Our Annual Visit to Eeyore's House in Downer Woods

First off I'd like to say 'thank you' to Rose for featuring me as one of this weeks AOL Guest Editor's Picks. I'm flattered. :)

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This week, as has become a tradition in our house, we packed the kids off to the University of Wisconsin - Milwaukee for the summer College for Kids program. Unlike prior years LuLu was now old enough to go and attended with her sister.

The program was started 20 plus years ago as a way of providing fun and educational summer classes for kids in Milwaukee. I attended one of those early classes and loved it.

And despite the rather hefty cost ($~150-300 per child per class - scholarships and discounts available) I do think it helps a child transition to college down the road. Not by increasing test scores or anything like that, but just by making them more comfortable and at ease in the college enviornment. Between all the times my Dad took me to campus when he was a student and my own experience at College for Kids, I was right at home when I began school there in '92.

Heck, YaYa already knows the campus layout better than some of the incoming freshman, I kid you not.

Anywho, they're taking a cooking class, a reading class, and an acting workshop. Of the three I think the reading class was a mistake. We booked it long ago when we thought YaYa might need extra help with the subject, but as it turns out she needs about as much help with reading as I need lessons in how to eat cookies. Still, it's her favorite of the three and Lu is still learning, so all is well.

On Monday we continued another tradition. In Downer Woods, a nature preserve on the north end of campus, there exists a pile of branches and twigs that mimics to a 'T' the pictures of Eeyore's house from Winnie the Pooh.

Each year we hike into the woods and visit with Eeoyore.

So after we picked up the girls on that first day

we all headed over to that part of campus and make the trek.

It's always a pain to get a stroller through the back to back 90 degree turns of the entrance.

but it's worth it.

Unfortunately when we got to the 'house' it was in shambles, a victim of the fierce June storms we had. I cannot express how truly depressing the sight was - the 'slam da book' end of our novel tradition.

There were no crying jags or things of that sort, just a overall sense of sadness. Lu took it hardest as she genuinely believed it was his home, worriedlymentioning to me several times that he would need to rebuild it or find another place to sleep. Sometimes it hits you like that; they seem experienced and worldly and with one sentence you remember they're just your little one.

On the way out the kids started to collect bugs (moths mostly) and we convinced them otherwise by telling them to 'take only pictures, leave only footprints'.

I guess the kids were a little tired after the day's events

But we followed this up by stopping at my Mom's house to celebrate my nephew's birthday.

Stand by for more pictures of College for Kids next week as the girls have parts in the class play!

Definitely, Maybe

 

Definitely, Maybe is a standard issue but very enjoyable warm  romantic comedy set in (gasp! Could it be?) New York City.

Ryan Reynolds is a separated thirty-something dad whose daughter, played by Abagail Breslin, wants to hear the story of how her parents got together. Reynolds obliges her, but not before changing the names of the women involved and daring her to guess which one is her mother.

What follows is a charming and romantic story that involves you to the point that you'll start rooting for the woman of your choice.

Now there are two flaws in the logic of the film, one of them alarming, but to give credit where it is due they didn't occur to me until well after the film ended.

First, of the three women one is a professional writer, and one is a transplanted Wisconsinite. These and other details should be enough to identify her mother right off the bat, given that she seems quite close to both her parents. But, maybe the kid isn't half as nosy as my own and she never asked. Eh, could be.

Second and more importantly, depending on who the mother turns out to be the daughter now knows that her Mom was unfaithful, bi-sexual, promiscuous, a Democrat and/or all of the above. I realize what we see may not represent the (hopefully) edited version he tells his daughter, but yikes. For what seems like a good father in the midst of an amicable divorce, that's a heck of an impression to leave on a kid.

But again, during the movie itself  Suspension of Disbelief takes over and all is well.

So which one was the Mom? Watch and find out if it was your favorite. I think you'll be surprised.

