My chair, my pillow, my wife - til death do us part

 In its usual stroke of cleverness and whimsy the U.S. government has an agency named the General Accounting Office. General speaking, it’s an office that accounts for stuff.

Every year or so a very nice lady comes to our office and counts stuff. She’s very thorough. So far she’s kept us on the straight and narrow and nobody has absconded with any of the 30-year-old file cabinets or desks or the fax machine, which I imagine would be very valuable on the black market.

On her most recent visit she poked her head in my office and read the serial numbers on the back of various stuff and checked them off her list and said to me: “Would you like a new chair?”

I said: “No, thanks. I like my chair.”

She persisted: “Really, we could get you a new chair.”

“Thanks, but I really like it.”

“But it has duct tape wrapped around the arms and you have a pillow on the seat.”

It occurred to me I might have committed a federal crime by bringing duct tape from home and wrapping the arms of the chair because it was cracked and the stuffing was coming through. But, I thought, the government wouldn’t be that stupid would it?

I explained: “It took me years to get a chair I liked, that fit my skinny butt and doesn’t hurt my back. It’s perfect.”

“Okay, fine,” she rolled her eyes, “but here’s my card if you ever want one.”

I lost her card, but I still have my chair.

See, when I find something I like I keep it. Like the pillow on my bed.

I think I’ve written about it before, but my wife keeps threatening to throw it away. Sure, she puts a new pillow case on it every week or so, and I will grant her that the pillow may be an actual government threat due to its toxicity. 

It’s yellow from drool and snot and sweat. It’s actually damp, all the time. I put it out on the deck one super hot, windy summer day last summer to dry it out, and it didn’t. I think it actually seeded the clouds and we got some rain that night.

But, now it’s starting to leak stuffing. Its days are numbered. I keep stuffing the stuffing back into the pillow and fold the pillow case over the end at night so the stuffing doesn’t come out all over the bed and encourage my wife’s anti-pillow attitude.

I’ve come to accept that soon I’ll have to relent and I’ll have to replace it.

But it’s like I told my wife of 37 years, you should be happy that when I find something I like a lot, I keep it around. I don’t trade it in for a younger model. That’s bought me some time.

And the lady from GAO just sent our office an email announcing her retirement. My chair dodged that bullet. We outlasted her.

I don’t think the same will be said for my pillow.

Books for the kiddos

 Per usual, I gifted books to the kids this year. I try to tailor them to their interest, some of which may be of interest to the fine readers of this blog. Or not.

For my son-in-law Stetson:

Greenlights by MatthewMcConaughey

“I’ve been in this life for fifty years, been trying to work out its riddle for forty-two, and been keeping diaries of clues to that riddle for the last thirty-five. Notes about successes and failures, joys and sorrows, things that made me marvel, and things that made me laugh out loud. How to be fair. How to have less stress. How to have fun. How to hurt people less. How to get hurt less. How to be a good man. How to have meaning in life. How to be more me.

“Recently, I worked up the courage to sit down with those diaries. I found stories I experienced, lessons I learned and forgot, poems, prayers, prescriptions, beliefs about what matters, some great photographs, and a whole bunch of bumper stickers. I found a reliable theme, an approach to living that gave me more satisfaction, at the time, and still: If you know how, and when, to deal with life’s challenges—how to get relative with the inevitable—you can enjoy a state of success I call “catching greenlights.”

“So I took a one-way ticket to the desert and wrote this book: an album, a record, a story of my life so far. This is fifty years of my sights and seens, felts and figured-outs, cools and shamefuls. Graces, truths, and beauties of brutality. Getting away withs, getting caughts, and getting wets while trying to dance between the raindrops. 

“Hopefully, it’s medicine that tastes good, a couple of aspirin instead of the infirmary, a spaceship to Mars without needing your pilot’s license, going to church without having to be born again, and laughing through the tears.

“It’s a love letter. To life. It’s also a guide to catching more greenlights—and to realizing that the yellows and reds eventually turn green too. Good luck.”

 For daughter Rylee:

The Boys ofRiverside: A Deaf Football Team and a Quest for Glory

“In November 2021, an obscure email from the California Department of Education landed in New York Times reporter, Thomas Fuller’s, inbox. The football team at the California School for the Deaf in Riverside, a state-run school with only 168 high school students, was having an undefeated season. After years of covering war, wildfires, pandemic, and mass shootings, Fuller was captivated by the story of this group of high school boys. It was uplifting. During the gloom of the pandemic, it was a happy story. It was a sports story but not an ordinary one, built on the chemistry between a group of underestimated boys and their superhero advocate coach, Keith Adams, a deaf former athlete himself. The team, and Adams, tackled the many stereotypes and seemed to be succeeding. Fuller packed his bags and drove seven hours to the Riverside campus.

 “The Boys of Riverside looks back at the historic 2021 and 2022 seasons in which the California School for the Deaf chased history. It follows the personal journeys of their dynamic deaf head coach, and a student who spent the majority of the season sleeping in his father’s car in the Target parking lot. It tells the story of a fiercely committed player who literally played through a broken leg in order not to miss a crucial game, as well as myriad other heart-wrenching and uplifting narratives of players who found common purpose. Through their eyes, Fuller reveals a portrait of high school athletics, inspiring camaraderie, and deafness in America.”

 For daughter-in-law Kayla:

Buffalo Girls byLarry McMurtry

“A strange old woman caked in Montana mud pens a letter to her darling daughter back East—the writer's name is Martha Jane, but her friends call her Calamity... I am the Wild West, no show about it. I was one of the people who kept it wild.

