Mark R. Hunter's Blog, page 104
December 19, 2013
short story in Christmas insert
For those of you who might be around northeast Indiana, I should have a short story in the Christmas insert for this week's Albion New Era, Churubusco News, and Northwest News. The story features characters from three of my works: Storm Chaser, Storm Chaser Shorts, and The Notorious Ian Grant, although it's not directly connected.
In "Another Family", Indiana State Trooper Chance Hamlin and Police Detective Fran Vargas are headed home for the holidays when they encounter a snowstorm ... and inside it, something -- or someone -- much more unexpected.
Don't worry, I will be posting this story at all my usual places -- during Christmas, 2014! After all, it's the newspaper that pays me, so I like to send business their way.
In "Another Family", Indiana State Trooper Chance Hamlin and Police Detective Fran Vargas are headed home for the holidays when they encounter a snowstorm ... and inside it, something -- or someone -- much more unexpected.
Don't worry, I will be posting this story at all my usual places -- during Christmas, 2014! After all, it's the newspaper that pays me, so I like to send business their way.
December 17, 2013
One More Class For The Road
We drove down to IPFW tonight for Emily’s last classroom session (she still has a final test coming up). The roads were so-so, and will probably be worse on the way home; I think my annual prediction of a very bad winter is going to come true, this year.
I’m going to miss this place … of course, I didn’t have tests. I’m taking advantage of her classroom time to do some final polishing of Radio Red before it goes out to – somebody.
I’m going to miss this place … of course, I didn’t have tests. I’m taking advantage of her classroom time to do some final polishing of Radio Red before it goes out to – somebody.
December 14, 2013
Good people. They're out there.
I have Lateral Epicondylitis! The doctors say I might not make it, and that I should start making out my will and testament, maybe sooner rather than later. If only I hadn't eaten that strange green stuff during my trip to Mexico ...
Oh, who am I kidding? It's still just tendonitis. It's flared up and won't go away for some reason, but it's not serious, just painful. They gave me a shot of something -- and not in my arm, if you catch my drift -- and told me to take ibuprofen, put greasy stuff and heat on it (the elbow, not the ibuprofen), and don't do any heavy lifting or work. Apparently keyboarding isn't a problem, so I maintain my wild and crazy lifestyle.
But considering the time of year, I was a little curious about how I was going to shovel snow on my sidewalk and driveway. By curious, I mean worried. It was suggested I buy ice-melt chemicals by the ton, but that seemed like cheating ... besides, the doc told me to cut down on salt.
I figured I could do it by mostly just using my left arm, which is of course a recipe for disaster, and after it stopped snowing last night I grabbed the lighter of my two snow shovels and headed out. There I discovered someone with a snowblower had made a path along the length of the sidewalk in front of my house, and up my front walk all the way to the steps.
Then I went around to the driveway, which I saw had been completely plowed except for the concrete pad where the car was parked.
For the first I suspect one neighbor, as I spotted a snowblower on his front porch. For the second I suspect my other neighbor (who I share the driveway with), because there was a skidloader parked behind his house. My part of the task ended up being considerably less than I expected, which is good because my arm will never heal if I keep heading out to do dumb things.
Nice people. They're out there.
Oh, who am I kidding? It's still just tendonitis. It's flared up and won't go away for some reason, but it's not serious, just painful. They gave me a shot of something -- and not in my arm, if you catch my drift -- and told me to take ibuprofen, put greasy stuff and heat on it (the elbow, not the ibuprofen), and don't do any heavy lifting or work. Apparently keyboarding isn't a problem, so I maintain my wild and crazy lifestyle.
But considering the time of year, I was a little curious about how I was going to shovel snow on my sidewalk and driveway. By curious, I mean worried. It was suggested I buy ice-melt chemicals by the ton, but that seemed like cheating ... besides, the doc told me to cut down on salt.
I figured I could do it by mostly just using my left arm, which is of course a recipe for disaster, and after it stopped snowing last night I grabbed the lighter of my two snow shovels and headed out. There I discovered someone with a snowblower had made a path along the length of the sidewalk in front of my house, and up my front walk all the way to the steps.
Then I went around to the driveway, which I saw had been completely plowed except for the concrete pad where the car was parked.
For the first I suspect one neighbor, as I spotted a snowblower on his front porch. For the second I suspect my other neighbor (who I share the driveway with), because there was a skidloader parked behind his house. My part of the task ended up being considerably less than I expected, which is good because my arm will never heal if I keep heading out to do dumb things.
Nice people. They're out there.
December 12, 2013
Twerking Away Your Selfie Respect
SLIGHTLY OFF THE MARK
Would you like a selfie? How about a twerk?
