Michelle Obama Takes The Veil

Who would have guessed that one visit to the Vatican could turn the First Lady into a nun?

Men and women both are expected to dress in a conservative fashion when meeting His Holiness. Conservative black, conservative covering of the arms, conservative covering of the knees for the ladies, like a nun who would never consider any other color than black.

The severe hair-do takes us back to the old days, when we wondered if the good Sisters had any hair on their heads, underneath those veils. We learned, after Vatican II, that the old girls didn't shave their heads or anything so drastic, but they did keep it short and avoided trends. No time for a nun to fuss with her hair, not when there's poor to be served.

After Vatican II, lay women didn't have to cover their hair anymore. The clergy figured out that the notion, still so popular in repressive Muslim countries, didn't make sense in a modern world. That was for the laity. Nuns continued to wear a veil, although the wimple went the way of the dinosaur and the veil itself become a perky little bonnet sort of thing.

Catholics have photographic prove that Michelle Obama has left her Baptist roots behind and become one of us, a Catholic, a super-Catholic, a Sister.

Why else would she have donned what looks for all the world like a nun's habit?

Authorities Are Stumped

The people of Rathkeale in County Limerick are proclaiming a miracle.

People outside of Rathkeale are probably grumbling about residents of a certain town partaking of far too much poitin.

Has Mary, the Mother of Jesus, paid a call?

At the moment, there is a continuous vigil being held at the stump of a tree on the grounds of St. Mary's Church. Folks are convinced that there is an image of Herself on said stump, and the religious-minded are flocking from all around, to say a rosary in this miraculous place.

The image was discovered earlier in the week, and already Rathkeale is overwhelmed with pilgrims who flock from all over.

Scientists will tell us that the human brain creates imaginary pictures, driven by some biological urge to interpret shadows and light as a face. The man in the moon is used as an example, where we all know there's no eyes up there but our minds play little tricks. There's been images of the Virgin Mary perceived in water stains on concrete. The face of Jesus has been viewed on a grilled cheese sandwich.

Carmel Conway, visiting Rathkeale with her mother Brigid, put it best. While she thinks it really is the miraculous image of Mary, she's aware that it doesn't matter if the stump face is merely imaginary. It's brought people together to pray, and in the end, that's all to the good.

As for the good people of Rathkeale, they may be thinking of the benefits that fell to the town of Knock when Our Lady made her appearance. There's not much for doing in the west of Ireland, and if the Church authorities would put their stamp of approval on the stump, there's no telling what kind of tourism explosion the little town would see.

Making Life Difficult For The Librarian

Fiction or non-fiction? It should be fairly straightforward for the author to choose which category their manuscript fits. It's got to be one or the other. What you've penned is either real or imaginary.

The Library of Congress will then catalogue the book and provide guidance to local librarians everywhere. Can't very well shelve a book without its proper code, without the numbers and letters that Mr. Dewey was clever enough to invent.

Author Rita Cosby isn't doing the librarians any favors with her tell-all book, Blonde Ambition. Ms. Cosby claims that her creation is non-fiction, a biography of Anna Nicole Smith. The late Ms. Smith's constant companion claims that the book is pure fiction. It's up to a judge in New York to decide.

Howard Stern believes that Ms. Cosby's book libeled him in seventeen instances, including an assertion that Ms. Smith had often viewed a videotape of Mr. Stern engaged in homosexual acts with the father of Ms. Smith's baby. He's suing to the tune of $60 million to clear his good name.

As for Hachette Book Group, the publisher of this biography/novel, their legal counsel is dumping it all in Rita Cosby's lap, since it's her book and her scholarship that created it. If there's fiction between the pages, it's her fault entirely. And isn't there some other corroboration somewhere about the gay sex?

Ms. Cosby's attorneys believe that Mr. Stern has no decent reputation to uphold, not since he was implicated in Ms. Smith's death, so how could the author possibly downgrade that which is at the bottom already? She stands by her research; the book is a biography.

One side claims it's a work of non-fiction, while the other insists the book's no better than a cheap novel.

Judge Denny Chin will be the one to catalogue the book, as he decides if Mr. Stern has a valid case.

You're Not In Texas Any More

The idea of tramping about with no fixed abode might be all well and good in Texas, but don't be bringing that nonsense to Ireland.

Three Texas lads, aged between 19 and 21 and clearly up to no good, arrived at Dublin airport and were told that no, they couldn't come in. Ah sure there's cead mile failte up and down the island, but not so much welcome at the terminal as far as immigration is concerned.

Where will you be staying, the officer wanted to know, and isn't that the most reasonable question?

No doubt the Texas drawl was off-putting, when the gentlemen explained that they weren't staying in a proper hotel, but had made arrangements to crash on Irish sofas. With so much in the news lately, who would fault the immigration agent for not knowing about www.couchsurfing.com.

With plans to backpack across Europe for a year, Clin Zwirko, Ben Whitehurst and Gavin Sides thought they'd begin in Ireland and then ferry across to Scotland. From there, it's the Chunnel and all of Europe. They had no return tickets because they were going to move around and be gone for a long time.

