I Love the Smell of Paint Fumes in the Morning

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by Susan McBride

I’ve been on a home improvement kick of late, fueled by the long To-Do list on the side of our refrigerator that’s ever-growing. With so much going on since Ed and I bought the house almost four years ago (deadlines, health crisis, getting hitched, et al), I’ve put off unfinished projects around the house and yard. So long as things seemed clean and neat, I ignored what could be ignored in support of my sanity. But with promo for The Cougar Club winding down and a little time on my hands before a new deadline dropped in my lap, I could finally tackle what I’d been putting off. Like the human tornado I am (or, at least, my husband thinks I am!), I jumped in with both feet.

I went for the easy stuff first, like sanding and touching up paint on door thresholds shredded by Max the Cat (who thinks the entire house is his scratching post). I put two coats of Haze–aka, light tan–on the bare white vanity in the upstairs guest bath to match the walls (hey, it breaks up the white between the tiles and the sink, and I’m a woman who likes color!). I’ve mentioned to Ed that it’d look really good to cut molding to frame the oversized guest bath wall mirror (something I’ve seen them do on HGTV)–and would I kill to replace that old “Hollywood” style lighting fixture, too!–but since hubby’s the one who wields the table saw, the mirror-framing will have to wait.

My mother dropped by last weekend to help paint the guest room, another thing I’d been meaning to do and hadn’t. The rest of the house had a color makeover long ago (well, all except Ed’s “man cave” in the basement which was “Bisque” and still is). The third bedroom was always a vivid mint green, kind of like toothpaste, which matched my old comforter set well enough so we left it alone. Ed got a little sad when I said, “Time for the minty freshness to go!” He remarked that glancing in the room always reminded him to brush his teeth. Ha ha. I found a more neutral shade of green with a hint of gray in it, and it looks gorgeous. The old comforter set got laundered and taken to Goodwill. Rather than buy something new, I dug into the linen closet for a quilt my grandmother made me long ago, with scalloped edges trimmed in olive green and a circle of pink flowers and green leaves at its center. It looks perfect on the guest bed and the cats have already taken to burrowing beneath it (something I’m sure my cat-loving grandma would appreciate!).

Continuing on my “Design on a Dime” theme, I had Ed cut the old wooden curtain rod from our master bedroom (left behind by the former owner) so it would fit the guest room window. I spray-painted the rod and finials white (accidently using appliance paint which smells awful but covers beautifully!). Ed hung it up last night, and now I’m dying to go buy curtain panels, which I want to coordinate with new fabric to recover the old Victorian armchair and ottoman (er, I kind of got white paint on the green ottoman seat when I was spray-painting the feet!) Okay, so one project seems to lead to another, but it’s all going to be gorgeous when I’m finished!

My home improvement crusade wasn’t limited to the inside. Nope. I tackled a few outdoor projects as well, starting with clearing out leaves from flower beds and the basement window well off the patio where I encountered a garter snake that had the nerve to hiss at me! Geez, his head was as big as my pinky so I was less afraid than I would have been if I’d run across a giant spider. Animal lover that I am, I used a dustpan to scoop him up and toss him into a patch of ivy. Ed and I saw him again on Easter before heading over to my folks’ house! He slithered across the driveway and let Ed take his picture before he disappeared through the grass. I’m sure it was his way of saying, “thanks.”

But I digress. My yard work continued with some trimming and weeding, and I dug up a dead bamboo bush growing near the back fence, replacing it with a trellis and jasmine plant. I can’t wait for the jasmine to cover that sucker and create a wall of yellow flowers and vine! FYI, the “bamboo” bush wasn’t really bamboo at all. It was some kind of distant relative to a houseplant and didn’t ever live up to the promise of growing to 6′ x 6′ within three years. In fact, it didn’t grow but a few leaves beyond its original 1′ x 1′ self. A rotted trellis in another garden bed was replaced by a metal trellis, and now the clematis is growing thickly on it. I planted viney flowers that are supposed to naturalize in an empty area of that same bed, and I trimmed out dead branches on a pear tree and a maple (well, the ones I could reach that smack Ed in the head when he mows).

Getting out of my desk chair and moving like that has tugged on muscles I forgot existed. I’ve enjoyed transforming pieces of my world inside and out (although the tree pollen’s about to kill me! Benadryl, how do I love thee? Let me count the ways…although you seriously make me crave a nap). Ed’s afraid that if I don’t chain myself to my keyboard again soon, I’m going to build a room addition to the house. Hmm, not a bad idea. Maybe that screened porch I’ve been daydreaming about, one with a comfy chaise so I can lounge and read while the cats watch the birds at the feeder….