Your confusion could be understandable, especially if you’re not on the internet much. (Are there many people besides my grandmother who aren’t on the internet?) The good news is that if you don’t know these terms … you’re probably better off.
So what are they? Do you order two more selfies for the road? Is a twerk a pair of high school nerds? Is either one something you’d better do with the curtains closed and the door locked? Can you have a selfie twerk?
(Turns out you can.)
Most important, why are we even having this conversation?
The answer to that last is easy: The Oxford Dictionary has legitimized selfie by making it the 2013 word of the year, while twerk came in a close second.
Who gives the folks at Oxford the right to decide what should be added to the English language? Well … they do, I guess.
There were other runners-up, including bedroom tax. This has to do with a change in the British welfare system that penalizes people who the government decides have too much room. Apparently some people listed such things as blisters and acne to explain why they were unable to work (and needed taxpayer money) so they overhauled the system.
I say, it depends on where the blister is.
Another “word” that’s actually two is binge-watch, the process of watching multiple TV episodes of the same show in a short time. I’ve been guilty of this starting as far back as Buffy the Vampire Slayer … luckily for my health, my wife likes all the same shows I do but doesn’t like to watch too much TV at a time. Other people are apparently moving entertainment centers into their bathrooms.
Then there’s Schmeat, also known as synthetic meat, which apparently is made out of petroleum oil, or something worse.
Another is bitcoin, a digital currency, which in reality doesn’t have any value but is treated as if it does. Kind of like the American dollar.
Then there’s olinguito, a South American mammal used to make schmeat and bitcoins, which in the wild has been known to twerk.
Certainly twerk is the best known of the runners-up, thanks to a former child performer-turned sleazy sexpothead (that’s a word I just coined) named Miley Cyrus. (Sexpothead … I like it.) Miley – I feel she’s on a first name basis with everyone – did what appeared to be a deep squat exercise while attempting to lick the face of a fan in row eight.
Some people are calling that a dance.
Nobody knows for sure where the word came from, but its technical description is shaking the hips in an up and down bouncing motion, causing the dancer’s … um … bottom to shake, wobble and bounce. Some people find this arousing, apparently. I missed Miley’s performance, but for this column I watched a video of it.
My reaction: I alternated between giggling and dry heaves. Ginger Rogers danced; Miley Cyrus has uncontrollable convulsions.
Let’s move on to the winner, selfie. It may be a little silly, but unlike twerk it doesn’t make me feel like I need to shower.
Selfie is a term that simply means taking a photograph of yourself. That’s it, although it usually also means that photo ending up on the internet. Rule number one of posting photos on the internet: Don’t do it while drunk.
According to Yahoo News, the very authority on something, the first known use of the term came from an Australian online forum post in 2002:
"Um, drunk at a mates 21st, I tripped ofer and landed lip first (with front teeth coming a very close second) on a set of steps. I had a hole about 1cm long right through my bottom lip. And sorry about the focus, it was a selfie."
Pretty much says it all, doesn’t it? I’m happy to say a photo did not accompany that quote.
Apparently Australians have a thing for changing words to end with ie … i.e., “Put a shrimp on the barbie, but don’t drink too many tinnies of beer or the firies might have to come put out the flames.” Kinda scarie.
In 2012 the word exploded, and since then we’ve been bombarded with photos people take of themselves, or themselves with their friends, their pets, their cars, celebrities, or twerkers. There’s been a 17,000 percent increase in the usage of that word, which is what caught Oxford’s attention.
Selfies can be silly, but I don’t criticize the photo takers much (as long as they’re not twerking at the time). Why? Because I take selfies myself. I can count on one hand the number of photos of myself I like – ever – and yet I’m constantly taking photos of me, my wife, the dog, or all at once, often accompanied by a huge thing along the side that can only be my arm. It’s fun, and I no longer have to pay for film. Narcissistic, you say?
Yeah, but at least I’m not twerking.
I tried once.
I got over it thanks to ibuprofen, my chiropractor, and a deep sense of shame.
Would you like a selfie? How about a twerk?
Your confusion could be understandable, especially if you’re not on the internet much. (Are there many people besides my grandmother who aren’t on the internet?) The good news is that if you don’t know these terms … you’re probably better off.
So what are they? Do you order two more selfies for the road? Is a twerk a pair of high school nerds? Is either one something you’d better do with the curtains closed and the door locked? Can you have a selfie twerk?
(Turns out you can.)
Most important, why are we even having this conversation?
The answer to that last is easy: The Oxford Dictionary has legitimized selfie by making it the 2013 word of the year, while twerk came in a close second.
