Making Smiles On Faces

Thank you, Norma! I got the nod for this from one of her several blogs; this one in particular can be found here:

Windchaser's Journey

Check it out when you have a chance, if you're not already following. It falls upon me to bestow it upon other bloggers who, for one reason or another, bring out a smile in me too.

So without further ado, here they are...


You've Got To Be Kidding
Reading, Writing, Romance
Talli Roland
Erin Lausten
Nathalie Schiltz
Mighty God King
Basking In The Afterglow
The Life Of A Novice Writer
Adventures of An Amateur Writer
Joanna St James Bionic Writer
Slightly Off The Mark
Pink Tea And Paper
The Happy Whisk
The Open Vein
Still Writing
Rebel Rogue

The Revenge List

"Hatred is blind; rage carries you away; and he who pours out vengeance runs the risk of tasting a bitter draught." -Alexandre Dumas, The Count of Monte Cristo


"How did I escape? With difficulty. How did I plan this moment? With pleasure. "  -Alexandre Dumas, The Count of Monte Cristo

"Those who plot the destruction of others often perish in the attempt." -Thomas Moore

"From this time forth, my thoughts be bloody, or be nothing worth!" -William Shakespeare, Hamlet

"I just work for Vizzini to pay the bills. There's not a lot of money in revenge." -Inigo Montoya

He stood alone in the dark upper chamber, staring out into the night, cackling to himself. After so long, his revenge was near, so close. The fools had deserved their fate, and soon he would carry it out. He was so caught up in thoughts of his revenge that he never heard the door open. And he was unaware of the couple who strode into the room. For their part, they were completely unaware of him. Delilah and Diego, caught up in lust, were only aware of each other. The couple had their hands all over each other, locked in a kiss, one that was involving more then a fair share of tongue action.

They bumped into him, and sent him stumbling towards the open window. Startled, he cried out, and fell straight through. Neither of them heard him. Diego was busily stripping off his shirt, and Delilah let her dress fall away from around her shoulders. They came back together, stripping away their remaining clothing, and took to the nearby bed, oblivious to the open window and the man who had been standing there....

Two stories below, the man woke up, lying among the rose bushes, his head aching. He slowly rose to his feet, turned and looked at the house, and wondered where he was. Then he wondered who he was. Little did he know, but he had sustained a blow to the head, triggering what would come to be diagnosed as amnesia.


And so it was that the President of the Dick Cheney Fan Club, a long time believer in the Church Of Vengeance And Settling Scores (headquartered at the Cheney residence, lawyers show up at their peril), and a generally grouchy sort of person (you'd expect something different?) became a generous, kind soul, entirely giving and charitable. He even began a sanctuary for cute puppies and platypuses. Instead of a visit from three ghosts, all it took was a fall from a window and a bump on his head. And a pair of lovers who sent him falling in the first place.

Hey, I could have suggested Cheney himself was the dude falling out of the window, but come on... it's not like he'll ever change.

I'll admit... I do like starting off getting my readers thinking that I'm writing about one thing, and then going with a completely different angle.  Now then, what was I actually blogging about today? Oh, yes.  To start off, one of the blogs I follow is Mike Saxton's 7 Scorpions. You can find the blog here:

http://www.7scorpions.com/

 He regularly deals with scammers of one sort of another, frequently from the Nigerian part of the world (a connection between scammers and Nigeria? Who'd have thought?). And he regularly copies and posts the original email to his blog and takes it to task. I suspect he's a scammer magnet. He's like the bright light to their moth.

In the last couple of weeks, I've been getting some odd email myself. I would think these people are mass spamming anyone with an MSN addy with a similar username (not my own, obviously) because the username in the email details is right, but the number contained in the email is wrong. At any rate, I've never posted pictures at MSN, nor interacted with anyone I didn't know.

So two emails have turned up in my email, from people I'd never heard of. Initially I thought, seeing both names, that it was someone getting back to me with some research for the book. I've certainly had that happen. In these cases, however, that's certainly not the case. I'm copying them both here:

Here's the first one, from one Katja Sorensen (no, I've never heard of her).