Er, does anyone have Mike Holmes’ phone number handy just in case I need some help?

Guest Blogger: E.J. Copperman

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E.J. Copperman is a New Jersey native and the author of NIGHT OF THE LIVING DEED, which begins the Haunted Guesthouse Mystery series from Berkley Prime Crime June 1. This is E.J.’s first novel, but not the last–two more Haunted Guesthouse Mysteries (at least) are on their way!

The first thing people ask you when they find out you write a mystery series about a haunted guesthouse is an obvious question: “Do you believe in ghosts?”

It’s a tricky thing. If, as the author of a book called NIGHT OF THE LIVING DEED, in which a woman finds two ghosts hanging around her newly-purchased Victorian, which she plans on converting into a guesthouse, you say that you believe in ghosts, the next logical question will be, “Why?” The reader, or interviewer, or transient who happened by, will want some evidence–some personal experience you’ve had–that made you so certain of your position.

But if you tell them you DON’T believe in afterliving visitors, you’re liable to disappoint, or worse, to completely shatter the questioner’s belief system.

It’s a lose-lose situation. So I’m going to definitively state my core belief here, and let it stand for the record.

I don’t know.

No, that’s not a dodge. I’ve never had a life experience that made me certain someone from beyond the grave was trying to communicate. Unlike Haley Joel Osment, I DON’T see dead people. None of my departed relatives or friends has left a message on the spectral answering machine. No mysterious chills up my spine at appropriate moments. No “sensing a presence” in the room. It just hasn’t happened to me.

On the other hand, I have no evidence that such things don’t happen. I have friends whose intelligence and sanity I can personally vouch for who tell me they have experienced just such phenomena. And just because it hasn’t happened to me doesn’t me it doesn’t happen.

In NIGHT OF THE LIVING DEED, Alison Kerby (extra points if you get the reference) discovers a talent she didn’t know she had–she can see two spirits inhabiting her house. It’s not an ability she’s been wishing for, and in fact, Alison finds it a major inconvenience. See, the two ghosts in her Jersey Shore guesthouse want her to do them a little favor: They want Alison to find out who murdered them.

Alison doesn’t believe in ghosts until she starts seeing Paul and Maxie. And she would prefer not to see them now, truth be known. But once she realizes that this isn’t the result of head trauma or insanity, Alison does her best to avoid doing any investigating. But circumstances–let’s leave it at that–make that impossible.

So off she goes, and there will be a good number of surprises for her (and hopefully for you) along the way, including the fact that Alison is not the only person around who can see her two spectral guests. And that the person (or persons) who murdered Paul and Maxie might be getting wind of Alison’s investigation–and targeting her to be the next ghost haunting the house.

Alison, if nothing else, becomes a true believer in ghosts during NIGHT OF THE LIVING DEED. It’s hard for her to deny the existence of two people who are making her life miserable–and exciting.

For me, the jury’s still out on ghosts. But I’m wondering, from a reader’s point of view: Does an author have to be a true believer to make the story work? I’d appreciate your opinion.

Parenting: Working without the Manual

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If you are a parent, or even if you’ve been subjected to the ranting or misbehaving of a child in close proximity to you, I suspect that you’ve had the urge to spank. I know I have. Fortunately, because I never felt that physical punishment was a solution to misbehaving, I never gave into the urge to give my kids a swift whack to the bottom. Lord knows, sometimes it was hard. But now there is evidence to support the feeling held by many parents that spanking is not the solution.

Researchers at Tulane University have studied 2,500 children and the effect of spanking on their behavior. Their findings? Children who were spanked frequently at age 3 became more aggressive by age 5. This, as well as other findings of the study, support a recent Duke University study that said that infants that were spanked at twelve months—and let’s face it: twelve-month-olds are infants—scored lower on cognitive tests than those children who hadn’t been spanked. In addition, the children in the Tulane study were more likely to be defiant, demand immediate satisfaction, get easily frustrated, have temper tantrums, and exhibit aggressive behavior toward others.