Who gives the folks at Oxford the right to decide what should be added to the English language? Well … they do, I guess.
There were other runners-up, including bedroom tax. This has to do with a change in the British welfare system that penalizes people who the government decides have too much room. Apparently some people listed such things as blisters and acne to explain why they were unable to work (and needed taxpayer money) so they overhauled the system.
I say, it depends on where the blister is.
Another “word” that’s actually two is binge-watch, the process of watching multiple TV episodes of the same show in a short time. I’ve been guilty of this starting as far back as Buffy the Vampire Slayer … luckily for my health, my wife likes all the same shows I do but doesn’t like to watch too much TV at a time. Other people are apparently moving entertainment centers into their bathrooms.
Then there’s Schmeat, also known as synthetic meat, which apparently is made out of petroleum oil, or something worse.
Another is bitcoin, a digital currency, which in reality doesn’t have any value but is treated as if it does. Kind of like the American dollar.
Then there’s olinguito, a South American mammal used to make schmeat and bitcoins, which in the wild has been known to twerk.
Certainly twerk is the best known of the runners-up, thanks to a former child performer-turned sleazy sexpothead (that’s a word I just coined) named Miley Cyrus. (Sexpothead … I like it.) Miley – I feel she’s on a first name basis with everyone – did what appeared to be a deep squat exercise while attempting to lick the face of a fan in row eight.
Some people are calling that a dance.
Nobody knows for sure where the word came from, but its technical description is shaking the hips in an up and down bouncing motion, causing the dancer’s … um … bottom to shake, wobble and bounce. Some people find this arousing, apparently. I missed Miley’s performance, but for this column I watched a video of it.
My reaction: I alternated between giggling and dry heaves. Ginger Rogers danced; Miley Cyrus has uncontrollable convulsions.
Let’s move on to the winner, selfie. It may be a little silly, but unlike twerk it doesn’t make me feel like I need to shower.
Selfie is a term that simply means taking a photograph of yourself. That’s it, although it usually also means that photo ending up on the internet. Rule number one of posting photos on the internet: Don’t do it while drunk.
According to Yahoo News, the very authority on something, the first known use of the term came from an Australian online forum post in 2002:
"Um, drunk at a mates 21st, I tripped ofer and landed lip first (with front teeth coming a very close second) on a set of steps. I had a hole about 1cm long right through my bottom lip. And sorry about the focus, it was a selfie."
Pretty much says it all, doesn’t it? I’m happy to say a photo did not accompany that quote.
Apparently Australians have a thing for changing words to end with ie … i.e., “Put a shrimp on the barbie, but don’t drink too many tinnies of beer or the firies might have to come put out the flames.” Kinda scarie.
In 2012 the word exploded, and since then we’ve been bombarded with photos people take of themselves, or themselves with their friends, their pets, their cars, celebrities, or twerkers. There’s been a 17,000 percent increase in the usage of that word, which is what caught Oxford’s attention.
Selfies can be silly, but I don’t criticize the photo takers much (as long as they’re not twerking at the time). Why? Because I take selfies myself. I can count on one hand the number of photos of myself I like – ever – and yet I’m constantly taking photos of me, my wife, the dog, or all at once, often accompanied by a huge thing along the side that can only be my arm. It’s fun, and I no longer have to pay for film. Narcissistic, you say?
Yeah, but at least I’m not twerking.
I tried once.
I got over it thanks to ibuprofen, my chiropractor, and a deep sense of shame.
December 10, 2013
A Storm Chaser Shorts snippet: "Bar Fight"
Here’s a snippet from the opening of Bar Fight, the third story in my collection, Storm Chaser Shorts. The story’s being told by State Trooper Chance Hamlin, about one of the main characters in my upcoming novel, The Notorious Ian Grant:
Bar Fight
“I can remember the first moment I knew Fran Vargas would someday make detective. I’d answered a report of a disturbance at a bar, one of those downtown holes in the wall with a door, a plate glass window, and a tiny parking lot in the back. A few minutes earlier some guy showed up at the police station downtown, his face a bloody pulp, to claim he’d gotten jumped for no reason as he left the bar.
“There’s always a reason.”
http://www.markrhunter.com/books.html
Bar Fight
“I can remember the first moment I knew Fran Vargas would someday make detective. I’d answered a report of a disturbance at a bar, one of those downtown holes in the wall with a door, a plate glass window, and a tiny parking lot in the back. A few minutes earlier some guy showed up at the police station downtown, his face a bloody pulp, to claim he’d gotten jumped for no reason as he left the bar.