I am really attracted to your pictures you posted on your page
I know you don't know me but I'm looking to meet some new people
Instead of replying to this mail, just go on MSN msger my names madison20olga@hotmail.com
Add me and send me a line I'll be on all day I am off work
Xo Maddy


-----Forwarded Message-----
From: Madison
To: Undisclosed recipients
Sent: Sun, Jan 9, 2011 6:44 am
Subject: FW: A powerful prayer

This is neat. and "It's come in the nick of time," says he; "so I'll wed them in a hurry, God bless. The king, as far as I could conjecture, asked me several

Each and everyone one of us are going through tough times right now, but God is getting ready to bless you in a way that only He can. Keep the faith.
My instructions were to pick four people that I wanted God to bless, and I picked you. Please pass this to at least (4) people you want to be blessed and a copy back to me.
This prayer is powerful, and prayer is one of the best gifts we receive.
There is no cost but a lot of rewards. Let's continue to pray for one another.

The prayer:
Father, I ask You to bless my friends, relatives and those that I care deeply for, who are reading this right now. Show them a new revelation of your love and power. Holy Spirit, I ask You to minister to their spirit at this very moment. Where there is pain, give them your peace and mercy. Where there is self-doubt, release a renewed confidence through your grace. Where there is need, I ask you to fulfill their needs. Bless their homes, families, finances, their goings and their comings. In Jesus' precious name. Amen.

substance, about twice the bigness of our heads. Within each of

if possible before sunrise so as to avoid customs, a box PEGEEN. It's the truth they're saying, and if I'd that lad in the house, I

 
And just like that, it cuts off.

Here's the second one, from another unknown idiot by the name of Mounir Reffas:

hey im off work paying my respects to Martin Luther King!
you look really hot on your profilepics ill send you some of mine
maybe youd be interested in talking with me since im new here
instead of replying to this email, go on msn-messengar
madison20harp@hotmail.com is my screanname
just shoot me a line and add it, ill be on all day

----- Forwarded Message ----
From: Madison
To: Undisclosed
Sent: Mon, January 17th, 2011 10:30:47 PM
Subject: Fwd: considered how all these pure native virtues were prostituted for

"Courage is fear that has said its prayers"

Dear Mum,

Our Scoutmaster told us to write to our parents in case you saw the flood on TV and got worried. We are okay. Only one of our tents and 2 sleeping bags got washed away. Luckily, none of us got drowned because we were all up on the mountain looking for Adam when it happened.

Steve and I threw up, but Scoutmaster Ted said it was probably just food poisoning from the left-over chicken. He said they got sick that way with food they ate in prison. I'm so glad he got out and became our scoutmaster. He said he sure figured out how to get things done better while he was doing his time. By the way, what is a pedal-file?

Untruthful! My nephew Algernon? Impossible! He is an Oxonian.

I have to go now. We are going to town to post our letters and buy some more beer and ammo. Don't worry about anything. We are fine and tonight it's my turn to sleep in the Scoutmaster's tent.

Is there fate amongst us still, send down from the pagan

Happy Martin Luther King Day

Do tell me... what are these people snorting?

I know, I know... even think of responding, and I'll get spammed with stalkers and nonsense from now until July. Of 2018.

Some things I'd like to make note of first, and one's this line:

if possible before sunrise so as to avoid customs, a box PEGEEN.


I take it this is an instruction about drug smuggling or people smuggling? Who else is concerned about avoiding customs?

Untruthful! My nephew Algernon? Impossible! He is an Oxonian.

What the hell is that supposed to mean?

To the scammers: keep this up, and I'll send Dick Cheney after you. And tell him that you're lawyers. That'll give him more of a reason to go into his patented The Most Dangerous Game mode. He might even give you a head start.

In Character: Jacob Dayan

Another blog from the point of view of a character in Heaven & Hell, set years in the past, in the thoughts of a character on a momentous night....

***

I wonder what Carter would have thought, finding the tomb of King Tut... and realizing he could never tell a soul what he discovered.

Now I'm in that situation myself. I've made the find of a lifetime, and I can't tell anyone. Not even my wife and our son.

There was an earthquake this morning, just a minor one. No reports of damage across the city, just enough to wake me up. Devora and Ayal were a bit shaken, but fine. I thought of the dig site. I needed to know if it was okay, if anything had been disrupted.

And so I went out to the Kidron Valley, and Moshe and Ehud were waiting for me. We started our inspection. The site's an ongoing excavation, south of the Old City, dating back to the time of the Kings. We'll be at the excavation process for years to come. I knew that when I started work on it for the Museum. It's a time consuming job, archaeology. Most of the time, it requires patience. Not to mention steadfastness. And of course being delicate with fragile artifacts and shards of pottery. Archaeology is not something out of King Solomon's Mines.

