A fantasy league of their own

 Don't worry, this is not a post about fantasy baseball. That would bore you. This is a post about the goofy people enacting a reality show in my fantasy baseball league. Unlike my annual football league that is made up of relatives, this 12-team baseball league is a "public league" on Yahoo, meaning you're just dumped in with a bunch of strangers from around the country.

I've been in one every season for around 20 years. People give their team's goofy names and there's a message board to communicate. Typically, the board is seldom used except for the occasional "hey, anybody have shortstop they want to trade?" Last season, I don't think there was a single message posted.

But, oh, this season ...

We had our draft on Friday night. For those unfamiliar with the process, we used an auto-draft, where the computer picks for you based on how you ranked your players. The top player you have listed gets drafted if that player is available; if not it moves to the next one; and around and around it goes until about 20 players are drafted for each team. So it went off without a hitch, or so I thought, until Saturday morning. That's when one player took exception to the draft. 

Richard (aka Dick) posted a condescending message to the members: 

The draft that took place last night was the craziest draft that I have ever took part in, and I have been playing fantasy baseball for 20+, own and have a number of teams, and play in several high stake leagues with professionals (I don't mean for that to come off like a jerk, if it does I apologize). The draft last night was just insane. People were just picking random players out of the blue, sometimes 3-6 rounds higher than a player should have been drafted. I dont know how to explain it other than people weren't looking at ADP, or projections. I have nothing against getting the players you want, but just based on ADP, you could have gotten a better player in that spot and then still gotten your player 50 picks later. I went into the draft with a specific strategy for this league, so I couldn't take as much advantage as I would have liked. Anyway, its all in fun. I know baseball can be a long season, but for the other players in the league, but stay active, or at least check your team once a week, nothing worse than being in a league where 2 or 3 teams are just sitting there after the first month.

This was followed by a couple others telling him off. And then this one from 19-year-old team owner Marie:

I go to school in Texas and when draft time came I was blacked out and had no power. No live draft for me, so don't know what you are talking about. But I don't feel I have to apologies to you. I have enough problems not baseball draft related. If you can help me find a grocery store that has food on it's shelves, that will help me and I'll apologies if I ruined your draft.

Many followed with "thoughts and prayers" posts, and no I didn't mention she spelled "apologize" wrong. Richard apologized for offending her, but kind of double-down on his criticism of the rest of us and pointed out he was using some new draft strategy (he had a name for it but I forget). 

I, of course, had to weigh in:

Making friends fast there, Richard. Personally, I use the Jose Cuervo draft strategy. One shot before the first round, two shots before the 2nd round, etc. By the 10th round I was pissed I didn't get Kate Upton as catcher.

A few more team managers weighed in with supportive thoughts, before Marie decided to let loose, with emotion and life history:

Thanks for the kind words all. I'm in Georgetown Tx and today it got up to 72. Power is back and water pressure while week, I do have water. Problem now is trucks couldn't get through so grocery shelves are bare. I'm small and skinny so don't have fat to sustain me.

I'm from Vermont and when we had weather like this we had power and water and headed to the mountains to go skiing. Texas couldn't handle this. This was scary to me. I come from a large close family. I decided to go to college out of state as I admired two older sisters who did the same. While I: love Texas, this has not worked out for me. First Covid and now this. I have to admit I was scarred sitting in the dark in a freezing condo was not in my plans. Boy did I miss my dad. He kept calling but I couldn't recharge my phone. I wasn't prepared for this. It's nice to see the sun, I sat on my balcony and enjoyed it. Still had bird seed so the birds were active and gave me pleasure. Ironic they have food and I'm on strict rationing. 

Again thanks for the kind words. I will survive, I just hope Roots Bistro gets a delivery so I can walk down and get a cheeseburger, or better yet I could probably eat a whole pizza. They might even serve me a beer.

More messages of support flowed in from old guys trying to make the young gal feel better. Kudos to them. At least she and the birds are safe.

Myself? I felt more like I've fallen into a Kardashian episode. And the season hasn't even started! This should be fun.

Finished: Ted Bell's 'Dragonfire'

 Ted Bell writes the Lord Alex Hawke spy novels. Kind of a James Bondish thing. His latest, Dragonfire, was very good in that realm.

December 8, 1941, Washington, D.C.

The new Chinese ambassador to the United States, Tiger Tang, meets with President Roosevelt one day after the attack on Pearl Harbor. For the next four years, China and the U.S. will be wartime allies, but the charming, sophisticated ambassador may be playing his own treacherous game.

Today, The Bahamas

Alex Hawke is recovering from serious injuries incurred during a battle with a malevolent enemy. His recuperation is interrupted by a desperate call from the Queen. Her favorite grandson has disappeared in the Bahamas. Lord Hawke is the only man she trusts with a mission this sensitive. All she knows is that the young prince was last seen at the exclusive Dragonfire nightclub owned by the nefarious Tang brothers, grandsons of Ambassador Tiger Tang.

