Hot

It’s about 95 degrees outside and I don’t have air conditioning. My kids are lying on the floor in front of a fan. The Labrador is pawing the keyboard, trying to book a flight to his ancestral home in northern Canada. The cat found a barber’s hair trimmer and has shaved off all his fur. And my computer is getting so hot that a few minutes ago, Microsoft Word refused to cut and paste some dialogue in my new novel. (First Bill Gates tries to correct my grammar — now he’s editing the words in my characters’ mouths? I don’t think so.)

And the keyboard is actually so warm that it’s melted away my fingerprints. I think it’s time to shut down for the afternoon.

I’ll be back when it’s cooler, or when I’ve cracked a few safes without leaving prints.

“Tiny Shrew Shot Venom Through Blood-Red Teeth”

Yes, the blog has been on a crazed-animal jag lately. But can I help it if Fox is reporting the discovery of a mega-shrew?

Comments welcome. Play nice.

“Somehow, the orange puffy snacks were used in the assault.”

Tennessee couple accused of assault using Cheetos.

Well, there goes the scene I was planning to write, where Evan Delaney and Cousin Tater resolve their differences by fighting in a pit filled with the things.

Must… look… away…

An advance copy of the British edition of The Memory Collector arrived today. You know what this means, right?

I’m not talking about the fact that in a few weeks this editon will begin to hit bookstores in the UK, Ireland, Australia, New Zealand, South Africa, Canada, Singapore, Hong Kong, and elsewhere in the Far East. I mean that this cover is shiny. Mesmerizing. Kind of cool and gritty. And once you set eyes on it, you cannot look away. You Must Read This Book.

Or something. I love this cover. It was designed by Henry Steadman.

Of course it involves Elvis. You knew it would.

Kate writes: “That didn’t take long.”

“‘Jackson’s not dead; he’s living in a bunker with Elvis Presley’: Conspiracy theories flood the internet.”

What it once was

The Jackson Five sing “I Want You Back.” Irresistible. And nothing beats Motown.

This is your animal’s brain on drugs

An even better headline than “Why do cows attack?”

“Stoned wallabies make crop circles.”

Me and the armed robber

My earlier post about Wikipedia led some commenters to check out my entry. In response, Dana Jean asked:

And, don’t want to drag up bad memories or be nosy, but I may and I’m going to: Did you really have an encounter with an armed robber and he asked about your daughter? What the hell did he/she ask? That is so creepy and scary. I’m assuming that you were okay and Kate? was okay from this experience?

She’s referring to this quote, drawn from an interview with Shots magazine:

Gardiner explained that in her writing, she tries “to explore the boundary between morality and wrongdoing. When is it justified to go outside the law to right a wrong? When can you use ruthless violence to defend somebody you love? Possibly I came to reflect on this issue after an armed robber asked questions about my little girl.”

Let me put people’s minds at ease. Sort of.

Yes, I did have an encounter with an armed robber. On the phone. My daughter Kate never came in contact with him. But the fact that he knew about her, and mentioned her, was enough to freak me out.

Here’s how it happened: I appeared on Jeopardy. I appeared four days running, actually, and that gave people all over America a chance to see my face and hear Alex Trebek ask where I lived and whether I was married and whether I had kids. And though I didn’t know it at the time, among the people who were watching the show were the incarcerated felons of the USA, who have plenty of time in their schedules to watch fast-paced quiz shows.

The other thing they have time to do is phone lawyers, seeking to appeal their convictions. And that’s what one man did. He knew from the television show that I lived in Santa Barbara and managed to find a way to reach me by phone with the line, “I need an attorney.”

So I took the call. And it only took a minute to realize that this guy really just wanted to talk about seeing me on TV, and about the money I’d won, which Jeopardy flashes at the bottom of the screen every seven seconds, and about that adorable little girl I’d mentioned on the air, and whether I’d like to marry him. Because he’d sure like to marry me.

