In the game of life, be a Tom, not a Bill

You've probably seen the news where a U.S. Senator has led the charge for it to be an even uglier place. They've dropped the dress code of suits and ties and now allow shorts and sweatshirts on the Senate floor. 

While I won't harp on him (enough others have), when your crowning career achievement is to make the Senate an uglier place, you didn't have much of a career. Welcome to Walmart.

I'm with Mark Twain, of course, that clothes make the man. They don't have to be expensive or chic or trendy. But you dress appropriately for the occasion. 

Oddly enough, one of the biggest changes and things I still grapple with after turning from Lutheran to Catholic 25 years ago is the dress code. At the country church I grew up attending, men wore suit coats and ties. And this church was surrounded by corn fields and attended by farmers who wore coveralls and wife-beater shirts Monday through Saturday. They recognized the significance of their venue, of whom they were honoring. They weren't feeding the cows.

Catholics are much, much less attentive to that philosophy and it still bugs me. Blue jeans galore. T-shirts. But not me. You can take the boy out of the Lutheran church but not all the Lutheran out of the boy. You won't find me in blue jeans in church.

My son as a teen wanted to wear sandals one day to church. I told him: "Unless your name is Jesus, you don't wear sandals in church." I was a mean dad.

Don't get me wrong. I can dress like a slob. Catch me on the weekends and you'll see. Often times the same shirt a couple days in a row. Baseball cap, almost always. 

But, elsewhere, I'm generally known for dressing spiffy. Rarely suit and tie, (those are just for special occasions), but I've got my own style. If I had to categorize it, I'd say it trends toward 1970s college professor hip. You know, turtle-necks, mock turtle necks, solid-colored button-down shirts, with sport coat, sweater or vest, sometimes even the always-classy sweater vest not just anybody can pull off.

I like to dress nice and for the occasion. I dress differently for a night in Deadwood than a night at boxing. But I have outfits for both. Fedoras for some, bucket hats for others. 

Shoes too. Not quite an Imelda Marcos situation (Google it, kids) but getting close. 

Am I judgey about how others dress? Yes. Sue me. I figure, if somebody doesn't care about an event they are attending, they don't care how they look at it. I've seen high-ranking government officials in ripped blue jeans at important events where I'm wearing a suit and tie; and I find it disrespectful. It tells me they are more interested in sending some kind of message (look at me, I'm cool) than sending a message to the people the event is honoring (I'm honored to be here and took a few extra minutes to dress nicely to show my respect). 

And it's not like you have to spend a lot of money to look good. I'm still wearing coats and sport coats handed down from my dad. Goodwill has them too.

I remember a friend 30 years ago, lived a couple houses down from me. He didn't own a suit coat at the time, but he was going to a funeral. He stopped by the house and asked if he could borrow one of mine. I said sure. I respected the respect he was showing the deceased and his willingness to overcome any little bit of embarrassment to ask. 

I'll quit my rant for now and send you young'ns to the Google machine again: In a world of Bill Belichicks, try being a Tom Landry.

When the ban isn't really a ban ...

 I'm against book bans, but let's not over-hype the problem. 

Here are some interesting findings from a couple researchers who looked into claims of censorship.

As it turns out, almost three quarters of the books that PEN listed as banned were still available in school libraries in the same districts from which PEN claimed they had been banned.

Let's not cry wolf. It doesn't help the cause.

Finished: Robert B. Parker's 'Bye Bye Baby'

 This is a continuation of the late RBP's Spenser series but written by Ace Atkins, chosen by Parker's estate to do so. This is Atkins' tenth and he does a really good job of keeping the characters and dialogue in sync with the original author. There are only subtle differences a long-time reader of the series would notice.

Carolina Garcia-Ramirez is a rising star in national politics, taking on the establishment with her progressive agenda. Tough, outspoken, and driven, the young congresswoman has ignited a new conversation in Boston about race, poverty, health care, and the environment. Now facing her second campaign, she finds herself not only fighting a tight primary with an old guard challenger but also contending with numerous death threats coming from hundreds of suspects.

When her chief of staff reaches out to Spenser for security and help finding the culprits of what he believes to be the most credible threats, Garcia-Ramirez is less than thrilled. Since her first grassroots run, she’s used to the antipathy and intimidation women of color often face when seeking power. To her, it’s all noise. But it turns out an FBI agent disagrees, warning Spenser that Garcia-Ramirez might be in real danger this time.

