I'll be heading out early tomorrow for the Southern Kentucky Book Fest, where Bob Morris (author of Jamaica Me Dead) and I will be on a panel entitled "Second Shot: Characters Return for Another Whodunit." And maybe I'll get to meet one of my literary heroes, Pat Conroy.
Any readers in the area, I'd love to see you there...
Thursday, April 06, 2006
Wednesday, April 05, 2006
WE'RE BACK ON CRIMESPOT.NET!
At least that's what Graham tells me. We've got some tech issues resolved (hint: don't use Word to draft posts) and we should be back to updating regular-like. If you've missed us, scroll down and see all the bloggy goodness.
Monday, April 03, 2006
Bookreporter.com Gets Good Day in Hell
Bookreporter.com reviews GDIH, and I have to say that reviewer Joe Hartlaub gets it. From the recognition of William Faulkner as the godfather of redneck noir (not that I'm comparing myself to Faulkner) to the realization that "Rhoades' venue of North Carolina is in such a state of change and growth that he should have plenty to keep him busy in the years to come," it looks like Joe has the best understanding of any reviewer yet as to where I'm coming from. Thanks, folks!
Sunday, April 02, 2006
Sluice Tundra, Private Eye In: The Case of the Straw Man
Latest Newspaper Column:
The phone rang. I rolled over and looked at the clock. 2 a.m. Who the heck would call at this time of night?
I picked up the phone.
“Mghpnbh?” I asked.
“Dusty,” a voice said. “It’s me.”
“Whdfggisme?”
“Your old friend. Sluice Tundra, private eye. An honest gumshoe, working the mean streets, walking by night, following the clues that lurk only in the shadows …”
“This better be good,” I interrupted him.
“It is, buddy,” he said. “I found the guy you’re looking for.”
I sat bolt upright in bed. “You mean …”
“No, not that guy, the other one.”
“You mean …”
“No, not him either.”
“You mean …”
“That’s the one,” he said.
“I’ll be right down,” I said.
Sluice’s office was on Mean Street, two blocks from the intersection with Lonely Avenue. It wasn’t a neighborhood I was used to. I’m willing to bet I was the first person on that street in a long time to show up in a bathrobe and bunny slippers. But hey, I was in a hurry. I mounted the creaky steps to Sluice’s office on the second floor and tapped on the door. At his mumbled “come in,” I entered his dingy office.
Sluice Tundra was slumped in a wooden armchair, his fedora pulled low over his eyes. His rumpled trench coat was wrapped around him like newspaper around a freshly purchased sea bass. He was holding a gun on another figure sitting in a chair a few feet away.
“This is the guy,” Tundra said in his familiar baritone slur.
“You mean ..?” I asked.
“Let’s not start that again!” he snapped.
I came closer.
“So,” I said, “After all this time, we meet at last. The Democrat who doesn’t want us to fight the War on Terror with every tool in our arsenal. The Democrat who’d rather give the terrorists cookies and therapy than destroy the threats to our nation. The Democrat who says if you’re Muslim, you can’t be free ….” I stopped.
“Sluice,” I said, “this guy is made of straw.”
“You ain’t exactly a model of stability yourself, there, pal,” the figure said. I jumped a few feet in the air.
“Look,” the straw man said. “I’m not going to run anywhere. Can I stand up?”
Tundra and I looked at each other. “Sure,” I said.
The straw man unfolded himself from the chair. He was dressed in old, cast-off clothing, packed tightly with what looked like pine needles. They jutted out here and there from the nooks and crannies of his clothing.
“Of course,” I said. “It all makes perfect sense now.”
“Mind explaining it to me?” Tundra said.
“A straw man,” I said, “is a dishonest debating technique. It’s used whenever someone can’t successfully address his opponent’s real position, so he claims the opponent said something completely different, usually something ridiculous, and attacks that.”
“I don’t get it,” Tundra said.
