Crazy Kisses Book Review

First off, I’d like to put GunDiva’s mind at ease and say I enjoyed Crazy Kisses. I’m still not sure if I REALLY liked it or not, but I enjoyed reading it. I know that’s a subtle distinction; but, then again, I’m known for that sort of thing.

My package of tasty wood pulp and ink goodness arrived from GunDiva late last week just ahead of a long and busy weekend which means I didn’t have a lot of time to seriously sit down and start devouring the book until Tuesday morning. That’s like setting a plate of fresh out of the oven chocolate chip cookies in front of me and telling not to touch. It’s not quite torture, but it’s most annoying. Nevertheless, I finished the book by late afternoon on Wednesday despite having to work both days. Don’t ask how much work actually got done ‘cause I won’t answer.

Crazy Kisses is a fairly standard length book of 354 pages not including the preview of the sequel teaser at the end. It is a stand alone story that is part of a larger series of books. Other than the male protagonist’s last name, there are no five dollar words that would get in the way of the average readers comprehension and enjoyment.

First warning: if you are offended by the F-word, you’ll have trouble getting past the first sentence. Having spent the better part of a couple of years reforming a bad cussing habit, I am not necessarily offended by cuss words. I do, however, get fairly tired of reading or hearing them when there are much better means of expression. Fortunately, Ms. Janzen did not feel the need to have all her characters cussing like drunken sailors on three day shore leave. In her defense, the worst offender in the book is the male protagonist who is a black ops soldier who would be expected to be a little coarse.

First technical nit pick: Now, having said that, if an author is going to indulge in cuss words, there is a much broader palette of colorful language to choose from than just the F-bomb. A soldier would have some very inventive ways of expressing himself in that manner if he were so inclined.

Second warning: if you are offended by sex in your entertainment, you are three turds short of being completely out of luck with this book. It takes Ms. Janzen just 34 pages to get to the first sex scene. There are at least two major, full blown sex scenes described in detail plus a couple of other scenes involving sex to a greater or lesser degree. Then there’s the whole naked angel painting thing.

If there is one thing I have to say I could have done without in this book, it would have to be the sex scenes. Now, I’m no prude. I am, in fact, a big fan of certain activities when they involve The Queen. I do not, however, enjoy reading about or watching someone else have sex. To each their own, I suppose.

GunDiva promised the book would deliver “hot guns, fast cars, hotter sex (not necessarily in that order)”.

She was wrong on one count: the only fast car mentioned in the entire book was a Pontiac GTO. Unfortunately, the Goat only appeared briefly in one scene near the end of the book and it was not moving. There was no classic car chase a la Clive Cussler’s Dirk Pitt. Bummer.

The guns are there, but they were not lovingly described in the way the sex scenes were.

Second and final technical nit pick: there is a scene where the male and female protagonists are running away from bad guys with guns. On page 76, they “take cover” behind a hedge. There is a difference between “cover” and “concealment”. Concealment will hide you from view but won’t necessarily stop a bullet. Cover will hide you AND stop or significantly slow down a bullet. By those definitions, a hedge is concealment not cover.

Ms. Janzen did a fairly good job of making me interested in the main characters. I’m a character guy. I love to see characters developed in depth. That’s why I’m a big fan of Terry Pratchett’s Discworld series, Tom Clancy’s Jack Ryan novels, etc. I would like to have seen some of her secondary characters developed a little (okay, a lot) more, but then you’re talking about a 500+ page book. That’s fine for me, but some people would find it tedious. It is also apparent from reading the summaries of her other books on her website that her other books take up the slack in this area.

Bottomline: Crazy Kisses is an enjoyable read which doesn’t quite hit the bullseye with my tastes. Your experience may vary.

Book Worm

I received a nice little gift in the mail yesterday from GunDiva.

No, it was not one of the items from my midlife crisis list (drat!). GunDiva and I haven't "known" (in the blogosphere sense of the term) each other long enough that she would feel generous enough to drop a minimum of $400 to accommodate one of my desired arsenal additions.

Oh well.

She did, however, send the next best thing: a book. In celebration of her 200TH post, GunDiva ran a little contest. I was lucky enough to be selected as one of her winners.