For me, it was always a decision fueled by my rational, intellectual mind: hitting a child would get their attention, but ultimately, not their continued compliance. I always assumed that spanking the offending child might make me feel better and get the child’s attention, but would eventually end up with both of us crying—me for losing control and them for being physically and emotionally hurt. I instead favored the “time-out,” which has come under some criticism for not being a strict enough punishment. Personally, I like the time out very much, so much so, that I sometimes put myself in time out, if only to get a hold of my emotions or think something through. Research has found that the time out has the same effect for a child, but only if you stick to your guns, something that is very difficult to do with a wailing child sitting in the “naughty chair” or whatever location you choose.

My pediatrician told me when my daughter was an infant that the best piece of advice he had received as a new parent was “once you say no, the answer is no even if you’ve made a mistake and the answer could be yes.” Because, like animals, kids can smell fear. They can also smell dithering. Once you have said no and then change the answer to yes after repeated queries, the child knows that they can have their way with you. And then it’s all downhill from there. You’ll never have the upper hand again because you’ve been outed as a “mind changer.”

My friends and I often lament that parenting is hard and the manual for what do in most situations is nonexistent. We have only each other to rely on to get a sense of whether what we’re doing is correct, sane, and will guarantee that our children will reach adulthood. We spend an inordinate amount of time as parents making sure our children are safe, and any remaining time that they are good citizens capable of making good decisions. You have to parent when you are sick, tired, stressed, and at your wit’s end and you have to do all of it while making snap decisions on the fly. When you think about it, it’s amazing that anyone does it well. Or at all.

I am not trying to paint a picture of myself as the sanest, most patient mother in the world. Au contraire. For instance, I am thisclose to giving a stern talking to the little girl who sits in front of us at church (and who I don’t know) who scratches her bare hiney during the priest’s sermon when she’s not beating her brother over the head while her mother blissfully ignores her. And the little boy who threw a fork at me during dinner at a local restaurant? Well, I’d put him in time-out before the fork had even left his hand; I can sense bad stuff before it happens, especially if my kids are thinking about it. I’m gifted that way. For that kid, time-out would take on a whole new meaning. When my kids were smaller and would beat the stuffing out each other night after night, I would calmly pick both of them up and place them in their beds for the night, despite the fact that the sun hadn’t set. Fearful of another sixteen hours in their beds, the nightly fisticuffs soon stopped. If nothing else, my kids are pretty astute, getting the whole “if-then” relationship.

Basically, my parenting style reflects the credo of the Mafia: find out what they love—from free time to television to their handheld electronics—and make it go away. Works like a charm. Who needs spanking?

One Thing After Another

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When you have a family as big as mine, there’s always something happening.

We’ve had our share of divorces–and I’ve seen what happens to the poor kids when mom and dad finally split. Fortunately, I’ve also seen how the kids have managed to become decent adults after a few mishaps along the way.

Recently touched base with a grandniece (yes, I have a bunch of those too) whose parents divorced when she was a kid, and she’s had four kids who are now 10 and under. She’s working on her GED because she wants to go to the police academy. Her goal is to have a decent job so her kids can go to college and she can retire sometime and not be like her parents. Her father is remarried and raising a new six year old of his and his new wife’s as well as her two teenage daughters. He has his own business, but has to work really hard to make ends meet. Retirement isn’t in his near future. The ex-wife still works as a bartender.

Seems like things go along fine for awhile, then we hear some scary news about someone–an accident or a bad diagnosis, or someone has decided to end a marriage, or one of the grandkids has gotten into trouble. Once in awhile, it’s a new baby on the way.

In some ways it’s almost like living in a soap opera except we’re related to everyone. Maybe that’s why hubby and I like to watch General Hospital, the soap opera, worse things happen to those folks than what happens in the extended Meredith family.

You might ask if I’ve ever used any of our family drama in any of my books–of course I have, not that anyone would recognize it. But how could I not use such a wealth of material when it’s unfolding right in front of my eyes. Usually I don’t use it while it’s fresh–but someday, sometime, one of those incidents will be the perfect element for a story I’m writing.

And of course, having relatives in law enforcement gave me the desire to write about police officers and their families.

Marilyn
http://fictionforyou.com

Oh for Goodness Sakes

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Fair warning: Another judgmental blog.

According to Whoopi Goldberg, Jesse James may have simply been searching for “something different” outside his marriage to Sandra Bullock. On her TV show, The View, she explained, “Hey, listen, I did it five or six times … Yes, I screwed around. Yes, while I was married. I made those mistakes too, yeah. It happens sometimes. It happens. Maybe he was trying to find something different too.”

Well, okay, then. As long as he found what he needed, then the detritus left in the wake of this marital betrayal, the humiliated wife and devastated children, are just unfortunate casualties.