Like I said, most of the time.

This morning, though, was different. I went into the tomb... and found something. There was a passage there, its entrance long since sealed behind a wall of rock. It was on my list of things to do as the excavation went on, but I thought it might be years before I'd get beyond it.

The passage was open.

The quake had dislodged enough of the rocks to open up a space to get through. And what we found beyond the passage....

I can never tell anyone. I know that. The political situation in this country... if people knew about that place, what's hidden there, it would only lead to trouble. Every bit of common sense I have knows that it has to remain sealed.

Damn. I wish I could tell this to someone. I wish I could tell Devora... to share at least with her the sense of jubilation I felt to be there, to make that discovery.

The discovery of a lifetime. Every archaeologist... hell, every explorer dreams of making it. I've found it. And it has to stay buried.

Author's Note: I see Gabriel Byrne in my head when I write Jacob, so here he is.

In Character: Zaira Fayed

Another blog from the perspective of a character in the book in progress, written as a letter years ago....

***

Dear Leila

This is the first of many letters I'll write to you. Some day they'll be yours, so that you can read my words, and see how much I love you.

As I write this, you're lying nearby in the hospital room, asleep in your crib. You look so peaceful. You came into this world yesterday, just six pounds seven ounces of tender joy. I carried you inside me for nine months, nurtured and nourished you... and brought you into the world. You're my little girl... and as fate would have it, the only child I'll ever have.

Your father and I are lucky to have you. It was a difficult pregnancy, and I won't be able to have another child. It doesn't matter to me. You're enough, Leila. You're all I could have ever hoped for. And you've got your father wrapped around that impossibly small finger of yours, you know.

He's a good man, Leila, and I've loved him from the start. Tamir will give of himself completely to help others. He's a teacher... a professor. He believes in the law, and in justice. In this part of the world, that can sometimes feel a long way off. We both want you to grow up in a world without trouble... in peace. That's what we believe in. Hopefully one day when you read these words, that will be a reality.

I have such hopes for you. I look at you there, so small and delicate, and I think of what the future holds for you. I can see you growing up... making your way in the world. I can see you on your wedding day... or holding your children in your arms. And that kind of thought makes me smile, Leila. I didn't know before how completely a child could captivate a parent. It took feeling you moving inside me... and hearing your cry as you came into the world... to make me see that. I love you very much, little girl... and I promise, I'll always be there with you.

Author's note: I could definitely see Juliette Binoche playing Zaira....

 

Never Trust A Stranger With Your Cigarette Money

"Few people on this planet knows what it is to be truly despised. Can you blame them? I earn a living fronting an organization that kills 1200 people a day. Twelve hundred people. We're talking two jumbo jet plane loads of men, women and children. I mean, there's Attila, Genghis... and me, Nick Naylor. The face of cigarettes, the Colonel Sanders of nicotine."

One of the many quotes from a great film, Thank You For Smoking. If you haven't seen it yet, do so. You'll laugh. A lot.

I'm not a smoker, and never have been. I find it a vile habit. That said, I also find just as vile, if not more, the tactics of the anti-smoking lobby. I'm convinced that there are some in that lobby who'd love to pass a law allowing anyone seen smoking to be shot on sight. What, you think I'm kidding?

Here in Canada, they've been at it again, increasing the size of cigarette warnings on the packages. Come on. You think anyone who smokes has no idea about the danger of smoking? They know. They just don't care. And being heavy handed about it isn't going to change them. Showing pictures of rotting gums, blackened lungs, and dying people will not change a smokers' mind.

Well, I'm not actually here to talk about smoking today. At least not directly. Some years ago one evening, I was walking through my home city. I was passing by a convenience store, and two teen boys were out front. One of them asked if I'd buy him cigarettes. He had cash in his hands, a hundred dollars. He wanted it by the carton.

The fine, incidentally, for buying cigarettes for minors is in the thousands, by the way. It's considered a crime. I've had teens ask me to buy cigarettes before and since; maybe it's the fact that I look so disreputable. I looked at him, looked at the store, noticed how much of the window was covered over by banners and posters.... and got an idea. How hard would it be for them to keep an eye on what was happening inside? I took the money, walked inside, strode right up to the cashier, and asked if there was a back door.

He nodded, and asked what this was about. I simply replied that I wanted to teach the two out front a lesson. The cashier smiled; he told me they had already tried buying earlier. He told me that the back door led out to an alley, and from there, I'd be on my own.

