Friday, December 5, 2025

Book Review: Her Forever Cowboy

Title: Her Forever Cowboy

Author: Danae Little

Date: 2019

Quote: "Was it really too much to ask him to play with their son?"

She married the cowboy of her dreams, a few years before this novelette starts. They have a two-year-old who's pulling down her stretch-waist postnatal pants while she's trying to start the turkey. Baby, postnatal chronic fatigue, and the tendency of married life to start to feel real, have come between the couple; the stress of the family holiday party brings them close to a quarrel. She drives out into the snow to pick up the packaged eggnog he craves, wrecks the car, and wakes up in the hospital thinking she's there to give birth to the two-year-old. The year is 2019, she confidently tells the nurse. The year is 2021.

We know it really was 2019 because there's no mention of how COVID panic would have been affecting the hospital in 2021. 

Anyway this is a sweet romance. A police officer who's always wanted Noel, the wife, for himself wants to believe that Dave, the cowboy, had nobbled the brakes because he was going to leave Noel for another woman. Noel doesn't know whether that's a valid theory or not. Instead of getting angry and telling Noel she's disloyal or "being unreasonable" or projecting her own bad faith onto him, Dave does the detective work to convince Noel that he's innocent. That Dave is capable of thinking as rationally about the matter as Noel is, instead of blowing up in an angry tantrum, proves that he's a keeper. Baby is about to become a big brother at the end of the book.

If you're attracted to reasonable, intelligent men, you'll want this book and you'll want to check out the series that follows it. 

Thursday, December 4, 2025

Book Review: Saints and Curses

Title: Saints and Curses 

Author: Alexis Lantgen 

Quote: "I was standing in the middle of a particularly tacky Christmas display in a shopping mall, playing carols on my violin while obnoxious kids stuck candy canes in my hair." 

This is (one can hope) the tackiest "sample" in a Book Funnel bombardment. It contains neither saints nor curses nor any of the actual story. It's a 20-page prologue-as-writing-sample. A young music student is recruited from the shopping mall display to play carols at a real elves' Yule feast. 

That fantasy-as-story ends nicely. Do I want to read further, enough to buy the book? I do not. I've not been shown that anything beyond a basic wish-fulfilment fantasy is going to happen in the book, and in any case I'm waist-deep in books already. Bah humbug. The main story might be interesting. Lantgen does have the ability to write clear sentences. However, without knowing anything at all about what the main story is, I can't say who would be likely to want to read it. 

Attention self-published writers. If you want favorable reviews, you're going to have to send out some actual review copies.

Meet the Blog Roll: Coral Levang

This is another post that's hard to write...

Coral Levang was a fellow writer for Associated Content and some other sites that used to pay per post, comment, or view, back when those sites were active. As a US Navy veteran, cancer survivor, and artist she always posted fresh, interesting content and had masses of followers. 

When the cheap writing sites broke up, she and I followed each other on Twitter.  She was one of the "Tweeps" who showed me when I or someone else had been shadowbanned, by reliably commenting or not commenting on any of our tweets. 

She made the mistake of posting a recent photo of herself on Twitter. In real life women often claim that at age fifty or sixty they feel that they've become invisible--they're not being stared at any longer. On Twitter that was not the problem Coral had. She was sixty years old and looked it, but she looked active and cheerful. One day she posted a picture similar to this

(Photo from Google.}

Her comment was something like "This seems to be what interests a lot of people here most." 

In other words a lot of male Twits (what Twitter users were called), who were also twits (annoying persons), were sending her photos of themselves the way nobody in real life wanted to look at them.

Attention guys of the world: Most women don't really want to look at your faces, either. Nor does looking at your bodies in a normal, clothed condition do anything for us. A face photo may or may not help us keep track of which John, Mike, or Dave out there is which, but even if one of them has a classically handsome face, that doesn't mean much to most women. 

Men who are told this often snarl, "So what does mean anything to women? What do women want in a man? Money!"

Then presumably they go home and snarl at their wives that they bring in money, don't they, so somebody else can bleeping well clean up the mess they have left on the bathroom floor. Then their wives disappear. Then they go out to bars and pick up barflies who really are after their wallets. Their stories probably never end very well. This is because we have evolved away from a state of nature where these guys would have gone out hunting and been trampled by the buffalo or eaten by the bears they were trying to kill. Nature did not supply them with survival intelligence.

Anyway, one thing I, personally, look for in a man is survival intelligence. Does he, for example, have enough survival intelligence to skip the whole nasty story above by just cleaning the bathroom floor, or better yet sitting down and not leaving the bathroom floor dirtier than anyone else does? Enough to make a decent living at a job he may not leap out of bed eager to get back to, every single day, but can feel proud of having done? Enough to appreciate the younger generations? Did he once have enough of a "heart" to feel some response to socialist ideals, and has he developed enough intelligence to have lost faith in socialism? Has he noticed that, when his hormones are screaming that he's right, he's generally wrong? And, if he passes that test, do his eyes light up when he looks at me? Or, if he's blind, does he offset that by other unmistakable displays of interest? 

If he's just another nice-looking face flattened out on a screen, the world is full of those, and some of the best of them--consider Ronald Reagan well into his first term as President, Alex Trebek, Michael Jackson before all the cosmetic surgery--aren't even living any more. So who cares. A nice face says nothing at all about the niceness of a man's company. 

Below the face, well, all men dress pretty much alike except for the ones who, we have learned by experience, should not be outdoors unsupervised. For American men the options are basically a suit, a uniform, a sweater, or a T-shirt. People who really care may pay attention to questions like whether the complete suit, or only the shirt and trousers, are on display. Women who don't know you well probably don't care. Whether a uniform says "U.S. Marine Corps" or "McDonald's" does tell us something about you, but we remind ourselves not to read to much into it. Ditto for whether a T-shirt advertises our favorite sports team, a rival team, a place, a message, or just some tacky commercial product. Visible bare skin does tell us that you need supervision.

"What if I'm at the beach?" some smartypants cackles. Ha ha ha. Smartypants guys are funny, as distinct from being attractive. Men who are at the beach make a better impression by posting photos of seashells and driftwood than by posting photos of their skin. Attractive men do not intentionally annoy other people in any way. The function of little-kid teasing is to signal, "I'm a child, emotionally. I might be your younger brother. It's 'safe' to talk to me when you're completely uninterested in sex because any resemblance between me and a Real Grown-Up Man With Whom You Might Want to Have a Baby is purely superficial and accidental." 