Some of the clever, thought-provoking lines I marked-up, as I tend to do, include:

"With age comes wisdom, but for some age comes alone."

"I wasted time, and now doth time waste me." (He likes to drop Shakespeare quotes on occasion.)

And, a reporter explaining why he doesn't read the comments posted below stories he's written:

"Sometimes people get up in the morning, take a shower, grab a cup of coffee, and head to an office. Other people get up out of their cages and start screwing with people. You know what? I think most of them are just lonely and sad."

Amazonians give it a 4.4 of 5; Goodreaders a 4.1; and the Haugenometer a 7 of 10.

How ya doin'?

 Some time ago, albeit gradually, I started taking the "How ya doin'?" greeting more literally.

I know it's basically a perfunctory greeting. To which you're supposed to respond: "Fine. How are you?" Most people don't really want to know how I am. They don't have any real concern for my well being. Sure, they usually don't want me dead or injured, but they don't really care if I'm having a good day or not. They don't want the details. They just want to move on to the business at hand.

Most days I'm doing great and respond as such.

But other days I'm not. And I have to admit it's kind of fun to make some people uncomfortable by responding with the truth.

"Oh, so-so. The dog puked on the carpet first thing this morning, then I got a speeding ticket going to work and my wife is mad because I forgot to take the garbage out. But, the day is young."

Or to my "How ya doin'?" they respond: "So far, so good."

Then I remind them of the story in Magnificent Seven (the first movie, not the lame remake) about the guy falling out of the seven-story building and at every floor below they heard him say: "So far, so good." They look at me like I'm a nut, which I'm fine with (never end a sentence with a preposition).

But, really, most days my head has a three-ring circus going on inside it. There's the clowns in one ring, the acrobats hanging on by their fingernails in the center ring, and the lions eating the lion-tamer in the third ring. And I like to make people aware that I'm not always okay.

If for no other reason, it's that I suspect most other people are not always okay either, and it might give them a little relief to know they are not alone. Everybody has crap going on in their life. If they say they don't then they are liars.

Now I'm not into over-sharing the details. But often times, my response leads to an actual conversation about things that are going on in their life and they want to know a few more details of mine.

It actually works out pretty well that way.

If people don't like that, then maybe they should try a different greeting, like: "Hello."

More on 'Miami Purity' and "what is noir?"

 Polly Stewart discusses one of my all-time favorite books, "Miami Purity," with another crime writer, Alex Segura. Very interesting. I really like his definition of "noir."

It’s where a character is painted into a corner by their own design, like their own mistakes or choices have put them in an impossible situation. And it’s usually relating to some kind of primal urge. It’s not like a plan that goes awry; it’s that they’ve made a mistake based on lust or greed or vengeance. They’ve chosen poorly, and now must pay the consequences. And that’s the story.

And the thing about noir is that there’s never a tidy resolution. You don’t get the happy ending where they kind of ride off into the sunset; it’s usually pretty bad. Miami Purity is very much a noir, a neo-noir, in that bad things happen to people because they make bad choices. And I find those kinds of stories fascinating because it feels like real life, where few things are tidy, and few things are resolved easily.

"They’ve chosen poorly, and now must pay the consequences." I like that.

Knocked off 4 more books, lots of people died

 I've fallen behind on what passes for book reviews around here, so let's get caught up on the latest:

The Girl With No Place To Hide by Nick Quarry (aka Marvin Albert). It was originally published in 1959. This was republished by Black Gat Books, which specializes in reprints of some of the best vintage mystery books. 

The woman comes into the bar and catches Jake’s attention immediately. Not beautiful, but there is something striking about her. She asks for Steve Canby, who’s just left, and dismisses Jake with a glance. Then she leaves. Jake doesn’t think much of it until he comes out of the bar and finds the woman being choked by a huge hulk of a man. Coming to her rescue, he barely manages to keep from being strangled himself.

Later, they end up at his apartment. Her name is Angela, and she just wants someplace safe to spend the night. Someone is out to get her. Jake Barrow is a private detective between jobs, so he agrees. But later that night when he returns from a false alarm from someone claiming to want his services, he finds her gone. Was the call a ruse? Who knew she was here? But this is just the beginning—it’s not long before his pursuit of Angela leads to murder.

Amazonians gave it a 4.5 of 5. It ranked a 7 of 10 on the Haugenometer.

All Good People Here by Ashley Flowers. I knew Flowers from hosting my wife's favorite podcast Crime Junkie. This was her first book and a New York Times bestseller last year.