 “Larry McMurtry returns to the territory of his Pulitzer Prize–winning masterwork, Lonesome Dove, to sing the song of Calamity Jane's last ride. In a letter to her daughter back East, Martha Jane is not shy about her own importance. Martha Jane—better known as Calamity—is just one of the handful of aging legends who travel to London as part of Buffalo Bill Cody's Wild West Show in Buffalo Girls. As he describes the insatiable curiosity of Calamity's Indian friend No Ears, Annie Oakley's shooting match with Lord Windhouveren, and other highlights of the tour, McMurtry turns the story of a band of hardy, irrepressible survivors into an unforgettable portrait of love, fellowship, dreams, and heartbreak.”

 For my son Luke:

A Field Guide toWhisky: An Expert Compendium to Take Your Passion and Knowledge to the NextLevel

“A Field Guide to Whisky is a one-stop guide for all the information a whisky enthusiast needs. With the whisky market booming all over the world, now is a perfect time for a comprehensive guide to this popular brown spirit. What are the basic ingredients in all whiskies? How does it get its flavor? Which big-name brands truly deserve their reputation? What are the current whisky trends around the world? And who was Jack Daniel, anyway? This abundance of information is distilled(!) into 324 short entries covering basic whisky literacy, production methods, consumption tips, trends, trivia, geographical maps and lists of distilleries, whisky trails, bars, hotels, and festivals by an industry insider. Boasting 230 color photographs and a beautiful package to boot, A Field Guide to Whisky will make a whisky expert out of anyone.”

 For my daughter Katie: 

Like Mother, Like Daughterby Kimberly McReight

“When Cleo, a student at NYU, arrives late for dinner at her childhood home in Brooklyn, she finds food burning in the oven and no sign of her mother, Kat. Then Cleo discovers her mom’s bloody shoe under the sofa. Something terrible has happened.

 “But what? The polar opposite of Cleo, whose “out of control” emotions and “unsafe” behavior have created a seemingly unbridgeable rift between mother and daughter, Kat is the essence of Park Slope perfection: a happily married, successful corporate lawyer. Or so Cleo thinks.

 “Kat has been lying. She’s not just a lawyer; she’s her firm’s fixer. She’s damn good at it, too. Growing up in a dangerous group home taught her how to think fast, stay calm under pressure, and recognize a real threat when she sees one. And in the days leading up her disappearance, Kat has become aware of multiple threats: demands for money from her unfaithful soon-to-be ex-husband; evidence that Cleo has slipped back into a relationship that’s far riskier than she understands; and menacing anonymous messages from her past—all of which she’s kept hidden from Cleo …”

For my son-in-law Kwinn:

Bad Boys of the BlackHills … And Some Wild Women, Too by Barbara Fifer

“The lively romp details some of the Wild West's most engaging stories, specifically in the Black Hills and Deadwood, home to prostitutes and poets, desperados and dancehall girls, fortune tellers and fugitives. Readers will meet a host of rowdies ranging from madams to stagecoach robbers, from tall-tale tellers to killers.

- Profiles more than 95 bad boys, wild women, and engaging events from the 1870s Black Hills

- Features foreword by Jerry Bryant, research curator and historical archaeologist, Adams Museum and House, Black Hills, South Dakota”

 For granddaughter Josie:

Sesame Street ElmoManners Books for Kids

“Featuring Elmo and friends in 8 different storybooks that teach manners. Colorfully illustrated Sesame Street Elmo Manners Books join Elmo as he teaches sharing and caring.

“The perfect books to teach the concept of manners. Includes the following titles: (1) Let's Share; (2) Be Polite; (3) Please and Thank You; (4) Good for You; (5) Taking Turns; (6) Be a Friend; (7) All About Feelings; (8) Working Together.

“Sesame Street Elmo manners books for toddlers and kids are 16 pages each and measure 5x5 inches, soft cover. This Sesame Street manners books set for kids is durable and high quality.”

 

The Christmas Letter

 Having survived two assassination attempts, four federal lawsuits and never-ending criticism from the ladies on The View this past year, I'm still around to deliver the annual, free-of-charge, organic, free-range Haugen Christmas letter. It is not, however, hormone free. So, like sand through an hourglass, these are the days of our lives, the 2024 edition:

First, the bad news. Nancy's mom, Monica, passed away last February. It left a big hole in the heart of Nancy and all the family. While I was the leader of the mother-in-law jokes, I think about her often. She was a force of nature. My favorite, most-recent memory of her was during a visit and we attended Mass in Hermosa. During the Lord's Prayer at our church it is common to hold hands with your neighboring family member. On that day it was Monica. On the drive home she told me: "You have the softest hands I've ever held." I took it as a compliment, a result of my life-long quest to avoid manual labor, and a reminder that real men moisturize.

On the brighter side of things, we gained a son-in-law in March, when Katie married Kwinn in a beautiful ceremony on the beach in Clearwater, FL. He's a great guy, treats her like a queen, and is a handy guy to have around when I need some manual labor done. They live just outside Keystone, where he is president of the S.D. Mining Association, and she continues to direct things west of The River for our state's lone congressman. They soon there-after added a member to their family (scandal! not) by the name of Gilmore, a Golden Retriever puppy, who is turning into a good friend for Finn.

Rylee and Stetson relocated to Redding in northern California, where she teaches fifth grade and he took a job with the Bureau of Indian Affairs. Rylee and daughter Josie visited us for a couple weeks last summer, where Josie once again proved to be in the 99th percentile of cuteness. They'll do Christmas here in early January.

Luke and Kayla are still in northern Virginia, where both work in DC - Luke catching bad guys and Kayla keeping people from catching food-borne pathogens. Their German Shepard, Klaus, continues to keep an eye on them and pity the fool who crosses them. I visited them during a work trip in March and Nancy and her sister, Pam, visited a few months later. They're doing well.

I'd be remiss in not mentioning our other foreign "daughter", Burcu, who we hadn't seen since she returned home to Turkey twenty-some years ago. But she flew in for Katie's wedding and brought tears to everyone's eyes. All the family has stayed in touch with her over the years and she fit back in with the gang like she'd never left. She's a jewel of a young woman.

