dilkes was a narrow-faced man with a blue-black beard and rapid-fire east coast speech.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” Sometime the best lie is the grand lie.

Dilkes rubbed his palms together.  “Feds and flying saucers, gosh, this is going to be a great story.”

“If you didn’t have three kids and a pretty wife, I’d wring your scrawny neck.”  He hadn’t tumbled to the commie list yet, but knowing Dilkes, he would sooner than later.

“You remember when they had those saucer sightings up in Portland?  ’47, I think it was.”  A steno pad and pencil appeared in his hands.

“I was still down in Frisco back then,” I said. 

“Bunch of folks saw them flying over Oaks Park, including a couple of policemen.  All over the Oregonian for weeks.  Government said it was weather balloons.”

“I am skeptical of everything, but dismiss nothing.”

“Me too.  How about an exclusive.”

“How ‘bout an exclusive kick in the ass.”

Dilkes laughed. “You still on the wagon?”

“What does that have to do with the price of ‘tators?”

“I’m just watching out for you.”

“I watch out for myself, thank you all the same.” I lit up a cigarette.  The smoke felt good in my lungs.

“There’s a meeting of folks trying to stay sober down at the Community Church on Wednesday nights.  You’d be welcome if you decided to poke your head in.”

“Not much of a church-going sort.  Mother was, a brimstone Baptist.  We’d go to church, then when we got home, she’d whip me with a strap, just ‘cause.”

Dilkes was smart enough not to ask, but he did anyway. “’Cause?”

“Cause she could, ‘cause my old man up and died when I was eight. ‘Cause she was a mean bitch. ‘Cause I have no fucking idea.  That enough?”

“Don’t have to get sore about it.”

“Ain’t sore at you, Ed, but the whole thing left me sore at the world.”

“Door’s always open.”

“Appreciate that,” I said.  We parted with a handshake.  I meandered by Doc Silverman’s office.  He’d told me once that he had been a Commie back before the War. Him, being one of my few true friends in this county, I thought I’d tell him about the FBI on their witch-hunt.  He wasn’t there, so I decided to drop by the high school and palaver with the science teacher, Malgauss.  I wasn’t too partial to commies, but I was less partial to G-men stirring up problems in my county.

Comments?

Self-publishing promotion and other stuff

Novel Contests

An ad in the current Poets and Writers caught my interest: Novel contest with a $5,000 prize. No money up front.  "What could go wrong?" I asked myself.  The contest is sponsored by Inkubate, a service that promises to "show writers’ works to publishers and agents".  Great idea, but I already have a publisher, Muskrat Press, a small press established by a couple of my writing buddies, Jeannie Burt and Lisa Alber and myself. My goal isn't to find a publisher or agent, but to promote my book. Winning literary prizes will help, but to enter the Inkubate contest, you need to create a profile on their website and upload your novel to their servers.  Honestly, I'm not willing to do that. Though I haven't found any bad press about Inkubate and it may legitimately help writers get published, the whole concept makes me leery.

For me the prize money is secondary to the exposure. So, I'm going to pony up some bucks and enter the Independent Publisher Book Award Contest. "Established as the first awards program open exclusively to independents, the "IPPYs" recognize hundreds of the year's best books, giving them instant credibility and bringing them to the attention of booksellers, buyers, librarians, and book lovers around the world." Entries cost $95 per title per category for printed books, an additional $55 if you enter the regional contest and $55 for e-book entries. 

Blogs of Note

Molly Greene: Writer

 I've been trying to figure out how to use Twitter as a promotion tool.  In that journey, I've found a couple of blogs worth your attention.  One is by Molly Greene called, simply enough, Molly Greene: Writer.  It's packed with information for the self-published or small press author.  An entry that I found particularly fascinating was on Kobo Writing Life.  If you've published an e-book, you probably know about Amazon Kindle Direct Publishing and Barnes and Noble Pubit, but those outlets only cover a portion of the market.  While Amazon focuses on America, Kobo reaches out to the rest of the world. Better yet, it uses the epub format, so if you've converted your files for the Nook, you're all set for uploading to Kobo.  Just one of the tidbits on Molly's blog, it's a great resource for the emerging novelist.



