All Purls. No Swine.
Daniel Carter is a London copper. It is today’s London, but a London inhabited by clans of underground monsters. They run criminal rackets: the Frankenstein Clan with its surgeries; the seductive Vampire Clan; the drug-dealing Clan of Mummies; and the Werewolf Clan, which serves as hit men and enforcers. Jekyll & Hyde Inc., a fantasy… Continue reading Book Review by Seawriter: A Fresh Take on an Old Classic
Otherwise known as the Brown Marmorated Stink Bug. It’s been a fact of life in these United States since September, 1998, when it was "accidentally" introduced--probably from its having stowed away in a shipping container--in Allentown PA. It’s yet another gift from our Oriental friends, along with poisonous plastic-ingredient dog-food, formaldehyde-infused mattresses (maybe they were… Continue reading Halyomorpha Halys
First, I think the dress is actually a fashion disaster. But it would take too long, and I’d have to expose my inner couturier pedant to much too great an extent to explain why, (I suggest you don't try me, or argue my creds here.) Second, her gurning and posing are entirely counterproductive WRT the… Continue reading That. Dress.
Oh, it's a long, long while From May to December, And the days grow short When you reach September.... Well, here we are again. Almost at the autumnal equinox (which happens this year on September 22), that time of year when the the Sun hangs directly above the equator and day and night (which have… Continue reading September Song
…well, not really. This is me, after all. But following along in the vein of the Duke and Duchess of Sussex, who made the same announcement during the worst of the debacle at Kabul’s Hamid Karzai International Airport, and then followed it with several hundred more of their words, here–with the hope that I’m more… Continue reading I’m Speechless…
O wad some Pow'r the giftie gie us To see oursels as ithers see us! It wad frae mony a blunder free us, An' foolish notion Ah! The sainted Rabbie Burns. Scotland's national poet. Romantic to the end. Socialist. Raconteur. A man who dropped his seed wherever he felt like it, upon whichever woman struck… Continue reading On Reality, Fear, and Projection
I'd be willing to bet that each of us has, somewhere back when we were very young (I get that that’s probably not as long ago for most of you as it is for me), a special memory that’s stuck with us over the years, of someone we wish we could see again, of a… Continue reading Sacred Cake
No, one of them isn’t Worcestershire Sauce: “There are four things that lead to wisdom. You ready for them?” She nodded, wondering when the police work would begin. “They are four sentences we learn to say, and mean.” Gamache held up his hand as a fist and raised a finger with each point. “I don’t know.… Continue reading The Four Hardest Things to Say in the English Language
It is 1923. Kitty Worthington, completing a year in a Swiss finishing school is, returning to England for her debut year as she turns 21. An unmarried young woman of the upper classes cannot travel alone, so she is accompanied by her very stuffy older brother Edward. Murder on the Golden Arrow, by Magda Alexander… Continue reading Book Review by Seawriter: A Return to the Golden Age of British Mystery
These words were spoken by Her Majesty, Queen Elizabeth II, to the family members of those who perished on September 11, 2001. And I’ve often thought she must have been channeling C.S. Lewis at the time: To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything and your heart will be wrung and possibly broken.… Continue reading “Grief is the price we pay for love”–Redux