We’ve all been subjected to way too much information about men in the public eye and their mistresses. I’m always left thinking that these guys have too much time on their hands and too much money to waste. I’m not naïve enough to think that men working two jobs and still barely making ends meet aren’t capable of cheating. But maybe if you didn’t have so much household help that frees you from the necessary, but not glamorous jobs required to keep the home fires burning, maybe you’d have less time to dream up loathsome costumes for you and your honey to wear. And please Mr. James, don’t tell me how your Jewish godfather gave you the Nazi hat, so that makes it okay. Rule number one: it’s never okay to wear Nazi uniforms or tattoo swastikas on your body. No exceptions.

When my kids were little, my husband and I spent our evenings doing homework with them (Oy, that second grade project of the planetary system hanging off a wire hangar mobile); or arguing with them over what constituted a sufficient number of green beans that needed to be consumed by children under ten at dinner; or making hundreds of rice krispie treats to be sold at bake sales that would finance something (a class trip, a charity, the school play). In other words, being covered in marshmallow goop was time-consuming, messy, and yes, sometimes fun, but in any case, always used up any spare time that might have been spent on outside nookie.

And not only have these men found the time to fool around, but heck they’re going for world records in having multiple mistresses simultaneously. And the subtle implication that Mr. James was lonely because his wife was in Alabama filming what would turn out to be the biggest role of her life – um, if you’re lonely, pick up a book and read it. Or better yet, pick up several and read them to your kids.

But in any case, I think I can safely speak for many of the Stiletto Faithful when I ask, nay demand, that all these folks should shut up. I don’t want to hear any more public apologies, nor do I want to hear any more demands for personal apologies from mistresses who feel betrayed by their lovers. None of this should be played out in the media – and nobody should be making a buck from this sordid mess (hear that Gloria Allred?).

Indignantly yours,

Marian (the Northern half of Evelyn David)

Good News & Bizarre News

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The good news is that the third book in my Dirty Business mystery series, Dead Head (Minotaur Books) will be released next week. The bizarre news is the story of a Virginia man who bought a guinea pig in a pet store and then went home and made a hat out of it – which he wore around town until someone called the cops and he was arrested for animal cruelty.

Most writers have an idea file. Mine is filled with newspaper clippings and the printed versions of online stories like the one about Guinea Pig Man – although he may be too strange to use. Who’d believe it? GPM sounds like a character from a Carl Hiaasen novel. If anyone else had written him, I’d have said the writer was trying too hard to be quirky.

Bizarre news story number two concerns two would-be bank robbers who called the bank they were planning to rob to explain just how they’d like the bills packaged. When they arrived, they were genuinely surprised to see the cops waiting for them. These braintrusts were from my home state of Connecticut. I’m not sure my editor would let me write characters that dumb. (Perhaps by book number nine in the series…)

Dead Head had its origins in a news story too. Not as bizarre as these, but one that was even more fascinating. About two years ago an upper middle class suburban woman was arrested when it was discovered that she was a fugitive from the law who’d been living a lie for decades. None of her neighbors or family members really knew who she was and might never have known if someone hadn’t informed. I was mesmerized by the notion of walking away from one life and starting another – and with over 100,000 missing persons in the US at any given time, it probably happens more than we think. And it had me asking myself – how well do we really know our neighbors?

Whatever the facts of that real case, I was off and running with my story which has amateur sleuth Paula Holliday hired by the woman’s family to find out who dropped the dime and why.

Who knows, maybe in two years I’ll be launching a book called Guinea Pig Man. What have you seen in the paper lately that’s made it into your idea file?

Rosemary Harris

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Rosemary Harris was born in Brooklyn New York and now she, her husband split their time between Manhattan’s East Side and Fairfield County, Connecticut. A small item in the New York Times about a mummified body led to her first book, the Agatha and Anthony-nominated, Pushing Up Daisies, followed by last year’s The Big Dirt Nap.

“I love my heroine, Paula Holliday. People always ask how much of me is in Paula – some, but of course she’s the younger, thinner, more adventurous version of me. And she’s funnier than I am.”

Rosemary is vice-president of MWA/NY and past president of Sisters in Crime, New England. She’s also a member of Garden Writers of America and CMGA Connecticut Master Gardeners Association.