The female body, dressed or undressed, is fascinating to most men. Young women who are willing to display their bodies in those pictures that fascinate men are probably thinking that, after all, what's so interesting about a body? The male body, dressed or undressed, is just not that interesting; except perhaps to homosexual men. The male counterpart to measuring 35-22-32 is when someone else tells us a man saved someone else's life at the risk of his own. Men just don't get as many opportunities to be interesting, in their lifetimes, as average-looking 22-year-old women get every day. To think that two and two are four, and neither five nor three, the heart of man has long been sore, and long'tis like to be.

Anyway, as a sixty-year-old breast cancer survivor, Coral Levang still had considerable appeal to men, and a lot of them were Navy buddies whose company she enjoyed, and then another lot were pests who annoyed her enough that she changed her Twitter name. She was being stalked and harassed in cyberspace. She dropped her blog, briefly picked it up again, then dropped it again.

I hope that's the only reason why her blog's dormant and I'm not seeing her on X.

I know, too, that when breast cancer has been treated, and then another kind of cancer has been treated, a person is not likely to have much time left in this world.

Wednesday, December 3, 2025

Web Log for 12.2.25

Microsoft promised that this laptop would stop receiving "updates." I looked forward to the laptop becoming a reliable storage device and not crashing every day. Hah. It's been receiving more "updates" and crashing more than once a day, and over the weekend it lost all my tabs. 

So when it came back up, the computer was now displaying a new message from Microsoft: Since I'm not interested in buying a new computer or in downgrading to Windows 11, another wonderful alternative Microsoft now wants to offer is paying them to send more "updates"! 

I could not have made that up. 

Like you want your neighborhood to switch garbage collection services because the one you have is so hubristic it fails to pick up the extra garbage bags when somebody's remodelled a house, you go to a town meeting and persuade the council to let you sign up with a different collection service, so next the old garbage collection service sends you a letter about a monthly payment plan for them to bring you more garbage?

Microsoft employs too many young men who take drugs, and needs to be run by sober, mature ladies (I'm thinking nuns) who whack the twitchy little boys with rulers when they get delusions about trying to manipulate their customers.

"People will NOT be asked to buy new computers!" Whack! 

"Every time a customer hits 'restart,' we're sending them $500 out of YOUR salary!" Whack!

"If we so much as read a customer's published blog posts or e-books, much less plagiarize them into STOLEN Intelligence or SI devices, we PAY TEN CENTS PER WORD!" Whack!

"There's no such thing as 'artificial intelligence.' You're talking about STOLEN intelligence! Get it right!" Whack!

"Of course no computer is ever 'responding.' Computers are machines. Responding is what a living, conscious creature does. Computers obey, or they function, or they run, or they simply work, but they cannot respond. Meanwhile if Microsoft is interfering with a computer's working for its owner, we owe that owner MONEY out of YOUR salary." Whack! Whack! Are the brat's knuckles bleeding yet?

Until the nuns take over, this web site is going to Linux. The question that needs to be on your mind, Microsoft brats, is whether we then ban all Microsoft products from the house, or whether we continue to allow earlier Office Suite programs to be run on computers that are completely disconnected from the Internet. 

Books 

This year's new books by John Scalzi's fans, a madly mixed lot, fiction, nonfiction, left-wingnut propaganda, poetry, history...:


Poem

It's free verse, pretty much, but it does show a healthy attitude toward dandelions.

Book Review: Just Home for the Holidays

Title: Just Home for the Holidays

Author: Deborah Cooke

Date: 2020

Quote: "Hunter replaced the words in Christmas songs with choices that seemed more appropriate to him."

Thinking strictly in terms of copyrighted commercial songs whose only reason for existing was to displace traditional carols, Hunter's "It's the most horrible time of the year" might be justified. Of course, he has a dark and dreadful secret reason for hating Christmas, which Chloe will make him tell her...

The comedy in this steamy romance consists of Chloe, who is a level above Hunter in the small gym business where they work, asking Hunter to be her fake boyfriend over the holidays. She lays down thirteen rules for the fake romance. Hunter immediately sets out to break all of them. 

If you think the most happy and romantic ending to any story is for a woman to marry a man who, if he listens to what she says at all, does so in order not to do what she's told him she wants, then this romance is for you. Mercy. I hope not.

My Earliest Memories

This week, Long & Short Reviews asks about reviewers' earliest memories.

Babies, it is now believed, do form memories, but short, vague, disconnected memories that blur together and are hard to pin to a date. I believe this theory may be true because, although my mother and natural sister and I do all have a few memories that must have come from when we were two or three or even fewer years old, they don't form stories or seem even as significant as the memories that can't be placed.

I mean, there must have been a first memory of seeing our parents' faces, tasting foods, having baths, and suchlike, and these memories obviously form the emotional base of our overall impression of the world, nobody ever remembers the first memory of those things.

I have two well-worn memories that have to come from the year I was two years old, and don't come from photographs, but neither of them seems to have any emotional significance. 

I remember a chair with a brown calico cover. The chair was in Mother's parents' living quarters in the International House at a university in Indiana. There was unhappiness in the air. Nobody explained the unhappiness to me at the time; they tried to be very kind and hoped I wouldn't notice it. There were some ancient toys in the house, souvenirs of Mother's childhood, with which I was allowed to play. I took naps in the afternoon and woke up one afternoon in the brown calico chair, the room stuffy, the sun shining on a drawn curtain. Later I was told that the reason why we were at that house was that Grandfather had died. That would have been in February.

I remember a fluffy pink rug made of spun plastic, airy as cotton candy, brand new. I remember it as a good-sized rug, perhaps six feet long and three feet wide. Actually it was a hearthrug--one of the really stupid ideas of the 1960s, it would have melted and burned if a spark had landed on it--perhaps thirty inches long and twenty inches wide. I also remember the fireplace before which the hearthrug lay as big enough for me to stand up and run about in; it was seldom lighted, so I could. In that house the atmosphere was happy, though we didn't stay there long. That memory might have come from September or October of the same year.


This is not my rug. It's a new product for sale at Microless. I remember my rug being a slightly brighter shade of pink, but the size and fluffiness were as shown.

Is there any significance at all to these random choices of things to remember? I think so. Both are visual memories. They show that up to age five I thought in pictures. I remember being aware of a changeover when I started thinking in words, as I've done since age five.