Bell referenced a Rudyard Kipling poem "If" that I'd forgotten about. It reminded me to reread it and sent it to my son:

If you can keep your head when all about you   

    Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,   

If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,

    But make allowance for their doubting too;   

If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,

    Or being lied about, don’t deal in lies,

Or being hated, don’t give way to hating,

    And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise:

If you can dream—and not make dreams your master;   

    If you can think—and not make thoughts your aim;   

If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster

    And treat those two impostors just the same;   

If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken

    Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,

Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,

    And stoop and build ’em up with worn-out tools:

If you can make one heap of all your winnings

    And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,

And lose, and start again at your beginnings

    And never breathe a word about your loss;

If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew

    To serve your turn long after they are gone,   

And so hold on when there is nothing in you

    Except the Will which says to them: ‘Hold on!’

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,   

    Or walk with Kings—nor lose the common touch,

If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,

    If all men count with you, but none too much;

If you can fill the unforgiving minute

    With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,   

Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,   

    And—which is more—you’ll be a Man, my son!

I gave the book a 6 on the Haugenometer ... and the poem a 10.

Another late-night rant when I should have been reading a book instead

 Wifey and I just finished watching a short four-episode Netflix series called "Crime Scene: The Vanishing at the Cecil Hotel." It's a documentary produced by Ron Howard about a woman killed in a creepy hotel in downtown Los Angeles.

The coincidences and stories regarding the hotel and the victim are crazy. The craziness feeds into a fever among the amateur internet sleuths worldwide. That part is just a side note to the mystery, but I found it very illuminating of the internet and social media in general and the lack of perspective among many who use it. That lack of perspective and knowledge led all the sleuths and their followers on a frenzy and to the wrong conclusion.

It basically ruined this one man's life as they blamed him for the woman's murder. The guy, named Morbid, was an odd duck to begin with, lead singer in a death metal band, but it drove him to suicide, which he survived, but his life is a mess.

It's not an original notion of mine to say social media has gotten out of hand. But I'm not going to be consumed by it.

About a month ago, my phone pooped out on me and I had to get a new one. I didn't load the Facebook app on the new one, thus I rarely use FB anymore. It was annoying me anyway, had gotten a little tiresome, same old stuff all the time. I found myself muting or unfriending more and more people. I'm pretty much just on Twitter now and mostly limited to baseball and boxing athletes and news.

One thing I really noticed on Facebook in a couple groups I've lurked on is how uninformed they are. I remember reading a story once about a guy reading a newspaper. This person used to read every story as if it were 100 percent true. Then he read an article about a subject he was an expert on and found several inaccuracies, and it finally dawned on him that maybe many of those other stories perhaps were inaccurate too. Take that times a million on the internet.

It's one thing to have different opinions, but the one group in particular I was watching was embarrassing. They didn't have a ninth-grader's knowledge of the stuff they were talking about. Yet people fed off the misinformation, added to it, repeated it, often with several exclamation points to prove their point. I fear social media has jumped the shark, so to speak, and is more of a detriment to society than an asset. Again, not an original thought.

I haven't decided if social media brings out a part of people that never existed before or if it always existed and this is just an avenue now for their venom to be released. Before it had been kept inside and now it's getting out, or if it's a mob-mentality thing, a place they feel no consequences for their actions so they let it rip. I'm sure there are countless psychiatrist studying this.

I've just become very disillusioned by it. I suppose it's ironic or hypocritical that I'm using a form of social media, blogging, to complain about social media, but so be it. As far as Facebook and Twitter and Instagram, I'm ratcheting down, if not phasing out. In my circle of best friends, only one or two are on FB or Twitter anyway. We text a lot or, more amazingly, actually call each other and have conversations.

I'll still use Facebook to sell books and post some pictures of my dogs, but that's about it. (Here's a little secret: When I post a link to my blog on Facebook, my blog gets more hits, and I sell more books. There's a direct correlation. It's kind of disheartening actually.)

Here's just a small example of my social media disillusionment. A while back I wrote about the joy of having a short personal Twitter conversation with one of my favorite authors, Lawrence Block. I've followed him for some time now. His politics are different than mine but he wasn't obnoxious about it so no big deal. Until today.

Rush Limbaugh died. He was another case of somebody I listened to a lot in my 20s but that gradually reduced as his shtick wore thin and I also recognized he was just plain wrong on some of the facts he talked about. To the point where I haven't listened to him but for bits and pieces the last 15 years. 

So, Block retweeted a news story on Limbaugh's death with the comment "Good."

Really? A guy I respect and admired said that. I unfollowed him. I just don't need that kind of stuff. There are a lot of people I don't like who have died and I never felt good about it, with maybe the exception of Osama Bin Laden. Even when Jeffrey Epstein died, I didn't shed any tears, but was mostly mad that he took the easy way out. I wasn't glad he died. And certainly wouldn't take to social media to celebrate someone's death.

Maybe my disillusionment isn't so much with social media as it is with people in general. They've lost their manners, which is considered old-fashioned I guess. We've gotten to the point where profanity is a litmus test for manhood. "Locker room talk" is in vogue now. Keyboard warriors attacking people are supposedly tough. Just wait until that carries over into their daily life, which has begun, and a punch in the nose will cure them of that. But even those days are mostly gone as they're more likely to get shot instead.

It's a downhill slide we're on and I don't know how it'll stop. For me, it starts by lessening my social media use lest I get sucked down with it. I've vowed to myself not to let that happen. Maybe we can start a movement.

Hey, I know! Let's start a Facebook group and discuss it!

Or not.

Some whining

 I try not to whine. In fact, the most whining I do is about other people who whine. I try to be a stoic full-blooded Norwegian. A Viking! But ...

