Saturday, November 29, 2008

Hype, Hype, Hype

There is nothing that bugs me more than to lay out my hard-earned bananas on a book only to read it and discover the content doesn’t live up to its hype. And I see publishers do this all the time. Being in the business, I realize that it’s a great way to sell books, but at some point you get found out. I feel it’s vital for the hype to live up to the story residing between the covers.

This reminds me of The Bridges of Madison County. I mean, EVERYONE loved the book. My good friend thrust her copy into my hands and gushed about the fabulous love story, the sex, blah, blah, blah. I’m probably the only person alive who hated this book.

I came to the opinion that people got so swept away with the hype they didn’t stop to analyze what elements made the book so good. After watching the dismal “person on the street” interviews and how little the liberal voter actually knew of Obama’s background, I became convinced that Obama’s “publishers” had done an equally brilliant job of hyping a “book” with zero content.

“Obama’s going to fix the economy!” one lady swooned.
“Obama’s going to put gas in my tank and pay my mortgage!” another screeched.
“Obama is going to make this country great again!”

When the interviewer asked who was responsible for the Fannie Mae/ Freddie Mac debacle, their expressions became as blank as a clean blackboard.

It was painful to watch these interviews because these folks had no clue to the realities of the liberal agenda. They go as far as CNN or MSNBC and believe whatever pabulum these propagandists spew out. Obama is an empty story comprised of great cover art, top notch publicists, a publisher who has a bottomless budget, and a readership that has had no exposure to great literature.

Sadly, the Republican publishers’ best efforts resulted in Cranky Old Men Without a Plan, a book with lousy cover art, a small budget, and content that tried too hard to emulate Obama’s story. Cranky failed to sell through, and that’s why Obama became a bestseller.

So now that Obama is a bestseller, will there come a time when some of those readers will decide to reread the book? And if they do, will they love the story just as much as they did the first time? Or will they begin asking “where’s the beef?” Will they suddenly find fault with some of Obama’s supporting cast and ask for more character development of William Ayers, Rev. Wright, etc?

Being in the publishing business, I’ve seen bestsellers plummet from the NY Times Bestseller List. A Million Little Pieces by James Frey comes to mind – a piece of fiction that was hyped as a memoir, and pissed of Oprah after her pathetic, unsuccessful attempts to defend it. Will Obama’s readers abandon him just as quickly? A book has to deliver the goods in order to maintain solid, steady sales.

In the meantime, it would be nice if the Republican publishing house decided to overhaul their management and redefine their mission statement. They need to get authors whose content can stand up to a harsh readership and close scrutiny. I bet they’d sell more books and gain a lot more readers.

Tuesday, November 25, 2008


So my niece, a nurse for a prestigious oncology clinic in Reno, Nevada, was down for a family reunion. Talk turned to Obama's intent to nationalize our health care. She snorted and said, "All I can tell you is that our clinic is filled with Canadians who are afraid they'll die or their cancer will worsen because they have to wait so long for chemo appointments. They make appointments with us so they can be seen in a timely manner."

Yeppers, I'm damned excited for this brave new utopian world where our overburdened docs and nurses will be unable to keep up with the new overflow of patients. I'm even more thrilled to see the consequences of this clusterfuck when we experience our very huge doctor shortage. And guess who will be the most outraged? Why, the government, of course.

Pay yer taxes and be patriotic

I overheard two ladies talking in the grocery store the other day. One woman was exultant that Obama would make the “rich” pay more in taxes. “Spread some ‘o their excesses around so us poor folk get a hand up,” she said with a derisive snort. Totally pissed me off because, according to Obama, I’m rich. I feel like I’m suddenly wearing a big ol’ target painted on my back that says, “get your freebies here.”

I wish I could have nabbed Ms. Igotmyhandout by the short and curlies to explain the realities of us “rich” folk. We tighten our damn belts, just like real people. We had a gardener for years but decided that our taxes were going to shoot sky high, and we let him go. Buh bye Mr. Gardener. Five more houses in my neighborhood tightened their belts as well. In the course of two days, his client base dropped by half. Same thing happened with our cleaning ladies – I’m still in mourning. Three more houses in my neighborhood let them go, too. We’re still making the same income as before, but those whom we hired and fired are now bringing in far less. So who got hurt in these scenarios – us or those less financially stable?

Resorts are reporting fewer reservations, and people are staying home. This means resorts, hotels, food industries, and all the other support industries will be impacted, and that will result in layoffs.

I wanted to ask Ms. Paymewhatyougot who she thinks gets hurt when you strangle the golden goose. People who have money work damn hard to keep it. Rather than spending it and, therefore, helping to create jobs, they stay home, they tighten their belts. They save their money. So the poor, who Obama so desperately wants to help, are actually going to suck hind teat. And when we “rich” are sucked dry, what will happen to those folks whose hands have been digging into our pockets? Who will be left to rape? Does anyone believe “the rich” will be classified as anyone making $50,000? I’m betting yes because the idea of personal responsibility will have gone the way of the dinosaur.