Ksenia Anske

Another blog worth checking out is Ksenia Anske's blog.  She's an emerging novelist with a great voice. Voice is the toughest skill for a writer to master - some writers are born with it, some have to struggle a long time to develop it.  Ksenia is born with it. Her voice is strong and clear and well worth reading.  Check out her novel excerpt on her blog and you can say you knew her when.

A word of warning though, her prose can be dark. The title of her novel in progress is Siren Suicides.  As someone who worked as a counselor on a suicide hotline, I found the passage to be engaging and authentic.

High up on the east side of the Oregon Cascades.

Cover Art

When it came time to do the cover art for my novel, I wanted to work with someone locally here in Portland.  I looked at several sources, including Craigslist and web searches, but ended up using elance.  Sorting through the local graphics designers there, MacKenzie Griffith.  McKenzie did a great job, though I must admit the process took quite awhile.  Part of the reason was procrastination on my part.  To do well in this process, you need to have an idea of what you're looking for in a cover before contacting someone.  I really didn't. 

Cover art can cost anywhere from $149 from Bookbaby to several thousand dollars from an established designer.  Some author opt to do the design work themselves.  If you're doing that, make sure that the images you use are in the public domain and make sure that you meet the requirements for both e-books and the print versions.  A good resource for examples for retro cover art is Dave Lewis' blog: Davy Crockett's Almanack.

For me, a professional designer was a necessity.  I probably could have muddled through the ebook cover which are jpegs, but the print versions require conversion to pdf.  I wasn't willing to shell out $650 for a copy of inDesign and take the time to learn the ins and outs of the program.  The requirements for both e-book and print versions are exacting.  It's better to have it done right the first time.

Oh yeah, my novel is now available at Amazon.  How cool is that?

Editor-in-Chief:  A Publishing Journey

When you're publishing a novel on your own, perhaps the most important step is to put your ego aside and spring for a professional editor.  You're too close to your own work and your writer friends might be helpful, but you need someone who knows their business.  The surest way to turn off your reader is with a novel full of typos, misspellings and grammar errors.

When my time came, I looked around at various options, both local and online.  I finally settled on Lynn O'Dell of Red Adept Publishing.  At the time I subscribed to Lynn's blog, Red Adept Reviews.  Alas, the review site has closed up its doors, but editing site is up and running.  Lynn's price was reasonable, perhaps even more so when you realize what you get.  She copy edits your manuscript, providing feedback both by phone and e-mail.  After each revision, she reviews the manuscript again until you're satisfied with the draft.  That draft then goes to a couple of different proof readers.  By the time they're done, your manuscript is sparkling clean.  Not only that, but the process picks up other errors along the way. In my novel, Harkness, I had Mussolini's body hanging from a lamppost in Rome.  One of the proofreaders pointed out that it was actually in Milan.  Nice catch.

If your manuscript needs more than copy editing, I think there are two choices -- first, find yourself a solid writer's group, one focused on your genre and also workshops your manuscript. If your manuscript is complete and needs some serious input, you might think about a manuscript consultant.  I wouldn't recommend this unless you're very serious.  I used one of my instructors in the Vermont College MFA program, Ellen Lesser. She isn't cheap, but she is very, very good.  This is one service I wouldn't get from an ad in the back of a writer's magazine.  Check around with your writer friends, see if there's someone they would recommend.  Read the consultant's work.  If they haven't published, move on to someone else.  Published writers are good, MFA instructors are better.  Don't expect them to do your work for you, you're the author, they're helping you round your manuscript into shape.  After working with Ellen, I realized my novel needed a complete make over.  The characters and general plot would remain the same, but the basic structure needed to be remodeled.  I'm still working on that one.

