Rich White Guys New Sport – Mass Human Killing

The more the news comes out of Vegas, the more it looks like this is just another rich white guy looking to put himself in the record books. Not every rich white guy can be President or Governor, killing big African lions is no longer cool, shooting tens of thousands of buffalo out of trains is no longer a thing you can do, and building an army to overthrow a Latin or Pacific nation is not allowed any more. In fact, all the things rich white guys used to do for fun – like killing big animals, overthrowing governments, raping non-white women and killing their husbands, or even running for office or sexually exploiting as many women as possible – all those things can get you in trouble – so the obvious solution is to get yourself in the record books and then kill yourself. Nothing makes the news like breaking the record for mass killings…and then you shoot yourself and nobody can do anything to you! It’s a great new sport…look for more rich white guys to find ways to fuck the world and then kill themselves before they can get in trouble. We’re going to have to start a new record book – the Douchebag Book of World Record Atrocities. Here are some records we can look to be broken soon:
Largest mass poisoning in US History
Largest mass raping in US History
Largest genocide in US History
Largest chemical spill in US History
Largest environmental disaster in US History
Largest election rig in US History
The only thing the rest of us can look forward to is those rich white douchebags killing themselves after they make their attempts to fuck the rest of us. Of course, I’m being silly – it’s not a new thing at all. Rich white men have been fucking us all for a long long long long time. The only difference is that hopefully they won’t get out of it alive any longer.

Thoughts after Attending a Book Festival as an Author

The book festival yesterday was thought provoking. Lots of thoughts were provoked. Here are a few of them. As a young person (and today as well) I read a lot – I was inspired by great storytelling from the likes of Tolkien, Verne, Piers Anthony, Robert Heinlein, Steinbeck, Hemingway, Dickens, Twain, and London. I am inspired by well written history, thought provoking philosophy and spirituality, and approachable, practical how-to books. I like books that allow me to learn. I love books that allow me to visit far off destinations and exotic cultures and landscapes.

As a younger adult – I was also dazzled by the reckless and dangerous lifestyles of many writers. Hard drinking, hard drugging, hard loving, emotional roller coasters – like Hank Moody from Californication – I wanted to live like that.

I was never inspired by popular fiction like detective novels, thrillers or best sellers. I never wanted to be some boring baby boomer slaving away over a word processor and sitting in empty halls filled with tables behind which boring baby boomers sit eyeing potential readers with hunger.Yesterday, I found myself right there. Best selling author Philip Margolin was there too, sitting behind a table, trying to smile, signing books. I had no desire to be him. I had no desire to read his books.

I’ve not wanted to be Hank Moody or Jack Kerouac or Hemingway for quite a while now. The desire has passed. The idea of being an older Jack London type, building a ranch, hosting friends, fighting for good political ends…that appeals to me. I’d still love to write compelling stories…but they need to be stories with a purpose, stories that have more substance than a Moody-esque “I drank, I got fucked up, I got fucked, it was awful, I survived, I did it again, something awesome happened, I was miserable, I did it again”

My books previously have been a combination of how-to, travel to exotic places, introduction to exotic ideas, and fucked-upness with an over-exaggerated desire to attract attention by offending. I was using offense as a hook…which was (perhaps) novel in the 80s and 90s but now, in the age of the internet, is just boring.

I’ve changed a lot. I admit it. Enough that I can see foolishness where before I thought there was brilliance. Enough to see problems where before I thought there was quality. I was in love with my title “Douchebags, Fags, and Hags” I thought it was hilarious…yesterday, honestly, I was embarrassed by it and while I still love the novel – am pretty sure I would have sold a lot more if I had called it “The Sultanate of Baboob” or “Pig and the Sexy Nun” or even just “Pig”. There were other things I noticed and was shocked by, such as my putting of an ancient pre-Columbian artifact showing two dogs fucking on the back of my rather serious “Liminal Travel” – I remember thinking it was funny – an artifact from the MET referencing an off-color joke on the back of my book – but it has nothing to do with my book. Why did I put it there? Probably the same reason I put the horrible back cover on Smooth Living – enough to see that Slackville Road is a good idea with bad execution…and an ugly cover. I was blinded with love for my own creations…and I think the time I’ve taken off from writing has been a good thing.

The money and time I spent yesterday did not yield a financial return, but even so, I think it was well spent.

In Regards to My Books

At this point – I’m not a huge fan of my books. The exceptions being Douchebags, Fags, and Hags which is pretty damn funny. Liminal Travel offers some pretty good insights into the spiritual realm. I wouldn’t bother reading any of the others – since the characters (even when they are me – or perhaps especially when they are me) aren’t very likable and don’t offer much in the way of useful information or deep thought. I hope that somewhere down the road a bit, I manage to pull a really good book together.

My Latest Book – Douchebags, Fags, and Hags – now available

I’ve finally published my latest novel. Douchebags, Fags, and Hags.

You can find it for kindle here or in epub format here.

Here’s the cover:

a novel of Baboob

This novel was a labor of love. The hard part, as with just about everything in my life, is doing anything when I’m trapped in Morocco waiting for my wife’s visa to get approved.  While I’m here, I have no professional contacts, no chance to meet with agents, no chance to attend book fairs, no chance to give my pitch to agents, editors, or anyone else. In fact, I don’t have any chance to even look for a decent job so I can afford to pay an editor, hire a promotion team, or anything else.

So, despite all the work that has gone into this novel, I am afraid that the launch today, may fall flat.  One big fear comes from the silence of those who agreed to read the advance copies…my suspicion is that life is busy and it’s easiest to put off doing something for me because I’m hidden away in Morocco and relegated to online contact – at least that’s what I hope.

I worked with a video editor to create an online trailer for the book

I feel like that came out pretty good, as did the cover. I worked with a designer in Belgium to make the cover and I think she did a great job capturing the essence.

In terms of promotion, my major strategy is to utilize my travel website and write about the Sultanate of Baboob as if it is a real country. So far, despite about 1000 visits to the first post I wrote about Baboob and quite a bit of social sharing,  no one has said anything – which means that people are either completely convinced it is real, or they just don’t care that it’s not.  Either way, the results so far miss the mark of what I was shooting for. Time will tell though.

To promote the book (hopefully) I’m also giving away copies of all my other books on Amazon Kindle. Giveaways tend to be a pretty good promotion, and with any luck, it will hit.

I suppose my pie in the sky dream is that some hotshot agent, a publishing house, or a producer/director type will see my little tale of a less than remarkable guy who get herpes and stumbles onto a blood debt which leads him across continents in search of the woman of his dreams (who, like all the women of Baboob, dresses like a sexy nun).

I worked with another designer to create this ad, but we both agreed that the work was crap and so parted ways (okay, I said the work was crap and then we parted ways)

Sultanate of Baboob

Time will tell. If no one notices it while I’m alive, maybe someone will read it after I’m dead and actually get what I was trying to say – but I’d prefer it to be while I’m still living.