Rain Gods - James Lee Burke

How interesting to have my favorite 'crime' writer, James Lee Burke, pen a novel that eerily parallels a similar novel by my favorite 'serious' writer, Cormac McCarthy. The similarities between 'No Country for Old Men' and 'Rain Gods' are amazing - both are set in soutwest Texas; both have an especially spooky bad guy; both have a young couple (He of ex-military service) on the run; both have an aging sheriff exuding honor and experience; and both have an array of lowlifes that keep everything moving along.

I found myself imagining Mr. Burke announcing that if 'Mr. McCarthy is going to intrude on my field, I'll would show him how it's done'. Does he succeed? Yes and no.

Anyone who thinks they can imitate McCarthy is set to fail. No one can polish a sentence, create a mood, or spur the imagination like he can. He is, quite simply, the best writer in America. So, where does this leave James Lee Burke after he has written a 400-page novel that quite markedly echoes the earlier work by the master?

Well, not badly off, in my mind. Burke is a consummate story-teller with a love for flawed characters and the physical America. 'The Rain Gods' is an excellent read. I thought perhaps there were a few too many characters but this never impeded the flow of the story. His 'bad guy' is no Ghigurh, easily the most fearsome villain this reader has ever encountered, but the 'Preacher' is no slouch at spreading fear and loathing. Both writers understand man's depravity but Burke allows for a little more light at the end of the tunnel, fatal comeuppance the lot of those who would transgress against law-abiding citizens. Both can draw exquisite portraits of the country, small towns, seedy lives, and honorable people.

All in all, having a chance to read 'The Rain Gods' and 'No Country for Old Men' has to be a treat for any reader.

I will go further and suggest that it is time James Lee Burke is no longer referred to as a 'crime' writer but as one of America's great writers.

Bush Library

So George Bush has raised 100 million dollars for his presidential library. This so underlines the insanity of the modern economy that I am tempted to a) rob a bank, b) use the money to buy George's donor list and c) ask these wretched dupes if they wouldn't mind funding my latest pet project - a perpetual motion machine (it involves infinite gear reductins, neutrinos, gravity, and four teams of oxen). 2 billion dollars ought to do it.

Or perhaps I might use this list to track these donors down where they live and simply follow them around for a day or two, confident that anyone that careless with their money will surely be leaving a trail of unneeded $100 bills. Such folly has not been witnessed in this world since, . . . . .well, I guess it hasn't been that long,. . . . hint, hint, Madoff investors.

A huge question arises. Assuming such a library is built, what would they fill it with?

We've been told that Dubya's reading habits are nothing if not desultory and we have no trouble believing that. Still, rumor has it he still possesses the first book he was given at the tender age of 17, 'Little Black Sambo'. Told later that it was a most politically incorrect tome, he is said to have replied, 'But it was a gift from my greaser nanny!'

Bush has announced some of the volumes he will be donating adding that each one is made of paper. The list includes:

1) Crawford phone directory - 1979 through 1985
2) Men to Admire Series, volume 22, Peewee Herman
3) Dick and Jane Look For The G-spot
4) Rand McNally 'Backroads of El Paso'.
5) White Trash Cookbook
6) Hilroy Exercise Book (Lined) - 1 entry, dated Sept. 2, 1965 'Holy Sh - -, I'm
tired already .. . '
7) Your New Amana Refrigerator User Guide
8) Hekyll and Jekyll Fly to Poughkeepsie
9) The Wit and Wisdom of Gilligan
10) Dick Cheney's "Better to Blow Out The Candle AND Curse The Darkness"

Questions have arisen about the library's pretensions to mainstream bibliography. Bush spokesmen are adamant it will be no different from, say, the Bonner's Ferry General Library. Said one: "Patrons can borrow a book for two weeks. Any longer and a 10-cent-a-day fine kicks in. Run up too high a fine and we confiscate your passport and introduce you to a bench and a pail of water."

The library will have special sections for Dubya's favorite subjects: The History and Value of Wiretapping, The Ignoring of Civil Rights, Fourth Grade Spelling, and How to Conduct a Press Conference While Waving and Walking.