Nancy continues working for the back-cracker. She's teaching Sunday school and other stuff at our church (I'm not really sure what-all, but it frees up the TV for my football watching on Sunday afternoons). Speaking of, how about them Vikings?! I've been around long enough to know they'll eventually break my heart but it's been fun so far.

I'm coming up on 20 years with the now Majority Leader of the U.S. Senate. That far exceeds my previous long of five years at the same job. Of note for me this past year, I visited Las Vegas for the first time (with Nancy and my in-laws Jay and Pam). I'm pretty sure God said: "Okay, you're 60 now, how much trouble can you get in?" This summer my tomato crop was unsatisfactory, but like the Twins, there's always next year.

My mom is doing well at the assisted living center in Milbank. She watches a lot of football, enjoys her BINGO nights and wine Wednesdays. Send her a note or give her a call, she'd love it.

And, lastly, we had to put down ol' Huckleberry the Basset Hound a few weeks ago. His antics are missed, but none more-so than during Vikings games when it's been my habit to holler "Touchdown!" when they score. Then he would "woof! woof! woof!" along as I got him a treat. Now I holler "Touchdown!" and Finn just looks at me. No replacement is imminent (on orders of the boss lady), but I'm a weak man and don't always listen well (hey, I'm 60, the ears ain't what they used to be); so in a moment of weakness I may surprise her. If you don't get one of these updates next year, you'll know why.

Anyway, thank you to all my rag-tag friends and family who provided the good moments of 2024. Merry Christmas and Happy New Year to all of ya.

Mark

The best-of lists coming in hot

 The best crime novels of 2024 from CrimeReads.

Another terrible year for the world and another great year for books! While we have plenty of spinoff lists to come before the end of the year, it’s time to share the CrimeReads editors’ picks for the best crime and mystery novels of the year, full stop.

Brit Lit

 I suppose the Brits know a thing or two about literature, so here's a Telegraph story with their 50 best book recommendations for holiday gift-giving.

Looking for a literary Christmas present? Our critics pick the perfect gift for every reader, from page-turners to politics

Haven't done a "Link-Oh-Rama" for a while

 Let's change that:

** I like this quote (which sometimes applies to me as well) from a story about Taylor Swift moving into the book publishing biz:

“People often greatly underestimate me on how much I’ll inconvenience myself to prove a point.”

** Here's a long but fascinating story about online sports betting, which the author claims may have about run it's course. 

The repeal of PASPA made it possible for people in America to make money taking bets, but they turned around and made it nearly impossible for anyone to make money placing bets. If anything, they made it easier than ever to lose. 

** This falls under the category I like to espouse: "Relax, everything will be okay." Also: "Things seldom are as bad as they say, or as good." Here's WSJ columnist Peggy Noonan from before the election with: "The U.S. Can Take a Tough Election"

** Anyone know where I can get a dynamometer to measure my grip strength? "It’s one of the most underrated predictors of longevity." 15 Mobility Tests to Make Sure You’re Aging A-Okay

** I had not heard of this dude. Have you? Maybe I'll check out his newsletter. The Most Opinionated Man in America

** Farmers and ranchers often get a bad rap (incorrectly) for not taking care of the environment. They, in most instances, are the best stewards of their land. Here's a story about my friend near Newell, SD, and what he does to take care of his land and the wildlife that inhabit it.

Finished: Lee Child's "Safe Enough"

 "Safe Enough" is a collection of twenty short stories written by Jack Reacher author Lee Child. Frankly, he should stick to novels.

These twenty intriguing, thrilling, and rapid-fire fictions are intimate portraits of humanity at its best and worst, sure to please new and longtime fans of Child and to illuminate a side of the author’s work unknown to Reacher devotees. Featuring a colorful new introduction from the author, the collection stands as the first book written entirely by Child in four years.

None of the stories included Jack Reacher, and that's fine. I was looking forward to seeing another side of Child's writing and mind and what kind of "reach" he had. I was very disappointed. There were maybe three that I enjoyed. 

I'm not the deepest thinker, but finished several of the stories and just didn't see the point.

Amazonians seemed disappointed too as it only has a 3.8 of 5 rating, with Goodreaders even more so at a 3.4. I gave it of 5 of 10 on the Haugenometer.

Finished C.J. Box's "Three-Inch Teeth"

 I think I've skipped a couple reviews here. Will have to check out my book room when I get off my recliner. In the meantime, I finished the latest by C.J. Box and it's sitting right next to me, so I'll go with that.

A rogue grizzly bear has gone on a rampage—killing, among others, the potential fiancé of Joe’s daughter. At the same time, Dallas Cates, who Joe helped lock up years ago, is released from prison with a special list tattooed on his skin. He wants revenge on the people who sent him away: the six people he blames for the deaths of his entire family and the loss of his reputation and property.

Using the grizzly attacks as cover, Cates sets out to methodically check off his list. The problem is, both Nate Romanowski and Joe Pickett are on it.

He definitely thought outside the "box" here (see what I did?) but mostly just ended up jumping the shark. I recently realized some people aren't familiar with that phrase. It comes from an old episode of "Happy Days" when Fonzie jumped a tank full of sharks with his motorcycle. It basically means the writers of the series have run out of ideas and do a goofy episode that isn't in character with the previous episodes or series of books.

I can't really tell you the specifics in Box's book without spoiling it for you, but it appears relatively early in the book and becomes a significant portion of the plot. It's out there and silly. 

Also, this book had a plethora of pretty unbelievable coincidences that made me shake my head and think "Seriously? Come on. Don't insult me."

"Far-fetched" was probably the most used term among the 3-star reviews on Amazon, and that about sums it up.