Tuesday, December 2, 2025

Petfinder Isn't Working Today

Where is today's Petfinder post? I'd written the preliminary blather but I've not been able to open the Petfinder photo pages. The site is undergoing maintenance. It says you can search the pet photo pages, then fails to open them. It should be up by Friday, so there should be a Petfinder post later this week.  

Book Review: Murder by Post

Title: Murder by Post

Author: Rachel Ford

Quote: "Alec Thatch had been born Alice Thatch, daughter--not son--of the stablemaster."

Living a hundred years ago when such things were simpler to do, Alice Thatch has reinvented herself as her twin brother Alec in order to marry Meredith Lancaster. That's not the plot of this e-book or any of the e-books about them. Merry and Alec aren't police officers but they find themselves solving murder mysteries. In this story they find a fellow renter in the same building, whom they know slightly, dead from arsenic poisoning after eating a fruitcake that had come by mail. 

If this plot description appeals to you, you'll probably like the book, and may want to collect the series.

Furniture

Since Petfinder's not cooperating today, here's a random post for those who may want something to read. This was suggested by one of the "Internet holidays" listed on Messy Mimi's blog: See if you can remember where all your furniture came from, and all of the damage that's been done to it. 

I don't have a great deal of furniture. 

During my early childhood Mother inherited a lot of beautiful antique furniture, including things brought over from England in the seventeenth century and things made by an ancestor in the nineteenth century. The collection included silverware and three little chests of silver and gold and real gemstone jewelry. Within two years and two moves across the country we'd lost all of it. One particularly loved heirloom had been sold to a cousin and his bride for $25; outside the family it would have been worth more like $1000. When we came home to a house with hardly any furniture in it, Mother dared to hope that the cousin might be willing to sell the precisely hand-carved piece back for $30. No such luck. They'd had a fire that had broken out right beside it. The house and the cheap tacky furniture had been saved, but the heirloom was gone.

After that we did have one really good handmade piece, a rocking chair my grandfather had made--just for fun, but he'd done a good job on it. We had a cheap aluminum folding table that had survived a lot of moving around, some of the straw-bottomed straight-backed kitchen chairs that were ubiquitous in the mid-twentieth century, a pair of bunk beds handed down from some cousins and a series of tacky secondhand sofas that were always replaced after mice got in and nested in them. Families with young children don't need expensive furniture anyway, I thought as I grew up and learned a bit about the subject.

As we children grew up some new things were brought into the house that might have been classified as furniture, or perhaps as tools. There was a hand-cranked grain grinder mounted on a mismatched kitchen chair. There were washing and drying machines. There was an antique wooden wheelchair that I never had to use, that looked wonderfully uncomfortable. There were a lot of crutches and other adaptive devices left behind by Mother's patients. There were hand carts and a hand-pushed plough. Upgrading the furniture was nobody's priority. As long as the junk held up, we were cool with it. A rather pretty antique china closet did move into the kitchen for some years, but the look of the whole house proclaimed that nobody in my family was attached to having nice furniture or decor.

In my twenties, though, I had some ideas of my own about what I wanted in my office and bedroom. I am shorter than the "average" 5'10" man for which standard furniture is designed, and wanted my furniture to fit me. So I built it. A sheet of plywood a little wider than my sleeping bag, put over a bed frame, became a nice low firm bed with shelves. Another piece of plywood laid across two chipboard storage units became my big office desk. Another piece laid across some sturdy plastic crates became my bedroom desk. I tried building a wardrobe, too, but had less success with that; some of the wood is still out in the woodshed--I never could bear to chop it up and burn it. And I bought some nice tall bookshelves that were made of heavy-duty plastic but they did match the color of the walls.

When Mother bought the big house on "Snob Hill" to retire to, and my sister and I took what we needed to set up our own homes, we stripped the Cat Sanctuary to its floorboards. For some years nobody really lived there, and whoever stayed there could put a sleeping bag on the floor and write on a suitcase. Mother took the rocking chair and china cupboard with her. A working part of the grain grinder had broken, anyway, Mother said. The hand-cranked washing machine, my Sweet Baby James, was still here but useless, as clothes couldn't be dried without electricity any more. My sister took the electric washing and drying machines. Nobody was attached to anything and there was no ill feeling about the attrition of furniture, the gradual change of the house from a family nest to a storage barn.

My husband's taste in furniture in our little house in the city was about as unpretentious as mine. He did have a good matched pair of front-room storage units. He had a bed that looked decent, but the mattress was old and saggy; he and I slept on a quilt on the floor. (Many people in India used to believe that sitting and sleeping on the floor is good for the spine. My husband's grandmother was one of those people. J.I. Rodale said they were right, and I've come to agree with them too.) Possibly the most valuable piece of furniture in the house was the hospital-type bed neither of us wanted to look at, much less sleep on. 

When I lost that house the moving men automatically loaded most of the furniture into their truck. I insisted on leaving the hospital bed behind; somebody else was sure to need it before I did. I got the dining table and chairs, the big storage units, the two Souder (particle-board) desks, the nightstand, the chest of drawers, out of our house, delivered to Mother's big new house. I needed money. Mother bought the desks and storage units. Friends bought the dining table and chairs, the nightstand, and the chest of drawers. 

Back to the Cat Sanctuary came the camp cot my stepson had slept on as a child, the plastic shelves, and a window fan. Three beds were still in the house, and four kitchen chairs and a table, and my desks. Friends donated a couple of cat cages. That was all I really needed. Most of what I'd brought back from the city was books and yarn. A friend who has a real talent for interior decorating walked in and screamed, "You're living like homeless people here!" Her fingers twitched visibly, longing to remake the house from its foundations up. I didn't let her into the house again.

Mother bequeathed her furniture to my sister and friends to help them open a secondhand store. Mostly I don't mind. Sometimes I think wistfully about Mother's books, several of which were new acquisitions I would have liked to read, and then I remind myself that I need to get back to a physical store and sell a couple hundred real books to make room on the shelves for new books I want to acquire. 