“OK,” I said. “Say, for example, you don’t have any problem with fighting terrorism, you just want the government, particularly the president, to obey the law while they do it.”
“Sounds reasonable,” Tundra said.
“Of course,” I replied. “Anyone could agree with that. But if someone didn’t like you criticizing the president, he’d say, for instance, that instead of what you really said, you were advocating that we not fight terrorists at all. That’s a straw man.”
“That’s idiotic,” Tundra protested.
“Hey!” the straw man said.
“No offense,” Tundra said.
“I see it clearly now,” I told the straw man. “You’re a monster, created in the minds of men. The living embodiment of a warped fantasy.”
“I am the Republicans’ words made flesh,” he agreed.
“Straw,” I corrected.
“Whatever.”
“So you really believe we should surrender to terrorism?”
“Yup.”
“You’d like to see us all living under Islamic Law?”
“You got it.”
“But you don’t exist,” Tundra said.
“Neither do you,” the straw man pointed out.
“I’ve heard enough,” Tundra said. He whipped out his trusty Zippo lighter. “How about a little fire, scarecrow?” he sneered.
The straw man screamed. He made as if to run out the door, but when Tundra moved to block his path, he faked left, the right, then bolted for the open window. He dove through it headfirst. Tundra and I ran to the window, but it was too late. The straw man had landed on the pavement below. But as we watched in amazement, he staggered to his feet and ran off into the night.
“There was so little substance to him,” I said, “that he must have made a soft landing.”
“He got away, then,” Tundra said dejectedly.
“He did,” I said. I looked down the darkened alley where the straw man had disappeared. “But it’s an election year. I have the feeling we’ll see him again.”
The End?
The phone rang. I rolled over and looked at the clock. 2 a.m. Who the heck would call at this time of night?
I picked up the phone.
“Mghpnbh?” I asked.
“Dusty,” a voice said. “It’s me.”
“Whdfggisme?”
“Your old friend. Sluice Tundra, private eye. An honest gumshoe, working the mean streets, walking by night, following the clues that lurk only in the shadows …”
“This better be good,” I interrupted him.
“It is, buddy,” he said. “I found the guy you’re looking for.”
I sat bolt upright in bed. “You mean …”
“No, not that guy, the other one.”
“You mean …”
“No, not him either.”
“You mean …”
“That’s the one,” he said.
“I’ll be right down,” I said.
Sluice’s office was on Mean Street, two blocks from the intersection with Lonely Avenue. It wasn’t a neighborhood I was used to. I’m willing to bet I was the first person on that street in a long time to show up in a bathrobe and bunny slippers. But hey, I was in a hurry. I mounted the creaky steps to Sluice’s office on the second floor and tapped on the door. At his mumbled “come in,” I entered his dingy office.
Sluice Tundra was slumped in a wooden armchair, his fedora pulled low over his eyes. His rumpled trench coat was wrapped around him like newspaper around a freshly purchased sea bass. He was holding a gun on another figure sitting in a chair a few feet away.
“This is the guy,” Tundra said in his familiar baritone slur.
“You mean ..?” I asked.
“Let’s not start that again!” he snapped.
I came closer.
“So,” I said, “After all this time, we meet at last. The Democrat who doesn’t want us to fight the War on Terror with every tool in our arsenal. The Democrat who’d rather give the terrorists cookies and therapy than destroy the threats to our nation. The Democrat who says if you’re Muslim, you can’t be free ….” I stopped.
“Sluice,” I said, “this guy is made of straw.”
“You ain’t exactly a model of stability yourself, there, pal,” the figure said. I jumped a few feet in the air.
“Look,” the straw man said. “I’m not going to run anywhere. Can I stand up?”
Tundra and I looked at each other. “Sure,” I said.
The straw man unfolded himself from the chair. He was dressed in old, cast-off clothing, packed tightly with what looked like pine needles. They jutted out here and there from the nooks and crannies of his clothing.