As you all should know, I love books. I am addicted to books. I read them quickly and often. Sometimes I read the same book 3 or 4 times (or well over a dozen times for Robert Heinlein's Starship Troopers).

My one failing as a reader is that I tend to get tied down to a few favorite authors and don't venture very far from that comfort zone. Every time I try to find a new author to add to the circle of old familiars, something gets in the way.

As a result, I look to my friends to introduce me to authors I might not otherwise experience. My friend Alex introduced me to Tom Clancy and R.A. Salvatore. My wife got me hooked on Douglas Preston and Lincoln Child (it's only fair...I got her hooked on Clive Cussler and I'm trying to get her to read Terry Pratchett).

So, it is with great anticipation that I look forward to devouring Crazy Kisses by Tara Janzen (an author I had never heard of until GunDiva's blog). I can normally run though a book this size (354 pages) in about a day and a half. However, I've got a busy weekend planned, and I may not finish this one until next Tuesday. Once I do, I plan on writing up a review. I also plan on finding a suitable book to send GunDiva's way as a way of saying thanks. If any of GunDiva's peeps (I know there are some lurking in the shadows here) are reading this and have suggestions on authors she has NOT read, please feel free to drop a comment.

What Does It All Mean?

I debated with myself about whether or not to post anything regarding the health care bill’s passage in the House over the weekend. My initial thought was that I didn’t want to add yet another tirade essentially saying nothing more than “this sucks” or “the end of the Republic is nigh”. There’s quite enough of that going on, and I don’t feel the need to add my voice to that chorus.

Besides, I think those who know me well or have gotten to know me through this blog understand that I have no love for politicians regardless of party affiliation and feel strongly that most things coming from Washington should be immediately throw in a toilet and flushed with the rest of the crap.

The tipping point for me in deciding whether or not to write this was when The Queen asked me: “How will it affect us?”

I’ve seen some fairly cogent points made about health care reform, both pro and con, in the blogosphere. One intrepid soul bravely pointed out on a very conservative blog that the U.S. already has socialized medicine in the form of Medicare and the V.A. I know I’ve heard that point made in slightly different terms frequently on the conservative talk shows for months now, but it never really sank in until now. Is that what the rest of us are getting now? Are we going to have an American version of the Canadian health care system or Britain’s much beleaguered NHS?

The short answer to The Queen’s question and the ones I added is: I have absolutely no idea, and I don’t think anyone else does either.

Let’s take a look at some facts for a minute.

According to my Adobe reader, The Senate health care bill is 2409 pages of typical legislative legalese, and the House reconciliation bill is an additional 153 pages. The Table of Contents alone is 17 pages long. I don’t know about you; but, if you’ve ever tried reading legislation, they’re not exactly page turners. To say that this could cure insomnia is a comedic understatement. To say that I don’t have the time or enough caffeine to read through this bill and figure out what it says is cold hard reality. My guess is that a majority of people are in the same boat with me.

Does the bill provide funding for abortion? I have no clue, and I’m betting you don’t either. Yes, Princess Nancy and every other horse thief in Congress has assured us that it doesn’t, but when was the last time a politician lied? Oh yeah…the last time their mouth was open. Even if there is a clause in there saying “Title I. Part A. Section 12. Thou shall not use Federal funds for abortions.”, there could easily be an exception clause tucked away 100 or 1000 pages further in saying “Title XX. Part Z. Section 4000.(subpart xxii.) …except in cases where you got knocked up ‘cause you’re unemployed and bored or too stupid to know better”.

Second, this is most definitely not a bipartisan bill. The vote was 219 to 212 with ALL Republicans voting against it. If anyone tries to tell you this was a bipartisan effort, they are smoking crack Batman.

Next, I recognize that I live in a generally conservative area and get most of my news via the internet from a variety of sources; but, in all the time that this debate has been ongoing, not once I have seen any polling data suggesting that there was a majority of Americans who were in favor of this bill. So, riddle me this Batman: how can this be the will of the people?

To those of you hoping that the Democrats will lose enough seats in November for Republicans to regain control of Congress and pass a bill repealing this one, you are forgetting one thing. President Obama is still in office until at least 2012 and would immediately veto any such effort to repeal his signature legislative effort. Even I am not optimistic enough to think that the Republicans can win enough seats to get a veto proof 2/3 majority.