Finally, the ex-President hoped that history would judge him kindly but that 'it didn't really matter because I don't plan to read any books or papers anyway. I plan to spend MY retirement standing around looking stupid. I'm good at it, you know.'

So say we all.

Canadian Politics

So what about Canada? All the buzz and excitment of Obama's inauguration has completely eclipsed the Canuck political scene. Grade 11 students at Sudbury's What-This-Country-Needs-Is-A-Good-Nickel-Cigar High School were asked recently to name the Canadian Prime Minister. 32% said Ron McLean, 24% said they didn't know, 10% asked to be excused to attend to their beaver pelts, and rest offered up a variety of incorrect answers, including Robert Mugabe, David Beckham, Alan Greenspan, Valerie Pringle, and Sir Edmund Hillary. A surprising number (4) thought it was Delbert Feeney, a scallop-monger from Antigonish, resulting in 3 Ph.D candidates filing requests for grants to ascertain why. These students were considered representative, not only of the youth of Canada, but of the Senate, the Conference Board of Canada, all Rotary Clubs, and the Al Qaeda chapter in Helsinki.

Obviously, this is not a healthy situation. Canada has pretensions to becoming a practicing democracy and to have this kind of desultory attention paid to what might someday be an important station in Canadian political life, is, in words of the noted political analyst and hockey colorman, Danny Kumquat, a 'load of real discouraging moose turds'. Kumquat, recently appointed as honorary chair of the political science department at Slippery Otter School for the Intellectually Challenged in Calgary, claims to be the only public figure of note in the entire country. 'You could make a case, maybe, for Rick Mercer,' mused Kumquat, 'But he never played for Eddie Shore, so he doesn't really count.'

'Why can't Canadian politics be more like my suits? Colorful and slightly outrageous.'

Given the revitalization and excitement now present in American politics, Kumquat's comments deserve attention. Canada can no longer wallow in numbing political boredom, beset on all sides by cutout public figures, small-minded backroom boys, and a voting public that would apparently prefer its politicians remain anonymous. Even those with limited hearing can surely hear the cry arise throughout the land - GIVE US MORE EXCITEMENT! MAKE US QUIT WISHING BARACK OBAMA WAS CANADIAN!

The cry was heard: a non-prophet think tank called HMMMM (How May Men Manage Misgovernment) centred in Summer Toad, Manitoba, convened hastily and drew up the following recommendations:

1) A new TV production - Canadian Political Idol - no party affiliation required. Aspiring political leaders audition before a panel of retired Senators (there must be some . . .) Singing talent is optional but acting talent is essential. Routines may include anything from Mel Brooks to Shakespeare and will be judged on their ability to flabbergast, revolt, and amuse. Winners will be treated to new wardrobes from Mark and Mary's Work Warehouse and Acme Masquerade and supplied with nomination papers for the riding of their choice.

2) Everyone in the next federal election will run as an independent. Those elected will be permitted to form ad-hoc parties in the House. Any criteria for finding common ground will be legitimate, including, but not limited to, astrological signs, 6 degrees of separation, shared childhood maladies, television viewing preferences, UFO experiences, and proficiency with cell phones. Rushing and Hazing will be encouraged. Cabinet ministers will be selected by improvised dress code.

3) Regardless - OK, irregardless - of party formations, voting on bills will be independent. To compensate, fist-fighting and unrestricted name calling will be allowed. Debate will be limited to 1 minute per speaker, maximum 4 speakers per motion. Attendance is mandatory. The Commons floor will be encase in a wire cage and misanthropic guards posted at all exits. Loudspeakers will exhort members to pummel and dis especially boring and/or stupid speakers.

4) Voting will be compulsory. Voting 'press gangs' will be formed and rewards given to the gangs that shanghai the most stay-at-home voters. Breaking and entering laws will be suspended while polling booths are open. Non-voters who evade the press gangs will be hunted down, sentenced to stuff themselves at a local all-you-can-eat buffet and then watch the latest Newfoundland seal hunt.