Sure, it sounds funny now, but hey, I laughed my ass off at Demolition Man when Lenina Huxley told Sly Stallone’s character that anything deemed unhealthy had been outlawed. How long ago did NY ban trans fats from all their restaurants? Not laughing anymore, I tell you.

Thanksgiving California style

I love being a native Californian. With this oh-so important label, I can proudly claim that we are the forerunners to killing Thanksgiving. Claremont kindergartners for years have been celebrating Thanksgiving by dressing up in Pilgrim and Indian costumes made out of construction paper. However, a mother decided that this practice is racist and demeaning, and must be stopped at once.

"It's demeaning," Michelle Raheja, an English professor at UC Riverside and the mother of one of the kindergartners. "I'm sure you can appreciate the inappropriateness of asking children to dress up like slaves (and kind slave masters), or Jews (and friendly Nazis), or members of any other racial minority group who has struggled in our nation's history."

She had the balls to meet with teachers and administrators in hopes that the district could discuss alternatives to celebrate T-giving without "dehumanizing" her daughter's ancestry.

"There is nothing to be served by dressing up as a racist stereotype," she said.

Racist stereotype? Is this woman kidding me? This sort of thing just makes my eyelids invert. Only in California do we derail an entire tradition based on one freaking lib honk. with a liberal agenda. What's worse is the school district is considering canceling the event or having the kids dress up in their spirit shirts rather than dress up in the costumes because "we all have to be sensitive and respect our diversity."

Screw that. If my kids were still small, I'd yank their little butts out of public school immediately. I'd give them a real education and teach them about our history because God knows the schools are dumbing our kids down. Dumb people equal easier manipulation.

Personally, I'd like to reenact another moment in history; the Boston Tea Party.

Saturday, November 22, 2008

Congrats to you, Jess

Time out to congratulate my beautiful niece, Jessica. She passed the Bar on her very first try. While some may weep at the thought of another lawyer joining the ranks, Jess is one of the good guys, and I couldn't be more proud of her if I were twins. Way to go, Jess! Now, about that parking ticket...think you can get me out of it?

Friday, November 21, 2008


As an attempt to uphold my position as prez of LyNe2WriMo (membership:1), which is the response to NaNoWriMo, I've bargained with the devil to write a scene a day for my second novel. This came about when every freaking writer's blog I went to talked about the success they're having. Even Dino banged out a book last year, and I'm still wracked with jealousy. If she can be a full time doc and commit, then what's my problem?

Alas, I knew I couldn't live up to NaMoWriMo's expectations, and nothing bugs me more than defeat. So I decided that LyNe2WriMo was a better deal. My membership and I sip margaritas and enthrall each other with our latest scene. Ok, so I'm talking to myself. Not the first time that's happened.

The scene I decided to write about was inspired by Monkeygirl's post about the fibromyalgia patient who signed into the ED with chest pain rather than admitting her real affliction. In all my research with docs, I never knew patients did this. It's crappy enough that patients use the ED for their primary care physician in the first place, but patients who lie so they can get treated first should be dealt with by submitting to an acid enema.

I love showing the idiocy and heroics of medicine as seen through the eyes of docs who possess both pathos and a great sense of humor because most of it is so unbelievable. I read Monkeygirl's posts, for instance and shake my head at the chutzpa and insanity of those ED patients. It's like these people are born devoid of a brain or common sense. You simply cannot make this stuff up. The scene is unfolding beautifully, and I expect to knock back several margaritas at tonight's meeting. But there is a huge, depessing problem. This scene doesn't fit in the current book - which takes place in the Amazon. I have to wait to get Kim and Erik back to the US. Damn, I hate writing out of order.

Good thing my LyNe2WriMo membership will understand.

Thursday, November 20, 2008

And speaking of weather

I just read Cranky Prof's blog about the weather. It's so easy to forget that the rest of the country actually has weather. Southern California has no weather. The sun comes up, shines, a light breeze may tickle a leaf or two. The birds sing, we keep our windows open all day and all night, blah, blah, blah. How I would love some weather. Some butt-freezing, teeth-chattering, blue-lipped weather. Sure, I'd complain like a spoiled brat deprived of Daddy's Porche, but at least it would be something worth complaining about.

My buds all live in the Midwest or the East, and they talk about wind chill like it's a new flavor of ice cream. "The air is 39 degrees, but the wind chill brings it down to 30." Once I tried injecting some humor to our conversations. "Hey, the thermometer says it's 78 degrees out here, but the wind chill puts it more at 75 degre...hello? Hello? Hey, did you guys hang up on me? Hello...?"

Ah, the heck with 'em. I'll go crank up the air conditioner and put on a sweater.

Shut up, hang up, and exercise

Dear Lady with the cell phone,
Yes, you; the one who's hogging the leg adductor machine. I don't mind if you do twenty, fifty, or a hundred leg adductions, but for crying out loud DO THEM. Do not answer your cellphone and make me simmer to a slow boil. This damn gym only has one freaking leg adductor, and my bum hip requires that I use that puppy or I'll hobble around like a 90-year-old.

