Debbienho !

When you start taking yourself seriously enough to consider honing the drivel your hands occasionally produce into something worthy of going through some publishing mill or other, you start reading writers. No longer do you think of a book in terms of The Other Side of Midnight, or Only Time Will Tell . You simply call them a Sidney Sheldon, or a Jeffrey Archer, pairing author with style, one fast-paced, sharp, with humour so cruel it’s bordering on crude, possibly agnostic, strongly feminist; the other sentimental, deliberate, wordy,  evil because of his sadistic cliff hangers. All I am saying, is I’ve been reading. and that's okay! In my four hundred odd years of existing (I’m not sure I can call it living, since I haven’t bungee jumped yet, and that’s the FIRST thing on my bucket list, which, I am reminded, I should write soon), I’ve been privileged to suddenly discover a gem of a book where I thought there was only rubble. And what great pieces they’ve been...

Raise your hand if 2016 has been the worst year of your life. Someone on Twitter captured it perfectly in a tweet: ‘2016 has been some like joke like play year oh.’ Perfectly . This year has been one of the most shocking, in all my life, to be mild. Swinging into 2016 I had a sort of vision, of how the year was going to go. No, I wasn’t praying that there’d be showers of gold, and unicorns, and rainbows. In 2015 some…foundations had been laid, and I figured that this year they sort of would be built upon. Things would follow a logical progression. In my subconscious I had a somewhat defined picture of how the year was going to go. But, it was like when this picture was forming, this was 2016.  Oh, you have no idea what’s coming to you! I didn’t. A lot happened this year that left me shaken, and broken, and utterly confused, and sometimes just downright mad. The jolly-yet-realistic expectations my mind had drawn up just took one look at me, gave me a ...

I just watched a weird advert. Two ads, actually. The first was an ad for ‘water’ that is supposed to solve all problems. No, not the regular water problem of thirst, but specific annoyances, of people owing you money and refusing to pay, and other possibilities within that region. It looks like what you do is write your problem on paper, dribble some of the water on the folded paper, give it a few days, and your problem will be solved. The person that owes you will pay. That person telling lies against you will stop. This magic water comes in a box with a picture of a cross on one side and another of a ‘man of God,’ and ‘Jesus’ was mentioned a number of times, so I figure it’s supposed to be Christian. Another had to follow it. It was another ‘man of God,’ this time advertising his church, his powers. In essence, he was a bundle of miracles. He could solve every known problem on earth. Want a promotion? He’s your guy. And, he cures AIDS which has been given you by the enemy. ...

So, I recently saw a local music video that completely burned the line between daring and porno. It was, to put things mildly, rather raunchy, with women’s gyrating rear ends, sexual gestures, partial nudity. Of course, on instinct, I wondered out loud why the media was keeping itself busy portraying women as sex objects, and why women would allow it. Thankfully, before I could launch into a full rant a number of possible answers showed themselves. Uno. Perhaps the women did not do this on purpose. Perhaps they were drugged. They must not have been lucid. All those wildly vibrating, barely clothed bodies and glazed eyes could be blamed on some ecstasy someone put in their drinks when they weren’t looking, a joint they didn’t know they were smoking. Dos. Could be it was absolutely necessary. It’s typical, happens every day in movies. Girl needs money for sick mom and or exam registration. Struggling musician offers her a deal that may disrespect her dignity, but is sure to ...

Dear Television Networks, But, why? I’m not an avid television watcher, not since telenovelas claimed the airwaves such that we the disinterested few are left with close to nothing to watch. But there are times I can’t evade watching TV, like when I’m forced to be a part of the family tradition of sitting in the living room and commenting on the politicians’ antics you tell us on the news. To be fair, you give me something new to be sad about, if only for a few minutes. So is it wrong that I’d think you’d return the favour by at least making sure your news comes out flawless? Instead, what do I get for my troubles? Huge language errors. I understand it may not be a big at all deal to some of you—‘ooh, the people will overlook that, no one notices these things!’—, but personally, seeing spelling and grammar errors in a news package—or any package, in fact—is equivalent to being jabbed in the eye by a very small but very real jackknife. And even you’ll admit that that’s not...