Wentworth and Combs - A publishing journey

Some writer friends (Jeannie, Lisa, Wendy, Dawn and I are starting up a independent publishing house and I'll be documenting our journey here. Right now, we're in the preliminary stages -- I've registered our dba (doing business as) name with the Secretary of State. Jeannie has nailed down the domain name for our website. We're starting to hash out our business plan and talk about forming an LLC (Limited Liability Company).

In the coming days, I'll talk about resources, lawyers, our publishing plan, converting manuscripts to e-files for the Kindle, Nook and iTunes, designing book covers, dealing with POD (Print on Demand) issues, marketing, post-publication and whatever else comes up.

Missed Connections - Part II

We passed in the parking lot, you smiled and said hello.

and another

I wasn't paying attention and walked out into the street.
You hit me. Silver VW Beetle convertible.
I survived.
You were startled. And enchanting and gorgeous.
I need to see you again.

Missed Connections

I got on the train, redline said AIRPORT on it...was going to ride it to the convention ctr but got off at oak and 1st...i stood for a bit then sat next to you....even spoke to you but you seemed less then interested. Shame really , I thought you were devine, beautiful eyes...smile, all of it....I said wow the seats are crowded and you said what? then i guess just shrugged me off....Sorry i bothered you....Just wanted to say you are very handsome.

Gleaned from Craigslist - Missed Connections, it almost reads like poetry.

Journey to the Dark Side - Part Deux

Once I was a PC snob, I've converted to the dark side, bought myself a MacBook and now I am a confirmed Mac Nerd.

The Machine

What I like about the Mac:

The Leopard operating system is rock solid.  I've owned my Macbook for over a month and the system has yet to crash.  Boot times for my Dell would take several minutes, for the Mac it runs about 30 seconds and most of the time, I just close it up without turning off the system.  It pops right back up the moment I open the lid.  When I try that it XP, it system would go into a fatal sleep mode.

My MacBook is half the size of my Dell and the batteries seem to discharge much more slowly.  The built-in wireless card connects to my Buffalo wireless network without a hitch.  I connected my laptop to my Canon printer and the system recognized the printer and started printing without a hitch.   I was nervous about getting just 2 gigs of RAM - that's just barely enough memory to run Vista, but apparently that's more than enough memory for the Mac.  So far, it seems to handle everything I've thrown at it.

Programs are seamlessly integrated together.  No need to futz around with settings trying to make programs make nice with each other.

Backup using Time Machine is a dream.  I purchased an external Passport HD, reformatted it for the Mac and hooked it up to the USB port on my Mac.  Time Machine did the rest.  Backups are painless and run in the background.

Oh yeah, the all aluminum case is way cool.

What I don't like:

The glass track pad is a moderate pain in the kiester.  Apple did issue a software patch for it, but it still glitches from time to time.

Software:

Being cheap, I opted for iWork instead of Microsoft Office.  Although iWork Pages saves documents in its own format, it can read Word files.  To save in Word, I have to 'export' the file.  Most Mac software is thought of as being more 'intuitive' that Windows, but I'm not convinced.  There's still a learning curve which system you use.  I generally like Pages.  My biggest gripe is that it didn't come with a manual - so help is on disk or on-line.  Whoever designed it wasn't a writer.  Formatting page numbers, especially starting a novel chapter at any page other than page 1, requires plowing through menus.  It's much easier with Word.

Safari vs. Firefox  I haven't tried Firefox for the Mac, Safari satisfies most of my needs.  It doesn't have the Window's version of  Firefox's capability to block ads or install a wide variety of plug-ins, but then again, Safari doesn't have the memory leaks that plague Firefox either.

iPhoto seems lightweight in comparison to Photoshop Elements, so I opted to purchase PE.  I've installed it, but haven't used it much.  To be effective, I'll need to try to hook the laptop up to a monitor.