As you can imagine, I hung up, redialed the prison, and spoke to the warden. He clarified things for me: No, this fellow wasn’t a jailhouse lawyer who was about to be released (contrary to what he’d assured me, right before the marriage proposal). He was serving 15-20 years for armed robbery.

What, I asked, did he rob?

A U.S. Postal Service truck. With a gun.

Stark naked.

And that’s all there is to the story, except that the warden has put me on a list of people who are to be notified when this convict is released. I’m still waiting for that call, and hope I continue to wait for a long time.

First to squeal across the finish line wins

Northern Minnesota town to hold pig race for U.S. Senate seat.

Republican Norm Coleman and Democrat Al Franken will see their battle decided by surrogates — pigs — in a race to the finish.

The “pork barrel race” to end the Coleman/Franken election is part of Nevis’ Fourth of July festivities that includes the inaugural Nevis Pig Races, says Dave McCurnin of the Nevis Chamber & Commerce Association.

“‘Whichever of these cute babies gets to the finish first will drop the curtain on this never-ending and much wrung-out election.’”

“This (the pig race) is more exciting than the eight-month wait now in the Supreme Court,” McCurnin said. “This should have been decided by an NFL referee — they decide on the field.”

“To keep the race clean, McCurnin said the piglets will be given drug tests.”

Will race officials go for political authenticity, and have the piglets race toward a trough?

(Thanks to Alicia for the link.)

By the way

Someone who knows me far too well has written me up on Wikipedia.

Because they’re bad?

“Why do cows attack?”

Vampires: today’s lunchtime bites

The Sunday Times analyzes the allure of vampires in the context of the show True Blood, and concludes it’s all about sex.

And Jeff VanderMeer posts a video mashup of Buffy and Twilight, which makes Edward Cullen look completely creepy.

Maybe he’s an Oakland A’s fan

Sea lion pup saved from Bay Area freeway.

A young sea lion was rescued Monday after it was found roaming Interstate 880 in Oakland, a month after a similar incident in Richmond.

The whiskered sea creature, believed to be a year old, was found waddling on the center divide of northbound I-880 near the Oakland Coliseum about 5:45 a.m., authorities said. An Oakland police officer corralled the sea lion and put it inside a patrol cruiser and drove to the Oakland Animal Shelter.

When the cops got to him, he’d already crossed at least three southbound lanes of freeway traffic. This pup is both lucky and talented.

Gang summit in London

Last year at the Harrogate Festival, I formed a gang with fellow thriller writer Jeff Abbott. We ran riot, holding a pitched battle with the Fighting Nuns of Harrogate and terrifying the bar staff at the conference hotel, shouting, “I said two cherries in my diet Coke, damn you!”

This weekend Jeff visited London, and we held a gang summit at Marble Arch. We planned our vendetta against the Fighting Nuns. We plotted a jail break to free my minion, Trixie, from the tough northern prison where she’s stacking time (the Emily Bronte Women’s Correctional Institute) because she slapped a stewardess who refused to serve Dom Perignon to my Chihuahuas. And we practiced some cool new gang signs.

And yeah, in this photo we’re smiling, but the meeting was dangerous. Jeff wisely brought his own minion for protection — and Kevin took two shots to the back. Espresso roast, hot from the mug, poured right between his shoulder blades by a woman in a fur coat and Chanel sunglasses who hit him and kept on walking without a word. Obviously a pro.

Way to go, Kevin — taking two for the boss. We poured our cappuccinos on the ground in tribute to you.

UPDATE: Petrona sent spies to discover our plans (which include chucking rotten strawberries at Sister Mary Agnes and humiliating her Rottweilers by dressing them in pink booties) and Jeff fills me in on the looming gang war:

Sorry to say Kevin was captured by dodgy looking nuns just as we made it through Passport Control. Since he was carrying my 12 pieces of cast-iron luggage, he couldn’t run like me, the gazelle. I toasted him in first class all the way home but must now call Minions R Us for a replacement.

They’re offering minions two-for-the-price-of-one on the Entourage aisle, Jeff. Better hurry before they’re gone.