So, off I went. Out the back, through the alley, and among a warren of back streets that I knew quite well as it was. I got onto a bus, a hundred dollars extra on me, and went downtown, caught a movie.

I wonder to this day how long it would have taken those two brats before they came into the store, looking desperate... and finding out that the guy who they'd sent in had taken their cash and left. I'd say five minutes.

It just goes to show you. Never trust a stranger with your cigarette money. Especially when they look disreputable.

Abandon All Hope, Ye Who Censor Here

By now you've all heard of the move by Twain scholar Alan Gribben and NewSouth publishing to release a copy of The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn in a cleaned up, sanitized version that trades the n-word for slave and uses Indian rather then Injun. It's a move that's rightfully getting a lot of criticism. Gribben justifies it by claiming it would make the book more accessible for readers who are uncomfortable with Twain's use of the word.

Twain wrote the book at a time when reconstruction was failing, and freed slaves were facing new repression and discrimination, particularly among the South. He used the common vernacular of the time and created his masterpiece, a story of a river rat and an escaped slave. In the course of the book, Huck comes to see Jim as a fully formed human being. He unlearns everything he has ever been told about slaves. For the first time in American literature, an African-American man, a slave, is seen as a man. For this reason, among many others, the book stands tall as a classic not only in American literature, where it has no equal, but among world literature.

Among his many quotable remarks, Twain said that the difference between the right word and the almost right word was like the difference between the lightning bug and the lightning. He used the n-word over two hundred times in Huckleberry Finn, and he didn't do so because he found it amusing. He used the word to tell his readers in his own time and beyond... that it's an unpleasant word. And that the institutions of racism and discrimination are not only unpleasant, but they're wrong.

The book's been through this before. Others have tried to release sanitized versions. Library boards have debated banning the book altogether. And in trying to release a version that doesn't offend, Gribben has offended nearly everyone. In revising the language, Gribben isn't staying true to the realities of how society was in Twain's time. And in doing so, in trying to censor the word, to hide it, he's doing a great disservice to Twain's legacy, and to the children who should continue to be reminded of the stark realities of history.

Sorry. Don't mean to preach. I've always loved reading Twain, and I get annoyed by this sort of thing.

So, to get back to me being me (preaching is really out of character), in addition to the above suggestions, what other books would face the gauntlet of political correctness and come out with changes?

Several of us were talking about all of this as of late, and came up with some suggestions for new names for classic, and not so classic books.

 Shakespeare of course would be the first to face the gauntlet, and so something like Henry V would have to be retitled Henry V, Autocrat of An Outdated Monarchy. By the same token, A Midsummer's Night's Dream would inevitably be called A Delusion Of Nighttime In The Month of July.

Jane Austen would be next. Beth suggested that Pride and Prejudice would go by the ungainly Arrogance And An Assumption Made About Someone Or Something Before Having Adequate Knowledge.

Dickens certainly wouldn't be safe. Great Expectations implies that you're overstepping your bounds, so a better title under the political correctness auspices would have to be Modest Hopes and Anticipations.

Little Women? That could be seen as discriminatory to little people, and the title would have to be changed to Vertically Challenged Females.

The classic Last of the Mohicans would still go by that title, but have the additional subtitle: Thanks To The Genocidal Psychopath Columbus; Let Us Raise Him From The Dead So That We Can Kill Him All Over Again.

Even more recent books might get into trouble. The Hunt For Red October? Well, hunting is a source of annoyance for animal rights groups, so the Hunt would have to be dropped. And not everyone uses the Gregorian Calendar, so let's get rid of October. And while we're at it, Red implies communism. We don't want to offend anyone, do we? Hence the title would be changed to The Urgent Search For The Crimson Tenth Month Of The Gregorian Calendar Year. Don't forget Dan Brown. His Angels and Demons can be retitled Celestial Beings and Naughty Creatures Who May Or May Not Exist Depending On Your Theology before he gets into any more trouble.

If we take this to its logical conclusion, then how about this? Norma's books include An Army Of Angels and The Unicorns' Daughter. Political correctness would force a change of titles to A Gathering Of Military Ranks Of Celestial Beings. And since Unicorns don't exist, it would have to be The Mythological Creatures' Female Offspring.

With my own work, Heaven & Hell... that implies theology (at least I think it's supposed to, I'm not very theological). That's a big no no to the political correctness brigades. Therefore I might as well just change the title right now to A Very Pleasant Place & A Very Dangerous Place That Might Exist And Might Not Depending On Your Religious Beliefs.