“There’s always a reason.”
http://www.markrhunter.com/books.html
December 4, 2013
Bad Is Funny
SLIGHTLY OFF THE MARK
Okay, which of these is funny? The first:
While picking up a pharmacy prescription I noticed soda on sale, and caffeine is my favorite over the counter drug. An employee pointed out that if I used the store’s card at a scanning station, it would give me a coupon to make the pop even cheaper. It was a little thing, but she didn’t have to trouble herself with saving me some money; I’d have never known.
Or the second:
New York City mayoral candidate Anthony Weiner was involved in a minor car crash in Manhattan. Police say he managed to drive straight while texting, but lost control of his vehicle during pants removal.
The answer to which is funny seems clear, unless you’re a fan of Weiner, who at the time had a 9.7% approval rating. If almost ten percent of the people in New York still thought he had the good judgment to be their mayor, maybe they deserved him.
On the other hand, could he be worse than Bloomberg, who recently unleashed an initiative to ban sweet tea from the city? “Sugar is very bad for you,” he said. “No, no. Bad. Also, tea can discolor your teeth, so the NYPD will do inspections to make sure everyone brushes at bedtime.”
From time to time I talk about how we mine humor from real life. It’s all subjective, and I’m sure some people don’t think anything I write is humorous. (I’d just as soon not hear from you people. Besides, why the heck are you reading this, anyway?)
If there’s one thing my father’s illness taught me, it’s that there are some things you can’t make funny. But there is a pattern that I think is universal: Bad things are easier to make fun of than good things.
I should point out the very close relationship between “bad” and “stupid”.
That pharmacy employee did me a solid for no reason other than to be nice. You don’t hear about stuff like that, because good stuff’s not news and not funny.
Michael Bloomberg, who said on a radio show that the key to success is taking fewer bathroom breaks? He’s hilarious. I can go on about him for hours.
You know who’s even more hilarious? Anthony Weiner, who for a time was the most visible politician around thanks to the fact that he never met a cell phone camera he didn’t like. I could write twenty columns about him, but unfortunately every comic in the free world has already mined his – ahem – shortcomings for jokes that are cheap and easy, just like him.
I wonder why Bloomberg never tried to ban Weiner? Eye pollution!
You know what’s not funny? Earlier this year my wife and I found a table on clearance for 1/3 the normal price. We’d been looking for something to replace our dilapidated old table, which was built during the Nixon administration using pulp from shredded Presidential documents.
This one was perfect: Looked good, right size, and almost within our price range if I sold more plasma. (Assembly required, though … that’s another column.) So we borrowed my step-father’s SUV (on a related note, he could have said no), and set out for Fort Wayne, a 45 minute trip.
Unfortunately, when the salesperson (Cathy) contacted the storeroom, she discovered they were sold out. Cathy gave us a rain check, but we’d borrowed a bigger vehicle just to carry the thing, and it was going to be an incredible pain to borrow it again and get over there after the new stock arrived, but before the sale ended.
We hadn’t even made it back to the car when the phone rang. Cathy, for no reason other than to be thorough, checked the stockroom herself, and found the misplaced tables. She could have put it out of her mind until we came back the next week, but instead she grabbed a phone and called us before we could leave.
What kind of world would it be if that kind of story led on the evening news, instead of a starlet’s latest trip to rehab or a politician’s attempt to gain power and screw with people? Maybe we’d all walk around a lot happier. (By the way, my wife called the store to let them know exactly how we felt – something else that usually only happens when it’s bad.)
You won’t hear me tell that story, because it’s not funny. Well, you just did hear me tell that story, but only to make the point that it’s not funny. That argument’s so circular, it should be the subject of a government funded scientific study.
What you will hear me make fun of is Congress. Now, the US Congress really is not funny, in that they’ve joined many others in Washington, D.C., to do the maximum possible damage to America and its people. But you see, that’s exactly my point: Bad things are easier to make fun of.
How bad? At this point, Congressional approval ratings are at minus 7%. That’s right, it’s actually reached the minus category, because Congress is doing such a dismal job that disgruntled voters are coming back from the dead to answer the polls.
Luckily for our Senators and Representatives, most voters still think their Congressmen are doing just fine – it’s all the rest who are awful. You can bet those voters who came back from the dead in Chicago will vote for the incumbent.
And that’s just bad. But I’ll make it funny.
Okay, which of these is funny? The first:
While picking up a pharmacy prescription I noticed soda on sale, and caffeine is my favorite over the counter drug. An employee pointed out that if I used the store’s card at a scanning station, it would give me a coupon to make the pop even cheaper. It was a little thing, but she didn’t have to trouble herself with saving me some money; I’d have never known.