3.25 out of 4, 80 out of 100

Tags: definitely, maybe

Smiley, Spaghetti, # 2 and the Lu (that's a pun - you'll see)

It happens to everyone, and I'm sure I'm treading no new ground by rehashing how I spent my day on Sunday. Still . .

Sometime near midnight I noticed the toilet was clogged. I had contributed to our city's grand fertilizer stock moments before but, judging soley by size and shape, didn't view it as a threat to our plumbing.

Plunging didn't solve the problem. Although the water went down it still flushed weakly and oh so slowly.

So I went online, read up on a few tricks, and tried 'em. Nuttin'. I finally gave up and went to bed, making sure to tell my wife that the commode was out of order. (we have an extra bathroom in the basement)

The next day, after work, my Dad came over with his toilet auger. It was an inopportune time as I was watching all four kids,YaYa had the neighbor's daughter over and I had just served them all spaghetti,  but what can you do?

We stick the auger in. We go through the motions. We hit paydirt. And we begin withdrawing said auger.

I saw air bubbles coming up and a brown cloud forming and thought 'oh God, this is going to be bad', but my Dad, being more in tune with man's natural processes, kept right on going until a fine mist of brown sludge burst from the bowl and the auger was out.

Attached to the end, pierced by the end actually, was an empty bottle of the kid's bubbles.

'Smiley!' I roared. He trotted in before backing up from the odor. "Did you do this?!"

He shook his head no but gave me a Danny look: a quick hunch of the shoulders, eyes a-shimmering, a sneaky grin and a quick but but silent 'hee-hee'.

[two years ago he flushed a triangle from his shape sorter at our rental, causing our landlord to have to replace the entire toilet. A week ago he flushed a toilet paper roll at my Mom's house backing up their bathroom. Maker of Trouble and Mayhem indeed.]

Now the problem was getting the bottle off, because as I said the auger had pierced the thing. I tried, oh how I tried to get it off daintily, with plastic bags between me and the thick brown sludge in and around the bottle, but it could not be done.

And so I grabbed it bare-handed and began to slowly unscrew it down the line.

Meanwhile I hear plates being overturned, slaps and crying from the living room, and cries of blame echoing from more than one child's mouth.

I couldn't get the bottle off that last bit of the auger.

"Cut it," my Dad said. "It's the only way."

And so I took a kitchen knife and in its last moments of its useful life began cutting the bottle off, choking down my dinner.

At this point LuLu comes into view, apparently oblivious to the wretched smell.. "Daddy, I want to go swimming with Stacey," she said.

"No," I said.

"Daddy, yes! I want to go swimming!"

"Damnit Lu, get out of here!"

"No!," she said, stomping her feet. "I want to go swimming now!"

"Lu," I said, still working on the bottle, sludge now all over my arms. "If you haven't noticed I'm elbow deep in poop right now - "

At which point I vomited spaghetti all over the floor. Lu didn't even pause.

"I don't care. I want to go swimming, and I'm going."

"Leave her be," my Dad said, looking at my vomit with scorn. "Give me the knife."

I handed it over and he did the deed. Once I cleaned it all up, dry heaved once or twice, and carried the garbage out,  it was done.

While I was occupied the kids had flat-out destroyed the house and waged war upon one another. All in full view of of YaYa's friend.

Did I mention the house smelled like a waste treatment plant?

&**$#$ Smiley.

A Fly Went By

                         

I thought it might be interesting to occasionally revisit some of the books I loved as a boy.

'A Fly Went By' is a great rhyming book by Mike McClintock, who's real claim to fame lies in introducing his friend Dr. Suess to the world while McClintock worked as an editor.

The book tells the story of a series of panicked animals that run by a boy, each afraid of the animal behind them and each in turn misinterpreting the fears of their 'pursuer' as a threat to themselves.

                       The fly ran away
In fear of the frog,
Who ran from the cat,
Who ran from the dog.
The dog ran away
In fear of the pig,
Who ran from the cow.
She was so big!
The cow ran away
From the fox, who ran
As fast as he could
In fear of the man.
That man heard a thump,
And away he ran!"