I've read probably a dozen in this Joe Pickett series and enjoyed them all. This one was, I guess, also entertaining but not really in a good way. I hope Box puts a little more thought into his next book, because while I like entertaining fiction, I also like his books when they are more realistic.

I gave it a 7 of 10. Goodreaders a 4.4 of 5 and Amazonians a 4.5.

Book banning, episode 17

I love my local used bookstore and the people who work there. So this criticism isn't so much aimed at them as it is toward the whole "banned book" hysteria they and so many others in the literary world have fallen for (never end a sentence with a preposition!). A recent visit just reminded me of this naive nationwide craze in the industry.

I stopped there on my lunch hour and was greeted by a table of "banned books" which I'd also seen them proudly and bravely boasting about on their Facebook page. What a bunch of rebel women they are. Regular ol' Joan of Arcs. The sign proclaimed: "We don’t believe in telling you what you can and can’t read either!!"

But, actually, they do, according to the logic posited for the other "banned books." Every once in a while, I take in a dozen of my books for them to look at. They decide which ones they want and give me store credit for them. They've never taken all the books though. I assume sometimes they already have that book or they don't think the book will sell, so they return those to me. Fine. It's called a business decision. They didn't ban the book. They just didn't want it. But by the book banning nannies, whoever they are, that could be construed as a ban.

You know what else they "ban"? Books by me. They don't sell Joshua's Ladder, Runaway Trane, or Mustang Lang. And about a million other books they can't fit in their store. Book ban, much?!

The first thing I wanted to say when I saw this table of "banned books" is: "Whoever is banning books is doing a piss poor job of it, because there's a pile of 'em right here available for four dollars!"

You may ask, what books were on the table? They included: The Glass Castle (which I sold them a copy of at one time), The Color Purple, and The Kite Runner. 

The problem with most of the books on the table and why they are deemed "banned" is that a school board or school librarian somewhere decided the book wasn't appropriate for the children in that school. It either wasn't age appropriate, didn't fit the curriculum, didn't align with that school or community's values, or maybe was just a crappy book with little to no literary value.

The Kite Runner was removed from the English curriculum of a school outside Chicago for being, in their eyes, having age-inappropriate material, sexually explicit content, and offensive language. That seems like something a school librarian, principal or board should be able to determine. 

Do these defenders of the banned think we should be subjecting school kids to inappropriate material, sexually explicit content and offensive language? Someone should ask them. Do they monitor what their kids read and see online? On their phones? Or is it just the Wild West of porn and George Carlin's seven words for their kids?

I believe it's called local control and parental input. What one community or school finds offensive, another may not. Let the parents make their cases for or against to the school board. I can make a pretty good case why Huckleberry Finn should be included in a literature class; while somebody else can make their case why it shouldn't. Let the best argument win. Or better yet let the teacher do their job and if the school board, elected by local citizens, eventually decides that teacher is doing a poor job of making choices, correct them or fire them. A board shouldn't have to weigh in on each individual book in a library.

But if I can buy a book off your table, or off Amazon, you know what? It's not banned! You're just virtue signaling and trying to sell books off a made-up controversy that dissolves when even just a tiny bit of a critical eye is cast on it.

And, frankly, once our institutes of higher learning stop canceling and protesting speakers with a different viewpoint, then we can take this faux outrage about local "book banning" a little more seriously. Until then ...

You bookstores, particularly in the bigger cities, want to be cutting edge? Avante guard? Brave rabble-rousers? Really put yourself out there for criticism and backlash and protests? Try putting out a table full of books by Jewish authors. And post it on your Facebook page. How about a table of right-wing authors. "Come see our table full of Rush Limbaugh, Ann Coulter and Tucker Carlson books."

Or, since we apparently don't have a problem with "sexually explicit content and offensive language" for kids, how about a table full of Penthouse and Hustler magazines? I think there are book versions of Penthouse Letters or something similar.

Or do you believe in telling people what they can and can't read after all?

Things country musicians like

Had this random thought the other day listening to my music mix and started jotting down lyrics. If you listen to enough country music, and I don't mean the Justins and Jasons in what passes for today's country, you begin to sense a theme. There are certain things the old musicians have an affinity for:

Tom T. Hall - Old dogs, children and watermelon wine; as well as younger women, older whiskey and more money.

Waylon - Guitars that are tuned good and firm feeling women.

Hank Jr. - Good friends, good whiskey and good lovin'. He's also fond of cold beer, hot lips and a ride in the country.

Even some of the new(ish) singers jump on board:

The Derailers - Cold beer, hot women and cool country music.

But perhaps the best song that includes so many "likes" is from JB and the Moonshine Band. They get real particular about the Perfect Girl:

Yeah she gotta be five foot eleven, she smells like heaven

She was born in eighty six or maybe eighty seven

She got full intentions of getting her P.H.D.​

She got a big old dually, a countrified booty

She's a certified, bonafide, cold blooded cutie

I can't argue with any of those, though I deleted the alcohol a couple decades ago, and if I have a type it is short women, particularly a 5-foot-2 one for the past 35+ years.

Finished: 'The Silent Patient' by Alex Michaelides

 "The Silent Patient" is the inaugural book by Alex Michaelides and was so good I immediately ordered the two he has written since.

Alicia Berenson’s life is seemingly perfect. A famous painter married to an in-demand fashion photographer, she lives in a grand house with big windows overlooking a park in one of London’s most desirable areas. One evening her husband Gabriel returns home late from a fashion shoot, and Alicia shoots him five times in the face, and then never speaks another word.

Alicia’s refusal to talk, or give any kind of explanation, turns a domestic tragedy into something far grander, a mystery that captures the public imagination and casts Alicia into notoriety. The price of her art skyrockets, and she, the silent patient, is hidden away from the tabloids and spotlight at the Grove, a secure forensic unit in North London.