My biggest gripe on software is the lack of a decent financial management program.  I'd been using MS Money on my PC, but that isn't available for the Mac.  Reviews for Quicken for Mac are abysmal, so I've been searching for something to manage my money.  I tried a turkey called Cha-Ching.  It's a dog, don't bother.  I recently bought something called Checkbook which is okay, but not as sophisticated as Money.  It'll do for now, but there's a market out there for a programmer willing to work on it.

I love my MacBook.  So much so, that I'm thinking about replacing my Dell desktop with an iMac.  Sigh, how far the mighty PC snob has fallen.

The Shoeing of the President

The scary thing about this video isn't some guy tossing his shoe at the President.  Hey, more power to him.  The scary thing is the sloppy response by the Secret Service.  Watch the one agent sitting to Bush's right.  He must have his thumb up his ass as he never really responds to the threat.  Replace shoes with a weapon and the President is toast.

Switching to the Dark Side

I've finally succumbed and turned to the dark side.  I've given up on Windows and bought a Mac  Book.  I'd told myself I'd never buy another Apple after they dumped the Apple II line.  My first computer was a beauty - an A motherboard Apple IIe with 64 K of ram (that's kilobytes my friend) and dual 128 5 1/4 inch floppy drives.  It came with a state of the art 10" green and black screen.  That puppy put me back $2500 (that's in 1979 dollars) and I must say it was love at first sight.  I eventually added another 64 K of ram: cost $120, a 10 megabyte hard drive that sounded like a vacuum cleaner and was the size of a small suitcase: cost $500 and a Brother clackity-clack dot matrix printer: cost $300.  The Apple IIe eventually ended up running a creative writing BBS called The Blue Parrot.  The Parrot was up and running for 5 years, an eternity for BBSs in pre-Internet days, then my power supply croaked. Sigh.

Saying no way to Apple products, I drifted from the Atari ST (great machine, no user base) into the IBM world.  Microsoft DOS sucked, Windows was even worse, but like most clones, I made do the best I could.

A few months ago, my Dell Inspiration showed ominous signs of pending failure:  boot errors, frequent blue screens of death - common enough with Windows, but the frequency was increasing.  I looked around - XP was on the way out the door and Vista sounded like hell on earth.  I looked at the new Macbook-a little light on ram , but the reviews were good and the operating system seemed solid.  I said what the hell and plunked down $1300 and took that puppy home.

I haven't been disappointed.

Next:  A review of the computer and software from a long time computer nerd perspective.

 

War with Spain?

John McCain wants to fire long time Republican hack and SEC Chairman, Chris Cox, apparently because McCain believes Cox is to blame for our recent financial crisis by not regulating hedge funds and the trading of derivatives. John seems to forget that Cox had nothing to do with AIG, Lehman Brothers and Washington Mutual crashing and burning. Rather, this crisis was a long time coming and grew from the Republican-driven deregulation of the real estate, insurance and banking industries, which just happened to be championed by George Bush and John McCain. Now, instead of fixing the mess, McCain throws Cox under the bus and calls for a long-term '9-11 like' commission to study the mess while our economy goes further down the crapper.

This just in: In a bizzare interview with Cadena SER, John McCain either thinks that Spain lies somewhere south of Mexico or those darned Iberians just can't be trusted. The link is here:

Ben Stein Says What He Really Thinks

I'm not a big Ben Stein fan, but I've got to admire his candor.

Be Scared America, Be VERY Scared

This woman doesn't know her ass from a hole in the ground.

He doth protest too much

John McCain seemed to take great offense at Obama's lipstick on a pig comment.

Here's righteous John using the same term in reference to Hillary Clinton.



John, I really admire how you can talk out of both sides of your mouth at the same time. Did you learn that from George?