HMMMM is confident these measures will revive interest in Canada's moldering democracy. Current MP's are, of course, invited to participate.

RAD

COOPERATION

I know it sounds naive, but would it be too much to ask, in this year of huge uncertainty, that the word cooperation be revived?

We've gone through four decades of swirling economics, bitter domestic antagonisms, disintegrating social structures, and grand theft, institutionalized theft, on a scale unprecedented in history. All this ignorance (both wilful and unintended) has left us now facing obstacles to our collective well-being that loom frighteningly in every home, every business, every church, every school, and, we hope, every university and secondary school.

It's difficult for anyone - anyone - to fathom the extent of damage done to the social and economic fabric of the U.S. Our presumed leadership - at all levels and all capacities - has been brutally exposed as a cadre of self-satisfied dolts and felons for whom we can only wish at least one blinding moment of self-awareness. Almost in despair, we cling to Barack Obama as a savior of sorts and, if nothing else, this is unfair. Given the level of leadership competition (think Bill Clinton charging $2500 a head to lecture on leadership - is it any wonder we're in this pickle?), it's understandable that we should hold out such hope in one man but perhaps we need to invest in a few new rules of thought if we are to rebuild, re-energize, and re-focus this country. Barack is going to need your help.

We could do worse than emphasize a spirit of cooperation. By that I mean finding a way to work together - much the way neighbors do during a crisis - to seek solutions and implement whatever measures are deemed to be positive. Positive in what way, you say?

If it's possible to render a few goals clearly, goals that are so basic, yet crucial, that no thinking person could disagree, then we can keep things simple and minimize the inevitable bickering that comes from a society that has spent far too long seeing the individual (ME!) as the only important consideration in life.

1. Everyone wants and needs a job that pays a decent (liveable) wage.

2. It's time we thought in terms of working with people, not for them.

3. Taxes can be fair and everyone must pay. It's the price of living without a chain around your leg.

4. Change is inevitable and not a bad thing. We ARE incredibly adaptable and actually take pleasure in achieving things we had not thought either possible or part of our lives.

5. The losers and abusers are in the minority. Let's stop worrying about their beyond-the-pale behavior and concentrate on recognizing the honest effort of most of people.

6. If something isn't working, scrap it and find something new.

7. Comprehensive health must be made available to everyone. And it must be affordable.

8. Government IS you. Don't let anyone tell you different.

I guess it all boils down to attitude and, without sounding pollyannish, we can, without destroying individual initiative, work together to rebuild our shattered nation. The time to jettison the nasty partisanship and smug selfishness is long overdue. One can still be a success without acting like Sammy Glick. We need to work with our governments at every level to scratch and fight our way back to hope and prosperity. It's a trite but true idea that Americans are both resilient and creative. Let's get working.

And, if some of what I've said smacks of socialism, then so be it. Socialism for the rich has been the hallmark of the past forty years. If you don't already know this, the big boys rarely, if ever, lift a finger to act unless there is a government incentive, grant, tax break, depletion allopwance, or backstop propping up their capitalist charade. It's time we spread our wealth around.

RAD

DAYS OF THE NEOCON

Where to now, neocons? Neocons (RNC) are being assailed even by their own!- aka Newt Gingrich and John McCain (okay, so maybe John’s not a card-carrying member, but neither did he tell the RNC strategists to shut up when he should have). Both Newt and John had an epiphany of rational thought or, more likely, held up fingers to see which way the wind was blowing. Whatever, it’s too early for the Neocons to panic: No need just yet to throw Karl Rove into a Baghdad slum (Hold the thought, though).

Neocons need to remember their code of non-ethics and hope that the wretched education system keeps feeding them a steady supply to illiterate idiots. That’s not a very nice thing to say, I realize. Especially when I acknowledge that my biggest complaint against Neocons is that they never argue ideas – they simply disparage their opponents – and here I am doing the very same thing. I admit to lowering my standards – but it’s so much FUN and feels so GOOD! So sue me. Wait, I was only kidding.

Anyway, this is basically a positive article. I’m urging the Neocon movement to be true to its roots, even if these roots are tangled up in septic tanks and polluted aquifers. Remember the code!