Theo Faber is a criminal psychotherapist who has waited a long time for the opportunity to work with Alicia. His determination to get her to talk and unravel the mystery of why she shot her husband takes him down a twisting path into his own motivations -- a search for the truth that threatens to consume him.

This one was recommended to me by my eldest daughter, a voracious reader herself, who appears to know what kind of books her father likes (kind of a scary thought).

I really enjoyed the ending. I didn't see it coming, yet it wasn't one of those contrived, forced endings where you're going "no way." It also wasn't sprung on you at the last second to tie up loose ends. It was wonderful.

Amazonians liked it too, giving it a 4.4 of 5, Goodreaders a 4.2, and me an 8 of 10. It was one of the best books I've read this year.

Finished: 'Toxic Prey' and 'Midnight Feast'

 Knocked off a couple beach reads recently, though I did it from my recliner because wifey won't let me retire and move to the beach, just yet.

John Sandford continues to turn out clever and unique Prey novels, this one the 34th of 35 - Toxic Prey. Don't fret if you think I've fallen behind; the 35th one doesn't come out until next April. In this one it seems he channels Dean Koontz a bit, but that's a compliment ...

Lucas Davenport and his daughter, Letty, team up to track down a dangerous scientist whose latest project could endanger the entire world, in this latest thriller from #1 New York Times bestselling author John Sandford.

Gaia is dying.

That, at least, is what Dr. Lionel Scott believes. A renowned expert in tropical and infectious diseases, Scott has witnessed the devastating impact of illness and turmoil at critical scale. Society as it exists is untenable, and the direct link to Earth’s death spiral; population levels are out of control and people have allowed disarray and disorder to run rampant. While most are concerned about deadly disease, Scott knows that it is truly humanity itself that will destroy Gaia. It’s only by removing the threat that the planet can continue to prosper, and luckily, Scott is just the right man for the job…

When Scott then disappears without a trace, Letty Davenport is tasked with tracking down any and all leads. Scott’s connections to sensitive research into virus and pathogen spread has multiple national and international organizations on high alert, and his shockingly high clearance levels at various institutions, including the Los Alamos National Laboratory, make him the last person they’d like to go missing. As the web around Scott becomes more tangled, Letty calls in her father, Lucas, help her lead a group of specialists to find Scott as soon as possible. But as Letty and Lucas begin to uncover startling and disturbing connections between Scott and Gaia conspiracists, their worst fears are confirmed, and it quickly becomes a race to find him before the virus he created becomes the perfect weapon.

I'll be generous and give it an 8, just because I haven't had a real good one in a while.

** Lucy Foley's The Midnight Feast didn't reach the quality of her previous novels I read, The Guest List and The Paris Apartment. 

It’s the opening night of The Manor, the newest and hottest luxury resort, and no expense, small or large, has been spared. The infinity pool sparkles; the “Manor Mule” cocktail (grapefruit, ginger, vodka, and a dash of CBD oil) is being poured with a heavy hand. Everyone is wearing linen.

But under the burning midsummer sun, darkness stirs. Old friends and enemies circulate among the guests. Just outside the Manor’s immaculately kept grounds, an ancient forest bristles with secrets. And it’s not too long before the local police are called. Turns out the past has crashed the party, with deadly results.

Foley tries to do the short-chapters thing James Patterson made famous, but it became annoying hopping back and forth so often and with some super short ones. Just write the damn story.

And the whole Bird thing just didn't work for me. Seemed outlandish and unnecessary. You can have something spooky in the forest, just make it believable if the rest of the characters were supposed to be believed.

I guess I'm nit-picking a bit, because it was an okay read. It just wasn't great. A 6 here.

Real men read books; spread the word

 I've noticed several stories recently about the decline of book reading, particularly among men. If I remember correctly, 80 percent of novels are purchased by women.

Here's a Brit lady speculating on the overall decline. I think she nails it:

We’re so used to consuming the world in snippets, in fact – tweets, posts, DMs, clips, episodes – that centering the mind on reading for more than a few minutes, even when you’ve made the conscious decision to do so, can be tough.

Then there's this guy, Shay Leighton of the Tough Guy Book Club, on men not reading: 

How the hell is reading, you know, picking up a book and learning new shit, become something that’s considered the opposite to toughness. I can assure you there is nothing tough about knowing less than the next guy. That’s why ignorance is considered a weakness.

An author on Twitter named Sean CW Korsgaard (@SCWKorsgaard) speculates regarding men that:

 This is another often ignored factor in why book sales are declining among men: Cover art. Publishing started swapping out flashy, splashy covers for generic ones, to cut costs, and because focus groups claimed it made books appeal more to female readers.

Guys are visual, right? They're on their phones looking at Instagram, watching YouTube, etc.

I decided to do a quick poll among my buddies and took maybe just the last 20 or so whom I've texted with. I asked them: What's the last book you read and approximately how many do you read in a year? 

Age-wise they run from 20 to 65, blue collar, white collar, gay and straight, all white. I was surprised that they were a way more literate bunch than I would've guessed, but still only read maybe 2-6 books per year on average. Some are in double digits, but not many.