Have you ever had a root canal?

Uff da. Cracked my back molar last Monday eating a piece of steak, where I think I cut just a tiny bit of bone off and caught it just right while chewing. Went to dentist on Tuesday who looked at the x-ray and said "oh shoot." He referred me to an endodontist on Thursday for the root canal. Back to the dentist yesterday for a temporary crown. Will go back in two weeks for the permanent. Every day in between has had me whining. 

I assuage myself by saying Ragnar never had a root canal.

Not sure what is worse: back pain or tooth pain? With a sore back, you might not be able to sit or walk comfortably but you can still eat. With a sore mouth, you can't eat comfortably but you can walk.

My dentist, who used to coach my son's Teener baseball team, is a good guy. I like my dentist, but don't like going to him. At the appointment, before he stuck his fists in my mouth, he said to me: "I almost called you the other day. Do you know the worst part about dentistry?"

I said: "Hygeniests?" Because she was standing behind me.

He belly-laughed and she said: "I'm not a hygienist!" Guess she's a dental technician.

Short story shorter, he answered his own question: "Insurance companies."

Anyway, I trudge on with a sore jaw and gums from being stretched beyond normalcy and injections. Hopefully there's a light at the end of the tunnel now and I can get back to whining about this weather and cars that don't start and my mailbox getting run over by dumb drivers.

Whassup?

 

I shouldn't have done it

 For the most part, it's my wife's fault. But, to be totally honest, I didn't HAVE to read the book.

In recent years I've taken to providing my wife and kids my Christmas list, which contains novels I'd like to read. It's very specific. And each one is given a different list so they don't all end up buying me the same book. It works out great. It makes gift-buying easy for the family; and it makes gift receiving enjoyable for me.

But then wifey had to go and improvise. She admitted it before hand too. "I bought you a book that wasn't on your list, because I really liked the cover." What!? That's violating the golden rule of book buying (my rule anyway). Don't go for the pretty cover because, as the ages-old adage says, words to live by are: "Don't judge a book by the cover!" Had she never heard that? I wondered as Christmas approached.

I told myself to be nice when I opened the book. To force myself to read it, no matter what. To say I liked it, no matter what.

And the deal wasn't all bad. She actually bought me two books, one from my list and then one from the bookshelf with the pretty covers. I joyfully knocked off the John Sandford book in no time, while the "other" book stared at me from the top of my desk.

"The Whisper Man" by Alex North, an author I never heard of. A Brit, non-the-less. Maybe I've never heard of him because he/she is writing under a pseudonym. 

I knew from reading the jacket flap, it wasn't a book I wanted to read. It was obviously a scary book and it involved kids. Two things I don't like in a book. One of the reviews on the back said: "First it's spooky. Then it's scary. Then it's terrifying." Great.

I can read murder-mysteries every day of the week. In fact I do. Blood and gore don't bother me. Dexter cutting up body parts, no problem. Hannibal eating his victims, give me seconds. But a little boy kidnapped by a psychopath who's been whispering to him through the mail slot in the door? Nuh uh. No way. I don't do Stephen King. Not since Pet Cemetery. I can't explain it. Those books just hit that spot in the back of my cerebral cortex, the same spot that won't allow me to eat green peas.

It's a weird thing about me, like scraping plates. I can pick up dog poop in the yard; I can pull half-eaten rabbits out of the mouth of my dog; I can castrate a pig; dehorn a steer; blood and gore can shoot and spill and I can wipe it off my face with my sleeve and keep on trucking. But I hate scraping dinner plates into the garbage. Ooh, I got gravy on my fingers, soy sauce on my arm, mashed potatoes under my fingernails. Ick! Go figure but don't ask me to explain why.

So, how was "The Whisper Man", you ask?

Well, first it was spooky, then it was scary, then it was terrifying. Then I had trouble sleeping. But I finished it. And it was good like a haunted house was good or running a marathon was good. It sucked while you were doing it, but felt good when you were done.

I gave it a 6 on the Haugenometer. Amazonian spooks liked it more and give it 4.4 of 5.

But what can you expect from a scaredy-cat like me? Please stick to my list next time, honey.

Who's your guy?

 Years back my daughter drove into my garage door and wrecked it along with a corner of the garage. I can build a rabbit cage but I can't rebuild a garage. So I called a buddy who could come take a look at it.

He came and helped me fix it. More like I handed him stuff while he fixed it. I thanked him and he said: "Hey, we've all gotta have our guy. For fixing things, I'm 'your guy.'"

So he's my fix-it guy. I also have a beef guy, who supplies me locally-grown meat. I've got a honey guy, who supplies me with, you guessed it, local honey. I've got a walleye guy too. Even a canned pickles guy.

In reverse, I'm the "tomato guy" for some people. I provide them seedlings early in the season or vine-ripened fruits in the summer. It's not much but you go with what the good Lord gave ya.

But what I've needed lately is an "ammo guy." In case you hadn't heard there's a shortage of ammunition out there as people are buying guns at a record pace. And if you have guns you need something to shoot out of them. Thus one of the reasons for the shortage. Among others, like COVID hitting the supply line workers. Here's a good story and video from a Remington guy explaining it.