THE NEO-CON CODE OF NON-ETHICS

1) You don’t have to be a genius to become a neo-con. (Matter of fact . . . .)

2) There is no ‘right’ or ‘wrong’, only ‘winners’ and ‘losers’.

3) Greed is NOT a four-letter word. Even a dog will overeat if given a chance. We want that chance.

4) If you really must go to college, major in business (maybe theology)

5) We believe in free markets. We believe in small government, especially for the small guy. We believe it for the big guy, too, of course, but sometimes the big guys (oil, mining, chemicals, manufacturing, finance, banking, and corporate farms) need a friendly boost, sometimes a friendly generous boost, especially when they fuck up.

6) We believe in the invisible hand of God in the marketplace, even if we can see He must have a really warped sense of humour. Still, it’s important to keep the fundamentalists in the fold (or ‘pack’, if you will).

7) If someone says something you disagree with, call him/her a ‘dirty commie traitor’, or ‘an un-American socialist’ and hint that you know someone in the FBI or RCMP.

8) The words, ‘commie’ and ‘socialist’, can be used indiscriminately but stay away from its close cousin ‘fascism’. This can be a sensitive area. It’s not important to know what any of those terms mean. They’re just labels, powerful labels, to be sure, and meant only to dismiss as un-American anything your opponent might have to say.

9) Be suspicious of science. What you don’t know CAN hurt you – maybe.

10) I Qf a God-fearing businessman or rancher insists that his/her welfare depends upon killing wildlife, uprooting forests, or polluting lakes and streams, back them up. Quite often, they know best, and arguing with them might well entail recruiting a scientist or two and that would never do.

11) Capital punishment isn’t perfect and accidents happen when everyone on the block owns an AK-47. But there’s much to be said about mistakes that can’t be corrected.

12) Above all, when a ‘little guy’ says ‘why can’t the government protect me and mine when we don’t have much money?’, take a moment, place a hand on each of his shoulders, look him square in the eye and, without laughing, say ‘The government is NOT your friend. Stick with us and WE’LL make you a ‘big guy’!’ As long as the education system stays as bad as it is, millions of ‘little guys’ will believe you. Trust in this.

11) Finally, it’s no sin not to listen. Except maybe to radio talk shows.

Soldier on, boys. Remember our motto: ‘When in doubt, shout!’

THE NATIVITY REVISITED

The nativity story is so familiar that most people could recite it by heart - or come up with a Sarah Palin-like facsimile in which you know what they're trying to say only it's coming out as gibberish. The basics - the inn, the stable, the shepherds - will be there even if the thread is hard to follow.

But one part of this story we've not heard. What about the people staying at the inn? Who took up all those rooms? And what did they do when all the excitement was going on?

Let's imagine the scene. The Bethlehem Inn, 4-star, 258 rooms, part of the posh Levant chain. The Inn is bursting at the seams with seasoned travellers, vacation-wise tourists who knew - as apparently Joseph did not - that planning ahead was probably a wise thing. I'd like to think the guests were much like hotel guests today - irritable, petulant, and demanding.

T: Hello, front desk? This is Teddy Needles in room 306. I want to know what's going on behind your inn.

FD: What do you mean, sir?

T: I mean, what the hell is that bright light? I turn off the lights in my room and it still looks like the top of Mount Sinai at noon at summer solstice.

FD: Sir, we are unaware of any bright light. Perhaps someone left their camel lights on. Or maybe it's the moon.

T: Bushwa. I'm on the 3rd floor so it'd have to be one humungous camel and unless the moon moved fifty leagues closer, I'm not buying that argument. This is one bright light. It makes Moses' burning bush look like an Nero's nose.

FD: So, you're sure. Not the moon.

T: Are you questioning my eyesight? Why don't you get off your keester and go have a look?

FD: We're very busy, sir. As you know, there's a census going on and people are counting on us - uh, or is it the other way round? Little front desk humor there, sir.