Sometimes I think wistfully about the treasures my parents lost when they tried moving everything across the country instead of leaving it in storage. I don't really want the role of curating very valuable heirlooms, but I think someone ought to have done it. At least the big Bible with all the great-grand-aunts and -uncles listed in it, I think, ought to have been kept. The sari family friends had given for my wedding when I was three years old: my husband didn't like fuss and display, and as he was divorced we were hardly entitled to a showy wedding, but since I did marry an Indian it would've been nice to have celebrated the occasion in a sari. The silverware...I don't even remember what Mother's family's silverware pattern looked like. I've used stainless steel flatware all my life and liked it, but I was meant to have inherited silverware in a distinctive family pattern. I don't really want a big heavy headboard for a double-wide bed, don't think it even looks decent for a single person to be actually using a two-person bed, but it would have been nice to be able to show off the headboard an ancestor wrought.

Then I think that, whatever more distant ancestors may have been, my parents were unpretentious people and did not bring up pretentious children. I wouldn't want to live in a museum. I'd rather live in a quirky old house where the furniture I use has been custom-made, if only from cheap junk, to fit me. I despise the idea of trying to make virtue from necessity, but the fact is that I'd rather have furniture that will be easy to replace if a sick animal wants to spend its last hours on it.

Computers have accumulated over the last twenty years. I'm thinking about building a new desk, the width of a room, to accommodate them. 

Monday, December 1, 2025

Book Review: A Christmas Caroline

Title: A Christmas Caroline

Author: Camilla Isley

Date: 2021

Publisher: Pink Blom

Quote: "And yet...my sister looks so happy...I can't help but wonder if that could've been me if I'd stayed with Sam and we'd had kids."

Ooohhh, poor Caroline. She's turning into Scrooge because she didn't want to have a whole bunch of babies. She will be haunted by the Ghost of Christmas That Could Have Been until she tracks down her ex-boyfriend and starts working on half a dozen.

It's a romantic comedy, it doesn't have to make sense, but I would've liked this one a lot better if Caroline had un-Scrooged herself by cleaning up her business's ethics and being a better aunt. Or maybe stepmother, as ex-boyfriend could so easily have enabled another woman to die in childbirth. The joy of infant company is available to all of us even if we earn the special crown in Heaven for abstaining from adding to the existing human overpopulation.

On the other hand, it's Camilla Isley so you know it's going to be witty and fun to read. And it'll certainly validate the choices of women who've already run down to babies.



 

Butterfly of the Week: Graphium Monticolus

On Sulawesi island, Graphium milon, which we studied last week, is found on the lower land near the beach and Graphium monticolus, the Graphium of the Low Hills, is found on the island's higher plains, at altitudes from about 1000-2000 feet. That's one way of telling them apart. They look very similar and scientists have made the case for classifying both as subspecies of other look-alike species like Graphium anthedon or G. sarpedon. Some science sites don't maintain pages for one or both of these two species.

Many papers proposing various ways to classify this tribe of look-alike butterflies have been printed. Here's one that's been published online:



Photo by William_Stephens, taken in September on Sulawesi. 

The Indonesian government would like the world to know that a good place to observe these butterflies is the Lore Lindu National Park. 

The border of lighter scallops inside the edge of the fore wings is found on only some individuals and has been reported as a basis for classifying those individuals as a separate subspecies longilinea, but is now regarded as an aberration.  

The species doesn't seem to be endangered. The IUCN Red List is, however, one of the sources that don't recognize monticolus as a species. 

Then there are sources that use a different form of the Latin name. Graphium monticolum, monticola, monticula, monticulum, or monticulus all refer to the same species. Personal opinions, including opinions about Latin grammar, are supposed to have no place in science. Species names are proper names, so some say that the person who first documented the species has the right to name them. If that person wanted to name a species after Augustus Caesar but spell the name avgvstas, that might be "wrong" in classical Latin but it would thereafter be "right" in biology. Others think it's proper to "correct" Latin and Greek spellings. Debates between these opinions have been going on for a long time and their main effect has been to complicate searches for information.

The group, probably all male, shown above are composting. Many male butterflies need to absorb mineral salts in order to be able to mate. They slurp up brackish or polluted water, let their bodies filter out the pollutant minerals, excrete relatively cleaner water, and retain the salts in their bodies. Females also need minerals, but they don't usually have to come out to puddles to get them; they get their mineral salts from contact with their mates. However, though male butterflies of many species are composters, they also pollinate flowers. Female Swallowtails are definitely pollinators.


Photo by Kaithefishguy. Graphiums generally tend to like shallow flowers. Their probosces look long in proportion to their heads, but are smaller than those of other butterflies.

Where are all the females? Female Swallowtails usually spend more time looking for suitable host plants on which to lay eggs, while the males are hanging out at puddles. For many species this means the females are usually in the woods, where their darker wings are often well camouflaged. They often fly through the treetops where they're almost never seen by humans. And when they do come out where we can see them, in many species the female is bigger and has better camouflaged colors than the male, but in the Graphiums this difference may be noticeable only if we spot a couple together. As a result many female Graphiums are almost, if not entirely, undocumented.

If we know nothing about the females, we know nothing about the eggs and young. If we know nothing about the eggs and young, we know nothing about the butterflies' place in the local food chain and can't predict when they are endangered. A rather silly paper projecting that Sulawesi's butterflies may be able to adapt to warmer climates by growing darker wings, as some Swallowtail butterflies actually do, is of less use than a simple paper, of the kind that might be prepared by a twelve-year-old, documenting what the caterpillars eat. 

Friday, November 28, 2025

Book Review: Constituent Service

Title: Constituent Service


Author: John Scalzi

Date: 2024 (e-book); 30 November 2025 (printed book)

Publisher: Subterranean Press

ISBN: 978-1-64524-284-0

Quote: "I am so sorry I'm late. Our bus hit a chicken."

In this case the book's cover tells us quite a bit about the book. In a future United States, a very nice girl called Ashley has just been hired by a city government office to work in "constituent services." The city is now home to assorted intelligent alien species, including a funguslike alien living on the potted plant shown behind Ashley. Ashley is told that she was hired as a representative of humans, though the last time the department employed a human was eighteen years ago and he stayed for three days, and we get several other riffs on the "aliens talk to and about humans the way reasonably polite and well educated White Americans talked to and about Black Americans in the twentieth century" theme. Then the various constituents' problems start to come together and form a plot that will require Ashley to go down the sewers to confront a "fatberg" (a thing that actually exists in our world) and then save the city by putting on diving gear smeared with alien pheromones. 

Who is the chicken and how did she come into it? You'll have to read the story and find out. It's short, witty, and pithy; though it shows as only 100 pages on my Kindle it feels like a complete, well written novella.