A good way to ruin any book is to jump on Amazon and read the amateur psychology offered in the customer reviews. The book, written decades ago, has reviews that actually 'warns' parents that the text includes the word 'kill' and that man in the poem is a hunter with a rifle. Oh, the scarring this will cause a child!

[Aside #1:nevermind that I have no memory of the gun in the text and have never, as I've mentioned before, fired one in my life.]

[Aside #2: I'm afraid America has become a nation of mollycoddlin' parents nowadays. Prosperity certainly has its downside. It's a damn wonder we haven't been conquered by some country that doesn't demand bike helmets, doesn't forbid swing sets as our school's insurance does, can handle a reference to killing in nature and doesn't object to kids being kids.]

[Aside #3: BTW - I saw two kids wearing bike helmets yesterday  . . . while they rode their big wheels. C'mon!]

I'm sorry. Back to the book.

I don't think it takes a degree to see that the Cold War era book tries to highlight the idea that miscommunication is at the center of most disagreements. Beneath that I think it also teaches a simpler ideal. Namely that anxiety and fear are often exaggerated in your own mind, and that most of the time Everything's Gonna Be All Right.  I like that bit.

A very fun and sweet book, and still in print. Pick it up for the kids in your life.

Vince Vaughn's Wild West Comedy Show

                    

Vince Vaughn's Wild West Comedy Show is a documentary of a '30 towns-in-30 nights' tour Vaughn organized around four relatively unknown young comedians. Vaughn says the purpose of the 2005 tour was to give people in the heartland and small town America a glimpse of a premier comedy show that they ordinarily wouldn't get a chance to see.

[I fail to see how X # of stops in California and Vegas achieve that goal, but allrighty.]

Notice that I said it's a documentary, not a concert film. This is more like the 'making of' portion of the tour, with snippets of monologues tossed in left and right but no complete set, nor even half of one.

Vince Vaughn comes off as surprisingly articulate and intelligent and I get the impression many of his 'characters' are no more than variants of the man himself. Vaughn is interesting when he's on the screen, and some of the comedy clips are great.

And for some . . well, maybe you had to be there.

At a few points the crew pushes the self-indulgent idea  that stand up comedy is an art form that expresses, analyzes, and aids the inner turmoil that is the 'artist' . Eh, it probably does, but even so it ain't Beethoven man. It's jokes about roller skating and BJ's. Keep it in perspective buddy.

However, I did think there was one big problem with the film.

Namely, the comics were not that funny.

Ahmed Ahmed was a bore. While I applaud him for turning the post-9/11 backlash against Muslims (including one apparently bogus arrest in an airport) into a career, I imagine it would kill me if, as an artist, I was confined to one narrow subject matter ad nauseam. How exhausting.

Bret Ernst was hit or miss but batted a thousand past the midpoint of the film. Sebastian Maniscalco was still employed as a waiter when picked for the tour, and I can see why he needed a day job.

However, John Caparulo rocked and was funny as hell. I was suitably impressed when he cleaned up his potty mouth act for the all ages show after Hurricane Katrina - a mark of a true professional.

Overall a topsy-turvy, uneven film that could've used a few minutes less runtime.

2.5 out of 4, 60 out of 100.

Tags: Vince Vaughn, John Caparulo, Wild West Comedy Show, slapinions

Happy Birthday Jonah!

Before the day ends let me send a Happy 14th Birthday to my nephew/Godson Jonah, featured here on his graduation earlier this summer.

Lump's 1st birthday is right around the corner, and so I am reminded that I am often embarrassed when I see video of Jonah's 1st. birthday party. I was quite enamored by the boy and addressed him in a constant, distrubingly high baby-voice, often referring to him by a series of goofy nicknames.

 In hindsight, given that (in theory) his great-grandchildren will see it someday, it's not the ideal way to be recorded for posterity.