T: You're a riot, Alice. Look, I made this reservation many moons ago. Three moons, to be exact and -

FD: Don't you wish we had a better way of marking time? Kinda makes you wish someone would come along who's so important
that we'd tell time in relation to his life.

T: Huh?

FD: You know what I mean. We could call the time before him - or
or her - say, Before Sid. You could pick any year and call
it, maybe, 45 B.S., Before Sid. And the time after as After
Sid. 45 A.S. It would make things easier. All this moon
stuff is confusing.

T: If B.S. is Before Sid and A.S. is After Sid, whatya call the
time when Sid is alive?

FD: (pausing) Where'd you say that light was?

T: Back by the stable. Go take a look and call me back. (hangs
up)


**********************



(The phone rings. Teddy picks it up.)


FD: Hello, Mr. Needles? This is the front desk. We checked out
that bright light and -

T: Yeah, and what?

FD: Well, it's rather hard to explain, sir, but it looks like a big
star, a really big star in the eastern sky. And it seems to be
shining right down on the stable. Go figure.

T: So what are you going to do about it?

FD: Well, I don't think there's a lot we CAN do about it. I mean,
it's a STAR, way up in the sky and all and -

T: Please don't tell me just to close my blinds and crawl under
the bed. It's just one bloody inconvenience after another
with you people. I swear this is -

FD: We could perhaps talk to the people in the stable. We've got
a young couple bunking in with the sheep and the cows and -

T: I don't believe this. You rented out your barn?

FD: (coolly) Not exactly, sir. The couple insisted. We gave them the room, uh, the stall, uh, actually, it's a manger. The lady
is very much in a family way and they really needed a place to
crash. We're totally booked, as you may know. So they took
the stable.

T: Great Swarming Sandflies? You stuck a pregnant woman in your
stable? A barn? I'm nominating you for hospitality executive of the year.

FD: (Indignantly) EXCUSE ME, sir. The couple is poor and
desperately needed a place to stay. It was the BEST we could
do. It's not like I could take them home and put them up in
the majlis now, is it?

T: Well, I guess you'll have to answer that one, won't you, Mr.
Charity?

FD: No need for sarcasm, sir.

T: Hey, hold on a minute. There's a commotion out there by the
stable. Let me take a look.

T: (returning to the phone) You didn't tell me your young couple
were throwing a party back there.

FD: Whatever do you mean?

T: I mean, there's three grubby guys carrying long sticks poking
their noses into the stable. They look like bloomin' shepherds.

FD: Shepherds? Shepherds don't stay at the Bethlehem Inn. They
couldn't afford it, for one thing.

T: Well, maybe they made a killing on mutton futures. Sure you
don't want to rent them another stall in your barn?

FD: (angrily) I don't have time for this banter, sir. If there's
anything else we CAN do for you, let us know. (hangs up)

T. (yelling into the dead line) Yeah, sure. That's just dandy.
Leave me with the giant star, a mother-to-be and three shepherds. Should be a smashing night's sleep.


*******************


T: Hey, front desk. It's me again.

FD: Mr. Needles. (dryly) How nice to hear your voice. It must
have been all of an hour since we talked last. What can we do
for you?

T: Cut the crap. Wanna know what's going on now?

FD: I have the feeling you're going to tell me.

T: THERE'S SINGING! SINGING! A whole passel of people are out
there singing. A garish light, three lurking shepherds, and
now, singing. How am I supposed to get any sleep? Here,
listen. (He holds up the phone and a chorus is singing
'Hallelujah')

FD: Yes, I can hear it. Is it those shepherds? Because IF it is -

T: It's not the shepherds. It sounds like the entire Roman
Tabernacle Choir - and they're levitating, for Jupiter's sake.

FD: What does levitating mean? Are you SURE it isn't those
shepherds?

T: Hades no. As near as I can tell, the shepherds are on their
knees, like someone was about to lop their heads off. Does
the Praetorian Guard sing?

FD: What are they singing?

T: I can't tell. Sounds like Hall of Lulu or something like that.
Is there a bar nearby called Lulu's? Is it some kind of
promotion? For sure, there's a bunch of 'em singing. They
aren't bad, either - just loud.