Thankfully, of all people, my wife has an "ammo guy." Usually I would not want my wife to have "a guy" of any sort. But he has access to 9mm ammo and I don't so I look the other way.

Seems we're almost getting back to the barter system in some ways. That's a good thing. You know where your food comes. You develop relationships and friendships. You rely on each other. It's all good. And if one of them annoys you too much, it's always good to have that ammo guy!

Finished: John Sandford's 'Masked Prey'

 Masked Prey is the 30th book in John Sandford's "Prey" series. Amazingly, he's still keeping them pretty fresh.

This novel is set in the suburbs of Washington, D.C., northern Virginia, right about where my son lives. I prefer his novels set in Minnesota because I'm more familiar with the area. But this one also seemed topical in that I have been in or around much of that area, which always makes for fun reading. Sure it's interesting to have novels in more exotic locations like Rome or Paris, but it works better for my mind's eye when I can more easily visual the cities and terrain having witnessed them myself. Make sense?

The daughter of a U.S. Senator is monitoring her social media presence when she finds a picture of herself on a strange blog. And there are other pictures . . . of the children of other influential Washington politicians, walking or standing outside their schools, each identified by name. Surrounding the photos are texts of vicious political rants from a motley variety of radical groups.

It's obviously alarming--is there an unstable extremist tracking the loved ones of powerful politicians with deadly intent? But when the FBI is called in, there isn't much the feds can do. The anonymous photographer can't be pinned down to one location or IP address, and more importantly, at least to the paper-processing bureaucrats, no crime has actually been committed. With nowhere else to turn, influential Senators decide to call in someone who can operate outside the FBI's constraints: Lucas Davenport.

I gave it a solid 7 of 10 on the Haugenometer. Amazonians a 4.5 of 5. 

Finished: Westlake's 'Help I Am Being Held Prisoner'

 Pretty ominous title in this novel by Donald Westlake. A scary thriller of kidnapping, rape, torture? Naaa.

It's Westlake. He doesn't roll that way. Even his prison novels are funny.

In this one, the main characters name is even funny and a rolling joke throughout. I'd type it but can't find the umlaut key. The guy with the funny name is a prankster. And he goes to prison for a prank gone wrong on the wrong people (a couple congressmen). He keeps up his jokes while in prison, while falling in with a gang who has a tunnel out of prison, where he spends most of his days in an apartment with his girlfriend, while unwantingly being forced to plan a bank robbery.

Westlake is so clever he makes me mad, because I can't come up with a plot half as clever as his. In all his books. The man was a genius and I don't use that term lightly.

I gave it a solid 7 on the Haugenometer. Amazonians were even higher at 4.5 of 5 and Goodreaders a 4 of 5.

Notes

**  I was happy to see 80 of my books downloaded during the smashwords.com end-of-year sale. "Bags of Bodies" and "Bags of Rock" were the top two books selected, as I'd hoped. "Joshua's Ladder" continues to attract readers too, so that is good. 

** The last couple years I've caught 20-30 field mice in my garage throughout the winter. Kind of gross but we are surrounded by thousands of acres of prairie and foothills and they look for a warmer place. This year, however, I caught three early on and none in the last couple months. That perfectly coincides with an owl who lives in a tree in the gully behind our house. Thank you, Mr. Owl. Now if he'd just take care of the plethora of rabbits who are organizing for a summer assault on my garden.

** This column by Jonah Goldberg does a better job of explaining some of the thoughts I expressed in my earlier post on news. It has bigger words and stuff.

When we get fed only what we want to hear, it becomes a contest for who can sell the purest junk.

** You should know by now what I think of censorship, but nobody has a right to get published. Hey, Josh, you can always try smashwords.com.

Here's a WSJ story on the subject.

The intelligence of your group is usually defined by the dumbest member

 Through the course of my day job I often get asked what news I watch. Usually it's meant as a sarcastic jab: from the far left that I must only watch FOX News or from the far right that I must only watch CNN. But some genuinely seem to want to know where to get unbiased news.

It's the unfortunately reality today that many people live in an echo chamber and only want to hear news they agree with, so they gravitate to MSNBC on one side or Newsmax/OAN on the other. The cry of "fake news" is often heard, but using that vague allegation I'd proffer that if there's fake news on the left there's also fake news on the right. So the conundrum is finding something in the middle, if that beast lives.

I "watch" very little news. My television at work is set to Fox Business and on mute so I can see how the markets are doing. When it leaves that channel it goes to CSPAN2, which focuses its lens on the floor of the U.S. Senate. There you can hear straight from the senators without fear of a filter or things being taken out of context. At home I seldom watch local news unless it's to get the latest on an impending weather event. I never watch national network news. 

I get my news online. I also follow a handful of news accounts on Twitter, from local journalists, newspapers and television stations to a couple national writers. 

I used to be a faithful reader of the Drudge Report, but haven't for a couple years. If you want to get depressed, read Drudge. The sky is falling and the world is going to hell there. I don't need that and I don't believe that. My first stop instead is usually Hotair.com. It's right leaning but not crazy. It offers headlines from various left and right national news outlets, with two or three paragraph excerpts of their stories. You can then click to the entire story if you wish. It also offers analysis and opinions from an array or writers.

I also read TheHill.com. It gives a pretty straight forward account of what's occurring on Capitol Hill. 

Beyond that I stick to sports and book websites.