How believable is Ashley? I find her believable. Granted, most bureaucrats whose job might be called "constituent services" think their job is to tell everyone who calls them to call some other number, any number, while shopping online and polishing their nails. Nevertheless I've known some young ones who had good intentions, and even seemed not to need a specific federal law to "clarify" for them the difference between their hips and their elbows. They learn to play unbelievably dumb on the job. There is a stage early in the development of a bureaucrat when person might, if forced to work in the private sector, be quite pleasant to work with. Ashley has more fortitude than most of the Nice Girls who get jobs in government offices. I read her as a role model presented to bureaucrats to remind them how to behave if they want any public support for the idea of keeping their offices open. 

What's not to like? Some people don't like science fiction as comedy.

What's to like? This book did well enough on the Internet that it's being printed. You can order it at your favorite bookstore, starting on Sunday (if your bookstore is open on Sunday). If you like warmhearted, funny, goofy science fiction where even the scammer turns out to be nice, you might want to pre-order now.

Book Review for 11.27.25: Dias de Gatos

Title: Días de Gatos

Author: Violeta Monreal

Date: 1998

Publisher: Grupo Anaya

ISBN: 84-207-9001-X

Length: pages not numbered

Illustrations: colorful collage-style illustrations

Quote: “Que este libro os haga pensar en el valor de conocer a las personas y mirar a los gatos como amigos.”

If you’re buying this book secondhand, you might be disturbed by the bluish smudge on the long edge of the pages. Mold? Well, no; actually, for some reason, a border of blue paw prints decorates the pages of this book, and the paw prints blur on the edges of the pages.

The story is that Sofia Diaz’s attraction to cats leads her to Agata’s house. Sofia has a reasonable number of school friends; Agata is “new,” and nobody else talks to her much. Sofia, however, gets to know her because both girls love cats, and so when Agata becomes a local celebrity (by rescuing a cat), Sofia is the lucky kid who can claim her as a friend.

This simple story is worth reading aloud to primary school children who are just beginning to think about popularity. It’s also recommended to first-year Spanish students who feel ready to tackle their very first as-yet-untranslated book in Spanish.  

Book Review for 11.26.25: 2 Quart Small Air Fryer Cookbook for Men

Title: 2 Quart Small Air Fryer Cookbook for Men 

Author: Olivia Graham

Quote: "Smash 2 garlic cloves and scatter them over the meat. Let them mingle like teammates sharing high-fives."

One thing some readers will love and some will hate about this book is the author's determination to appeal to young men. Most of the recipes can be eaten with fingers or from toothpicks, and some are recommended for serving on a plank--minimal dishes to wash. Most call for just five or even four ingredients; some suggest optional additions, and not all count salt, pepper, and oil in the maximum-of-five-ingredients list. Several recipes recommend serving the dish with cold beer. Most assume that you're willing to use "convenience" ingredients, things some people consider extravagant and/or unhealthy, from an upscale supermarket--premixed sauces and spices and frozen dough are considered as single ingredients. If you do use that kind of ingredients, nearly all the recipes will be ready to eat in half an hour or less. All recipes are consistently written with sports or engineering references in every paragraph.

A more serious concern is how many of the recipes an individual (or family) can use. Most of these recipes feature animal protein, though there are a few recipes for vegetables, one for tofu, and one for fried apple rings. Some also call for cheese or other dairy products. Very few call for wheat flour or for any grains at all. There's an assumption that guys who buy the Air Fryer have both regular stoves and microwaves, and bought the fryer because they're just into gadgets. 

If you're cooking for a traditional sit-down dinner, the two-quart air fryer is not the ideal gadget. It cooks enough of anything for one large serving or for a platter (or plank) of snacks to pass around. If you're cooking for yourself in a dorm room where you can expect a dorm mate or two to pop in when the smell of fried apple rings, fried chicken, or pizza roll-ups wafts through the hall, a two-quart air fryer might be just right for giving everyone "a bite." Several of these recipes are, in fact, intended to be served in bite-sized pieces. 

If you collect cookbooks, this is an amusing one. Some people may actually use it. These recipes are certainly easy to use, once you have a two-quart air fryer, but they're not frugal and won't fit into the meal as family gathering ritual...even though, addressed to fathers, this book does end with a recipe for air-fried chocolate chip cookies.

Web Log for 11.26-27.25

Animals 

Vince Staten on turkeys:


Tom Cox is obviously wrong on one point in this post about cats, but he can't be blamed for that, as he has never met Serena.


(Serena has, by the way, become a cuddler--at least a part-time cuddler--since Silver came home. I suspect her real message is to her Prodigal Daughter. "You may have the closet with the kitten nest box, cat dishes, and litter box. I snooze on the human." In any case, if I let them spend a cold night in the office, and I then write until I fall asleep on my bench, I have become a cat bed. Serena sends purry vibrations, not a purr out loud, to everyone.)

Books 

Prince Caspian is not my favorite Narnia book...but they're all good.


Etiquette, Unpardonable Sins Against 

I say this as a Christian: The three guys who went to a Muslim prayer meeting and "stomped around" the men who were putting themselves in the vulnerable position required by their faith, insulted their beliefs verbally, and waved bacon at them, were beyond rude. They were criminally harassing and threatening their schoolmates. Their behavior offends me. It qualifies as blasphemy. If I were the judge, I'd at least put them on probation for six months in jail, conditioned on good behavior including spending their weekends at heavy labor in service to the Muslim community.

Now, compare and contrast with the Palestinians who broke into the homes of Jewish families during their prayers, raped women, and killed babies. Why are so many on the Left so quiet about that? Why is there still any talk about letting these men live long enough to form a state? Why is there any question about them beyond: gallows, or firing squad?


Gender Issues 

A man won the title for World's Strongest Woman, and the reaction from other athletes and the audience convinced the judges to revoke it. But note: While we're reading of men who identify as women stealing women's athletic titles, we see nothing about their out-competing women in any other way. These men are not writing credible novels as women, they're not better office managers or marketers or teachers than women, and--although they try--most of them are not even stealing men's attention from women. They have greater upper body strength. They are the half of humankind that was designed to chop wood and carry water for women, and, whatever they do about it, they always will be. Quite rightly. They certainly aren't going to give birth to the babies. Apparently they're not going to develop the perceptivity, the listening skills, the attention spans, the verbal logic, the nonviolence, etc., of typical women, either.