Twisty, chilling, and intense, All Good People Here is a searing tale that asks: What are your neighbors capable of when they think no one is watching?

The book was given to my wife by my daughter. I was skeptical, figuring it was just some author given a book deal because she was somewhat famous, but it was actually very well written and enjoyable. So, never judge an author by their cover, I guess.

Amazonians gave it a 4.4 of 5; the harder-to-please Goodreaders of 3.9 of 5, and the Haugenometer a 7 of 10. 

After Death by Dean Koontz. Go figure, one of my favorite authors ended up being the one with a bit of a clunker. It was okay, but Koontz seems to be obsessed with this singularity thing, and I'm not. One thing I admire about him is that he writes what interests him and not what he thinks his fans want. But, hey, Dean, time for another one for the fans. Ditch the biological, computer-oriented singularity thing for a bit. Give it a rest.

Michael Mace, head of security at a top-secret research facility, opens his eyes in a makeshift morgue twenty-four hours following an event in which everyone perished—including him and his best friend, Shelby Shrewsberry.

Having awakened with an extraordinary ability unlike anything he—or anyone else—has ever imagined, Michael is capable of being as elusive as a ghost. He sets out to honor his late friend by helping Nina Dozier and her son, John, whom Shelby greatly admired. Although what Michael does for Nina is life changing, his actions also evoke the wrath of John’s father, a member of one of the most violent street gangs in Los Angeles.

But an even greater threat is descending: the Internal Security Agency’s most vicious assassin, Durand Calaphas. Calaphas will stop at nothing to get his man. If Michael dies twice, he will not live a third time.

From the tarnished glamour of Beverly Hills to the streets of South Central to a walled estate in Rancho Santa Fe, only Michael can protect Nina and John—and ensure that light survives in a rapidly darkening world.

Amazonians liked it and gave it a 4.4 of 5, Goodreaders a 4.2 and the Haugenometer a 6 of 10.

Mortal Stakes by Robert B. Parker. He is one of the absolute best. Give him a try. This is one of his famous Spenser series (the third in over 50, and written in 1975). It combines tough-guy private eye, with humor and emotion. The trifecta.

Everybody loves a winner, and the Rabbs are major league. Marty is the Red Sox star pitcher, Linda the loving wife. She loves everyone except the blackmailer out to wreck her life. 

Is Marty throwing fast balls or throwing games? It doesn't take long for Spenser to link Marty's performance with Linda's past...or to find himself trapped between a crazed racketeer and an enforcer toting an M-16. 

America's favorite pastime has suddenly become a very dangerous sport, and one wrong move means strike three, with Spenser out for good!

Amazonians a 4.4, Goodreaders a 4.2 and the Haugenometer an 8.

Read this

 Here's a story about rearranging your books.

FWIW, I arrange mine by author, not by size, color or alphabetically, like some lunatics.

Pulling down and replacing every book on your main shelves can be a kind of ritual, a trip down memory lane that reminds you, in brief flashes and long reveries, how you got to where you are. It’s turning to the back of a book to find the name and semester of the class it was read for, scratched lightly in pencil in the back cover. It’s remembering which books were purchased in which cities; which were gifts; which you have duplicates of, in case a friend needs them. 

Hot stuff and not-so-much

 I usually like to try a couple new peppers in my garden. Two that did well in pots about bookend the hotness (Scoville) scale from mildest to one of the hottest:

Candy Cane Chocolate Cherry Pepper

Pepper with boldly striped fruits against uniquely variegated foliage! astonishing early maturing fruits are deliciously sweet and crisp, tasting great when eaten at any stage of maturity. Elongated, mini-bell shaped fruits ripen from green with white stripes to a unique chocolate and cherry red striped masterpiece. Ideal in containers, on the patio, or in the garden.

Days to Maturity: 60 to Green / 70 to Red Ripe

Height: 18 - 24 Inches

Spread: 12 - 18 Inches

Fruit Size: 3 ½ to 4 x 2 ½ to 3 Inches

Scoville Heat Unit: 0 - 100 SHU

Pepper 'Buffy'

This fiery little tobasco-type hot pepper has juicy thick-walled fruits which pack some heat! At maturity the peppers are red, slightly triangular in shape and about 1.5-inches long, with 500,000 Scoville heat units.

If interested, I get most of my seeds from seedsnsuch.com, though I think I bought Buffy as a seedling at a local nursery.