I don't avoid what many consider the "mainstream" news, like the NY Times or Washington Post, that gets vilified from the right. But I do think there are things to consider when reading any news.

If they quote unnamed sources and use unattributed or anonymous quotes, ignore them. "Sources say" are the worst two words in journalism. Maybe file them away in the back of your brain or research the allegations more through other media, but don't take them as Gospel. Then, as you see those stories play out and become true or false, file that reporter's name away as legitimate and respected or not. Don't be reactionary and jump to conclusions. Have patience for a story to play out - like shootings or bombings and who is responsible or to blame.

If nothing else it is important to know what the other "side" is saying. Because sometimes "everybody I know says ..." is more a reflection of the small circle you run in. It may prove to be a smart circle or an uninformed circle. Personally, I know the bunch of goofballs I run with, and if they are all saying the same thing, I'm immediately cautious. 

As I used to tell my son, the intelligence of your group is usually defined by the dumbest member of that group. If you don't recognize who is the dumbest, it probably means it is you. Group-think is dumb. Be an individualistic thinker. 

And for goodness sake, don't get your news from Facebook friends and memes. They're the least informed and often loudest. Just because something is in all-caps, DOESN'T MAKE IT CORRECT.

Mostly, just read a lot, from various news outlets, left, center and right. You'll be smarter, more well-rounded, maybe more respectful of other opinions, more empathetic, and probably less stressed about the world around you.

Finished: Daniel Silva's "The Order" - it was fantastic

 I started Daniel Silva's "The Order" in late December. It's a pretty thick novel by my standards, (464 pages) so I planned to finish it the first week of January. Thus it would get a jump on my book total for 2021, but it was so good, I finished it in a couple of days, still in 2020. But, I'd already written my 2020 books in review post so I'm still counting it among my 2021 total. Sue me.

The trouble is, it was so good, it's going to be tough to beat the rest of the year.

It is the 20th book in the Gabriel Allon series. It's a real "thinker" and delves into issues between Jews and Christians, The Vatican's role in anti-Semitism, history of the Gospels and the history of religion in general. I thought it was great and gave it to a coworker interested in those kind of things with orders to drop what she was reading (a history of Abraham) and read it. For a change, she listened to me and I think she agreed that it was very interesting.

I gave it 9- on the Haugenometer. Amazonians at 4.3 of 5 and Goodreaders 4.2 of 5. So I was a little higher on it than them, but what do they know? The negative nabobs said it was too political and not the spy thriller they were used to from the series. Some people just want their fiction and don't want to think. I pick up books for that purpose too, just to enjoy, but occasionally it's good to test the noggin' too.

It had a nice surprise ending, a bit unbelievable, but hey. It's fiction!

I met a new friend, Ed McBain

 I've fallen upon another pulp noir mystery writer best known as Ed McBain. I've seen his name in Lawrence Block books and elsewhere and finally decided to give him a try.

McBain is a Mystery Writer's Association Grand Master, the highest honor accorded such writers. I recently finished "So Nude, So Dead." It was good. A 7- on the Haugenometer.

At the end of the book a short story was included called "Die Hard." It's twenty pages of marvelousness. (Reminder, everything doesn't have to be a 70,000-word novel.)

Can you beat a better description of a person than this?:

"He was a little man with a little voice, one of the many stamped from the mold, one of those subway-strappers. He had a round face with a long nose that tried its damnedest to peer into his mouth. His lips were thin and narrow, and his eyes were carrying luggage, heavy luggage."

No you can't. Looks like I found another kindred spirit to read and learn from. Ed McBain, aka Salvatore Albert Lombino, Evan Hunter, John Abbott, Curt Cannon, Hunt Collins, Ezra Hannon, and Richard Marsten.

I love that those writers from the 50s, 60s and 70s used so many pen names. It certainly causes confusion when trying to collect their works, but it's fun. I might have to try one.

I'm also smitten with the words they use, like "gin joint" for bars and "heaters" for cigs. As for "subway-strappers," I had to look that one up.

It means: One who grips a hanging strap or similar device for support while riding as a passenger on a bus or subway. Or, one who uses public transportation.

I might've figured that one out on my own eventually, but, like most things, probably not.

Book year in review

 I set a new record for books read this past year (60) thanks in large part to nothing better to do. 

It's not something I'm bragging about as much as it's a nice benchmark for years to come and showed me it is possible to adjust my schedule and read at various times of the day rather than just before bed. There are so many books I'd like to read and if I can do a book a week for 10 years, that's over 500 books (according to my Canton High math). That goes a long way toward finishing off the Koontz, Block and Westlake catalogs that I'd like to do.

According to the Haugenometer that ranks books on a 1-10 scale (unlike everybody else's 5-point scale), I had no books hit the 9 mark. I did however have ten hit the 8 mark.

Among them, for book of the year winner I'm going with "When the Sacred Gin Mill Closes" by Lawrence Block. It was the year of Block for me, reading about twenty of his novels, so that's only appropriate.

I sprinkled some nonfiction in this year, including biographies on Jimmy Stewart, John Wayne and Einstein; also a book on Adolf Eichmann and a book of collected columns by Charles Krauthammer.

All in all, if 2020 was a good year to escape from, I did my best.

Christmas presents, whether they like it or not

 Now that the presents have been opened I can announce The Big Reveal - the books I carefully researched and curated for purchase for my kids and their significant others.