Football Follies

A review of the week two's action by a Duck homer

Washington 27
BYU 28
I hate the Huskies, I hate Seattle, I hate purple and gold, but with that being said, the Huskies got jobbed last weekend. The referee made a strict interpretation of a bad rule. Locker's enthusiasm cost the Dawgs a shot at winning the game and it wasn't his fault.

Oregon State 14
Penn State 45
Are the Beavers that bad or is Penn State that good? I know Riley's teams start slow, but I'm not sure they'll recover from what looks like a 1-4 start.

Utah State 24
Oregon 66
Much joy in Duckdom, but I saw a couple of errors that need to be corrected. Their first real test comes up this week on the road at Purdue.

California 66
WSU 3
This score says more about WSU lack of talent and coaching than California's overall strength.

Stanford 17
ASU 41
I actually expected more from Stanford in this game. ASU is loaded. Look out Pac 10.

Toledo 16
Arizona 41
Arizona beats up on another lower tier team. They'll continue the trend next week when they crush New Mexico.

UCLA 27
Tennesee 24
Make no mistake, Tennesee may have been overrated, but Neuheisel is a great game coach. Expect BYU to have their hands full this weekend.

PAC 10 Power Rankings

The Haves:

1. USC - The Trojans are the king until deposed, though I think that someone along the line will knock them off this year. Take the Trojans over Ohio State and give the 10 points. It'll end up being a laugher.

2. Oregon - The Ducks have some the best skill people in the conference and maybe the best offensive coordinator in the nation with Chip Kelly. Their problem will be keeping enough people healthy to finish as well as they start.

3. ASU - Many don't care for Dennis Erickson, but he's one hell of a coach. The problem with him is that he has happy feet and won't stay anywhere for too long. The Sun Devils won't break a sweat with UNLV.

4. Cal - Another team with a great coach. Like the Ducks they have problems finishing the season as strong as they start. They shouldn't have many problems with Maryland.


The Dark Horses:

5. UCLA - The domination in LA is over. I give the Bruins as much chance as anyone to upset USC this year. Neuheisel's problem isn't in his coaching, but in his management style. He left his last two teams in shambles after his departure.. Expect UCLA to do well for a couple of years, then start a slow slide into mediocracy. Until then though, they'll be hell on wheels.

6. Arizona - Mike Stoops doesn't have the coaching talent of some other PAC 10 coaches, but he has had some good recruiting years that are starting to pay off.

7. Stanford - The Cardinal showed some spark against the Beavs, but stumbled against ASU. They'll be up and down this year, but don't be surprised if they upset one or two of the 'Haves' along the way.


The Have-Nots:

8. Washington - As much as I despise the Huskies, I think Willingham is a decent man and a pretty fair coach. The program was in such a mess when he took over, that it'll take time to right the ship. The bad news for him is that the boosters with bucks are calling for his head. They should do something more productive like putting time and effort into upgrading their facilities.

9. OSU - Riley's teams are an enigma. They roll over and whimper for Cinncinatti and Penn State, then pop up and beat Oregon and USC. I watched their spring game this year and but for a few exceptions, Sammie Slaughter for one, the talent just isn't there. No bowl for the Beavs this year.

10. WSU - When Mike Price let his gonads overload his brain in the strip club a couple of years ago, the Cougs should have taken him back no questions asked. He's one of the few coaches that could win with any regularity up in Pullman. Their only chance for a win this year might be against Portland State, but then again, Jerry Glanville has that game circled in red.

Sarah Palin's Hitlist

Books that Sarah Palin wanted while she was mayor of Wallisa, Alaska.

A Clockwork Orange by Anthony Burgess (most un-Christian ultra-violence not in the cause of Christian warriors)

The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn by Mark Twain (not sure why but I know a bannable book when I see it!)

A Wrinkle in Time by Madeleine L'Engle

Annie on My Mind by Nancy Garden

As I Lay Dying by William Faulkner ("N"-word and disrespectful to Confederacy)

The Bastard by John Jakes (its naughty title an attack on the idea of childbirth only after holy wedlock -- did you hear that, Bristol???)