In Character: Eden Adler

Another blog from the point of view of a character, this one taken at a point some years in the past....

***

There's a common belief that identical twins can read each others' thoughts. They're joined at the hip, seem to know exactly what the other one will do, and regularly switch places, just to annoy parents, teachers, and any other authority figure who has trouble telling them apart.

That's what it's like for Mia and I. I'm the older, by all of ten minutes. She and I have been inseperable all of our lives. And while we're physically identical, there are a few personality differences. She's more outgoing then I am. I'm a bit more of a tech geek. Still, when we want to, we get to trading places, taking each others' classes, wearing the others' clothing... and no one's the wiser.

The bond we have... I can't explain it. It's something different then how it is with siblings who aren't twins. And it's deeper then the friendships we have. In some ways, I'm closer to her then I could ever be to a lover.

And now she's dead.

I was in class... and she was in a mall in Tel Aviv. There was a suicide bomber. She was one of sixteen people murdered by a suicide bomber who decided to take as many civilians with her as she could.

Before I even heard the news, I felt that something was wrong. And I knew that something had happened to Mia. I just can't believe it's this. I can't believe she's dead.

How can I go on alone? The other half of my soul is gone. My sister... my closest, dearest friend... my Mia. She's dead. I can't go on without her. Life without her in it... is unthinkable.

Me again. When I visualize Eden, I can see her in the actress Anna Silk.

Reality Bites

In another sign of the decline of western civilization, a reality show mouth breathing bottom feeder calling itself Snooki released a novel in recent days. That is, she and her ghost writer released the book. Let's face it, she doesn't appear bright enough to even approach grade one literacy, so you know she needed help writing the book.

For those of you lucky enough not to know, Snooki is a cast member of The Jersey Shore, a so called reality show in the tradition of The Hills, yet another show about vacant headed idiots living together Once upon a time, MTV used to play music videos. Now it runs reality shows. I've only seen brief clips, but what I've seen leads me to shake my head in dismay. This dreck is what passes for entertainment?

This bubble headed moron is Snooki herself.

The other day, Ellen DeGeneres read a passage from the book on her show. Apparently the passage she read (how'd she do that without breaking out into laughter?) featured a naked guy with a strategically placed cloth... that started to move.

Well, from the brief clips I've seen, I would suggest that the reason the cloth started to move is simple: pubic hair lice. These wastes of oxygen on that show seem to fit that part.

I have, however, had the distinct pleasure of seeing the entire Jersey Shore cast mercilessly skewered. South Park did a tremendous job of that this season, writing Jerseyites as obnoxious louts, and Snooki herself as an animal in rut, shagging anything that crossed her path. I think that latter notion is spot on, by the way.

What is it about reality television that makes it infest the airwaves? For years now, we've been subjected to show after show of d-list celebrities (emphasis on d-list) in rehab or living together under one roof (Celebrity Rehab or The Surreal Life). We've seen shows like Survivor, Big Brother, and the Bachelor and Bachelorette franchise hog airtime. There are shows about large families with cameras in the faces of little children all the time while parents gradually start sniping at each other (balding Gosselin and angry Gosselin, I'm talking about you).

And it never ends. Shows about bridezillas, baby mommas, teen mothers, non celebrity interventions, bounty hunters, d-listers desperately trying to salvage their careers (Corey Haim, Corey Feldman, Hasselhoff, I'm talking about you prats, even if one of you bit the dust). Shows about people who are famous merely for being famous (the Hiltons, the Lohans, the Kardashians)... let's face it, this one is surely a plague on all humanity.

There are signs of hope. After all, Sarah Palin's reality show (who launches a presidential campaign in a reality show?) hasn't been picked up for a second season, and so much the better. She'll just have to launch Phase One of Operation Empress Sarah, Supreme Majestrix Of The Americas another way.

I even count the so called competition shows that never seem to end and clutter up the air waves. Dancing With The (Has Been) Stars. America's Got Talent. So You Think You Can Dance. And the worst of them all? American Idol and its various counterparts.

How many of these so called Idol winners can you name? Exactly. The only one who might have a lasting career is the one who went right into country music instead of sticking to the tried and true Idol formula.

Idol panders to that impulse so many people have to become famous. From my point of view though, the music acts who last, who make an impact, are the ones who do the work themselves, who pay their dues, who rise to the top based on their own talents.