But one good thing (among dozens) about having a baby around back then: it was good schoolin' for having one of my own. Oh, don't get me wrong. Being a Dad is much more hellish than being an Uncle ever was, even when I lived with the lad. But it was a nice appetizer to the meal, and a good way to practice.

And it did pay dividends. A couple of years later I headed up north with Lisa to visit some of her relatives prior to our wedding. I wound up holding a nine or ten month old boy, and to the amazement of the crowded room I easily navigated a coat on and off the kid. I mean that in the true, unadulterated sense of the word 'amazement'. You'd have thought I negotiated peace in Dafur or cleaned up Jesse Jackson's mouth.

Major props for me for with their family, so kudos to Jonah for that.

Anyhow, I'm rambling. Happy Birthday and many many more.

 

A warning, courtesy of Alphawoman

I read a post on Alphawoman's Blog this morning that got me worried. I'd noticed in recent days that the 'sitemeter' graphic was no longer displaying on my sidebar, but I wrote it off to a typical glitch. Not so.

According to her post AOL has removed this great site - provider of DEPENDABLE, free stat counters for journals - from its list of 'acceptable' sites.

You can check out her write-up here and she posted additional info in the comments on my last post.

The issue here is the ol' slippery slope. If Sitemeter is disallowed today, maybe Photobucket (and all the pictures I've posted here via the site) will be gone tomorrow.

Two other complaints I have about AOL Journals:

1. Magic Smoke lists a handful of journals in its 'other journals' sidebar. This isn't about them (they are fine sites and worth visiting) but what is the rationale to single those out above all others?

2. Still waiting for the print/save option after most of a year.

LOL. Man,  AOL is great at ticking off their clientele, eh?

Night Parking in Milwaukee

In this great city of mine you have to pay for the privilege of parking on the street in front of your own house, high property taxes be damned. I'm sure it's worse elsewhere - most things seem to be - but I think it's a crock.

Anyway, neither here nor there.

Since we picked up the Freestar our old van has been parked in one of the two spots behind my house, waiting for a friend of ours to get off her behind and get together the money to buy it from us (no pressure, no pressure). This leaves us with the task of temporarily rotating one of our two working vehicles to the street each night.

I have so far refused, on philisophical grounds, to reward the city's policy by spending $12 for a permit. In return the city has slapped me with a single parking ticket for $15. Eh, close enough to count as a draw.

But I didn't feel like another ticket last night so I went online to apply for night parking permission . I entered the address where it was parked and the plate number and was rewarded with a message that said (closely paraphrased)

Night parking permission refused. Permission is restricted to three (3) nights in a thirty day period.

If you have reached the three night limit but still require night parking permission, please call  555-5555 for assistance.

Fair enough. I called the number and gave the same information I'd typed in online.

"Oh, I'm sorry sir. You've reached the three night maximum."

"Yes, I know. That's why I called."

"I see. Well, there's nothing I can do for you."

"Excuse me?"

"You've reached the limit. I can't do anything for you."

"Then why bother with this number?"

"You've received permission three times in thirty days sir. That is the limit."

"Yeah, but I know I haven't called in for permission in July. At worst I'm a few days away from the 30 day mark."

"26 days actually. It's been 26 days since you last received permission."

What a p**k.

"Ok, so I'm four days away. Can you please waive the limit tonight?"

"Hmm. Yeah, no sir. The rules are firm."

I was nearly laughing. "Why have your website direct people to call you at all if you there's no chance of getting permission? Is it just for giggles? I mean I don't care, it's not going to break my wallet, but doesn't that strike you as a little bit strange?"

"The law is the law sir."

I felt like yelling "My taxes pay your salary!", but then again his taxes pay his salary too (which is kind of lousy, no?), so f* it.