Blubber by Judy Blume (general naughtiness, faintly salacious title)

Brave New World by Aldous Huxley (utopianism and socialism)

Bridge to Terabithia by Katherine Paterson (unwholesome fantasy)

The Canterbury Tales by Chaucer (classic smut, or smoote, if you will; un-Christian depiction of female sexual desire)

Carrie by Stephen King (Christian girls shouldn't know about menstruation)

Catch-22 by Joseph Heller (mocks the military; disrespectful of God's calling to kill enemies, both foreign & domestic)

The Catcher in the Rye by J.D. Salinger (promotion of morbid individualism, lack of respect for caring, nurturing parents and teachers)

The Chocolate War by Robert Cormier (subversion of Christian fund-raising endeavors)

Christine by Stephen King (disrespectful of classic Detroit automobiles and sacred MADE IN USA in a Saipan Sweatshop" ethos)

The Color Purple by Alice Walker (attack on fundamental values keeping a Christian home and society together by well-known socialist)

Confessions by Jean-Jacques Rousseau (Christian children shouldn't be exposed to masturbating Utopians who are ur-Communists)

Cujo by Stephen King (disrespectful of dogs, a Christian man's best friend)

Curses, Hexes, and Spells by Daniel Cohen (black magick!)

Daddy's Roommate by Michael Willhoite (promotion of faggotry)

Day No Pigs Would Die by Robert Peck (disrespectful of Christian values in denigrating "the other white meat"; promotion of un-Christian vegetarianism, which is particularly distasteful in gun 'n huntin' happy Alaska where Sarah Palin rules as Diana, Mistress of the Hunt)

Death of a Salesman by Arthur Miller (mocking the American Dream and Protestant Work ethic; NOTE: Marilyn Monroe's commie-symp non-Christian ex-husband defied the House Un-American Activities Committee which was doing God's own work by attempting to clean out the Hollywood pig sty)

Decameron by Boccaccio (classic filth, or fylthe if you will)

The Devil's Alternative by Frederick Forsyth (provides comfort to Lucifer, the Son of the Morning Star, the Enemy of the One True God)

East of Eden by John Steinbeck (teenage rebellion, unauthorized interpretation of Book of Genesis, written by commie-symp)

Fallen Angels by Walter Myers (disrespectful of God's chosen agents of change)

Fanny Hill (Memoirs of a Woman of Pleasure) by John Cleland (Dirty Book, or "D.B." if you will -- Along with Lady Chatterly's Lover and Tropic of Cancer, this is the granddaddy of all D.B.s!)

The Figure in the Shadows by John Bellairs ("figure" is a word that can be used for naughty ends to promote naughty minds)

Flowers For Algernon by Daniel Keyes (debases belief in miracles)

Forever by Judy Blume (smut for teenagers)

The Grapes of Wrath by John Steinbeck (witches brew of socialism and smut; promotes cruelty to animals, specifically, our terrapin friends)

The Great Gilly Hopkins by Katherine Paterson

Grendel by John Gardner (bad language, disrespectful of classic Nordic literature no one has ever read)

The Handmaid's Tale by Margaret Atwood (attack on author's Christian fundamentalist betters)

Halloween ABC by Eve Merriam (pagan evil)

Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone by J.K. Rowling (see above)

Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets by J.K. Rowling (ditto)

Harry Potter and the Prizoner of Azkaban by J.K. Rowling (ditto)

Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire by J.K. Rowling (ditto)

Have to Go by Robert Munsch

Heather Has Two Mommies by Leslea Newman (lesbian crap responsible for rising popularity of Ellen on boob tube)

The Headless Cupid by Zilpha Snyder

How to Eat Fried Worms by Thomas Rockwell (promotion of unsanitary eating habits)

Huckleberry Finn by Mark Twain (Samuel Clemens mocked Christianity as the one true religion)

I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings by Maya Angelou (unacceptable indictment of white Christian paternalism towards our benighted dark brothers and sisters, one with us in Christ)

Impressions edited by Jack Booth (unknown, but author does share surname with authentic Confederate, er, American hero who fought tyranny!)