It's a tradition appreciated by some (my daughters) more than others (my son). He'd prefer a box of ammo, but as we say in this house: "You git what you git, so don't have a fit."

For my political daughter I gave political commentator Candace Owens' book: "Blackout: How Black America Can Make Its Second Escape from the Democrat Plantation."

She contends that the Democrat Party has a long history of racism and exposes the ideals that hinder the black community’s ability to rise above poverty, live independent and successful lives, and be an active part of the American Dream. Instead, Owens offers up a different ideology by issuing a challenge: It’s time for a major black exodus. From dependency, from victimhood, from miseducation—and the Democrat Party, which perpetuates all three.

To her boyfriend: Hampson Sides' "Blood and Thunder: The Epic Story of Kit Carson and the Conquest of the American West."

At the center of this sweeping tale is Kit Carson, the trapper, scout, and soldier whose adventures made him a legend. Sides shows us how this illiterate mountain man understood and respected the Western tribes better than any other American, yet willingly followed orders that would ultimately devastate the Navajo nation. Rich in detail and spanning more than three decades, this is an essential addition to our understanding of how the West was really won.

To my science teacher daughter, who is more of a fiction reader: Oyinkan Braithwaite's "My Sister the Serial Killer."

Korede is bitter. How could she not be? Her sister, Ayoola, is many things: the favorite child, the beautiful one, possibly sociopathic. And now Ayoola's third boyfriend in a row is dead. Korede's practicality is the sisters' saving grace. She knows the best solutions for cleaning blood, the trunk of her car is big enough for a body, and she keeps Ayoola from posting pictures of her dinner to Instagram when she should be mourning her "missing" boyfriend. Not that she gets any credit.

For her husband, whose read about 200 books toward his PhD this past year or so, I gave a break. I can't interrupt his studies for some lame book on Aaron Rodgers. So I gave him a t-shirt that says: "I like big books, I cannot lie."

To my son, who fancies himself a chess player and more fancifully enjoys beating his dad at it, I gave: Walter Tevis' "The Queen's Gambit." Now, more than likely, he's going to watch the Netflix miniseries based on the book instead and tell me he read it. But that's something he'll have to live with on his conscience and admit to during his next confession or polygraph.

Eight year-old orphan Beth Harmon is quiet, sullen, and by all appearances unremarkable. That is, until she plays her first game of chess. Her senses grow sharper, her thinking clearer, and for the first time in her life she feels herself fully in control. By the age of sixteen, she’s competing for the U.S. Open championship. But as Beth hones her skills on the professional circuit, the stakes get higher, her isolation grows more frightening, and the thought of escape becomes all the more tempting.

For his fiance, I gave two books, because she's my favorite. While they were hunkered down with us for a couple months during the Wuhu shutdown, she knocked off about 20 of Janet Evanovich's Stephanie Plum series when she needed a non-thinking break from her epidemiology textbooks. So I gave her the 27th book in that series: Fortune and Glory. Hopefully it eases Kayla's pain in not knowing if Stephanie ends up with Ranger or Morelli.

When Stephanie’s beloved Grandma Mazur's new husband died on their wedding night, the only thing he left her was a beat-up old easy chair…and the keys to a life-changing fortune. But as Stephanie and Grandma Mazur search for Jimmy Rosolli’s treasure, they discover that they’re not the only ones on the hunt. Two dangerous enemies from the past stand in their way—along with a new adversary who’s even more formidable: Gabriela Rose, a dark-eyed beauty from Little Havana with a taste for designer clothes. She’s also a soldier of fortune, a gourmet cook, an expert in firearms and mixed martial arts—and someone who’s about to give Stephanie a real run for her money.

And I gave her a more topical one along her professional tastes: Kate Moore's "The Radium Girls: The Dark Story of America's Shining Women."

The incredible true story of the women heroes who were exposed to radium in factories across the U.S. in the early 20th century, and their brave and groundbreaking battle to strengthen workers' rights, even as the fatal poison claimed their own lives.

I hope they enjoy reading them as much as I enjoy giving them. And I don't demand a book report from them (like rumor has I did of my son as a youth), but a text saying "I read the book" is always appreciated it.

Bernie-isms from LB's Burglar books

 There are 11 books in Lawrence Block's Bernie Rhodenbarr series. I finished them all, nine of them in the last two months. They all have the same premise: Bernie the burglar breaks into a place to steal something, runs across a dead body he had nothing to do with, gets arrested for the murder by a cop who knows he didn't do it, then must solve the crime to save his rear end and the theft gets overlooked as long as he shares the proceeds with the cop.

They're predictable, but funny and clever. Sometimes overly clever. But the witty banter and one-liners throughout the books kept me coming back.

Here's a sampling:

The Burglar in the Closet

Describing a cop: "He had bigger shoulders than most people, and very widely spaced eyes, as if while in the womb he'd toyed with the idea of becoming Siamese twins and decided against it at the last minute."

The Burglar Who Liked to Quote Kipling

"When you don't know what you're looking for you have a great advantage, because you don't know what you'll find."

On a middle-class neighborhood: "Three out of four houses there contain at least one woman who plays mah-jongg when she's not at a Weight Watchers meeting."