Unfortunately, the only way this bill does not go into law is if the Supreme Court strikes it down as unconstitutional. At last count, at 37 states had plans to file suit challenging this bill once it is signed. You can pretty much guarantee that Justices Ginsburg, Sotomayor, Breyer and Stevens will give it a rubber stamp of approval. Chief Justice Roberts along with Justices Thomas, Alito and Scalia are likely to want to punt this back to Congress and say “try again”. That leaves Justice Kennedy as the deciding vote. He could go either way.

One final thought. The Law of Unintended Consequences applies to all of us, conservative or liberal. The health care bill may turn out to be the greatest thing since sliced bread (but I doubt it), or it may be the train wreck that dooms the economy (and the Republic). Right now, no one can say for sure. The only thing I am sure of is that there is no way that a bill this massive will go off as planned.

Not when the government is running it at least.

A Brief Sermon

So, there I was, sitting on the john last night, minding and taking care of my own business, when I had a revelation. It might have just been gas, but I truly think this was divinely inspired gas. At least, that’s my story, and I’m sticking to it.

I must digress for a moment to give you the back story on why I was having divinely inspired gas, and it has nothing to do with the homemade burger and fries from last night either.

I am a fan of the TV show Lost. It’s oddly compelling. It has an ensemble cast of complex characters with depth which I find fascinating. Anywho, in a recent episode, the character John Locke, was trying to get a job after being fired from his previous one. He went to a temp or job placement agency to fill out an application and get interviewed. Locke made a fuss and tried to get placed as a construction foreman. The agency manager looked at him and said she could do that if he wanted her to but that he would just be back in her office the day after.

For those not familiar with Lost, John Locke is sometimes confined to a wheelchair. It’s a long, weird story that will just confuse you if you’re not a fan of the show.

That whole episode, plus a few other personal interactions here lately, got me to thinking about “women’s work” vs. “men’s work”.

So, digression over, the topic of today’s sermon (I am the self avowed preacher here at P&H, remember) is: “Who should do what in a marriage relationship?”

As most of you should have already figured out by now, I am a big proponent of marriage. At least, I’m a big proponent of my marriage to The Queen. Your results may vary. However, marriage is NOT something anyone should enter into lightly. It is my firmly held belief that we have a 50%+ divorce rate in this country because people enter into it too lightly and don’t take it seriously.

A lot of times when I hear people complain about their marriages, it has to do with “He won’t help do the dishes” or “She won’t help change the oil on the car” or some such equally asinine complaint. In some of these cases, I was either in attendance or a participant at the wedding in question, and I don’t remember the marriage vows containing any exclusionary or conditional wording. There was no: “I promise to love, honor and cherish if she does the dishes.”

Here’s a hint, if you want the Leave it to Beaver lifestyle, go marry Barbara Billingsley. She’ll be 95 this year, but it appears she’s available. Sorry ladies, if you were hoping for Ward Cleaver, Hugh Beaumont died in 1982.

Seriously though, some people still have it in their thick skulls that MEN do [fill in the blank] and WOMEN do [everything else]. I so want to be a fly on the wall in those households when [fill in the blank] or [everything else] isn’t getting done because one or the other spouse is incapacitated. Train wreck.

The only definition of “men’s work” or “women’s work” which has any valid meaning to me is the following:

“Men’s Work” = those tasks that a man, and only a man, is physically, mentally and/or emotionally capable of performing.

“Women’s Work” = those tasks that a woman, and only a woman, is physically, mentally and/or emotionally capable of performing.

For example, a man is physically incapable of giving birth to a child. Therefore, giving birth is “women’s work.” Ditto for breast feeding.

Period. End of story.

And don’t try to confuse the issue by citing the transgender “male” who gave birth. Genetically and mostly anatomically “she/he” was still female.

Guys, I hate to break this to you, but doing the dishes or laundry or changing a diaper is not just “women’s work” anymore. Get your butt off the couch and help out. Lead your families by example. Teach your kids that mommy and daddy work TOGETHER to get things done.

And none of this “But K., I worked all day. I’m tired. I want to relax and drink a beer while watching the game.” Crap. Pure crap. You don’t think your spouse wants to relax and have a drink after chasing your spawn around the house and cleaning up their messes all day (if she’s a stay at home mom) or after she gets home from work (if she’s not a stay at home mom/housewife)? If that’s the way you think, you need a few more brain cells to keep that empty space between your ears warm.