What about visible means of support, the immigration man then asked. Three lads of the on-line generation had no copies of bank statements, but they were more than happy to log on to their bank's website to show that they had thousands saved up for this trip.

Ah sure Ireland's promoting a technologically savvy work force, but this is immigration we're talking about and they understand pieces of paper, not computer screen images. So there you are, the lads are skint and doesn't that prove that they're coming to Ireland for the social welfare or to steal jobs away from the hard-pressed Irish. To say nothing of attracting the cutest colleens and leaving Irish men to go stag.

The would-be travelers were deported and sent back to the States and now the Dallas newspapers have picked up on the story.

The Irish Tourism Bureau would like Garda National Immigration Bureau to explain itself. And spluttering about requirements being the same as those required of Irish people visiting the States isn't an acceptable reason.

Online and Free

Publishers are seeking new ways to reach readers, and they've turned to the Internet where people are said to be.

Hachette Book Group has taken advantage of their website to add a new feature that, it is hoped, will entice people to buy more of their books.

Want to read The Heretic's Daughter but haven't the time to run over to the library? Don't have a Kindle but you're longing for a novel to pass the time and all you have is a laptop?

Try OpenAccess.

There's a reasonable selection to choose from, including science fiction and biography, non-fiction and fiction.

The books are complete, including the flap copy, and for literary types trying to compose a query letter, there's nothing better than imitating the flap copy of a book that's on the market.

I'll try to get around to reading one of the novels, but for now, that marketing prose on the inside of the book cover is what's gotten my attention. The opening pages have their importance as well, to study the narrative arc as I electronically turn the pages.

Doesn't cost a thing beyond the price of the electricity to power the computer. And it's available at two in the morning, which is more than you can say about the books stacked in any library or book shop.

Cutting Out The Tax Man

Rather than cut spending, several state governments went off in search of new revenue streams.

That means new things to levy taxes upon.

What better than the online retailer, who pays tax only in the place where its headquarters are physically located? Something like Amazon, for example. They sell books in California and North Carolina and Hawaii, but there's no sales tax paid to the states where the buyers reside.

The legal issues have been much discussed, and it's pretty clear that a physical presence is required to collect state sales tax. Hence, a few states decreed that the Amazon affiliate program equals a physical presence.

Anyone can set up a little Amazon shop online, giving out suggestions for books to buy or recommending music titles or the like. If you, the shopper, then go through the affiliate's "shop" to make your purchases, the affiliate gets a little bit and it could be a nice little work-from-home business.

Then you must pay sales tax, mighty Amazon, said the legislature of North Carolina and Amazon said, good-bye affiliates. We're out of here.

By trying to weasel around the law, North Carolina managed to hurt those who were profiting from the affiliate program. By eliminating their physical presence, Amazon isn't liable for state sales taxes so that income stream never produced a drop, and the affiliates are paying less in income tax because they're out of business.

Hawaii's governor figured it out and realized that it was a losing proposition. Amazon didn't much benefit from local affiliates, but the affiliates derived some benefit from Amazon. Governor Linda Lingle vetoed the legislation that would have levied sales tax on Amazon in Hawaii, rather than see Amazon cut out the affiliate program.

There's still no indication that the legislatures are looking at ways to save money rather than rake in more. The push to tax on-line retailers goes on.

Summer Reading

The holiday weekend is here and you're doing the stay-cation thing. Where can you go to escape the kids who cry boredom? Maybe you're luckier and you've got a long weekend booked at a summer cottage in the North Woods, where the days are long and lazy and you'll be crying boredom before long.

Take along a copy of Sophie Kinsella's new novel and get away from it all.

Having made her name with the Shopaholic series, Ms. Kinsella uses the pseudonym "Madeleine Wickham" for non-shopping tales and that's the case in The Wedding Girl.

The story opens with Milly agreeing to marry a gay man so that he won't be deported and separated from his lover. You just know, when you get to the second chapter, that this wedding of convenience is going to spell trouble for her impending marriage to a very eligible, wealthy bachelor.

Milly's fiance is a pure cartoon, battling it out with his father for independence, but when it's hot outside you don't want deep character development. It's tried and true, easy on the mind, and nothing more than entertainment.

Proper chick-lit needs more complexity in the main character's life, and Ms. Kinsella doesn't disappoint. Milly's sister is unmarried and pregnant, and Milly's parents are coming apart. Mummy is obsessed with the wedding, and Dad is feeling left out, and you've probably heard it a million times but it's always fun when handled with the subtle humor that Sophie Kinsella brings to her novels.

With all the wedding prep filling out the backdrop, Milly must find her pseudo-spouse to obtain a divorce, she has to reconcile with her fiance who's stormed off upon learning that she married someone before, and she will uncover the traitor in her camp who ratted her out to the minister just as she was about to commit bigamy.

There's plot solutions that you can see coming from a mile away, but who wants to puzzle over anything when the sun is shining and the hubby's toiling away at the barbecue grill.

Empty-headed it may be, but The Wedding Girl is a cold drink on a hot July day when your brain is over-heated from work and life's ordinary responsibilities.

Can't get away for the weekend? Escape to Madeleine Wickham's England and the requisite happy ending of The Wedding Girl. You'll be glad you made the trip.