Or the second:
New York City mayoral candidate Anthony Weiner was involved in a minor car crash in Manhattan. Police say he managed to drive straight while texting, but lost control of his vehicle during pants removal.
The answer to which is funny seems clear, unless you’re a fan of Weiner, who at the time had a 9.7% approval rating. If almost ten percent of the people in New York still thought he had the good judgment to be their mayor, maybe they deserved him.
On the other hand, could he be worse than Bloomberg, who recently unleashed an initiative to ban sweet tea from the city? “Sugar is very bad for you,” he said. “No, no. Bad. Also, tea can discolor your teeth, so the NYPD will do inspections to make sure everyone brushes at bedtime.”
From time to time I talk about how we mine humor from real life. It’s all subjective, and I’m sure some people don’t think anything I write is humorous. (I’d just as soon not hear from you people. Besides, why the heck are you reading this, anyway?)
If there’s one thing my father’s illness taught me, it’s that there are some things you can’t make funny. But there is a pattern that I think is universal: Bad things are easier to make fun of than good things.
I should point out the very close relationship between “bad” and “stupid”.
That pharmacy employee did me a solid for no reason other than to be nice. You don’t hear about stuff like that, because good stuff’s not news and not funny.
Michael Bloomberg, who said on a radio show that the key to success is taking fewer bathroom breaks? He’s hilarious. I can go on about him for hours.
You know who’s even more hilarious? Anthony Weiner, who for a time was the most visible politician around thanks to the fact that he never met a cell phone camera he didn’t like. I could write twenty columns about him, but unfortunately every comic in the free world has already mined his – ahem – shortcomings for jokes that are cheap and easy, just like him.
I wonder why Bloomberg never tried to ban Weiner? Eye pollution!
You know what’s not funny? Earlier this year my wife and I found a table on clearance for 1/3 the normal price. We’d been looking for something to replace our dilapidated old table, which was built during the Nixon administration using pulp from shredded Presidential documents.
This one was perfect: Looked good, right size, and almost within our price range if I sold more plasma. (Assembly required, though … that’s another column.) So we borrowed my step-father’s SUV (on a related note, he could have said no), and set out for Fort Wayne, a 45 minute trip.
Unfortunately, when the salesperson (Cathy) contacted the storeroom, she discovered they were sold out. Cathy gave us a rain check, but we’d borrowed a bigger vehicle just to carry the thing, and it was going to be an incredible pain to borrow it again and get over there after the new stock arrived, but before the sale ended.
We hadn’t even made it back to the car when the phone rang. Cathy, for no reason other than to be thorough, checked the stockroom herself, and found the misplaced tables. She could have put it out of her mind until we came back the next week, but instead she grabbed a phone and called us before we could leave.
What kind of world would it be if that kind of story led on the evening news, instead of a starlet’s latest trip to rehab or a politician’s attempt to gain power and screw with people? Maybe we’d all walk around a lot happier. (By the way, my wife called the store to let them know exactly how we felt – something else that usually only happens when it’s bad.)
You won’t hear me tell that story, because it’s not funny. Well, you just did hear me tell that story, but only to make the point that it’s not funny. That argument’s so circular, it should be the subject of a government funded scientific study.
What you will hear me make fun of is Congress. Now, the US Congress really is not funny, in that they’ve joined many others in Washington, D.C., to do the maximum possible damage to America and its people. But you see, that’s exactly my point: Bad things are easier to make fun of.
How bad? At this point, Congressional approval ratings are at minus 7%. That’s right, it’s actually reached the minus category, because Congress is doing such a dismal job that disgruntled voters are coming back from the dead to answer the polls.
Luckily for our Senators and Representatives, most voters still think their Congressmen are doing just fine – it’s all the rest who are awful. You can bet those voters who came back from the dead in Chicago will vote for the incumbent.
And that’s just bad. But I’ll make it funny.
December 3, 2013
A Storm Chaser snippet
Chapter One of Storm Chaser is available to preview on Amazon.com and the Whiskey Creek Press website. But here’s a glimpse from near the beginning of Chapter Two, where we meet the mysterious, disaster prone Luther Magee in an Indianapolis motel room:
“…A tornado from one of those isolated storm cells brought a close call to a state trooper, who narrowly escaped being caught while tracking the twister.”
The picture showed a solemn officer, blond hair mussed as if from a high wind, standing stiffly next to his patrol car. “My car approached to within about one hundred yards of the funnel…”
A face peered out from behind the officer’s broad back, for just an instant. Magee started, then leaned so close to the screen that he almost tumbled off the bed.
The scene cut to a young reporter with concern written across his face. “How long before you escaped the danger?”
