Lovely Hatred

I sat in Nice, France with an acquaintance yesterday who was visibly upset by the bombings in Brussels.  Of course.  This was natural.

Then she spoke, saying there was only one way to fix the problem.    I hoped this acquaintance was at least as imaginative in her solution as Cicciolina, the madame elected to the Italian Senate who offered to bed with Saddam Hussein in exchange for peace in the Middle East.

I was disappointed.  She flew into a self-righteous harangue saying all Muslims must be killed and all mosques must be destroyed, throughout the world, because the Koran was filled with violence and hate.  Only after the eradication would we be safe and at peace again.

This was a university professor speaking.  A person of intellect and learning.   She terrified me by her stupidity.  She had no inkling of her resemblance to those she  condemned.  She was so happy and proud of herself as she talked, full of the adrenalin-rush of hatred.

Me, I don’t know the solution to the problems we have today between people of the world.  But I know Muslims have just cause for fearing and hating westerners who hunt them and bomb them and denounce them, just as much as the reverse is true.  Both sides mirror each other, imagining that more violence and hatred will end the violence and hatred.  It’s an old loop of useless thinking.  But it feels so good.

I quietly told this acquaintance that I disagreed with her, and was silenced by another chapter of her venom, where she intimated that it would be better if I too were eliminated.

Strangely, I had essentially the same “conversation” with a different professor in New York after the 9/11 bombings.  His proposition to end terrorism was to “drop a nuke on the middle east and be rid of them all.”   Versions of his solution have not proven effective.

So many generations of human hatred and egotism, starting well before the Christian Crusades had its go at making the world right by using terror tactics.  My time on earth is finite.  How I wish human stupidity would come to an end also.



My Charlie


CHARLIE HEBDO is not a symbol of the Free Press. The weekly journal IS the Free Press.

It is more and more difficult to know what to believe – Why does my city’s newspaper put Presidential news on page 5 and Senate news on the front page? Is Fox News presenting the news or its own biased perspectives? Does the AP Wire omit stories of interest to under-developed nations and to religious minorities?

Do we have Freedom of the Press in the USA, or is the “news” so filtered through press releases, press secretaries, editors, and those in charge, that we hear what “They” want us to hear, learning what “They” want us to believe is fact.

The news I get on French news stations, in French newspapers, and on French radio is dramatically different than what I read in the New York Times and AOL news. The news from these sources has different slants; but more, the information itself is different. Huge stories are ignored by the American Press, and vice-versa. Is it because power behind the media promotes its own agenda and fortune?

I believe in Free Speech and a Free Press, based on the theory that if I hear it all, I will be able to make up my own mind, that if people in general hear it all, they can make informed choices. Despite our cynicism about the intelligence level of the general population, these two freedoms help us to rule ourselves, rather than to be tyrannized.

Yes, in the USA and in European countries, there are parameters around Free Speech and the Free Press. Inciting a group to riot is illegal, verbally or in print. Certain communications are considered treasonous. Threats of murder are against the law. It is illegal to mis-quote someone, or to spread untrue things which ruin someone’s character. Pornography has its limits too.

But I can stand on my corner and preach, or I can denounce all religions. I can explain my feminist views on Facebook, and condemn anti-abortion politicians in my essays. My government assures me I do not have to be afraid of speaking my mind, out loud or in print. Sometimes this promise is not kept, but it is a promise nonetheless. If I don’t like what someone is saying or writing, I can ignore it, sometimes as simply as “unfriending” a relative on Facebook. I don’t like what some people believe and say, but in line with Voltaire, I defend their right to believe it and speak about it.

CHARLIE HEBDO is not a magazine I read. It’s an unimportant weekly rag, and I am not a big follower of political cartoons. I don’t like sarcastic humor based on anger, which is only a millimeter different from effective satire. But I give CHARLIE HEBDO my respect – the journal is egalitarian with those it eviscerates. No one, no religion, no political party or system is exempt from its attacks. The cartoons span international topics and satirize their targets with precision.

Of course, the targets do not like what CHARLIE HEBDO publishes.  Would the Pope like a drawing of himself with his knickers down at his ankles while a choir boy licks his penis? This is a blasphemous image. But the point is, Freedom of the Press protects the right of CHARLIE HEBDO to publish such a cartoon. If the Pope is angry about the drawing or the “insinuation” in it, he has choices – but the one choice he does not have is to silence the cartoonist, not in a society which promises Freedom of the Press. Most certainly, no one has the right to silence another by murder.