I doubt I'll continue my one man stand much longer. The last time I did that, by refusing to pay a ticket issued at the airport (for parking in an employee lot while I was an employee with the proper ID in the window) my $20 ticket went up to triple digits and my plates were suspended. If nothing else my wife will demand I get the permit.

But I'm hoping our friend will take the van off our hands and solve the problem before it comes to that.

Lightning Bug Lane

Sure, everyone's concerned about a new name for Lump. But in the meantime we've come up with a new title to refer to our street: Lightning Bug Lane.

I have never seen so many fireflies in such a small area. If you go out at twilight you'd swear a small patch of the night sky has fallen to the earth. There's soft twinkling lights everywhere you look.

This past week I took the kids out - one kid at a time, one kid a day - to capture some fireflies. First up was YaYa, intrepid bug hunter and collector for years now. She and I caught perhaps a dozen and a half without even trying, and one of our neighbors even joined in, proclaiming with delight that it was the first time in her 50-odd years she'd ever captured one!

Next up was Lu, accompanied by her cousin. Not quite as experienced or aggressive a bug gal, Lu still caputred a good dozen or so for herself.

On the third day came Smiley, who joined the hunt after a day of fun with Grandma.

Smiley has a well known aversion to insects, stemming from the time a colony of ants swarmed him at a picnic a year or two ago (it's mentioned here on the site somewhere). Therefore I wasn't expecting a very long hunt, but boy was I mistaken! He seemed to have discovered his calling and caught them with an ease that was remarkable.

(his hunt was earlier in the evening then the girls and so the pictures turned out better)

That's a lighting bug clenched between his fingers in both (above and below) shots.

Unlike the girls, who were fond of releasing the bugs, Smiley fought it tooth and nail. But in the end he gave in and they were set free.

A very fun way to spend a few minutes each night, and it was great that each kid got their alone time with me.

In closing, here's a shot of my niece wearing the 'suit of armor' I bought Smiley.

and one of our now empty bird's nest in the shed. I guess/hope the birds grew up and flew off on their own.

A Scam at Home Depot??

Sweet niblets could my computer get any slower tonight? While waiting for this page to load I read Bradbury's Night Call, Collect (from his story collection I Sing the Body Electric) start to finish. Dangnabbit.

And for what? A lousy email joke. Still, here it is, with thanks to acompany employee.

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SCAM @ HOME DEPOT


Be Careful - A 'heads up' for those men who
may be regular Home Depot customers.

Over the last month I became a victim of a clever scam
while out shopping.
Simply going out to get supplies has turned out to be
quite traumatic.

Don't be naove enough to think it couldn't happen to
you or your f! riends. Here's how the scam works:

Two very hot 20-21 year-old girls come over to your
car as you are packing your stuff into the trunk. They
both start wiping your windshield with a rag and
Windex, with their breasts almost falling out of their
skimpy T-shirts. It is impossible not to look. When
you thank them and offer them a tip, they say 'No' and
instead they ask you for a ride to Lowes. You agree
and they get in the backseat. On the way, they start
undressing. Then one of them climbs over into the
front seat and starts crawling all over you, while
the other one steals your wallet.

I had my wallet stolen March 4th, 9th, 10th, twice on
the 15th, 17th, 20th, 24th & 29th. Also April 1st,
4th, twice on the 8th, 16th, 23rd, 26th, 30th,
three times last Saturday and very likely again this
upcoming weekend.

So tell your friends to be careful.

P.S. Walmart has wallets on sale, $2.99 each.

 

'Salem's Lot

      

World Traveler, who has sadly moved on from our company, once looked at a Stephen King book I was reading and proclaimed it my 'guilty pleasure'.

I don't take offense to that statement but I do think it's a bunch of malarkey.

I don't know what books will be remembered two or three hundred years down the road. Perhaps To Kill a Mockingbird will fall out of favor as race ceases to be an issue or the world will wise up and dismiss Catcher in the Rye. Hey, for all I know a Danielle Steel novel will reign as the next Oliver Twist in 2187.