The moment one spouse starts worrying more about what they’re getting out of the relationship vs. what they’re giving to the relationship, it’s in trouble. Marriage is a union of two people becoming one. It’s important to realize that, by helping or giving something to your spouse, you are helping or giving something to yourself. Now, go forth and help yourself.

Thus endeth today’s sermon.

Let's Try This Again...

After Monday’s disaster in the binary code of the blogosphere and a rough day yesterday, it’s time for me to revert back to using Microsoft Word to draft my posts and then upload to Blogger. Try and lose my lengthy, carefully drafted posts now you evil, programmable toasters on crack.

Philistines…toasters have no appreciation of fine writing whatsoever.

So, anyway, I’m going to do my best to recreate my range report of Sunday’s events. It probably won’t have quite the same feel as the one I wrote on Monday since the euphoria of gun powder therapy has been beaten into submission by the bitter bucket of cold water that sometime passes for normal life in the Erickson household.

So, without further adieu…

Sunday morning arrived way too early. An hour early, in fact, thanks to the useless “bright idea” foisted on us by Congress that is daylight savings time. Given that time magically skipped forward 1 hour by legislative fiat at 2:00 AM Sunday and the fact that I didn’t sleep well Saturday night/Sunday morning as previously reported, my now 40 year old body had not yet adjusted to the fact that it had been beaten, robbed and left for dead on the sands of time.

After taking care of the necessary morning constitutional tasks as well as the proper care and feeding of The Queen, it was time to depart for other locations.

The van needed gas and so did I. First stop was the donut shop. For those who know me well, this should come as no surprise. For those who don’t know me well, I have a love affair with anything sweet that’s baked in the oven or fried in grease. Unfortunately, donuts have become a rare treat for me. I know they are not my body’s friends, but that has nothing to do with the rarity of their appearance in my diet. Since I don’t get out much anymore in the early morning hours when good donut shops are open, I don’t have much opportunity to indulge my cravings.

Oh well.

A dozen donut holes, a glazed old fashioned, a cinnamon roll, a chocolate éclair later (don’t give me any grief…I have to take full advantage of every donut opportunity) and a brief interlude at the gas station, it was off to Will Rogers Center in Fort Worth to meet up with my best friend (aside from The Queen) Ken to indulge our desires to drool over large quantities of firearms in one location.

I arrived at Will Rogers at about 9:45 for a 10:00 door opening. I was surprised to find about 40 or 50 early birds in line ahead of me. I suppose I shouldn’t be all that surprised since we are in a “red state” and we love our guns and our Bibles.

I had brought the Smith & Wesson Model 29 (.44 mag, square butt, 4” barrel, pinned and recessed with presentation case for those interested in the details) I had liberated from granddad (mom’s dad) when he went into assisted living as potential trade fodder. I was hoping to work a trade for one or two of the guns on my midlife crisis list.

Nothing says “I want to be pestered” at a gun show like bringing a box or a gun case with you. Even if you’re not planning on selling and just brought something to get new grips or a new scope, you will be constantly asked: “Whatcha got in the box?” Standing in line waiting to get in the door, two people asked me. Once we got inside, there is always one guy who pays extra for the table right next to the door to try and buy guns off people coming in the door. He said “Hey mister, whatcha got in the box?” And so it went at just about every other table. I’ve been to many a gun show, and I was expecting that.

For any readers who might not have had the pleasure of attending a gun show in a large, southern or western city such as Dallas or Fort Worth, think of it as a gigantic buffet of weapons in all shapes and sizes. This particular show was about half the size of the show I went to last year with mom when we purchased her first anti-pervert pill thrower (long story…short version – naked man on mom’s second story balcony at 6:00 AM). Even with the reduction in the number of vendors, it still took Ken and me about an hour and a half to leisurely walk through the show and lovingly fondle items of interest.

After strolling through the show, it was apparent that no trade deals were to be had that I was interested in. It was also apparent that there was no one interested in paying cash for the Smith at a price I was willing to sell. Someone tried to offer me $150. The best offer I got was $400. The gun is not in pristine, collectible condition, but it’s not a rusted piece of trash either. It’s a shooter that’s had its share of love and neglect. Based on my research, it should be bringing north of $600 in this market. If it and the presentation box were in pristine condition (called NIB – new in box), it would sell for at least twice that amount.