Filling those boyhood memories

 My book collection seems to lack purpose or at least a unique purpose. Sure, it contains all the books I've read, but it's missing something and I finally figured out what.

It's missing two of the series I read when I was a kid - The Tarzan series and the Hardy Boys series. I don't know what happened to them when I moved out of the family home or when Mom sold it. I brought every other book. I'm guessing I borrowed them to somebody and never got them back (an annoyance of mine).

So I've made it a point to start building them up from scratch. I've started with the Tarzan series. It's the Ballantine Series, very distinguishable by their black covers and spines with cover designs by artists Neal Adams and Boris Vallejo.

It's a series of 24 adventure novels written by Edgar Rice Burroughs (1875–1950) and published between 1912 and 1966 (Wiki). I have 16 of them and working on the rest.

I think the first cover is my fave, with Tarzan coming to rescue Jane. (Did you know that in a later book when Tarzan ventures to America to find Jane, he finds her in ... spoiler alert ... Wisconsin!)

This one is pretty cool too:

Finished: Block's 'The Autobiography of Matthew Keller'

 I'm sure it's happened but I'm not aware of an author writing a series and then capping that series with an autobiography of the the principal character. But Lawrence Block did just that with his Matthew Scudder series. It's a unique concept that could've fallen flat but did not because, well, it's Lawrence Block.

He wrote 17 novels featuring Scudder and closed it out with Scudder "writing" his autobiography. Block made it look like Scudder was writing it in a train-of-thought manner and pulled it off. I loved it. You have to read many Scudder novels for it to hit home and I have.

Running concurrently with it, you get the feeling that much of it is the 85-year-old Block's autobiography as well. It was cool.

I marked it up pretty good with quotes like: "Life, even as it lengthens, becomes increasingly about death."

And, a phrase common at AA meetings: "Feelings aren't facts." A lot of people, not just alcoholics, but also FOX News and CNN die-hards, might do well to heed.

One thing I learned, which I took as true, as Keller wrote about his time with the NYPD probably in the 1960s, was in regard to the "N" word. Even then, NYPD officers were advised not to use it. So, they found a way around it. They instead used another "N" word instead and referred to Blacks as "Norwegians."

So if a guy was recalling a liquor store robbery that involved two Black suspects, he'd tongue-in-check say: "It was, of course, two Norwegians." Didn't mean the cops weren't racist, but simply used semantics to get around using the word they were thinking.

As a full-blood Norwegian, that caught my attention. I'm surprised I haven't heard that reference before, given all the crime noir I've read from that era.

As for the book, I gave it a 7 and hope LB has several more novels left in him, though it appears Keller's career has come to an end. 

Oh, and my copy was signed by the Grand Master himself!

Larry delivers the big hit

 It can now be told, the best book I've ever read is Buffalo Girls by Larry McMurtry.

I t's a bit surprising to me in a number of ways, but I also feel sometimes "when" you read a book goes a long way towards your reaction to it. And this one hit me at the right time. I've ranked some books high and looked back later and had second thoughts. Maybe that will be the case down the road with this one, but for now, it's numero uno.

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.

I like murder mysteries; this is not one.

I like crime noir; this is not.

I like a little sexual tension; this has none.

I'm not much for history books either. While this is more historical fiction, it does gravitate around real historical characters, with a couple others thrown in for flavor.

The characters were deep. I felt like I could feel what they were feeling. The loneliness. They loss of a way of life and friends and animals. The changes they were encountering. The choices they were forced to make. It all just jived.

One of the unique writing techniques McMurtry used is every few chapters he inserts letter from Jane to her daughter, who is being raised "civily" back East. They get you thinking about where this is going. Where it goes I can't really say without spoiling it, so I won't. But it's good.

And the last line of the book made me laugh and close the book with a smile on my face. I leaned back in the recliner and thought about the experience. If I smoked, I would've lit a cigarette.

Amazonians give it a 4.3 out of 5; stupid Goodreaders a 3.7. I forsook the plus and minus rating and went with a 9.8 out of 10 -- not a Nadia Comaneci or Bo Derek (Google them you young pups) but definitely in the Angelina Jolie category.

Read it and tell me I'm wrong. I dare ya.

Dean Koontz

 The Washington Post has a great feature on the great Dean Koontz.

In 2009, Koontz published “A Big Little Life,” about Trixie. Like many dog memoirs, it is also a memoir of its author, a vessel for his life story.