The camera caught a close up of the
trooper in mid sentence. “…about ten minutes…”
The reporter’s voice droned on, but Magee concentrated on the trooper, and the girl he led away from the camera. She peeked back only once, but that was all it took.
Bingo.
http://www.markrhunter.com/books.html
“…A tornado from one of those isolated storm cells brought a close call to a state trooper, who narrowly escaped being caught while tracking the twister.”
The picture showed a solemn officer, blond hair mussed as if from a high wind, standing stiffly next to his patrol car. “My car approached to within about one hundred yards of the funnel…”
A face peered out from behind the officer’s broad back, for just an instant. Magee started, then leaned so close to the screen that he almost tumbled off the bed.
The scene cut to a young reporter with concern written across his face. “How long before you escaped the danger?”
The camera caught a close up of the
trooper in mid sentence. “…about ten minutes…”
The reporter’s voice droned on, but Magee concentrated on the trooper, and the girl he led away from the camera. She peeked back only once, but that was all it took.
Bingo.
http://www.markrhunter.com/books.html
December 2, 2013
Secret Agent, Man
Feeling that I’m not balancing enough in my life, I’ve sent a query and sample chapters of my YA humor/mystery novel, Red Is For Ick, to an agent. That makes six works I’ve got out making the rounds – three novels and three short stories – assuming one doesn’t come back by the time you read this.
Of course, only one – The Notorious Ian Grant – is actually sold. The rest are simply submissions, one after a request for edits and the other four in slush pile purgatory. Still, one thing I’ve heard often remains true in today’s publishing world: The reason most manuscripts are never published is because they’re not finished and sent out.
Of course, only one – The Notorious Ian Grant – is actually sold. The rest are simply submissions, one after a request for edits and the other four in slush pile purgatory. Still, one thing I’ve heard often remains true in today’s publishing world: The reason most manuscripts are never published is because they’re not finished and sent out.
December 1, 2013
books for Christmas, or: shameless plug
It’s time to buy Christmas presents. Feeling the pressure yet? Me, too.
You might expect me to try and talk you into buying one of my books, and who am I not to meet your expectations? Think of it this way: Storm Chaser and most of Storm Chaser Shorts are set in the middle of a summer heat wave. Readers who hate summer will say, “I’m so glad it’s winter!” Readers who love summer will say, “Thank goodness – something to take my mind off winter!” It’s win-win, and since Storm Chaser is an action-adventure-romantic comedy-mystery, and the short stories in my collection also cover a wide range, they can appeal to readers of many genres.
And if that doesn’t work, remember that you have to catch up on what’s going on before the sequel comes out next year
Of course, if you’re a history fan there’s always Smoky Days and Sleepless Nights: A Century Or So With The Albion Fire Department, which covers … well, I guess the subtitle pretty much covers what it covers.
Check all my works out on Amazon at: http://www.amazon.com/Mark-R-Hunter/e...
Or on my website at www.markrhunter.com.
Or you can get the first two works of the Storm Chaser series at my publisher’s website, http://www.whiskeycreekpress.com/stor... (it’s a series!) and at Barnes and Noble:
http://www.barnesandnoble.com/c/mark-...
And Storm Chaser is even online at Fictionwise: http://www.fictionwise.com/ebooks/a67...?
Finally, print copies of Storm Chaser and Smoky Days can be found at the Albion New Era and Churubusco News offices, and the latter at the Brick Ark Inn, while Storm Chaser should also be available at Summer’s Stories in Kendallville and The Bookmark in Fort Wayne.
You might expect me to try and talk you into buying one of my books, and who am I not to meet your expectations? Think of it this way: Storm Chaser and most of Storm Chaser Shorts are set in the middle of a summer heat wave. Readers who hate summer will say, “I’m so glad it’s winter!” Readers who love summer will say, “Thank goodness – something to take my mind off winter!” It’s win-win, and since Storm Chaser is an action-adventure-romantic comedy-mystery, and the short stories in my collection also cover a wide range, they can appeal to readers of many genres.
And if that doesn’t work, remember that you have to catch up on what’s going on before the sequel comes out next year
Of course, if you’re a history fan there’s always Smoky Days and Sleepless Nights: A Century Or So With The Albion Fire Department, which covers … well, I guess the subtitle pretty much covers what it covers.
Check all my works out on Amazon at: http://www.amazon.com/Mark-R-Hunter/e...
Or on my website at www.markrhunter.com.
Or you can get the first two works of the Storm Chaser series at my publisher’s website, http://www.whiskeycreekpress.com/stor... (it’s a series!) and at Barnes and Noble:
http://www.barnesandnoble.com/c/mark-...