Idol contestants, on the other hand, fit into the nice and neat package set up by studio producers who drop interest in them after the first album, thus resigning them to the oblivion they came from. That's not how you make a mark in the music world.

Reality shows are a pestilence. A plague. Indeed, I'll leave you with this thought. Take the story of Exodus. Had ancient Egypt been equipped with televisions, there would have been no need for plagues of locusts, bloody rivers, frogs, fires, or death. God could have inflicted a plague of reality shows on Egyptian airwaves. The Pharoah would have been summoning Moses to his palace within twenty four hours.

"Moses, buddy! Listen, you can take all of your people, leave Egypt. You're free now. Just tell that god of yours to please stop airing Goshen Idol and Giza's Got Talent and The Alexandria Shore. It's driving our people out of our minds! Come on, Moses. I did that favour for you, remember?"

M Is For Manhunt

Manhunt Continues For Muppet Supervillain In Canadian Wilderness

The search continues in the Alberta foothills for wanted fugitive Mr. Johnson, the mustached blue skinned Muppet. Johnson, who was convicted of the first degree murder of Elmo the Muppet, escaped after a plane crash across the border while en route to a federal supermax prison pending execution. As the crash site happened in Canadian jurisdiction, the Mounties are heading up the search for the dangerous fugitive, and the head of the task force is the legendary Inspector Lars Ulrich.

Johnson, also known as Fred and Big Blue, framed arch nemesis Grover for the murder, using a hit-muppet for the dastardly deed. His crimes were exposed in court by attorney Kermit the Frog, exonerating the name of Grover and condemning Johnson to pay for his sins. Johnson, of course, swore revenge.

Grover and his girlfriend have been taken into protective custody for their own safety. Authorities suspect that Johnson may intend to carry out revenge against his long time foe one way or another. Authorities in Canada have also taken into protective custody one William Kendall.

"It's a little odd," Ulrich told reporters gathered around an RCMP detachment in High River, Alberta. "Professor Waldrow of McGill University suggests that Mr. Kendall is passing back and forth between what he refers to as the Fourth Wall of Reality, and therefore may be aware of how events in the future will play out. Professor Waldrow also theorized that Mr. Kendall is, in fact, the mysterious omnipresent individual typing at a keyboard, and we're all mere characters in his head. If you ask me, Professor Waldrow has been snorting some of his own lab chemicals. At any rate, the Minister believes Mr. Kendall may be a target of Mr. Johnson, merely for writing the muppet into a position of being a supervillain, so we've had to take him into custody."

The search is ongoing in the back country. Winter has firmly settled in. No trace has been found of the supervillain, but police are certain he hasn't made his way across the border yet. Rumors have come back to the Mounties, sightings of a short blue muppet on a distant ridge, or cabins broken into late at night. Is this the mysterious supervillain? No one can know.

The reporters were anxious for more information. Ulrich seemed anxious to leave. The inspector has never been comfortable with reporters, after all. One reporter, assigned to TMZ.com, spoke up among the crowd. "Lars! Lars! Griff Jax, TMZ.com! Can we have a word?"

Ulrich shook his head and rolled his eyes, recognizing an entertainment journalist when he saw one. "You can have two. Drop dead."

"Lars! I just wanted to ask how you spent your birthday."

"My birthday?"

"Isn't it strange having a birthday on December 26th, so close to Christmas?"

"My birthday is on the first of July, you insufferable twit."

"Were you in the studio recording with the band on your birthday?"

"Listen, damn you, I'm not that Lars Ulrich!" With that, the Inspector strode forth through the ranks of the journalists, and decked Griff Jax. Finished, he walked back inside, an irritated expression clouding his features. Jax, meanwhile, burst into tears, but in the opinion of this reporter, what else would you expect from a waste of space like an entertainment reporter?

The search continues. Somewhere out in the wilds, a muppet stalks the land, seeking revenge. Either that, or he's been eaten by a grizzly bear.

A Pleasant Evening In The Aegean

Earlier today I finished a chapter in the ongoing work in progress, with an appropriate cliffhanger point: a terrorist pressing the button on his laptop to set off the Very Bad Thing (no, I'm not telling you). I thought I'd jump ahead a bit now. The last act of the book is set on the island of Andros, in the Aegean. It's a lifelong fascination with Greece that probably made me set the action there, and I know someone in Athens who's been a source of good information on the island (thanks, Selene!). And so I thought I'd gather some images, show you what the place is like... just so you can see for yourselves.