Koontz shares plenty in that book. That he irons his underwear. That he isn’t particularly fond of most other writers; “I found this community as a whole to be solipsistic and narcissistic and irrational.” That the experiences of getting his books adapted to the screen have been mostly unrewarding, “because they’re all blithering idiots in Hollywood.”

Almost found the Bo Derek of novels

 I'm impulsive by nature but have learned to control the impulses pretty well as my hair has grayed. But, occasionally, it slips like: "Hey, look at that cool yellow Mustang for sale!" A day later it's in my driveway.

I almost had another slip after reading a recent novel. I thoroughly enjoyed it. Loved it. I was jazzed. Maybe the best book I'd ever read. I was ready to give it the perfect rating.

Usually after I finish a book, I immediately retreat to my library/greenhouse/aquarium/conservatory/spare bedroom  and fill out my index card reviewing the book and stock the book on its proper shelf. But this time, I waited a couple days ... to think. I was about to enter uncharted territory. 

Before I gave the first-ever 10 rating on the 10-point Haugenometer, I wanted to make sure I didn't make a rash decision. So I pondered. What makes a book perfect? I've given 9s before, but never gone beyond.

In my ponderings I didn't have any great breakthroughs, but figured I wanted a book that did the following:

- A page-turner.

- An occasional chuckle.

- An emotion that touched me: Fear, anger, sadness, etc.

- A good twist.

- An ending that knocks my socks off.

- Makes me want to read it again.

- Causes me to annoy my coworkers by talking about it so much.

- Has a little sexiness to it.

Thankfully, I waited. Because upon further review, this book hit only seven of the eight notes -- one note shy of a full octave. Not quite worthy of being the Bo Derek of books (Millenials, Google her). More like the Farrah Fawcett of books - a 9.8.

The only thing it lacked and kept it from a perfect 10 was it needed a little sexy. It needed to, as Justin Timberlake sang, bring sexy back. Nothing hardcore, just a little brief nudity or some oohs and aahs. I'm surprised there wasn't something there considering much of the book took place in a whorehouse (your only hint). While it's just a minor quibble, it's a quibble none-the-less.

While I write up the review and make you wait on pins and needles for the unveiling of what I think is the best book I've ever read, but not the perfect book, what do you think constitutes the perfect book? And have you encountered it yet?

Finished: 'Five Decembers' by James Kestrel

 This novel was 2022 Edgar Award winner, which is the highest award for mysteries, and deservedly so. It was awesome.

It's considered a historical noir murder mystery, but it doesn't get bogged down in boring history. It's set just before, during and after the attack on Pearl Harbor. That just serves as the backdrop. It doesn't delve into military or political stuff. It's just there and offers some explanation for various things that take place in the long-running murder investigation. There's romance, suspense, twists, the whole shebang.

December 1941. America teeters on the brink of war, and in Honolulu, Hawaii, police detective Joe McGrady is assigned to investigate a homicide that will change his life forever. Because the trail of murder he uncovers will lead him across the Pacific, far from home and the woman he loves; and though the U.S. doesn't know it yet, a Japanese fleet is already steaming toward Pearl Harbor. 

This extraordinary novel is so much more than just a gripping crime story—it's a story of survival against all odds, of love and loss and the human cost of war. Spanning the entirety of World War II, FIVE DECEMBERS is a beautiful, masterful, powerful novel that will live in your memory forever.

I gave it an 9 on the 10-point Haugenometer. Amazonians were even higher on it with a 4.6 of 5; Goodreaders a 4.5.

It's just a brilliant, engaging novel. Highly recommend it.

Relaaaax ... everything will be alright

 This book censoring and author cancelling thing is getting tiresome. It's being done by both sides of the political aisle while each hypocritically complains about the other.

I think individual communities and schools have the right to decide what is age appropriate for their youth. Beyond that, just mind your own business, read or don't read what you want, and chill out.

Per usual, I continue to boycott boycotts and think the world would be a better place if everyone adhered to my not-so-original advice of: Mind your own beeswax.

Here are a couple stories about the hypocrites among us:

Goodreaders are doing it:

As with everything else, Goodreads is being ruined by cancel culture and wokeness. It’s now a regular occurrence for authors to become the target of review-bombing campaigns, often targeting books that haven’t even been published yet. 

And so are librarians:

It is blindingly obvious that libraries, like public schools, have absolutely no interest in actually ensuring that people have access to a wide range of literature and information from various religious and ideological perspectives.

From CrimeReads.com:

 Here's a fun story about conscientious art thieves ...