Visit Rosemary at www.rosemaryharris.com

Mystery’s Strong Heroines

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Moriah Dru’s weekend off with her lover, Lieutenant Richard Lake, is interrupted when Atlanta juvenile court judge Portia Devon hires Dru to find two sisters who’ve gone missing after their foster parents’ house burns down.

The latest winner of the Malice Domestic Best First Traditional Mystery Novel Competition, The End Game features a strong new heroine in a vivid Southern setting. Gerrie Ferris Finger puts a new spin on the classic mystery novel.
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Since the Stiletto Gang are women writers on a mission to bring mystery, humor and high heels to the world, I’ll write about the evolution of heroines in mysteries.

I’ll compare my own Moriah Dru, heroine of The End Game to the women of mystery from the turn of the century to today. Dru wouldn’t wear stilettos, although she might wear a pair whether I want her to or not. At six feet tall, she’d feel at home in a room full of basket ball players. With her intelligent blue eyes, ironic sense of humor and athletic prowess, she’s be shooting hoops with the seven footers without turning a shapely ankle. She keeps her body strong because the world in which she exists is tough even for a man. Having left the Atlanta Police Department, she turned child finder. In The End Game she and her lover, Richard Lake of the APD, must find two young sisters before they are taken out of the country to be sex slaves.

Dru grew out of a succession of mystery heroines that began (in my opinion) with Mary Roberts Rinehart’s “fem jep” heroines. Rinehart’s female protagonists had to be rescued, or, in later days, had to rescue themselves. Her stories were of the “had I but known” school. Which inevitably leads to Agatha Christie and her Miss Marple, the eccentric, who believed all evil was reflected in someone she knew. She, like her male counterpart, Sherlock Holmes, solved crimes by cerebral analysis.

To me, Nancy Drew is the prototype for the modern strong woman in mystery. Created and written in the 1930s by a series of writers called Carolyn Keene, Nancy never met a dangerous situation she couldn’t handle. She may have gotten into the “too stupid to live” camp by her tenacity, but she changed the perception of the “hero” in heroine.

Moriah Dru and her contemporaries share a passion for truth and justice and they understand human motivation and the evil that comes from lust or greed or any of the negative aspect of the human soul. These protagonists connect with victims, seeing them as individuals with personalities rather than puzzle pieces to be moved on a board. In The End Game Dru doesn’t interact with the abducted children, she “sees” them through the neighbors and mentally connects to them by feeling the horror that awaits at the hands of people without conscience.

The modern heroine must experience change. In a stand-alone novel, the heroine has a arc – a slow realization or an epiphany that enables her to understand herself and her motivations. In a mystery series, the heroine has more time to grow and change. Miss Marple never changed; on the other hand, Christie, who had many personal tribulations herself, made Miss Maple so engaging that we understood her stock character and looked forward to the puzzle.

Today’s mystery heroine can be found in every genre and sub-genre. At one end of the spectrum is the cozy. Our intrepid sleuth must have a dauntless streak without being obnoxious or wooly. She will hold fast to things she believes in. She can be an amateur caught up in murder or a professional who investigates and competes with men. At the other end of the spectrum, the hard-boiled heroine can be like tiny Munch Mancini, created by the late Barbara Seranella. Munch is a former prostitute and junkie who’s trying to get her life on track by fixing cars. You feel her despair, but through her heroic acts and good heart, you root for her redemption. Now that’s a strong heroine.

Gerrie Finger
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Gerrie Ferris Finger is a winner of the Malice Domestic Best First Traditional Mystery Novel Competition. She lives on the coast of Georgia with her husband and standard poodle, Bogey.

My Annual Ode to Sunscreen

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Spring has sprung around these parts and with it comes the desire to be outside. And although most of you tuned in looking for my annual ode to Spanx, what you will get instead is my annual sunscreen screed to everyone who has spent all winter indoors and is now looking to get some “color.”

Let’s be clear: there is no such thing as a healthy suntan. Sure, you think you look better and if that’s the case, run—don’t walk—to your nearest health and beauty aids store (the place that used to be called the “drugstore”) and get yourself some spray tanner. I am not very adept at anything that requires you to get naked and spray on with a steady hand, so instead, I prefer the ghostly white look usually reserved for Mary, Queen of Scots and the like. From what I understand, spray tanner has come a long way and you can actually achieve the look of the sun-kissed with a little practice and all for under twenty bucks. What could be better?