FD: Have you by any chance been into the mead, Mr. Needles?

T: Go to hell.

FD: Go to hell? What is that exactly?

T: Actually, I'm not sure. All I know is it isn't good for you.
I was down to the river the other day and there was this wild
lookin' guy - I think his name was John - and he was soaking
people's heads in the river. All the while, he's muttering
something about 'if you don't do this, you're gonna go to hell.
I figure if hell is a place worse than getting your head dunked
in the mucky Jordan then it's gotta be bad. That river is just
one long camel outhouse, if you ask me.

FD: Excuse me, Mr. Needles. I have a call on the other line. Can
I call you back?

T: Sure, and get someone to stifle that choir while you're at it.
(hangs up)


******************

(FD phones back)

FD: Everything okay there, Mr. Needles? That mead'll do strange
stuff sometimes, I know.

T: I haven't been drinking, you dolt! You should see it out there
now. Those shepherds are talking to three weird-lookin' dudes
riding camels. Rich dudes, by the looks of 'em. And not from
hereabouts, neither. Hang on, the shepherds are telling them
something (pauses).

T: Hey, the lady had her baby! The shepherds are telling the
three swells that the baby's dressed in swaddling clothes.
Swaddling clothes? What's swaddling clothes?

FD: How would I know? Maybe the kid is fat and they meant waddling
clothes.

T: Now the three swells are each holding out something - looks
like gifts. Jumpin' Sand Lizards! That one gift looks like
a huge chunk of gold! Merciful Minerva! I never saw anything
that big!

FD: Gold, huh? Maybe I should free up our penthouse suite . . .
make up for sticking them in the barn.

T: You're hopeless. There's something really strange goin' on
down there. Some of those singers are wearing wings. What
the hades is all that about?

FD: You swore you hadn't been drinking, Mr. Needles . . .

T: This is all getting too bizarre. Everyone down there is
singing and smiling. A night in a barn and having a baby -
not my idea of a singing-smiling situation. I wish I knew
what Hall of Lulu meant.

FD: Mr. Needles? Sir? I really need to get back to work. You
don't seem as upset now and . . .

T: Okay, front desk. I think I might just slip down there and
join the fun. So much for a silent night.

DRIVELERATA

• I complained when I had no shoes. Then I met a man who had no cell phone.

• The more you know a person the less likely you are to look unkindly on their choice of toques.

• You are what you eat. Unless, of course, what you eat contains MSG. Then you are slowly becoming someone else. Who, is anyone's guess, but hope it isn't Sarah Palin.

• Wisdom is much like eating salted peanuts. The more you have the more you have the urge to drink liquids that aren't good for you.

• You can lead a horse to water but you can't put a fish in a barn.

• The meek shall inherit the earth. My guess is they'll stop being meek then. So you have to wonder . . . . are they just being meek while waiting for the big payoff?

• Time and fortune wait for no man. Or is it 'Newman'? If it is, you might want to change your name.

• Avoid vexatious people. Who's kidding whom? They're everywhere, especially you.

• If life serves you lemons, make lemonade. If life serves you a summons, make yourself scarce.

• If your best friend runs off with your wife, congratulate him for taking up jogging.

• The most important thing in life is balance. The second most important thing is overdraft protection.

• If you can't count on your friends, count on your fingers.

• With age comes wisdom. That doesn't mean ALL children are stupid. Just many of them. Maybe everybody's but yours.

• I've seen clouds from both sides now. It's a LOT cheaper from the ground.

• From adversity we gain strength. From advertising we gain useless objects.

• I dreamed they held a war and nobody came. Fox news said they could fix that.

• One is the loneliest number. Two is company. Three is a crowd. Four is something we don't talk about in polite society. Five means there's probably a cameraman.

• Better to light a candle than to curse the darkness. It's okay to curse dripping wax any time.

• I don't believe educated fleas can fall in love. They'll jump at the chance to do most anything but not that. On the other hand, they WILL join service clubs.

• If life is a river, bullshit and bad luck are tributaries.

The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away; but mostly He just taketh away.