The books include: 

"The War on Cops" by Heather MacDonald

Elon Musk biography

"The Fall" by Albert Camus

"Gulag Archipelago" by Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn

"Destiny and Power" by Jon Meacham

"The Kingdom, The Power, and the Glory: American Evangelicals in an Age of Extremism" by Tim Alberta

"The Joy of Hate" by Greg Gutfeld

"Toxic Prey"" by John Sandford 

"The Four Agreements: A Practical Guide to Personal Freedom" by Don Miguel Ruiz

"Ikigai: The Japanese Secret to a Long and Happy Life" by Francesc Miralles and Hector Garcia

"The Smiling Country" by Elmer Kelton

"St Antony of the Desert" by St Athanasius

"Healthy Me, Healthy Us" by Dr. Les & Leslie Parrott

"Fight" by Craig Groeschel

"66 Years Under the Shadows of Custer" by Henry and Don Weibert

"The Situation Room" by George Stephanopoulus

"Long Horns Bring Culture" by August Schatz

"Hidden Order" by Brad Thor

"Make Me" by Lee Child

"Lone Survivor: The Eyewitness Account of Operation Redwing and the Lost Heroes of SEAL Team 10" by Marcus Luttrell and Patrick Robinson

"Killing the Legends" by Bill O'Reilly

What I notice about the list is there are no romance novels or what I'd even consider beach reads, except maybe Thor and Child; they are 95 percent male authors; some self-help and religion; some history; a lot of guns. There are a couple political books, but not the politico bios, not even the one "written" by our governor, despite 95 percent of the respondees being South Dakotans.

All in all, I like the list and am reminded to include more non-fiction in my reading. Though I think it's too late for much self-help dither.

So how do we increase male readership? Ideas?

Guys I know seem to do more YouTube videos and podcasts than other media, except for maybe Facebook, so we need the Joe Rogans of the world to push novels like Oprah did. We need more presence on Facebook. We need guys to talk about the books they read, make recommendations, lest the perception grows that real men don't eat quiche or read books.

I'll try and do my part. You do yours. Those little acorns will become oak trees, which we can then chop down and turn into books.

Assassinations and the theories about them

 My dad was a connoisseur of JFK assassination conspiracies, plots and information. He had a couple dozen 3-inch-thick books on the subject, including his own copy of the Warren Commission Report. He wasn't necessarily a conspiracy theorist, but the assassination of the popular president occurred when my dad was 23 years old, and I presume he was at least intrigued by the president, if not a fan, though a strident Republican. The event was certainly deeply felt.

One regret I have is that I never really discussed what his theory was after all the research he'd done. I think I picked up that he leaned toward "The Mob" theory, that they were mad at Jack Kennedy for broken promises and Bobby for prosecutions and did it as payback.

Anyway, with the recent attempt to kill the former president, the JFK assassination and theories have resurfaced, the most prominent of which is that the CIA had a hand in it.

Here, Rich Lowry of National Review does a good job of rehashing the evidence and throwing cold water on the conspiracy theorists. It's an interesting read.

Also, on the matter of the Trump assassination attempt, I don't understand the attempts out there to poo-poo it by people (including the FBI director) saying Trump may not have been struck by an actual bullet. 

Think that matters to war veterans who lost a limb or were killed due to being hit by shrapnel? "Oh suck it up buddy, it wasn't even a bullet!"

Somebody tried to kill him with real bullets that killed or wounded other people and whether it was a bullet that hit his ear or a piece of glass or plastic, it was an assassination attempt. It wasn't a mosquito bite. His reaction to being hit was still amazing. And trying to minimize the attempt on his life is a bunch of BS. 

Do better, people.

Happy birthday to me

 Tom Cruise and I celebrate our birthday on July 3; I'm the taller one. This is a big one - six decades. Turning 60 kind of bugs me. Fifty didn't, but somehow 60 is really crossing the Rubicon into "damn, you're officially old." Then again, I ran into an old friend last week who is in her 80s and she said: "What I wouldn't give to be 60 again!" It's all relative, I guess.

But I am learning there are benefits other than the senior discounts.

I can forget things and be excused because "my memory ain't what it used to be." Sorry I didn't make it to your party/retirement/funeral, I forgot. Though you have to be careful not to take it too far, lest you end up in the local memory care unit.

I can also ignore things people tell me. You wanted me to take out the garbage? "Sorry, you  must not have been speaking into my good ear."

And while this is nothing new for me, at least it's an excuse for telling people exactly what I think and now wifey can say: "Sorry, he's kind of lost his filter as he's gotten older."

It also means I care more about individuals than issues. I'm not going to march in a parade with you, stand outside a business with a placard, or boycott stuff. But if you're a friend of mine and gay, black, Jewish, legal, illegal, or all of the above, I still got your back in the barfight, for what it's worth. 

I'm more cognizant of what change I can affect. I can't bring peace to the Middle East or build a wall at the border or elect the next president, so I'm not going to worry about those things. I'm most concerned about things in a 10-mile radius of my home. Street light out? I'll call the appropriate individual. Dangerous intersection? Same. Creeps hanging out at the park or somebody's dog got loose, I can keep an eye out. But I'm too old to save the world, and aware enough now not to stress out about those things out of my control. You're on your own, Gen Z, this Boomer needs a nap.

I increasingly care less about big things and small people. I'm a list guy and have a list of people who I care what they think of me. It's gotten shorter the older I've gotten. It's in single digits now. Don't like me? Not my problem. My best friend is Ibu Profen.

Good news is my other list has gotten shorter too. That's the one titled: "People I won't pick up if they're stranded along the road in a blizzard." I like to think it's gotten shorter because I care less about whatever they did to get on the list and am more forgiving now, or they really were assholes and they froze to death because nobody else would pick them up either. 

I care more now about choosing a good book, listening to good music and eating food I like. I value time with my family more, walks with the dogs, whether the bird bath is full on hot days, taking care of myself.

I don't work out or eat healthier for vain reasons. I do it so I can hopefully do the stuff mentioned in the previous paragraph for a longer period of time. So I can lift my granddaughter, stay mobile and chase wifey around the bedroom. Sure, there's no guarantee I won't get hit by a bus tomorrow or something in my DNA will zig when it should've zag, but for the things in my control I try to control them. I'm still not perfect, but should be by the time I reach 70. They say if you reach 60 the majority will reach 80.

Would've been nice to know at 20 the things I know now at 60, but such is life. You start out in diapers and end up in diapers. All the time in between is learning time, if you do it right.