Language 

Believed to be the origin of the word "spam" as used to mean advertising junk e-mail:


Meme 


Ganked from the Mirror; Lens can't identify the first appearance but says it's been circulating for at least three years. It's not the way the Cat Sanctuary's not-a-lawn, orchard, and branch creek are laid out--the house here is further above the stream, and there's a road between the house and the creek, among other things--but it has the right general features. Somebody was speaking for me.

Music 

The classic English Thanksgiving song:


Obituary 

Sarah Beckstrom, only 20 years old, "specialist" in the National Guard, patrolling the mean streets of Washington, let a lousy creep get close enough to take her gun and blow her head off. May she rest in peace. She was a pretty girl...in that international, basic-human-color way that was likely to appeal to an Afghan, like the lousy creep. Some day we'll have that national conversation about how much men hate the women they want and can't have.

Thursday, November 27, 2025

Meet the Blog Roll: Becky Laney

Happy Thanksgiving, Gentle Readers! (Yes, of course this post was written and scheduled last week.)

In contrast to some of the other blogs on this list, I've not been following Becky Laney's blog for many years, or even one full year. It was about this time last year that someone recommended that book bloggers follow other book blogs, so I checked a few and added BLBooks.blogspot.com to the blog roll. 

Do you readers want to read two Christian blogs that frequently feature older books in one day? Maybe not, but it's an interesting contrast for those who have the time. Becky Laney is not really the opposite of me but she's certainly different. Her "favorites" list looks like my "nice, but not in the top 100" list. You might enjoy comparing and contrasting reviews on both sites for popular books like Anne of Green Gables and Harry Potter

Sometimes I add a book someone else has reviewed to my Amazon Wish List. I highly recommend this practice to you readers. I also recommend printing your Wish List and taking it with you when you visit local bookstores and charity stores. 

Wednesday, November 26, 2025

A Genre I Wish Were More Popular

This week, Long & Short Reviews asks if there's a genre of books reviewers wish were more popular.

I like literary nonfiction. I mind bitterly that most public libraries have purged it from their shelves. I'd like to see more of it, just because, when people have written both novels and collections of essays (or even book-length deep dives into a single subject), I almost always like their nonfiction books best.

Arguably blogs meet our "need" to read each other's personal essays. I'd argue "nay." Blogs are interesting but, as someone said around the time the brand known as Priscilla King was born, the word "blog" sounds like a glob of dough and that's how blogs read. Blog posts are things that, if our friends show enough interest in our writing on the topic, could be made good enough to be printed in creative nonfiction books. 

That's about all I have to say on the subject, this being a busy week, but here's a quick list of nonfiction books I like, as suggested by what's on my shelves in the office today:

1. Knitting Around by Elizabeth Zimmermann

In the 1970s Elizabeth Zimmermann was probably the best known knitter on Earth. Having written the how-to-knit and how-to-knit-current-fashions books most people still like best, she'd been asked to do TV shows about knitting. People respected her not saying much about the rest of her life, but they wished for a memoir of her early life in England and immigration during the War. So she wrote one. The book alternates between chatty discussions of knitwear she'd designed, with variations, and her autobiography in short, pithy stories. She also did drawings and paintings; there's a centerfold showing those.

2. The Bachelor Home Companion by P.J. O'Rourke

Only slightly exaggerated discussions of the way many of our generation lived when we were young and single. 

3. The Dog with the Chip in His Neck by Andrei Codrescu

Some of his short funny essays for NPR, some of his longer but still witty literary studies as required by his teaching job, bring the 1980s back to life. 

4. Lighten Up by Ken Davis

Christian preacher tells funny stories about his life and observations.

5. Dakota by Kathleen Norris

First of the trilogy of literary nonfiction she wrote while all but moving into the monastery near the hospital where her husband was treated for cancer. He was not a Christian. She wasn't sure she believed that Christianity was true, but she found herself both practicing and preaching the faith anyway. In this book she's still close to her earlier life in the New York publishing world and reflects on the poems she wrote in a successful poetry collection, on her students' concerns, on her roots in South Dakota and her life there. 

6. Never Cry Wolf by Farley Mowat

He studied timber wolves up close and personal. He even tried eating mice.

7. The Language Imperative by Suzette Haden Elgin

One of her more abstruse linguistic books, but Elgin was constitutionally incapable of being abstruse. She surveyed people who speak more than one language and wrote about what they'd reported about the way they spoke. It's actually a fun read, at least if linguistics interests you.

8. The Skeptical Feminist by Barbara Walker

She was even more of a polymath than Elizabeth Zimmermann. She wrote about folklore and rocks and what seemed like all the knitting patterns on Earth, and she wrote about the life experiences that pushed her away from Christianity. Quite well.

9. The Dog Who Wooed at the World by Laura Lee Cascada

Cascada and about a hundred of her e-friends reflect on our encounters with different kinds of animals... from manatees to beetles, with of course a lot of dog and cat stories. My freaky-looking cat Mogwai is about the middle of the book.

10. Grazing Along the Crooked Road by Betty Skeens

I suppose, if I were imposing Dewey Decimal classification on my books, I'd call this one a cookbook but it's also history, memoir, art, photography, and above all a great gorgeous guide for tourists from the early 2000s. Several of the places and people featured in the book are still around. 

Web Log for 11.25.25

I had some time for link hunting yesterday; I just didn't find any links that sat up and begged to be shared. Today? Not many.

Book reviews and blog posts for each day this week will be posted, but may be off schedule.

Books 

Inside the Canadian truckers' protest with...Gord Magill? Can that be his real name? Whatever. Link to pre-order at the review link:


Caring, Who Does, About Whom 

Cartoonist Scott Adams...


Sample cartoon from Wikipedia.

...Said that if Black Americans say it's not okay to be White, then White Americans should avoid them. What he said was not hateful but some people howled for censorship, giving newspapers their pretext to replace "Dilbert" with a carton that may be fresher but is not as dearly loved.

Y'know, what I've seen is not that news consumers, themselves, are killing the newspapers by preferring to get their news from online echo-chamber sets of news groups. It's that newspaper editors are killing the newspapers by making bad decisions. If they want to get rid of "zombie" cartoon strips, they could start with the ones that never were funny but used at least to be drawn well, like "Mark Trail" and "Mary Worth," instead of "Dilbert." Also, instead of using their printed editions to advertise special "online only" content on behalf of local computer stores, they could use their web sites to advertise special "printed only" content. Also, they could avoid buying two-thirds of their content from a group of writers who (1) make no pretense to try to be politically objective and (2) don't try to tone down their hostility toward the party to which the majority of the readers belong...