“Of course,” I said. “It all makes perfect sense now.”
“Mind explaining it to me?” Tundra said.
“A straw man,” I said, “is a dishonest debating technique. It’s used whenever someone can’t successfully address his opponent’s real position, so he claims the opponent said something completely different, usually something ridiculous, and attacks that.”
“I don’t get it,” Tundra said.
“OK,” I said. “Say, for example, you don’t have any problem with fighting terrorism, you just want the government, particularly the president, to obey the law while they do it.”
“Sounds reasonable,” Tundra said.
“Of course,” I replied. “Anyone could agree with that. But if someone didn’t like you criticizing the president, he’d say, for instance, that instead of what you really said, you were advocating that we not fight terrorists at all. That’s a straw man.”
“That’s idiotic,” Tundra protested.
“Hey!” the straw man said.
“No offense,” Tundra said.
“I see it clearly now,” I told the straw man. “You’re a monster, created in the minds of men. The living embodiment of a warped fantasy.”
“I am the Republicans’ words made flesh,” he agreed.
“Straw,” I corrected.
“Whatever.”
“So you really believe we should surrender to terrorism?”
“Yup.”
“You’d like to see us all living under Islamic Law?”
“You got it.”
“But you don’t exist,” Tundra said.
“Neither do you,” the straw man pointed out.
“I’ve heard enough,” Tundra said. He whipped out his trusty Zippo lighter. “How about a little fire, scarecrow?” he sneered.
The straw man screamed. He made as if to run out the door, but when Tundra moved to block his path, he faked left, the right, then bolted for the open window. He dove through it headfirst. Tundra and I ran to the window, but it was too late. The straw man had landed on the pavement below. But as we watched in amazement, he staggered to his feet and ran off into the night.
“There was so little substance to him,” I said, “that he must have made a soft landing.”
“He got away, then,” Tundra said dejectedly.
“He did,” I said. I looked down the darkened alley where the straw man had disappeared. “But it’s an election year. I have the feeling we’ll see him again.”
The End?
Friday, March 31, 2006
Letters, Oh I Get Letters (Again)
Reader Joann Geary writes to the Pilot:
Did Rhoades Forget?
From a registered Democrat:
Uh-huh. Sure.
In response to Dusty Rhoades’ March 19 column mentioning deviant behavior of high profile Republicans, he says, “... a black Democratic politician (say Jesse Jackson) accused of this sort of thing would be lucky not to be given a symbolic public flogging of Clintonian proportions.”
It was not so long ago that Jesse Jackson diverted monies from his tax-exempt organization, PUSH — The Rainbow Coalition, to support his mistress and their illegitimate child. Where was, where is, the rage?
Ummm....I don't know if you've been paying attention, snookums, but I hear about this from every Republican who ever mentions Jesse Jackson. Which was precisely my point.
Yet there are people who even now contribute to PUSH, which still has its tax-exempt status, and Mr. Jackson maintains his status as a clergyman. As for Al Sharpton’s criminal activities, we’ll save that for another day.
And George Dubbya Bush is still the President. Your point?
Did Rhoades Forget?
From a registered Democrat:
Uh-huh. Sure.
In response to Dusty Rhoades’ March 19 column mentioning deviant behavior of high profile Republicans, he says, “... a black Democratic politician (say Jesse Jackson) accused of this sort of thing would be lucky not to be given a symbolic public flogging of Clintonian proportions.”
It was not so long ago that Jesse Jackson diverted monies from his tax-exempt organization, PUSH — The Rainbow Coalition, to support his mistress and their illegitimate child. Where was, where is, the rage?
Ummm....I don't know if you've been paying attention, snookums, but I hear about this from every Republican who ever mentions Jesse Jackson. Which was precisely my point.
Yet there are people who even now contribute to PUSH, which still has its tax-exempt status, and Mr. Jackson maintains his status as a clergyman. As for Al Sharpton’s criminal activities, we’ll save that for another day.