And Storm Chaser is even online at Fictionwise: http://www.fictionwise.com/ebooks/a67...?
Finally, print copies of Storm Chaser and Smoky Days can be found at the Albion New Era and Churubusco News offices, and the latter at the Brick Ark Inn, while Storm Chaser should also be available at Summer’s Stories in Kendallville and The Bookmark in Fort Wayne.
November 26, 2013
It's Funny What We're Thankful For
SLIGHTLY OFF THE MARK
“I cried because I had no shoes, until I met a man who had no feet. So I took his shoes. What was he going to do, chase me down?”
I don’t know who said that, but they clearly knew an opportunity when they saw it. It should remind us, this Thanksgiving season, to be happy no one has stolen our shoes … or our feet.
I had trouble coming up with a list of what I was thankful for this year. The old, clichéd stuff is, well, clichéd. My family, my job, my pocket lint collection, my health …
My health? The health thing tripped me up a little, this year. In 2013 I took my very first trip to the emergency room as a patient … and took my wife to her first emergency room visit … and visited my sister-in-law, grandmother, and father after they were all rushed to the hospital. The only time I visited the ER more was in the early 80’s, and that was only because I actually volunteered on an ambulance service.
Believe me, looking down at the cot is way better than looking up.
This year I had two sinus infections and a kidney stone, started getting weekly allergy shots, got stuffed full of meds for tennis elbow (and I can’t even hit a tennis ball), and suffered one of the few migraines I’ve ever had in my life. Then I had to get a heart scan after an abnormal EKG reading and chest pains. I’m on so many medications that the drug company representatives skip the middle man and come straight to my house.
I had to start taking regular aspirin and ibuprofen, and started wearing an arm brace. Then I was diagnosed with plantar fasciitis. Can you believe that? Plantar fasciitis!
Otherwise known as pain from fallen arches. But still … it sounds bad.
But at least I have my health.
Still, when you’re talking Thanksgiving, the first thing you have to conclude is that it could be worse. No, my feet have not been amputated. I haven’t had brain surgery, nor have I been forced to do brain surgery in a disaster situation. I realize that’s an extreme example. Here’s another way of looking at it: I haven’t been poisoned this year, or suffered liver failure, or developed an overwhelming desire to drink human blood.
Believe me, if any of those things had happened, they’d be on the list.
But just because other people have worse problems than yours, doesn’t mean you don’t have problems. Am I to be thankful that I just had a kidney stone? It beats giving birth, or so I’ve heard.
In the end, it all depends on your point of view. I’ve been known to say (usually during winter) that the glass is not half full – it’s half empty, cracked, and slowly leaking.
But I don’t usually feel that way, not really. The truth is – cliché or not – that I’ve been blessed with a wonderful wife, great family, an incipient fiction writing career that seems to be taking off, a good job because writing careers aren’t renowned for their income … and I still live in what is, despite the efforts of those in Washington, D.C., the greatest country in the world. Although I’ve heard Luxembourg is nice.
That ain’t too shabby.
For the rest of it? All those aches and pains, stupidity in government, bills, winter? Why, I deal with all that using the one personal thing I really am thankful for, something that has stood me in great stead and gotten me through some tough times:
I’m thankful for a sense of humor.
Some people don’t have that. We all know those people. They’re usually miserable, and a lot of them want to take everyone else down in misery with them. Just as I don’t understand how people who don’t read fend of boredom, I don’t understand how someone can survive modern life without making fun of it.
I mean, come on. Joe Biden’s our Vice President. Joe Biden! You have to laugh at that, or jump off a bridge.
I’m so thankful that I can make fun of politics and not get arrested. And so many other things, too. Imagine how horribly tragic the Kardashians really are if you can’t make fun of them. Reality TV is a danger to our entire civilization, but at least I can make jokes about stranding Congress on a desert island with crates of canned fruit but no opener. Watched over by Jeff Probst, of course.
It doesn’t even matter if other people think I’m funny, as long as I’m entertaining myself. (This often happens when I’m at parties.) I can go to a PETA sponsored vegan dinner and order steak – rare. Everyone else in the room will be horrified, but I’ll think it’s hilarious.
(I wouldn’t actually do that – those people are scary. They look like they’re always on the verge of giving up and biting into whatever flesh is closest.)
The other day I was using a pair of wire cutters, when the cutters broke in half – without cutting the wire. Anyone else might have cursed and hurled the pieces across the room, but I started thinking up ways of working the story into a column. (Which I just did.)
In fact, making fun of yourself is one of the best ways to go through life. (I even make fun of my overuse of parenthesis.)