But I do think some of Stephen King's work has a chance of being remembered. He's created some great novels (and some clunkers) and I'm not in the least embarrassed by calling myself a fan of his work.

Even if he is a [redacted] Red Sox fan.

'Salem's Lot was his second published novel, put out just after the success of Carrie.  The idea behind the plot is simple. Ben Mears returns to his hometown after many years only to find himself on the front lines of a vampire invasion.

It's a great novel with a strong plot and a large cast of characters. At times King's prose genuinely sings in Lot. His descriptions of the town itself as it wakes, darting from one character to another and showing us the very human heart of its people, jumped out at me and stayed with me long after the book was done.

3.75 starts out of 4 for me personally, 90 out of 100. Your take on horror may influence your vote.

          

The 1979 miniseries based on the book stars David Seoul as prodigal son Ben Mears. It's considered a horror classic and is lauded left and right on every site I've been to, but you know what? I thought it was boring. Slow and boring. The only good part was watching a young Bonnie Bedelia on screen.  2.0 out of 4, 50 out of 100.

                                

On the other hand the recent Rob Lowe version is skewered just as often by fans. I agree liberties were taken with the characters. I just don't see how that alone makes it a 'bad' movie. A bad adaptation of a book perhaps, but not a bad movie.

I happen to think most of the changes moved the story along at a cinematic pace. Certainly the rewriting of Ben Mears strengthened his motives for returning to the town and bolstered the emotional impact of his emergence as a hero.

It's not King's book, but it's a fine movie. 3.0 stars out of 4, 70 out of 100.

Spoiler:

I'd have given it a mathematically proper 75 out of 100, save for the fact that I thought the portrayal of the priest was disgusting. To not only willingly join the forces of evil but question the existence of God when face to face with an agent of the devil was sacrilegious and ludicrous.

The Great Highlighting Experiment

I wanted to start out by thanking Jan at Gryphondear's Word of the Day for mentioning Slapinions on her journal, and for Bucko doing the same. In fact he labeled his post "This one is for Dan @ Slapinions". The content of the post was horrific ;) but thanks for the PR none-the-less.

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Last week Lisa bought LuLu a Hannah Montana hair highlighting doo-dad and naturally the $5 gizmo didn't work. So the next night, after sending me out for groceries, she had me pick up some hair dye.

Back before digital cameras, when photographs were still recorded on paper that would actually survive the Great Alien Invasion of 2011, Lisa put blonde highlights in my hair. In this ancient world of film cameras there exists a great and noble picture of me with foil and gunk in my once mighty mane. It's a shame I don't have it here.

I have no idea what was up with YaYa in this next picture, as the process went smoothly with her hair.

The results?

Ack! I have a picture of YaYa too but I can't get the file to work. I'm sure her highlights will show up in future posts.

Jessica Alba, headbutts, gang signs, the Red Sox and Favre. What????

I watched the James Toney-Hasim Rahman bout tonight. It was stopped after the 3rd round and ruled a TKO in favor of Toney, handing him the heavyweight belt.

I was pulling for Toney, but this one reeks. Stuff like this, to paraphrase the announcers, doesn't happen in professional bowling.

During a 3rd round that Toney won hands down he accidentally headbutted Rahman and opened a cut above his right eye. This is not in dispute. At the end of the round when questioned by the ring doctor Rahman was quick to say he couldn't see  and the doctor called the fight.

Or did he? If he did and it was stopped because of a head butt it's a no-decision and the belt stays put. If it's called because the fighter resigned it's a TKO and the belt changes hands.

Rahman did say he couldn't see, which is all but yelling "Stop the fight!", but it was the doctor's decision. Therefore I say it's a no-decision. The California board saw it differently but appeals are no doubt in the works.

One thing tho' - no decision or not, Rahman just didn't have the heart. Hey, Lord knows four seconds after entering the ring with either guy my head separates from my neck, but I'm not a heavyweight champion. The cut, while deep, was located above the brow and did not appear to be significantly dripping into the eye. He could've/should've brushed off the cut's impact, at least and especially when talking to the doctor if it was his true intention to carry on.