And George Dubbya Bush is still the President. Your point?
Sunday, March 26, 2006
Our Flexible President
Latest Newspaper Column:
You know, I think people are being a little unfair to George Dubbya Bush, at least in one respect.
One of the criticisms leveled against him and his administration is that they’re inflexible, that they never, ever change their minds. But in recent statements given by Bush, you can see lots of ways in which the president has been way more than flexible, especially given the history of the past three years of his Wacky Iraqi Adventure.
For example, back in 2003, President Bush was pretty definite about the connection between Iraq and the 9/11 attacks. Not only did he waste no opportunity to mention Iraq and 9/11 in the same sentence, but he also sent this to Congress: “The use of armed forces against Iraq is consistent with the United States and other countries continuing to take the necessary actions against international terrorists and terrorist organizations, including those nations, organizations or persons who planned, authorized, committed, or aided the terrorist attacks that occurred on Sept. 11, 2001.”
Now, however, the president is showing great flexibility, so much that he’s even changed his mind about what he actually already said. “I don’t think we ever said — at least I know I didn’t say — that there was a direct connection between September the 11th and Saddam Hussein,” he insisted in a recent statement to the press.
He’s apparently also changed his mind about former Iraqi Prime Minister Iyad Allawi. Back in 2004, when Allawi came to the U.S. and painted a rosy picture of the situation in Iraq, some, including then-presidential candidate John Kerry, dared question him. Bush spoke up in Allawi’s defense: “[Allawi’s] a brave, brave man. When he came, after giving a speech to the Congress, my opponent questioned his credibility. You can’t change the dynamics on the ground if you’ve criticized the brave leader of Iraq.”
Now, however, Allawi has warned that his country isn’t just on the brink of civil war, they’re already there. So our flexible Leader has adapted in order to sing a different tune. When asked if he agreed with Allawi’s assessment of the current Iraqi situation, Bush criticized Mr. Allawi firmly, clearly and unequivocally, “No, I do not,” he said. “There are other voices coming out of Iraq, by the way, other than Mr. Allawi.”
Ooh, snap! Take that, guy whose credibility could not formerly be questioned! Now that’s flexibility! Of course Iraq’s not in a civil war. They won’t be in a civil war until they’re dressing in blue and gray uniforms and one side is singing “Battle Hymn of the Republic.” Duh.
And take Donald “Rummy” Rumsfeld. My goodness, no one can ever accuse Rummy of being inflexible.
Back in February 2003, Rummy was saying this about the coming conflict in Iraq: “It is not knowable if force will be used, but if it is to be used, it is not knowable how long that conflict would last. It could last, you know, six days, six weeks. I doubt six months.”
Now, of course, it’s three years later, and Rummy’s already told us it’s going to be a “long slog.” And George Dubbya is backing him up, saying now that the question of when the troops will finally leave Iraq will be decided by “future presidents and future governments of Iraq.”
That’s right, folks, the Bush administration, whose secretary of defense once told us that he doubted the conflict would last six months, is now talking about deployments that will end sometime after the inauguration of the next president — in 2009!
But the flexibility of the Bushistas doesn’t end there. On Feb. 2, 2006, when Rummy was asked by reporters at the Pentagon, “Is this going to be a long war?” he answered firmly, “I don’t think it is.”
It’s six months at the outside! It’s a long slog! It’s going to end sometime after 2009! But it won’t be long!
Inflexible? Gumby would be jealous at how flexible these people can be. Not only are they capable of changing their minds, they can do so from year to year, month to month, week to week and day to day. Then they can change them right back again.
Some people might call this “flip-flopping.” Some might call it “intellectual dishonesty.” The people who would say such things are probably liberal, and very likely French. I for one call it “strong leadership.”
After all, what says “strong leadership” more than a firm refusal to be fettered by the ideas and statements of the past, even ideas and statements that you yourself have previously declared to be your very own principles and beliefs?