So 60 it is - halfway to my goal!

Five X accounts you might like

 I see people still complaining about Twitter, now X, since Elon took over. I don't get the criticism, before or since his reign. You can pick whom to follow. If you don't want politics, don't follow political accounts. If you don't like what someone says, you don't have to comment and get into a pissy back-and-forth with them. Just delete it.

As such, I've curated a list of accounts I enjoy and like my experience on the site. I follow about 400 accounts, many are friends, a lot are sports related (Twins, Vikings, boxing), a couple local news stations and meteorologists, a few book-related, some humorous ones. I follow one political account, Jonah Goldberg, who I like because the hard right and loony left all seem to despise, which makes me think he's onto something.

I'm always intrigued when someone recommends an account. I give it a try, keep it or dump it after getting a taste. With that in mind, I thought I'd offer the top five accounts I follow (based off which ones I guess I click on the most). In no particular order: 

** Noirchick in Old Hollywood: @Noirchick1

This lady posts pictures and comments of old (often deceased) movie starlets, models, pre-code actresses. There are no Kardashians. Instead, there are beautiful women from the 1930s to 1970s. There are some absolutely beautiful women posing in usually classy photos. I often end up Wikipedia-ing the ones I haven't heard of and it's fun to read their life histories and what made them famous (sometimes briefly) back in their day. It's fun.

** David Burge: @iowahawkblog

This guy is an Iowa native transplanted to Austin, Texas. He's sarcastic and cynical (wonder why I like him?). He does a bit on the weekends where he identifies old cars from photos readers send him. I'm not really into that stuff, but it's sometimes interesting. His non-car stuff is why I follow and he cracks me up.

** Twins Daily: @twinsdaily

These guys have a website they tout. They are fans of the Minnesota Twins, not professional writers. But they are Grade A baseball nerds who delve deep into stats and the players and do a great job of keeping me updated on the Twins' minor league teams and players too.

** Fox 13 Tampa Bay: @FOX13News

I started following this account because that's our stomping grounds when we go south on vacation. It's nice, though hurtful, to follow the weather while I'm stuck in South Dakota in January. Builds the anticipation to get there in March. They also have a plethora of "Florida man" stories that keep me shaking my head.

** Jonah Goldberg: JonahDispatch

I like Jonah's politics and the way he doesn't take crap from the idiots who try to antagonize him. He doesn't lose many battles and has quick, smart retorts. He's also a brilliant writer who can back up his opinions. He's a Jewish George Will, who could only better himself by becoming a baseball fan.

Finished: John Sandford's 'Judgment Prey'

 Editor's note: I will go to my grave believing there should be an "e" in "judgment." And I will go to my grave typing "judgement" every time before spellcheck corrects it for me.

I recently finished the 33rd "Prey" novel by John Sandrod - Judgment Prey. It was good, but not great (it's reviews like this that keep me from writing about books for the New York Times.)

Alex Sand was spending the evening at home playing basketball with his two young sons when all three were shot in cold blood. A wealthy federal judge, there’s no short list of people who could have a vendetta against Sands, but the gruesome murders, especially that of his children, turn their St. Paul community on its head. Sand was on the verge of a major donation to a local housing charity, Heart/Twin Cities, and with the money in limbo, eyes suddenly turn to his grieving widow, Margaret Cooper, to see what she might do with the money. Margaret, distraught over the death of her family, struggles to move forward, and can’t imagine how or why anyone would target her husband.

With public pressure mounting and both the local police force and FBI hitting dead end after dead end, Lucas Davenport and Virgil Flowers are called in to do what others could not: find answers. With each potential lead flawed, Davenport and Flowers are determined to chase every theory until they figure out who killed the Sands. But when they find themselves being stonewalled by the most unlikely of forces, the two wonder if perhaps each misdirection could lead them closer to the truth.

Having read all the Prey novels, with the exception of the 34th one on order, I especially enjoy the dialogue and friendship between Lucas Davenport and Virgil Flowers. They complement each other well. This was no exception.

The list of potential murderers was plausible, kept me guessing throughout. The crazy mother of the murder victims was believable, but I felt the ending didn't quite follow the arc of her journey. Seemed a bit out of the blue, and I don't think there's any plot spoiler in saying that. So I was not a big fan of the ending, a bit implausible, but still good. 

It's a credit to to Sandford to keep delivering quality plots this far into the series without jumping the shark or giving into to the temptation of getting political, like Daniel Silva has with his previously outstanding Gabriel Allon series.

Goodreaders gave it a 4.4 of 5, Amazonians a 4.5. I gave it a 7 of 10.

Close your eyes, I'm running naked

 I'm what they call a "naked runner." You've probably seen me in the police blotter. Actually, I'm more of a "naked jogger" these days as my back finally said my competitive running days were over a few years ago.

Being a naked runner means you run without accessories like watches, FitBits and ear buds. I've tried all, so haven't been purely naked forever. I used a watch to time my runs when I was serious, and even tried listening to music for a short phase. And I had a FitBit, largely to monitor my heart and sleep patterns, but didn't get another one when that crapped out on me.

As for the FitBit or smart watch type things, now I generally run the same trails, so I know the distance and about how many steps it entails. Given my counting OCD previously discussed on this fine blog, I bet I can come with a couple hundred when guessing my steps at the end of the day.

With ear buds or in my case, the cheap iPod Shuffle, I didn't like not being able to hear my surroundings. I like to hear vehicles coming up behind me or the rattle of a snake ahead of me or barking dogs coming at me. Kind of a safety thing. And, frankly, I listen to music most of the day so it's nice to be able to hear the sounds of nature. The other thing is I like to be aware of the sounds I'm making. They aren't always pretty and I prefer not to be making those sounds when meeting some Nike-laden jog bunny on the trail. So vanity plays a part too.

