Posted another "Tales from the Obama Administration" piece in National Review today, this one on Obama's kneejerk smackdown of Justice Clarence Thomas for evidently not having enough legal depth to satisfy Barry O. Really. Honest. Fun ensues.
http://article.nationalreview.com/?q=ZDg5NjI0NzE1OTc2ZDllMDU5NDg5OTdmNjQ3ODQ2NDE=
Monday, August 18, 2008
Friday, May 30, 2008
Mark Steyn Marches On
I'm in awe of Mark Steyn. Not because he's a fine writer and a clear thinker, a descriptive that has never been more dangerous. Heck, I can do a bit of that myself. It's because he speaks just as sharp and insightfully as he writes. I listen to him on Hugh Hewitt's radio show every thursday, and I want to cut out my tongue. I do radio interviews and I either speak too slowly or go on too long, and my best lines invariably come after we've gone to break, and thanks for speaking with us, Robert, you'll have to come back again in a few years.
Steyn reviewed the first book of the Assassin trilogy, Prayers for the Assassin, for the Canadian weekly, Macleans magazine. It remains one of my favorite reviews. The fact that this review contributed to Steyn's troubles with the nitwits at the Canadian Human Rights Commission is proof that God has a sense of humor, but unfortunately for us, it's mostly slapstick and irony.
In a new review for Macleans, Steyn reviews Caliphate, a novel by Tom Kratman, set one hundred years in the future, when an Islamic Europe makes war on North America. It sounds good, and I appreciate Steyn's mention of my work. One hundred years...? Sounds a little optimistic.
Steyn reviewed the first book of the Assassin trilogy, Prayers for the Assassin, for the Canadian weekly, Macleans magazine. It remains one of my favorite reviews. The fact that this review contributed to Steyn's troubles with the nitwits at the Canadian Human Rights Commission is proof that God has a sense of humor, but unfortunately for us, it's mostly slapstick and irony.
In a new review for Macleans, Steyn reviews Caliphate, a novel by Tom Kratman, set one hundred years in the future, when an Islamic Europe makes war on North America. It sounds good, and I appreciate Steyn's mention of my work. One hundred years...? Sounds a little optimistic.
Wednesday, May 28, 2008
Ahmadinejad Sets Lance Straight
I have another humor piece up at National Review., wherein Mahmoud Ahmadinejad, President of Iran, has a heart to heart talk with Lance, the room service guy, about geopolitics, Barak Obama and the new James Bond's sixpack.
Fun ensues.
Fun ensues.
Saturday, May 17, 2008
Weekly Standard review
Joel Schwartz of the Weekly Standard magazine reviews the Assassin trilogy in this week's issue. He writes it well, and likes it for all the right reasons, although, truth be told, I'll take a rave review based on the book jacket. Which is only fair, since one of my crime novels got a lousy review from the LA Times a few years ago based on the flap copy, which as any reviewer should know, is not written by the author. I actually prayed I would meet this knucklehead at a party one day, but since I don't go to LA literary parties, we were both safe.
The timing of Schwartz's review couldn't be better. I'm on a one month deadline to complete the third volume of the trilogy and I could use a morale boost. Of course, this also amps up the already considerable pressure I feel to not let readers and reviewers down.
I'm going to go back to the manuscript now.
The timing of Schwartz's review couldn't be better. I'm on a one month deadline to complete the third volume of the trilogy and I could use a morale boost. Of course, this also amps up the already considerable pressure I feel to not let readers and reviewers down.
I'm going to go back to the manuscript now.
Wednesday, April 16, 2008
Missing Rush Limbaugh
I did a piece today for National Review Online, a political fantasy set in the future from the point of view of Bill Clinton. Figured we could all use a laugh. Here's a taste.
William Jefferson Clinton watched the two cheerleaders give him a manicure, and realized he missed Rush Limbaugh. The man was always good for a laugh, particularly when he played Hillary’s cackle over and over, or Farrakhan going off about the mothership. The reenactment of the Fairness Doctrine had closed down Rush, and the rest of the talkers who wouldn’t dance to the new tune. You could spin the dial for an hour and never hear anything that got your blood pumping.
He stared at cheerleaders, the white one sawing away at the nails on his left hand, the black one working on the left. Their tight sweaters said Ruth Bader Ginsberg High School, class of 2012. The Tennessee Education Commission had renamed the school two years ago, changed it from Ronald Reagan High and the locals still hadn’t gotten over it. Part of the reason he had been sent down here to Mecklenburg for the grin and grab. Tomorrow he hit two Baptist church pancake breakfasts, a Rotary luncheon, and a Boy Scout banquet that evening. There was an election in November and the party needed every vote to be counted.
The black cheerleader looked up as he started laughing. “You okay?”
“Just fine.”
(if you like the sample, read the rest)
William Jefferson Clinton watched the two cheerleaders give him a manicure, and realized he missed Rush Limbaugh. The man was always good for a laugh, particularly when he played Hillary’s cackle over and over, or Farrakhan going off about the mothership. The reenactment of the Fairness Doctrine had closed down Rush, and the rest of the talkers who wouldn’t dance to the new tune. You could spin the dial for an hour and never hear anything that got your blood pumping.
He stared at cheerleaders, the white one sawing away at the nails on his left hand, the black one working on the left. Their tight sweaters said Ruth Bader Ginsberg High School, class of 2012. The Tennessee Education Commission had renamed the school two years ago, changed it from Ronald Reagan High and the locals still hadn’t gotten over it. Part of the reason he had been sent down here to Mecklenburg for the grin and grab. Tomorrow he hit two Baptist church pancake breakfasts, a Rotary luncheon, and a Boy Scout banquet that evening. There was an election in November and the party needed every vote to be counted.
The black cheerleader looked up as he started laughing. “You okay?”
“Just fine.”
(if you like the sample, read the rest)
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