God bless our flexible President. And God bless America.
You know, I think people are being a little unfair to George Dubbya Bush, at least in one respect.
One of the criticisms leveled against him and his administration is that they’re inflexible, that they never, ever change their minds. But in recent statements given by Bush, you can see lots of ways in which the president has been way more than flexible, especially given the history of the past three years of his Wacky Iraqi Adventure.
For example, back in 2003, President Bush was pretty definite about the connection between Iraq and the 9/11 attacks. Not only did he waste no opportunity to mention Iraq and 9/11 in the same sentence, but he also sent this to Congress: “The use of armed forces against Iraq is consistent with the United States and other countries continuing to take the necessary actions against international terrorists and terrorist organizations, including those nations, organizations or persons who planned, authorized, committed, or aided the terrorist attacks that occurred on Sept. 11, 2001.”
Now, however, the president is showing great flexibility, so much that he’s even changed his mind about what he actually already said. “I don’t think we ever said — at least I know I didn’t say — that there was a direct connection between September the 11th and Saddam Hussein,” he insisted in a recent statement to the press.
He’s apparently also changed his mind about former Iraqi Prime Minister Iyad Allawi. Back in 2004, when Allawi came to the U.S. and painted a rosy picture of the situation in Iraq, some, including then-presidential candidate John Kerry, dared question him. Bush spoke up in Allawi’s defense: “[Allawi’s] a brave, brave man. When he came, after giving a speech to the Congress, my opponent questioned his credibility. You can’t change the dynamics on the ground if you’ve criticized the brave leader of Iraq.”
Now, however, Allawi has warned that his country isn’t just on the brink of civil war, they’re already there. So our flexible Leader has adapted in order to sing a different tune. When asked if he agreed with Allawi’s assessment of the current Iraqi situation, Bush criticized Mr. Allawi firmly, clearly and unequivocally, “No, I do not,” he said. “There are other voices coming out of Iraq, by the way, other than Mr. Allawi.”
Ooh, snap! Take that, guy whose credibility could not formerly be questioned! Now that’s flexibility! Of course Iraq’s not in a civil war. They won’t be in a civil war until they’re dressing in blue and gray uniforms and one side is singing “Battle Hymn of the Republic.” Duh.
And take Donald “Rummy” Rumsfeld. My goodness, no one can ever accuse Rummy of being inflexible.
Back in February 2003, Rummy was saying this about the coming conflict in Iraq: “It is not knowable if force will be used, but if it is to be used, it is not knowable how long that conflict would last. It could last, you know, six days, six weeks. I doubt six months.”
Now, of course, it’s three years later, and Rummy’s already told us it’s going to be a “long slog.” And George Dubbya is backing him up, saying now that the question of when the troops will finally leave Iraq will be decided by “future presidents and future governments of Iraq.”
That’s right, folks, the Bush administration, whose secretary of defense once told us that he doubted the conflict would last six months, is now talking about deployments that will end sometime after the inauguration of the next president — in 2009!
But the flexibility of the Bushistas doesn’t end there. On Feb. 2, 2006, when Rummy was asked by reporters at the Pentagon, “Is this going to be a long war?” he answered firmly, “I don’t think it is.”
It’s six months at the outside! It’s a long slog! It’s going to end sometime after 2009! But it won’t be long!
Inflexible? Gumby would be jealous at how flexible these people can be. Not only are they capable of changing their minds, they can do so from year to year, month to month, week to week and day to day. Then they can change them right back again.
Some people might call this “flip-flopping.” Some might call it “intellectual dishonesty.” The people who would say such things are probably liberal, and very likely French. I for one call it “strong leadership.”
After all, what says “strong leadership” more than a firm refusal to be fettered by the ideas and statements of the past, even ideas and statements that you yourself have previously declared to be your very own principles and beliefs?
God bless our flexible President. And God bless America.
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