On his friend, a dog-groomer: "She stands five-one in high heels and never wears them, and she's built like a fire hydrant, which is dangerous in her line of work."

"He wore a khaki army shirt, unbuttoned, and beneath it his T-shirt advertised the year's fashionable beer, a South Dakota brand reputedly brewed with organic water."

When a man says: "Ask me anything." He responds: "What's the capital of South Dakota?"

The Burglar Who Studied Spinoza

Bernie's friend Carolyn: "I can resist anything but temptation."

The Burglar Who Painted Like Mondrian

Carolyn on her looming hangover: "Bernie, I got news for you. I'm not gonna be clearheaded in the morning. I'm gonna have a head like a soccer ball that Pele got pissed at."

The Burglar Who Traded Ted Williams

Bernie after he quit jogging: "I still wear running shoes - they work just as well at low speeds."

The Burglar In The Library

A murder suspect: "I don't know who picked you to be the head wallaby in this kangaroo court."

The Burglar In The Rye

A suspect: "He was a hall monitor his junior year, did you know that? He was in the Latin Honor Society, he played trombone in the school band. Did you know that?"

Bernie: "I know the capital of South Dakota."

"That's neither here nor there."

Bernie: "It's not here, but I'm pretty sure it's there."

The Burglar On The Prowl

"I don't play cards with men named Doc or eat at places called Mom's."

"The windows on all four floors were darker than a burglar's conscience."

"If there's a way to avoid shaking a hand that's thrust at me, I've yet to figure it out, and I always wind up taking the proffered hand before I have time to wonder whether or not it's something I really want to do."

Carolyn: "Bern who has one drink? It's like one pant or one scissor. They come in pairs. Nobody has just one drink."

The Burglar Who Counted The Spoons

Carolyn: "You've got an alibi but you want to keep it to yourself, and how can it do you any good that way? What is she, Bernie, married? Are you droppin' your load in some other man's Maytag?"

Bags Morton addictions begin at Smashwords - FREE

 The Smashwords.com e-book-selling website kicks off its holiday sale today. It's an opportunity for authors to offer their wares at a reduced price. And, man, I couldn't have reduced mine any more without having to pay you to read them. I haven't gotten that desperate for readers yet.

While I first offer my books at Amazon, because that's where something like 75 percent of e-books are purchased, I eventually (after the contract allows) slide all my e-books over to Smashwords. I sell vastly more books on Smashwords than Amazon, which seems odd. But it's probably because that's where I started with my first book. It's where I have my most loyal following, if you'd call it a following. (It's somewhere between David Koresh and Jim Jones.)

And they do a better job of promoting independent authors. Amazon sticks to promoting Koontz and Patterson; and the Haugens of the world are dismissed as mostly an annoyance. 

Smashwords also treats the authors better. For a 2 dollar book, Smashwords keeps about 40 cents, with the rest going to the author. Amazon is about opposite that. So I remain loyal to Smashwords and have sold over 1,200 books there and given away about 5,000 free downloads. Not enough to let me quit my day job but enough to feel appreciated. And you can get them in about all formats, not just for Kindle.

On top of all that craziness, this week I made the second Bags Morton book available on Smashwords. So you can "buy" the first one of the series, Bags of Bodies, and "buy" the second one, Bags of Rock, for the same price. All free! 

So you might be asking yourself: "Self, has Haugen lost his damn mind?" Maybe so. But I'm about gaining readers, not Benjamins. And there's always the possibility that the third and fourth books of the Bags Morton series will come out in 2021, and you'll be hooked on the Bags books like meth and need to buy more. That's when I'll jack the price up to an entire $1.99 and will be rolling in greenbacks in my bed, laughing like Elon Musk must do every night. Bags, like love, is a drug and you'll be hooked on him and I'll be rich. It's a win-win for everyone.

And they thought I was crazy. Pffft.

All you need to do to begin this addiction is to go HERE and sign up if you haven't already. Download the books with the code, LR74Y, and let the hallucinations begin.

But seriously, kids, don't do drugs, unless they're books. Then do lots of them.

Finished: Block's 'Resume Speed'

 My year of Lawrence Block continued as I finished his novella "Resume Speed." It's a prime example of why you shouldn't avoid novellas. Just because they're short (this one about 100 pages) doesn't mean they can't be quality reads.

This character-driven book follows Bill as he, again, arrives as a drifter in a small town in Montana. Gets a job, meets girl, falls in love with girl, all is good. Or so you'd think.

As many of Block's books do, it features a man with a drinking problem. There are lessons to be learned in the book and questions you will be asking yourself when you finish. What more can you want in a book?

Block is an expert at putting the reader in the mind of the character and how even the small things in his life combine to bring him to a fullness even in a hundred pages. I enjoyed it.

I gave it a 6+ on the 10-point Haugenometer. Goodreaders gave it a 3.8 of 5 and Amazonians a 4.

The annual Haugen Holiday communication

 It's time for the annual Haugen holiday newsletter where I could lie to you about what a wonderful year it's been in our household, where it was all rainbows and unicorns and the dogs pooped cotton candy.

Or it could go like this:

My truck got wrecked but is still drive-able. Both cars sustained several thousands of dollars in hail damage. Four hailstorms messed with the house and garden. I met a couple nice highway patrolmen. 