And afterwards, to say that he had no intention of fighting Toney with one eye? Well, uh, doesn't that mean that you did indeed resign from the fight?

Argh. Make it a no-decision and call a 'do-over' gentlemen.

* * *

You don't like boxing. It's full of gangsters and hoodlums you say. Violent, you say. Uh-huh. Check out this charming exerpt fromCNN/SI.com:

NFL crackdown on gang signs Posted: Wednesday July 16, 2008 06:56AM ET

Hand signals captured on videotape are once again being scrutinized around the NFL. Only this time, it's not the New England Patriots studying them for a competitive advantage, but league officials in search of a more sinister message. The NFL, concerned that some players might celebrate by flashing the hand signals of street gangs, has hired experts to examine game tapes and identify the gestures. "There have been some suspected things we've seen," said Milt Ahlerich, the league's vice president of security. "When we see it, we quietly jump on it immediately, directly with the team and the player or employee involved to cease and desist. Period." Ahlerich says the league has long warned its players about the influence of gangs and other forms of organized crime, but that those admonishments have intensified since the 2007 killing of Denver Broncos cornerback Darrent Williams, who was gunned down after an altercation involving known gang members. NFL game officials will not be responsible for identifying gang signals but will alert league headquarters of anything unusual or suspicious they see. League executives declined to outline what action might be taken against offenders, but Pereira said, "it will be dealt with harshly. The commissioner is not going to stand for gang signals on the field."

Yeah. 'Cuz boxing is full of dangerous thugs.

* * *

The Packers are officially alleging that the Minnesota Vikings have tampered in the Favre situation, citing multiple calls from a Minnesota assistant to Favre.

* * *

Jonathon Papellbon, closer for the Red Sox, was treated like crap at Yankee stadium during the All-Star game and serenaded by chants of 'overrated' that echoed through the park.

Oh, the cries of 'classless' and 'typical New Yorkers' from Boston fans!

Red Sox fans hate Yankees, Yankees fans hate Red Sox. Simple. Easy peezy. Sure it was a little much for my taste, but as far as the classless comment goes, I seem to remember 'Jeter sucks and A-Rod swallows', and crap about Jeter giving herpes to Jessica Alba.

But, uh, yeah, Boston fans would never stoop so low as to yell 'over-rated'.

The Black Dove

                

Publisher: St. Martin's Press

Pub. Date: February 2008

ISBN-13: 9780312347826

The Black Dove in Steve Hockensmith's novel refers to a missing Chinese prostitute who was the last person to see a murder victim alive.

If nothing else I can assure you that the sentence you just read is far and away more somber than anything in the book itself.

The Black Dove is a follow up of Holmes on the Range, an Edgar award nominee. Gus and Otto Amlingmeyer are brothers. Gus, an illiterate cowhand, has developed a fondness for the 'real-life' adventures of Sherlock Holmes and has a knack for 'deducifying' himself. Otto, the narrator of the book,  is big and quick with his fists and the puns. Together they find themselves in Chinatown in the latter stages of the 19th century, investigating the murder of a mutual aquaintance.

The book is more concerned with making you laugh than think, with the actual mystery occupying 10% of the work at best. The rest of the space is devoted to comedic adventures that  sometimes slip into a dull Perils of Pauline mode out of sheer redundancy.

Really, how many times a day can someone find themselves surrounded by hatchet weilding Chinamen?

The book accomplishes its task with aplomb and I have to admit the ending, which was tidy if unexpectedly bleak, wrapped things up quite nicely.

The only negative I see? Hockensmith's book, in tone and structure, eerily mirrors a mystery (well, 4 chapters of one) I wrote back in '96. That annoyed me.

I hate people who finish what they start.

3.0 out of 4, 75 out of 100.