No! No! Don't punch that call waiting button! Argh!!! You've already gabbed for seven damn minutes - yes, I'm watching the clock - laughing gaily and making me wish that you would gain fifty pounds and grow warts on your eyelids.

Why do you force me to kick my own ass for not having the guts to walk up to you and suggest you move your designer shoes from the machine and lift your sculpted heiny off the seat freaking talk somewhere else? Ach, no! Don't you dare turn away from me. You know damn well I'm here, sighing louder than a dog in heat. That's it, say goodbye to your sister, who burned the ham last Thanksgiving and lit the table cloth on fire. Yes, I CAN hear your entire conversation! You giggle one more time, it's curtains for you.'ve hung up. WHAT? You're going to now do your reptitions? After ten freaking minutes on the phone? See how I've folded my arms? Don't I look pissed? Do you believe you're the center of everyone else's universe, or are you too self acutalized to care? Sure. I could have used other machines while waiting, but I already used them. This was my last stop. Lady, the next time I see you and your jewel studded cellie, I'm going to whisper softly in your ear. "Psst. I hope next holiday, your sister trips and lights your cell on fire."

I'm also going to hire Cranky Prof to come over and insult you.

Wednesday, November 19, 2008

911 Throwdown

Since I like to write about what makes people tick and the differences that drive them apart, 911’s post about muscials struck a chord in albeit funny ways. I’ve wanted to see Mama Mia in the worst way for months now. Hubby indicated that he’d rather have his eyelids inverted with rusty pliers than watch a musical.

What?? sez me. May I remind you, dear hubby ‘o mine, that you had the same reaction to Evita when it first came to Los Angeles a thousand years ago, but you took me because we were newlyweds, and that’s what newlywed hubbies do in order to keep their premenstrual newlywed wives on an even keel? You didn’t just love Evita – you LOVED it. It was YOU who insisted we see the movie version. It was YOU who bought the CD and DVD and played it until we all threatened to leave home after forcing the unreliable beagle to gnaw off your leg at the kneecaps. And what about Phantom of the Opera? We saw that how many times in L.A.?

Methinks you big ol’ guys are closet softies who hide their “I’m in touch with my feminine side” because you know full well you’ll be thrown of the Guy Kingdom by all the other guys who are trying to hide their feminine side. Admit it, 911; you live for the day when you can throw off the shackles of adhering to Guy-dome. You can’t wait to be free from following the rules and can do whatever you want.



I realize I just confused this with your getting out of emergency medicine.

Gosh. Maybe you really do hate chick musicals. Hmm. I have my spies out, just to be sure…

Tuesday, November 11, 2008

Who needs enemies when we have the NY Times?

So, the NY Times does it again by working to destroy our country. Not only did they manage to say nothing about this being Veteran's Day today, but they lead above the fold about the military making secret raids against Al Queda.

What's the big deal? Well, now our own countrymen have put American soldiers at risk. Hey, thanks, guys, that could have been my son you exposed. Had he been killed, the NY Times would be bathing in his blood. What the hell happened to this country? Would they have reported Pearl Harbor as a little misunderstanding and a bomb malfunction?

Happy Veteran's Day to all the selfless service people who gave their lives in the name of freedom. What a pity the newsies feel you're obsolete.

Saturday, November 08, 2008

Some surgeons just need to be kissed

So I'm waiting for the surgeon to come give my mom the last pat on the back and mark her hip - as in, "Cut Here, dumbshit." I'm giving her a Reiki treatment and all is going great. Hip replacement surgery - or as hubby calls it, getting a new suspension under the hood - is as commonplace as a well-placed adverb, so no one is nervous.

The doc arrives, all business, and marks her hip. He looks at me as I have my hands wrapped around Mom's feet. "Feet cold?" No, sez I, Reiki treatment. He beams. That's fabulous, he says through a big smile. That ought to be standard protocol as far as I'm concerned.

So, like, I'm in love.

Surgery went well. Mom has a new suspension, and I have a new buddy in the medical field. All is well.

Tuesday, November 04, 2008

Rhetoric over substance

Goodbye to freedom. Goodbye to the foundations that this great country was built on. Goodbye to my hard-earned paycheck. Hello Marxism. Hello to everyone enjoying the fruits of my labor, hello to a president whose experience is nothing more than a community organizer. Hello to the world of Herbert Hoover. Hello to fearing terrorist attacks hitting the shores of my country. Hello to taxes that will suffocate me into submission and bleed me dry.

My heart is broken, and I have never been more afraid for our future.

Who is John Galt?

Sunday, November 02, 2008

In need of some levity

I will never ever look at my beloved Star Trek the same way.

Religion of Peace

These pictures are of Muslims marching through the streets of London during their recent 'Religion of Peace' Demonstration. I lived in Iran and Saudi Arabia. I know what radical Islam looks like. It looks like this. And this is why I’m voting for McCain, even though I disagree with him on many issues. But I do think he’ll keep us safe, and prevent parades such as these from taking place in the middle of Times Square or downtown Los Angeles. And, yes, they’re real.