In the Night Kitchen by Maurice Sendak (promotes un-Christian eating habits)

It's Okay if You Don't Love Me by Norma Klein (author is suspected to be non-Christian)

James and the Giant Peach by Roald Dahl (offended Georgia fruit lobby)

Lady Chatterley's Lover by D.H. Lawrence (D.B., see note Fanny Hill)

The Learning Tree by Gordon Parks

Leaves of Grass by Walt Whitman (unwholesome gay propaganda wholly injurious to young, developing Christian minds)

Little Red Riding Hood by Jacob and Wilhelm Grimm

The Living Bible by William C. Bower (undermines the literal Word of God!)

Lord of the Flies by William Golding (see Note for It's Okay if You Don't Love Me)

Love is One of the Choices by Norma Klein (ditto)

Lysistrata by Aristophanes (it's a Greek thing and therefore unwholesome and un-Christian)

The Merchant of Venice by William Shakespeare (undermines the Christian ideal of the sanctity of a contract no matter who is party to the deal; on the other hand, it does feature a conversion to Christ)

More Scary Stories in the Dark by Alvin Schwartz (subversive)

My Brother Sam Is Dead by James L incoln Collier and Christopher Collier

My House by Nikki Giovanni

My Friend Flicka by Mary O'Hara (Papist pagan horse-worship by author with allegiance to anti-Christ in Rome)

The New Teenage Body Book by Kathy McCoy and Charles Wibbelsman (kiddie porn!)

Night Chills by Dean Koontz

Of Mice and Men by John Steinbeck (supports euthanasia for both man and beast)

On My Honor by Marion Dane Bauer

One Day in The Life of Ivan Denisovich by Alexander Solzhenitsyn (not quite sure about this one but obviously, if the say it should be banned, I'm for banning it!)

One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest by Ken Kesey (although its revelation of the Wall St.-money Easterners dominated "Combine" is appreciated, Kesey subverts American values by supporting euthanasia and offending the American Medical Association by an oblique attack on the medical profession via Big Nurse)

One Hundred Years of Solitude by Gabriel Garcia Marquez (commie-symp trash)

Ordinary People by Judith Guest (glamorizes suicide and teenage lust!

Our Bodies, Ourselves by Boston Women's Health Collective (pornography)

The Pigman by Paul Zindel

Prince of Tides by Pat Conroy (any book "good enough" for Barbra Streisand is good enough to be banned!)

Revolting Rhymes by Roald Dahl (filth)

Scary Stories 3: More Tales to Chill Your Bones by Alvin Schwartz

Scary Stories in the Dark by Alvin Schwartz

The Seduction of Peter S. by Lawrence Sanders (the "S" word)

Separate Peace by John Knowles (glamorization of Eastern Establishment that is in league with communist Russia)

The Shining by Stephen King (promotion of un-Christian spiritual values such as telepathy; promotion of unhealthy disrespect for paternal figures; historical revisionism -- someone told me that the book was an indictment of Christian America's treatment of the pagan red Indian)

Silas Marner by George Eliot (undermines notions of Christian thrift and industry)

Slaughterhouse-Five by Kurt Vonnegut, Jr. (mocks good Christian warriors and the Good War)

Tarzan of the Apes by Edgar Rice Burroughs (attack on Christian values)

Then Again, Maybe I Won't by Judy Blume (D.B. writer targeting teens)

To Kill A Mockingbird by Harper Lee (undermines Christian values by questioning the "peculiar" order of things in the South, possibly ghost-written by notorious homosexual)

Twelfth Night by William Shakespeare (celebration of pagan values by cross-dressing English fairycake)

Webster's Ninth New Collegiate Dictionary by the Merriam-Webster Editorial Staff (motherload of dirty words)

The Witches by Roald Dahl (Roald Dahl has a naughty mind!)