As a result, I decided to hang on to it and see if I could find some grips that would make it more comfortable to shoot. The Model 29 shoots .44 special and .44 magnum ammo. .44 special is a fairly strong round compared to a .38 or 9mm. .44 magnum is a whole other ball game. The stock grips on the Model 29 square butt just about feel like you’re holding a 2 x 4. Combine that with shooting my granddad’s “good, hot loads”, and it feels like you’ve been playing catch with Nolan Ryan for nine innings. In addition, I’ve never been very fond of the aesthetics of the square butt grips. Fortunately, I found a distributor selling Hogue contoured wood grips made from coco bolo wood. They’re pretty. I’ll try to remember to upload some photos after I clean things up from Sunday’s outing.

After leaving the gun show, Ken and I went in search of food. Our first choice, a barbeque joint nearby, was closed on Sunday. So, we made our way to Fuzzy’s Tacos near TCU for some quick Tex Mex. A couple of tacos each and some chips and queso took care of the inner men, and we were off to mom’s to meet up with more family and friends for some serious gun powder therapy.

Ken and I arrived at Mom’s just after 1:00 which was close enough to our intended arrival time to be considered on time. My sister and her two girls were already there. My cousin was supposed to be there with his wife and his two friends so we could get started and have plenty of time to shoot and still leave time afterwards for burgers and beer.

A quick aside here. Ericksons are known the world over for being late. If an event is supposed to start at a certain time, you can bet money that an Erickson will show up an hour or more late. We’ve taken “fashionably late” to a whole new level. It’s my genetic heritage which I have been trying to overcome since I was old enough to more or less control my own destiny.

My cousin is still working on overcoming his genetic predispositions.

In fairness, it wasn’t entirely his fault. I got a text while on my way to mom’s from cousin B. that they were running about 30 minutes behind schedule. No problem. A little while later, I got a phone from him advising that they had to turn around and take his wife back to the car as she started getting an upset stomach. Cousin B. and his friends finally made it to mom’s at about 2:30. By the time we got set up, it was just after 3:00 when we started shooting.

Between the five adults who brought toys…I mean firearms…to play with, I think we had about 14 guns and boxes and boxes of ammunition. I brought the above mentioned Smith along with my Marlin 60 .22LR rifle, mom’s Ruger 10/22 .22LR rifle (aka “The Pervert Popper”) and my Remington 870 12 gauge shotgun. Ken brought his Glock 19 9mm, a Ruger MkII .22LR pistol as well as an NAA .22 pocket pistol. Cousin B. brought a NIB, never been kissed, Springfield XD9 9mm, a Taurus Millennium 9mm and a Moisin-Nagant M44 bolt action carbine rifle in 7.62 x 54R. His buddy Alex brought a modified SKS semi-automatic rifle in 7.62 x 51, a Galil semi–automatic rifle in .223, another Moisin-Nagant M44, a Walther .22LR pistol and another Springfield XD9. There may have been a couple of other guns tucked away in range bags that I didn’t see, but these were the ones that definitely came out to play.

I won’t bore you with a shot by shot description of events, but there were some notable items worth mentioning here.

I was merrily plinking away with the Marlin 60 at a target about 25 yards away when I noticed that there was a large growth of cactus just to the left of the target stand. I had just seen the movie Silverado a few days before and remembered the scene where Scott Glenn was practicing his marksmanship by shooting the needles of a cactus. Hmmmm….adjust aim left, and holes magically appear in the cactus. From behind me I hear, “Hey. That looks like fun. I wanna do that.” Needless to say, the cactus had a very bad day after that.