Anyway Dilbert went online-only and, because censorship, I started listening to Adams' vlog. I don't approve of vlogs. Adams was old enough to get a free pass. If you are under age 70 and have any use of your hands and eyes, I expect you to type out your blog like a reasonable person. 

The most obvious difference between Scott Adams' Dilbert Blog, which was one of the great blogs while it lasted, and his vlog was that he'd become both a partisan and an adviser to then-embattled Ex-President Trump. 

This went on. Trump ran for President again. I don't know who suggested some of Trump's more successful campaign moves. I know I was the first person I know who suggested the unlikely alliance between Trump and Secretary Kennedy; I doubt very much that I was the first person Trump heard or read suggest it. But Scott Adams was applying his professional communication skills to each of Trump's speeches, praising what worked and suggesting what Trump was going to do next. And Trump did. And it served him well. Every time. Dilbert's having invented a flying car was a joke but Scott Adams really is a very intelligent man. 

So...then...last summer Scott Adams went down with cancer. He was not originally expected to have a chance of being alive by now. He is still alive and still vlogging.

Trump calls to check on him now and then. So does Mehmet Oz. It's called paying back a good turn.


(Snippet from a longer vlog, for your convenience.)

Idiocy, Pathetic, of Microsoft 

After promising that Microsoft "updates" would end in October, this week Microsoft interrupted what I was doing on this computer with four "update"-upheavals in one day. Since then Microsoft has popped open a window that purports to "tell me how" to buy a new computer with Windows 11 on it. Hello? They think I want Windows 11? They think I'm not postponing paying back a lunch debt to pay for a computer that's Microsoft-free?

If Microsoft seriously wanted their products to be allowed in the house any more, they'd hire a responsible adult, with two X chromosomes, who would of course tell them that they'd need to begin with demonstrating how efficiently it's possible for a computer to run. Like if this computer were to run for another five years WITHOUT SO MUCH AS FALLING BEHIND THE PACE OF KEYSTROKES WHEN I'M TYPING AT SPEED, with NO more crashes, NO more noticeable "updates," NO "wait" messages or graphics, just DOING WHAT IT'S TOLD WHEN IT'S TOLD WITHOUT DELAYS, that might interest me in adopting another computer with Windows...XP, or ME, or maybe 7. 

Windows 10 is garbage and Windows 11 is guaranteed to be even worse. Maybe Microsoft can send me an e-mail when they've rolled out "Windows CUSTOMER RESPECT EDITION," with guarantees that your computer cannot receive third party input for one hour after the last keystroke, that any changes in the way your software looks or works will be compensated with a minimum of $500 each, that any delays in functioning will be compensated with a minimum of $100 per second, that content you produce can become available to plagiarism programs only after you acknowledge receipt of a fair payment, and that nobody but you the owner can activate your camera or microphone software without a warrant sworn out under a higher standard of probable cause to investigate for evidence of criminal activity than is required for a physical search of the building. 

Petfinder Post: Can You Adopt a Pet During Thanksgiving Weekend?

Can you adopt a pet during Thanksgiving weekend? It depends on the shelter. 

Many shelters depend on volunteers who are busy during the holidays, so they don't even open on the weekend. They're lucky if someone comes in to dispense food and water on Thanksgiving Day. (They might let you volunteer to do that.)

However, there are shelters where people are willing to work on holiday weekends, and some of them have special promotions for the holidays. Some shelters will, for example, accommodate people who are lonely enough to want to adopt a dog just for those days when everyone else is doing "family" things. At some shelters you can borrow a dog for the Thanksgiving weekend free of charge. At some shelters qualified adopters can adopt animals free of charge on the Thanksgiving Friday. And at some shelters you can even adopt a live turkey. 

(Turkey hens lay oversized, but perfectly edible, eggs. Commercial breeds of turkeys were not developed for survival intelligence and can show astounding stupidity, but they can become a sort of pets, at least as rewarding as goldfish anyway.)

Check with the shelter. It might be possible to share this Thanksgiving weekend with one of the photo contest winners below, or with another animal who might be even more appealing in real life.

Considering what traditionally goes on this weekend, this week's theme is Adoptable Animals who are Known to Behave Well with Children.

Zipcode 10101: Samoa from NYC 

Samoa was found hanging around a playground, looking for a new human family and trying to "make friends" of parents and children. She is thought to be about a year old. She has run up a vet bill. She would be very thankful to find a purrmanent home.

Zipcode 20202: Mitten from DC 


Mitten is just a kitten. They recommend adopting her with a sister, but don't mention the sister's name or web page. She is described as friendly and snuggly.

Zipcode 30303: Phoenix from Texas by way of Atlanta 


This young Queen Cat likes a lot of attention. She's friendly, affectionate, even a "Velcro cat" who clings to her chosen human. She likes to be involved in whatever is going on--working, studying, watching television. She's been described as "quite the yapper," meowing as if she thinks conversation with humans is a game and she's playing it. The adoption fee covers transportation as well as a vet bill.

Zipcode 10101: Callie from Texas by way of NYC 


She's a spring puppy and can be adopted with a sister, Cocoa, who is pale tan rather than white. Curly poodle coats need regular clipping and combing. Callie and Cocoa are thought to be "toy" poodles who will always be small enough to sit on your lap.

Zipcode 20202: Roberta from Texas by way of DC 


Thought to be about two years old, Roberta is a bouncy, lively Australian Shepherd, just right for someone who wants to spend a lot of time outdoors with her. She wants to use her energy and learn job skills that make her useful. Aussies are not really Australian (the breed was developed in the US) but they are attractive and lovable. They're also often found in shelters because people couldn't keep up with them. If you like lots of long fast walks and outdoor games, ask about Roberta. If you are a couch potato, ask about a different dog.

Zipcode 30303: Daytona from Chattanooga 


Her web page is full of photos showing her bond with a sibling but doesn't give the sibling's name or web page address. Daytona is just a puppy, as shown, working on learning to use a litter box and spend the night in her crate. She likes to snuggle and be a pet. She would be soooo thankful for a permanent home of her own.

Tuesday, November 25, 2025

New Book Review: Black Forest Cake Murder

Title: Black Forest Cake Murder

Author: Karen McSpade

Date: 25 November 2025 

Quote: "I want to make sure I don't miss anything important when preparing for the food critic's visit."