Nancy and I managed a trip to Florida just before the virus hit and we sneaked away to D.C. to visit Junior a couple months ago. I also made a solo run down to Missouri for a quick visit to my mom's. Otherwise we mostly sat around the house and stared at each other. I got the better end of that deal. We had a houseful for a couple months as kids with Covid-affected jobs found their way home and hung out. We enjoyed that.

I'm winding up my sixteenth year with the senator, about ten years longer than any previous job I had. The Rona played some games with our office but we didn't miss a day serving the fine citizens of West River. My life, to this point, was otherwise mostly unaffected by the plague. I still run, but shorter distances and slower, as my back dictates. The garden sucked this year, as previously outlined in this fine blog. I managed to pop a couple pheasants, wrote a couple books (still awaiting editing by my stellar but underpaid proofreaders) and read a lot. Surprised, with all that, I don't have my own reality TV show.

Nancy's father passed away in February. It was tough, but everybody was able to say their "good-byes" before he died, so that helped. She continues to enjoy her job as chiropractic assistant. She helps a lot of patients and kills a lot of office plants (which is better than the other way around), and has turned into an exercise machine with the gym being next door to her work. She still orders me around a lot, but I'm use to it (and probably need it). She hikes every weekend to find her Zen. Still manages to fit in several trips to "Walgreens" with our eldest daughter.

Speaking of the kids ...

Katie Jo continues to be her usual remarkable self. She's still West River Director for our U.S. Congressman. She also served as his campaign manager. After consulting with a renowned South Dakota historian, I determined she is only the second female campaign manager for a victorious House/Senate candidate in South Dakota history. She continues to see her miner guy from Keystone (not "minor" but "miner" - spelling matters).

Rylee (or Mrs. Kasty, as her students call her) is still enlightening young skulls full of mush in Champaign, Illinois. She added "cross country coach" to her resume this year and had a great first season. She especially enjoyed that she was able to be with some students in person rather than via Zoom. Her best friend from high school moved to Champaign, so that's been fun for her. Her doctoral-student husband Stetson added "professor" to his resume as he taught some freshman classes at the U of I. Their cat is still alive and so are their Packers, but nobody's perfect.

Luke had an eventful year getting tased, pepper sprayed and racing cars at the police academy before making a difficult choice to accept a counter-intelligence position with a defense contractor in northern Virginia. I'd tell you more about it if I understood it but then he'd have to kill me. He seems to have found his niche there. He also "put a ring on it" as Beyonce urged him to do. "It" being a she - college girlfriend Kayla Erickson. A super young lady who fits perfectly in the fam. No wedding plans yet as Covid and the Catholic church haven't got their act together yet.

Stanley turned 11 this month, has slowed down, but still jogs with me and did a great job on our couple pheasant hunts. I fear the next year won't be kind to him (and thus me) but we'll be best buds to the end.

Huckleberry continues to be the ornriest goofball in the family (and that's saying something). His best bud is Nancy - kind of a birds of a feather thing, I suspect.

We consider ourselves blessed to have been healthy this year and don't take it for granted knowing the heartache a lot of people encountered. We also didn't get looted and resisted the urge to do any looting of our own, so we got that going for us. 

Here's hoping your 2021 is spectacular and makes up for whatever 2020 threw at you. Remember (and I just came up with this original saying off the top of my head; think it's kind of catchy): "We're all in this together!" Unless you live more than twenty miles from me; then you're on your own. Good luck.

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!

The Haugens

Finished: Westlake's "Ordo" and "A Travesty"

 These two novellas by Donald Westlake were first published back in the 1970s but recently republished by Hard Case Crime, an outfit that specializes in the works of crime noir authors, under the title "Double Feature."

It's typical Westlake stuff - meaning they are both excellent. Westlake is unique among writers because you never know what you're going to get from him. There's no set formula. The settings vary from New York to Hollywood. The only thing you know is that they will be clever, without being overly so. He doesn't plop something into the last chapter out of the blue to make things come together. Yet, you never quite see it coming. He writes comedies, soft core erotica, murder mysteries and bungling burglers (ie Dortmunder). All you need to know is if the book is written by Westlake (or any of his plethora of pen names) it will be good.

As Stephen King said: "A book by this guy is cause for happiness."

"A Travesty" was eventually turned into a TV movie starring William H. Macy and Felicity Huffman. It starts with a movie critic who accidentally murders his girlfriend and follows his trail as the detective assigned to the case befriends him. The detective finds that the critic has a knack for solving other murder cases and calls on him often. Eventually, stuff happens as their lives (and the detective's wife) intertwine to bring about the conclusion. I consider it a dark comedy and gave it an 8 on the Haugenometer.

"Ordo" follows a Navy sailor who discovers many years later that his first wife (who was 16 but told him she was 19) has become ... oh, I can't tell you because that's the first surprise in the book and a good one. This is more of a think-piece, not a murder mystery or anything. Just a story full of surprises. I loved it. Gave it an 8-.

Again, I implore you, if you are a fan of fiction or mysteries, don't discount these books because they were written 40 years ago. Westlake is one of the all-time greats and you're missing out if you don't give him a try. You'll be hooked. 

The other great thing is that unlike a John Sandford or Lee Childs or Ted Bell, you don't have to wait around a year for his next book to come out. I've read about 30 by Westlake, and the best news is that I've got another 85 to go. My only fear is I won't live long enough to read them all.