Instead of an art thief, he preferred to be thought of as an art collector with a radical acquisition style.

... and book thieves.

Alois Pichler, a Catholic priest from Germany stationed in Saint Petersburg, Russia, modified his winter jacket with a special inside sack and took more than 4,000 books from the Russian Imperial Library, from 1869 to 1871, before he was finally caught and exiled to Siberia for life.

Reupping for you procrastinators or forgetful ones

  I have good news for you devotees of Bags Morton and the Bags series of novellas. The fourth installment is now available as an e-book on Amazon.

For just $1.99, basically the cost of a chicken egg, you can read "Bags of Shots." If you are a Prime member, you can download it for free. You won't be any smarter when you're done reading it, but you will have chuckled several times, rolled your eyes a couple more, and perhaps snorted once or twice.

In this one, the latest worldwide pandemic has finally reached southwest South Dakota, but Bags is largely oblivious to it. Reality hits him between the eyes, though, when his babe, Bobbi Jo, starts getting hot, and not the good kind of hot. The Tehran Fever has hit and there's no cure, except hospitalization to help with the symptoms and help patients hopefully ride out the storm. You can't be admitted until the fever hits 103 and Bags can't find a thermometer anywhere to even measure it.

While searching for one in the unlikeliest of places, FEMA trucks with medical supplies are being hijacked, and the state epidemiologist is kidnapped. That triggers a call from Bags' former boss and buddy, the governor, enlisting Bags and his unconventional (some would say illegal) methods in finding the doctor. If he can find her, Bags hopes to put her expertise to use on Bobbi Jo.

But the clock is ticking and the fever is rising.

***

Do you need to catch up or start at the beginning (not necessary, but fun):

Book #1: Bags of Bodies

Book #2: Bags of Rock

Book #3: Bags of Stone

Finished: John Sanford's 'Dark Angel'

 Dark Angel is the second book of the Letty Davenport series. She is the daughter of Lucas Davenport from Sandford's "Prey" series of books.

I wasn't blown away by the first Letty book, The Investigator, but felt this one was much better. In the first one she was more of the cliched bad-ass girl with gun. In this one her character is more well-rounded and set in the middle of the start of the Russia-Ukraine war. How Sandford got this book turned around so quickly in that relatively short timeframe is beyond me.

Letty Davenport’s days working a desk job at are behind her. Her previous actions at a gunfight in Texas — and her incredible skills with firearms—draw the attention of several branches of the US government, and make her a perfect fit for even more dangerous work. The Department of Homeland Security and the NSA have tasked her with infiltrating a hacker group, known only as Ordinary People, that is intent on wreaking havoc. Letty and her reluctant partner from the NSA pose as free-spirited programmers for hire and embark on a cross country road trip to the group’s California headquarters.

While the two work to make inroads with Ordinary People and uncover their plans, they begin to suspect that the hackers are not their only enemy. Someone within their own circle may have betrayed them, and has ulterior motives that place their mission—and their lives—in grave danger.

I gave it a 7 of 10. Amazonians liked it even better with a 4.5 of 5. Still, I prefer the Lucas Davenport or Virgil Flowers series.

** I'm a third of the way in on a novel - "Five Decembers" by James Kestrel - and it has the makings of doozy. Stay tuned.

A couple stories that made me chuckle

 This writer is flabbergasted as to Why Is Everyone Watching TV With the Subtitles On?

First off, I take issue with the word "everyone." I'm sure there is somebody out there who isn't, probably millions. None-the-less, I get what he's saying.

I seldom purposefully turn the subtitles on. Seems they're either on or not when I flip on Netflix or Prime. I will make the effort if it's some foreign movie, not even foreign language, just foreign accent. 

He makes the point that he loses all the nuances of the cinematic efforts of the movie when drawn to the words at the bottom of the screen. Seems to me, to avoid that, directors should include more nudity in their movies to draw the eyes elsewhere. Just a thought. 

I'm a problem-solver.

The other update is that we really only have a couple weeks left to let subtitles ruin our nights, as Greta Thunberg pointed out years ago that the world is ending this month. I'm guessing she's wrong and it's not the first time this girl genius has been wrong.

Despite her sparkling personality, I've never really been taken in by her charm and intellect. While I am generally an optimist, I am also a cynic and skeptic when it comes to the "experts" and the child spokespeople held up as such.

This story really does a number on correcting the experts, of which the media are not.

Finished: 'Iguana Love' by Vicki Hendricks

 Don't read it.