Veronica the food critic is so influential, the Sinclair Sisters really want to impress her. When she seems unimpressed by the selection they have in their bakery, they beg her to come back and sample the Black Forest cake they're about to bake fresh, just for her. Veronica agrees to do that. But before she can try the cake, she's found bludgeoned to death in an alley. With what appears to be Mr. Sinclair's souvenir rolling pin.

Funnily enough, the other baker in town bought a similar souvenir rolling pin. To the sisters' surprise, their father and the other baker have been in competition all their lives; their rivalry developed a bitter quality when their mother chose their father over the other baker. But would the other baker really commit a murder and try to blame their father? 

Noelle, the oldest sister, takes responsibility for Veronica's visit and for finding out whodunit. Holly, the middle sister, does more of the leg work because she's in love with police detective Chad, though it has to be said that Chad seems unappreciative, unromantic, and unobservant in this book; I'm not convinced he's good enough for Holly. Joy, the youngest, is really waiting for readers to vote for this sequel to become Book 2 of a long series, though she contributes her bit to solving the murder. 

If you liked this family in Christmas Cakes and Crooks, you'll probably vote for a full-length series, and you'll probably enjoy Book 2. 

As a bonus readers get a recipe for a modern, lower-calorie Black Forest cake. It can be done as a traditional two-layer cake with extra layers of fillings and frostings, but traditionally Black Forest cake is in the torte or stack-cake family, with four thin layers separated by different combinations of whipped cream, cherries, and chocolate. Whatever. The recipe will not make enough for four thick layers as shown on the cover of the book. Two thick or four thin. Anyone who likes cake will probably enjoy it.

Monday, November 24, 2025

Web Log for 11.23.25

Conservation for the Home 

"Death cleaning." Isn't that special. Assume your belongings have no value. Toss everything so you can die faster and make it easier for Big Government to sell your home.

In a civilized society we have a better way. We keep things that have value, on the assumption that our heirs will have enough sense to appreciate them. We avoid leaving anything to tossers. There are valid reasons to move things into storage rooms, like clearing a wheelchair-accessible path through a room where things have been stored on the floor, but there's never a valid reason to waste anything that might be useful. Belongings can be sold, if we need the money and can find a buyer, or handed down, if we know someone who needs them.

Don't toss. And don't let Big Government cast a covetous eye on your home. Buy a T-shirt that says "The Land Is Not For Sale" (I happen to have designed some at Zazzle). Wear it regularly.


Economics 

Some charts and numbers for those who enjoy such:


Why is Cuba so poor? They certainly have productive land. The people certainly aren't averse to work as such. At least everyone in the Eastern States knows that Cuban-Americans do good work. Even if they sing that old sad song, "Nunca podre morirme, mi corazon no lo tengo aqui...cuando sali de Cuba deje enterrado mi corazon." I will never die here because I'm not alive here...I buried my heart in Cuba when I came here.

Handouts 


Bit of a discussion of this topic at 


The discussion touched on the question of whether food stamps, or their electronic equivalents, should be usable at fast food restaurant chains. I tend to say no, because electronic payment is always a sleazy move to benefit big chains over smaller, independent, more efficient businesses that need to be competing without impediments to allow the free market to correct its own shortcomings. Keep McDonalds and Taco Bell on their toes. 

However, control freaks need to be reminded: You don't know how much access to a kitchen a poor person has. Do not assume that people have time to simmer dry beans and cook oldfashioned oatmeal. People who really are poor often don't. The working poor may depend for nourishment on what they can grab in fifteen-minute breaks during twelve-hour shifts. The homeless usually eat in alleys, and are easier to be around when they eat junkfood that can be inhaled out of the package rather than being picked up in hands that are then wiped on shirts. Food that is not ready to eat is not likely to be eaten because the beneficiaries of your bids-for-control-disguised-as-compassion don't have a safe place even to peel an apple. If these people are going to get the nutrients found in scrambled eggs, it's going to be in the form of fast food egg-biscuit sandwiches. 

In a related development, control freaks seek to push people into using third party payment systems, not because those systems add value or because they don't inflate costs (they do), but in the hope of gaining comparable control over what everybody is allowed to buy. That has happened...in a dying country where both banks and government are about to collapse. People decide "black market" business is acceptable and the normal means of exchange become hidden gold and silver for big things, barter for little things, all traded in unregulated alleys and back rooms.

If we are a viable and vibrant country, we the people of these United States need to demand laws that establish cash as a valid means of exchange in any transaction whatsoever and legitimize fair collection of payments for the burden of tolerating third party payment systems. The small start-up businesses we need to encourage, if not subsidize, can't afford the time and risk involved in taking checks nor do they have the equipment to process credit cards. Those things cost money. We should be making those who use third party payments pay..say a flat fee of $5 per day for holding an item behind the counter while waiting for a check to clear, or a fee of 25% of the total if businesses spend the money to buy credit card scanners. 

Nice people always carry cash. 

But see some of the questions nasty people have raised--taking the elimination of pennies from our currency system as a pretext:


We need to act now to tell control freaks that cash, and anonymity, are unalienable rights and that attempts to control the country by pushing for more use of money handling services will cost the money handlers money. A lot of money. Any business that balks at cash payments needs to be shut down and the owner's name needs to be published on a list of Un-American Persons who should always be denied credit...so that the only way he can do business is anonymously, with cash.

And we need to do something about the problem of inflated, unrealistic property values. If you want to address the social problem of homelessness, a good way to begin might be selling a house for $1000 to the right person. This makes it harder for real estate speculators to buy houses for $75,000 and sell them for $175,000, and that makes it easier for people to keep their homes.


Poetry 

Boondoggle commemorated in verse:


Television 

If you do watch television on Thanksgiving Day, you poor kitchen-challenged dear, you might want to look for the Dobyns-Bennett Marching Band in the Macy's parade. DB is Kingsport's high school. (Kingsport used to have other high schools, but they've all been consolidated by now.) In terms of general overachievement DB has done fairly well at competing with Gate City. The school is two or three times the size, so when interstate competitions have been organized DB has generally been able to give GC a game. They've been banned from the Macy's parade, in the past, due to having been chosen too many times, due to being consistently one of the ten best big high school bands in the United States, but this being the centennial of both the parade and the school brings the kids back to New York City this year.

Here is a cell-phone-quality video splicing fragments of a past parade with a past halftime show by the DB band:


Verbal Self-Defense Update