For more, here's a study: Why more athletes are giving up on smartwatches.

We believe that the rejection of these devices may be the result of a deterioration in the quality of the experience of a sport when using them. For some participants, putting numbers on an activity actually leads them to experience it more as forced labour than as free, self-determined leisure.

Along these lines, I can't remember ever reading an article from Vanity Fair, but I am a frequent visitor of the realclearbooks.com website and they linked to this: Why Is Running All About Speed? An Ode To Slow Running

It's an enjoyable read.

In today’s racing culture, it’s radical to believe that a runner is worthy regardless of their time. Slower paces are often underserved and undervalued in the running community—especially when those mile-times creep into the 18 to 20-minute range.

As the writer says: "In relinquishing the need to be fast, I am free."

Yep, almost like being naked.

Finished two

 I typically like Lawrence Sanders books. "The Sixth Commandment" wasn't typical for him. Frankly, that title could apply to any murder mystery, so I was expecting something superb to really knock that "Thou shalt not kill" out of the park. It was more like a slow roller to the second baseman. (It's baseball season, ya know.)

The Bingham Foundation is one of the most important scientific charities in the country, giving grants that can make or break a researcher’s career. When they get a proposal that seems too good to be true, they send hardened investigator Samuel Todd to confirm that the science holds up. A cynical detective with a sixth sense for deception and a bad habit of committing adultery, Todd has never met a liar he couldn’t crack. But he’s never met anyone like T. G. Thorndecker.

Thorndecker won the Nobel Prize in his thirties, and his work continues to push the outer limits of modern technology. After years of secret research, he claims to have made a breakthrough in the war against aging. When he requests a million-dollar grant from the Bingham Foundation, Todd goes to find out if he’s on the level. As he digs into the demise of Thorndecker’s first wife and late-night happenings in the lab, Todd comes face to face with a medical mystery that blurs the line between life and death.

Written in 1978, it did have some clever verbage and deep thoughts I enjoyed:

"The effete youth was first to react to my entrance. He jerked to his feet and glared at me, not knowing whether to shit, go blind, or wind his watch."

On an overly made up, poorly-aged woman: "She looked like she had been picked up by the heels and dipped in age."

Regarding a windy pastor's sermon: "He gave a fifteen-minute catalogue of human sins of the flesh, listened to attentively by the congregation who, I figured, wanted to find out if they had missed any."

"Human character runs the gamut from slug to saint."

"I waved a hand and kept going. Women like that scare me. I have visions of them cracking my bones and sucking the marrow."

"Few of us act from the motive we profess. The worm is always there, deep and squirming. A man might say he wishes to work with and counsel young boys, to give them the benefit of his knowledge and experience, to keep them from delinquency, to help them through the agonies of adolescence. That may all be true. It may also be true that he simply loves young boys."

Amazonians gave it a 4.1 of 5, much more generous than my 6 of 10.

** The other I finished was Lisa Scottoline's "Dirty Blonde." It was unique and I liked it for the most part, but the ending ruined it for me. SPOILER ALERT: I hate when the "who-done-it" turns out to be some minor character barely mentioned forty chapters earlier. A lot of the loose ends were tied up in too convenient of a manner, intended to be big surprises but ended up just being corny, like: Look what I did there!

Lawyer Cate Fante, who is attractive, sexy, and tough-minded, has just been appointed to the federal bench in Philadelphia. With her new status in the elite meritocracy that is the federal judiciary, she often feels like an imposter because of her working-class background. For instance, at a fancy dinner, she’s more likely to joke with the waiters than her colleagues. Divorced, Cate also has a secret sex life. She’s attracted to bad boys and working-class men, like the ones she grew up with in the former coal-mining town of Centralia in northeastern Pennsylvania.

Cate is presiding over a high-profile multi-million dollar breach-of-contract lawsuit in which a former Philly ADA is suing the producer of a highly successful TV series for stealing his ideas. All true, but the verbal contract isn’t enforceable. As difficult as it is, this means that Cate has to make a ruling that ends the lawsuit in the sleazy TV guy’s favor. Cate learns that being a judge doesn’t always mean that she can do justice.

Upset over the ruling she had to make, Cate heads for a bar and there meets a good-looking rough-hewn leather-jacketed hunk and goes off with him to a nearby motel. Cate quickly realizes she’s made a mistake, apologizes and turns to leave, but the guy becomes aggressive and Cate barely manages to get out of the room. At home, she turns on the local news to learn that the TV producer from her court case has been shot to death outside a local restaurant. Not only that, but she soon also finds out that a man has been found dead after a fall from a motel’s exterior staircase. A stricken Cate recognizes instantly the pictures of the leather-jacketed man who’d attacked her at the hotel.

Things go from bad to worse in a hurry, and amazingly Cate finds her private life splashed all over the papers and her job in jeopardy. Her only hope is to clear her name and find a murderer.

Amazonians gave it a 4.3 of 5. Me a 6+ of 10.

Notes

 Remember when I said I'd be blogging more? Ha. Suckers.

I think of things to write about, but when I sit down to blog, I forget. Like going into a room and forgetting why I went in there. Getting old really sucks, but it beats the alternative.

A couple thoughts though that I'll expand on later:

Speaking of getting old, I'm turning 60 years old in July. I didn't see that coming.

I don't have an exact date but I do have a tattoo on my shoulder that reminds me that this is about the 27th anniversary of me being sober. Mostly explains how I survived this long.

The father of a young friend/coworker died recently. He was 67. Mine was 62 when he died. Both suddenly. I'm really bad at telling people stuff at the time of mourning, because for me it seemed intrusive to have people telling me their tale of woe during my time of woe. But I would say to anyone who loses a dad: It does get better, but it's never the same.

My wife, an avid non-reader, has joined a book club. Good for her.