“I am Charlie” means I believe in Free Speech and the Free Press even when I do not like what is said or is printed. It means you cannot kill me, you cannot kill my open mind, my fierce pride in my freedoms. The slogan means the spirit of freedom is immediately passed onto to others when a few die, and you cannot kill us all. But CHARLIE HEBDO does not “mean” anything. CHARLIE HEBDO is.  It does not need to be an important or sophisticated journal to be protected.  It exists, and therefore it illustrates our fundamental rights on its pages and by its presence. And ironically, CHARLIE HEBDO’s survival has been ensured by the horrific attack on it.

Share Pink with your Friends


Detective Frank “Pink” Bettman is at it again in COWTOWN CORPSE, the follow-up to COWTOWN CRIME.  

Pink’s tempted by beautiful bodies from city hall to dance halls, but in the end he keeps his eyes on the trail of five Texas killers.

Here’s are two easy links to all of my books, including COWTOWN CORPSE.

      Aussi disponible en France en anglais à


Share the Crime with your Facebook Friends

 Cowtown Crime cover

In COWTOWN CRIME, Detective Frank “Pink” Bettman, Head of Major Crimes, comes face to face with six corpses, some bloody, some decayed, all of ‘em needing Pink to figure out who-dun-it.  With his police pals and a Texas twang, he cracks the mysteries in COWTOWN CRIME.

Here’s are two easy links to all of my books, including COWTOWN CRIME.

      Aussi disponible en France en anglais à




Long Way Home coverTHE LONG WAY HOME is book-club women’s fiction about the first paternity suit filed in frontier Texas.  A father ends up in court, with a judgment as independent as the Wild West, affecting 4 generations of the Ware family.

If you haven’t read my work yet, all seven books are avaiable through Nook with Barnes & Noble, as well as on Amazon.  Curl up indoors on a cool evening, and start with THE LONG WAY HOME.

Here’s a sample from  THE LONG WAY HOME:

            D’Ross took a deep breath like he was going to jump feet first into a pond of cold water.  Then he said, “That’s when I took her on my horse and we… “   The heavy boy fluttered his meaty hand in the air.  “You know… we…”  There was the flutter again.  “Back in the woods.”

            Turkey listened to the gasps go through the room.  “Are you telling me, that Verna Ware, the very first time she ever met you, spent intimate time with you?  Is that what you are unable to say, when you do this?”  The lawyer fluttered his own hand in the air, a touch a drama he liked.

            D’Ross answered, “Yep.”  He was enjoying being the center of all the hub-bub and whispers.  “And Abe too.”

            Turkey spun around with his mouth open to look at the pretty young lady standing between her father and her brother at the back of the courtroom, and he asked, “Did you say Abe Finney also had relations with Verna Ware?  That same day?”

            Not a person in the jury was breathing, waiting for the paunchy young man to answer.  D’Ross started to smile and flutter his hand, thinking that would make everyone laugh again.   And then his body jerked right.  A loud crack sounded, filling the air with a roar and smoke, and D’Ross fell out of the witness chair.  The sound repeated, just as loud, louder, and everyone was jumping up or flattening out on the floor.


Find THE LONG WAY HOME on Amazon at this site:

Or at Barnes & Noble for NOOK here:


Please Share ! 100 and 5.3 Pounds

 100 and 5.3 Pounds.

My contemporary women’s fiction novel — I love it !

100  and 5.3

What happens when a Hollywood astrologer and an over-weight civil servant discover their daughter is pregnant?  It depends on the last will and testament of a famed New York painter.

In 100 and 3.5 Pounds, a family moves farther apart geographically while getting closer emotionally.  4 generations battle it out, calling 911, sharing a poodle, flying cross-country, and telling the hard truth, while they turn a bachelorette party into a baby shower, and assisted living becomes assisted suicide.



Not everyone likes poetry.  But if you do, or if you want to give it a try, take a look at my collection CHILDREN OF EVE.


The poems in CHILDREN OF EVE range from edgy to funny to angry, always sexy and beautiful.  One poem is in pentameter and the next is rap lyrics, and then the next is a haiku or a rant with word play.  It doesn’t matter if you know the form — you’ll get it, you’ll like it, you’ll understand.

Find CHILDREN OF EVE on Amazon or Barnes & Noble