So that’s what I’m thankful for this year: My sense of humor. Or anyone’s sense of humor, really. The world would, by definition, be a sadder place without it. So cheer up, everyone, and have a laugh. Crying does you no good, anyway.
Oh, and keep an eye on your shoes – just in case.
“I cried because I had no shoes, until I met a man who had no feet. So I took his shoes. What was he going to do, chase me down?”
I don’t know who said that, but they clearly knew an opportunity when they saw it. It should remind us, this Thanksgiving season, to be happy no one has stolen our shoes … or our feet.
I had trouble coming up with a list of what I was thankful for this year. The old, clichéd stuff is, well, clichéd. My family, my job, my pocket lint collection, my health …
My health? The health thing tripped me up a little, this year. In 2013 I took my very first trip to the emergency room as a patient … and took my wife to her first emergency room visit … and visited my sister-in-law, grandmother, and father after they were all rushed to the hospital. The only time I visited the ER more was in the early 80’s, and that was only because I actually volunteered on an ambulance service.
Believe me, looking down at the cot is way better than looking up.
This year I had two sinus infections and a kidney stone, started getting weekly allergy shots, got stuffed full of meds for tennis elbow (and I can’t even hit a tennis ball), and suffered one of the few migraines I’ve ever had in my life. Then I had to get a heart scan after an abnormal EKG reading and chest pains. I’m on so many medications that the drug company representatives skip the middle man and come straight to my house.
I had to start taking regular aspirin and ibuprofen, and started wearing an arm brace. Then I was diagnosed with plantar fasciitis. Can you believe that? Plantar fasciitis!
Otherwise known as pain from fallen arches. But still … it sounds bad.
But at least I have my health.
Still, when you’re talking Thanksgiving, the first thing you have to conclude is that it could be worse. No, my feet have not been amputated. I haven’t had brain surgery, nor have I been forced to do brain surgery in a disaster situation. I realize that’s an extreme example. Here’s another way of looking at it: I haven’t been poisoned this year, or suffered liver failure, or developed an overwhelming desire to drink human blood.
Believe me, if any of those things had happened, they’d be on the list.
But just because other people have worse problems than yours, doesn’t mean you don’t have problems. Am I to be thankful that I just had a kidney stone? It beats giving birth, or so I’ve heard.
In the end, it all depends on your point of view. I’ve been known to say (usually during winter) that the glass is not half full – it’s half empty, cracked, and slowly leaking.
But I don’t usually feel that way, not really. The truth is – cliché or not – that I’ve been blessed with a wonderful wife, great family, an incipient fiction writing career that seems to be taking off, a good job because writing careers aren’t renowned for their income … and I still live in what is, despite the efforts of those in Washington, D.C., the greatest country in the world. Although I’ve heard Luxembourg is nice.
That ain’t too shabby.
For the rest of it? All those aches and pains, stupidity in government, bills, winter? Why, I deal with all that using the one personal thing I really am thankful for, something that has stood me in great stead and gotten me through some tough times:
I’m thankful for a sense of humor.
Some people don’t have that. We all know those people. They’re usually miserable, and a lot of them want to take everyone else down in misery with them. Just as I don’t understand how people who don’t read fend of boredom, I don’t understand how someone can survive modern life without making fun of it.
I mean, come on. Joe Biden’s our Vice President. Joe Biden! You have to laugh at that, or jump off a bridge.
I’m so thankful that I can make fun of politics and not get arrested. And so many other things, too. Imagine how horribly tragic the Kardashians really are if you can’t make fun of them. Reality TV is a danger to our entire civilization, but at least I can make jokes about stranding Congress on a desert island with crates of canned fruit but no opener. Watched over by Jeff Probst, of course.
It doesn’t even matter if other people think I’m funny, as long as I’m entertaining myself. (This often happens when I’m at parties.) I can go to a PETA sponsored vegan dinner and order steak – rare. Everyone else in the room will be horrified, but I’ll think it’s hilarious.
(I wouldn’t actually do that – those people are scary. They look like they’re always on the verge of giving up and biting into whatever flesh is closest.)
The other day I was using a pair of wire cutters, when the cutters broke in half – without cutting the wire. Anyone else might have cursed and hurled the pieces across the room, but I started thinking up ways of working the story into a column. (Which I just did.)
In fact, making fun of yourself is one of the best ways to go through life. (I even make fun of my overuse of parenthesis.)
So that’s what I’m thankful for this year: My sense of humor. Or anyone’s sense of humor, really. The world would, by definition, be a sadder place without it. So cheer up, everyone, and have a laugh. Crying does you no good, anyway.
Oh, and keep an eye on your shoes – just in case.