While you’re at your local health and beauty aid store, pick up two additional items. One is Neutrogena’s Ultra Sheer dry-touch sunblock with helioplex and an SPF of 55. This stuff is the best around, and not just for us gals. Men can wear it, too. It goes on dry and protects your face and neck from the sun’s harmful rays fifty-fives times longer than if you weren’t wearing it. It feels like your favorite foundation and has the added benefit of protecting you from sun damage or worse.

The other item you should pick up is a good sunscreen. Around here, we like Ocean’s Potions (recommended by Dr. Anna, oncologist extraordinaire) or Bull Frog, both of which provide such good coverage that even I, seemingly a descendant of Mary, Queen of Scots, can sit out without risking a sunburn.

You know the rest: get a hat, limit your sun exposure, reapply sunscreen if outdoors for a long period of time or after exertion. Make an appointment now to see your dermatologist for a skin check Or, if you’re like me and never want to hear the word “biopsy” again unless it’s on an episode of “House,” invest in some UV-protectant clothing like my sexy swim tights or my mock-turtleneck swim shirt. Oh, you laugh. I can hear you. But I came back from tropical Bermuda last year with nary a red blotch on my fair skin and that’s saying something.

Over 60,000 new cases of melanoma will be diagnosed this year and that’s not counting just your garden variety skin cancers. You can’t change what you did to yourself in the past, but you can change how you behave going forward. The environment has made it so that we’re getting more of the sun’s rays than ever before, but we are lucky to enjoy the scientific breakthroughs that allow us to enjoy the outdoors without risking harm to ourselves.

Be sun safe, Stiletto faithful!

Maggie Barbieri

Friends

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I started to write about different kinds of friends, but then I realized I’d gotten too specific about a certain type of friend who is kind of a downer to be around and realized she just might read this blog post. I would never ever want to hurt her feelings, so I’m going to try again.

What kind of friends do you have?

Over the years I’ve had some interesting varieties. One of my very best friends turned out to be what they call a fair-weather friend. I stuck by her through all sorts of her family crisis and a few of her personal ones, but when something tragic happened in my family she disappeared from my life.

Since that time, I’ve never had another “best friend.” Instead, I’ve got many friends from all over. There are friends that I only see once a year when I got to a Mayhem in the Midlands–dear friends who are not writers but readers. I look forward to spending time with them and sharing at least one meal somewhere in Old Town. They are much younger than I am and I enjoy being with them.

I have dear friends who attend the same church with me, ones who I can count on to listen when I need a friendly ear and I’m there when they need the same.

And how about the friends we never see? Like the friends we’ve made on this blog. It’s been a joy to learn more about each and everyone, to find out how they feel about things with a perspective much different than my own.

When I was much younger, I had an older friend who mentored me with my writing. In fact, I learned more from her about writing than any class I ever took or book that I read. She’s moved too far for me to see her in person anymore, but she’s still going strong nearing 90. And yes, we do email one another.

Many years ago, I worked in the nursery at church with an 80 year old woman who I truly admired. We became great friends and giggled about some of the silliest things while caring for the little ones.

Now I’m at the other end of the scale–being one of the older women–and I have friends of many ages and love and enjoy every one.

I am still careful though, I limit the time I spend with the complainers and the whiners–life is too short for that. But when you spend time with someone who is fun, can laugh at themselves, is loving and enjoys life–you feel so much better yourself.

Not sure there’s a point to this, but it is what I felt like writing about today.

Anyone have any thoughts about their friends?

Marilyn

Abridging Freedom of Speech

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I would like to offer up an amendment to the constitution of the United States. It would tweak the 1st Amendment to abridge the freedom of speech in the following ways and circumstances:

1. No individual or group, especially those claiming to have God on their side, are allowed to protest, disrupt, or interfere with a funeral. Don’t believe it’s happening? Click here.

2. No senator or representative is allowed to heckle the President of the United States during a State of the Union address.

3. Politicians, entertainers, sports figures, religious leaders, and other public figures are barred from making any public reference to any type of “rehab.”

4. No mistress can insist on a public apology from her paramour because he lied to her. Lying is the very foundation of an affair. Corollary: No mistress can hire Gloria Allred to represent her interests in a public discussion of said affair.

5. The word “Maverick” and any form of that word is banned from any usage that doesn’t directly involve livestock or James Garner.

6. The phrase, “Yes, we can” should be immediately retired from political statements and speeches. Just because we “can” doesn’t mean we should or will.

7. [You fill in the blank. What words would you like to hear less of?]

Rhonda
aka The Southern Half of Evelyn David
http://www.evelyndavid.com