The Witches of Worm by Zilpha Snyder

Witches, Pumpkins, and Grinning Ghosts: The Story of the Halloween Symbols by Edna Barth (primer for pagans)


Webster's 9th? My Friend Flicka? Sarah, get a life.

The Road to Cambodia Pt. 1

B-52s drop bombs the size of Chryslers and the earth shivers beneath our boots. Whomp. Whomp. Whomp. We're bivouacked halfway between Loch Ninh and Snuol on the wrong side of the fucking Cambodian border and our Captain who sent us here said, "Go for the glory boys, but remember this operation is off the books. We can't come and get you." Fucking thanks, pal. We're bivouacked half a klick east of Highway 13, waiting for night so we can creep back to the highway and reconnoiter the North Vietnamese regulars streaming down the Ho Chi Minh Trail and tell the Air Force where to drop their bombs except they've already started without us.

"Let's frag the L.T.," the H-man says.

"You're fucking nuts," I say. The H-man is my best friend here by default. He's a crazy red-headed fucker, prone to practical jokes which only serve to piss people off. He also has introduced me to the whore houses in Saigon and taught me how to mainline heroin, though I'm much more of a psychedelic kind of guy. H-man is an acquired taste that most don't appreciate, but I've discovered he's absolutely the best man to cover your ass in a firefight.

"No, seriously," he says. "He's an asshole."

I slap at a little stinging bug and another bites me on the backside of the knee. "Got anymore jungle juice," I say.

"It doesn't work," H-man stands and starts pacing. He has no stomach for waiting.

"I feel better doing something," I say. There are four of us on this little soire. There used to be five, but fucking Murphy shot off his big toe just as the helicopter was dropping us off. It was on purpose. We all knew the score, but it's his toe. His life.

"Roy," H says, "let's frag the L.T."

"I'm cool," Roy nods his head to a tune only he can hear. Roy's real name is Leroy Rogers, but everyone call's him Roy since the H-man made the mistake of calling him LEE-roy in an insulting way and Roy, though being 40 pounds lighter than H, cold-cocked him and proceeded to pound H around the head until we pulled him off. They're at peace now, but I expect it won't hold.

"Be cool, H-man", I say. They call me the Bear, mostly because when I was a pre-Med student at Oregon, I was a long-haired shaggy fucker. Lifes been running down hill for me recently. I flunked out of school, got drafted and sent here. My girlfriend, Terry, send me a half-assed Dear Bear letter last week. "Gosh, Michael, I've met the neatest man. His name is Bruce and he's a grad assistant in the Psych department. But we're just friends. " H-man told me to forget her, but I can't.

My other big problem is a killed my first man a couple of weeks ago. Being a pacifist motherfucker, I had promised myself I'd get through this without killing anyone. That changed over near An Loc when we were pulling out after an operation and the VC were on our ass. Sgt. Packston had just taken a round in the chest and I was holding the LZ perimeter so they could load him on the chopper, when this little fucker charged me, and I had no choice to tat, tat, tat, him across the chest and then watch him die. So now Im a killer and full of existential angst and I can't shake the blues.

"I'm coming in", the L.T. says.

"Far out man", Roy says.

The L.T. bursts through the bush breathing hard and says, "Saddle up, boys. Time to hit the trail." He's a ROTC grad from Miami of Ohio and his name is Wilson. He's our L.T. until he's dead or promoted.

"Its still light out," H says.

"They're moving in force", LT says. "Our job is to observe and report."

"Fuck that, man," H says.

"The man said saddle up." Roy unlimbers and climbs to his feet.

"Fine, H says," but it isnt.

Another bug bites me and were all out of bug juice and dope. The bombs keep falling, the earth shivers and we head into hell. Whomp. Whomp. Whomp.