The Offending Cactus Having a Bad Day

Next up was the Moisin-Nagant Rifle. You can read amusing accounts describing this rifle’s attributes here and here. Frank, who is an E4 specialist in the U.S. Army with a Military Intelligence unit, decided to have a go with his brother Alex’s M44. Frank assumes the prone position on the ground behind the rifle and starts staring at it like a monkey sitting at a typewriter. Apparently, he was trying to figure out where the safety was. I think it was Alex who said: “The Russians don’t believe in safeties.” Frank took his first shot and scattered leaves and flattened grass for about 10 feet in front of the muzzle. To say that the M44 is loud doesn’t quite do it justice. Sticks of TNT going off are probably quieter than the M44. Then Frank proceeds to start fighting with the bolt handle to chamber another round. After an unsuccessful attempt, Frank asks: “Am I stupid?” After being shown by cousin B. that the M44 bolt handle is only mildly amused by and, in fact, is designed to enjoy being handled roughly, Frank succeeds in getting a few more shots off. Later, when we were grilling the burgers, his brother Alex made the comment that Frank was our tax dollars at work. Somehow, I am not comforted.

You will note in the above cactus photo a few splashes of orange looking oddly like clay pigeons. That is because they are, in fact, clay pigeons. Since, I’ve never had the time or money to invest in a steel plate reactive target rack, I thought we’d try something else. I have a few boxes of the clay pigeons stashed away not doing much of anything. So, we set up some clays as poor men’s reactive targets. It’s a challenge to break a clay with a .22LR bullet. It’s an even more impressive challenge to HIT a clay with a Moisin-Nagant using iron sights at 70 yards; but, when you do, it’s very satisfying to see the cloud of vaporized clay dust where the clay used to be.

After a fun filled two and half hours of shooting, it was back to the house to grill burgers and drink beer. My niece Kaitlyn is not a fan of red meat. She says it’s a taste and texture thing. Whatever. My buddy Ken though is a consummate joker. He said she should get a t-shirt that says: “I’m not a vegetarian because I love animals. I’m a vegetarian because I hate vegetables.” I’d buy that shirt.

On that note, I must conclude this exercise in avoiding work. Enjoy some more photos from Sunday. Happy shooting.

**Update - As correctly pointed out Ken, my nieces took great pleasure in taking part in our reindeer games. They became very comfortable with shooting in their second outing with guns under the careful tutelage of Ken who is a very patient instructor. In fact, they both have the makings of excellent marksmen just like their great grandmother Ann who was known to outshoot many a man in her day.


New-ish Shooters - My Nieces (Kaitlyn, left and Kyria)

Kyria Paying the Price for Shooting Other People's Guns - Reloading Magazines

Cousin B. Shooting His New XD9 - Notice the Smoking Shell Casing Next to the Slide

Part of the Arsenal

The Rest of the Army (left to right - Cousin B., Frank, Alex and Ken)

I'm Am SOOOO Pissed I could Shoot Something

I just spent the better part of the morning drafting a post about yesterday's events complete with photos. It was really good stuff. Blogger dutifully notified me every few minutes that it was saving everything. I hit publish. Nothing but photos. All my grand prose about the wonderful day we all had...Gone. I will admit that I am not the sharpest knife in the drawer when it comes to technology, but this blows donkey snot in ways I can not describe.

So, if you were looking forward to a range report from yesterday's outing...you'll just have to be patient and wait. I'm going to have to take a deep breath and get back to this later.

Stinking, souless programmable toasters on crack.....

It's Gonna Be a Wonderful Day

Despite the fact that we all lost an hour to daylight savings this morning and the fact that I slept like a tweaker on a double dose of meth last night, I am really excited about today.

At 10:00 AM, I am meeting number 1 follower, best man and best friend (aside from The Queen) at the gun show for some well deserved drooling and hopefully good deal hunting. For those of you who are just dying to gift me with one of the firearms on my midlife crisis list, it's not too late. You can meet us at the gun show in Ft. Worth. I'll be dressed in blue jeans, a blue, long sleeved pull over shirt, and a black Margaritaville baseball cap. If all goes well, I'll be trading a Smith & Wesson Model 29 .44mag (4" barrel) for one or two of the guns on the list.

After the gun show and a quick bit of lunch, it's off to mom's place (50 +/- acres of rolling hills and meadows) to meet up with more family and friends to slay large amounts of paper, plywood and other targets of opportunity. I spent an hour or so last night building some portable target holders to replace the severely dilapidated range we built several years ago down at mom's. Let's just say that it's probably not the best place for a progressive/liberal anti-gun advocate to show up today.

Photos to follow sometime this week unless someone shoots the camera.