I'm The Train They Call The Writer's Retreat

You've heard of the writer residency, in which an author gets an office and lodging at some prestigious university. There are places like Ragdale in Chicago's northern suburb of Lake Forest, where a select few get to stay in an historic home and just spend their residency days writing.

Think of it as a writer's vacation from an everyday existence with its laundry to wash, dogs to walk and dinner to prepare. None of those mundane chores figure in to a writer's retreat. Just the words. Just the creation of new literary works.

"It was a dark and stormy night..."

In an effort to boost train travel, Amtrak is now offering a writer residency on a moving train. How that would boost travel is unclear, unless the agency plans to offer as many residencies as needed to fill a given train. They advertise 24 residencies that must be applied for, but who knows what they'll do after they get the program established. And is it 24 writers per train route, times 52 trains per year? We all know that writers looking to break into the industry will pay all kinds of money for the chance to hone their craft, and what better place than a sleeper car filled with like-minded individuals. Think of the beta readers you could snag between Chicago and Los Angeles. The program has potential.

Would you be more creative if you were looking out a large window at central Indiana flying by? Or would you find inspiration crossing Iowa on your way west? Would wifi access be as big a distraction as it is at home, or could you turn out the modern world while enclosed in an older form of transportation?

With meal service, a bed and outlets for your electronic gadgets, it would be like sitting in a mobile office where you could lose yourself inside your head for up to five days. Long enough to get the bones of a novel shaken out of your skull.

What Amtrak would like is a corps of writers who can boast of an army of Twitter followers. Said writers then tweet as they travel, extolling the glories of train travel, and their followers get the urge and the next thing you know we're all going by train. Why else does the application ask for your Twitter name, rather than a sample of your past work?

Of course, if the writer is busy tweeting then they aren't working on their manuscript, which is counterproductive when you're at a retreat, but there's nothing free. That sleeper compartment comes at a cost that isn't financial.

If you don't have the time for a full excursion, you can always land a job at some distance from your home and imitate Scott Turow. He wrote his first novel on the Metra train running from Glencoe to Chicago. And he had to pay for his ticket.

Job Opening: Comes With Official Residence

Since Dan Rooney stepped down and left Dublin, there has been no American ambassador residing in the Phoenix Park. It's a nice house, really. Quite large. Historic, in fact. Suited to entertaining large parties.

This could be your new home

What with An Taoiseach in Washington, D.C., for St. Patrick's festivities, you'd think that President Obama might have thought to give Mr. Kenny the gift of an ambassador in exchange for the lovely bowl of shamrock. That, however, did not happen. And after the warm welcome Mr. Obama received when he called in at Moneygall on his genealogy tour, you'd think there was some reciprocating due.

It's not there haven't been names put forward. Apparently the right name has yet to pop up on the Presidential radar.

Being an ambassador is an expensive proposition, which is why ambassadors are traditionally very well off. There is no end to the entertaining, which requires the ambassador to dip into his own pockets because the budget doesn't come close to meeting expenses.

Of late, it seems as if one of the key requirements for the post has been the financial wherewithall to make an enormous donation to the President's fundraising efforts, but once you've ponied up, would you have enough left over for the expensive social circuit in Dublin?

So the job is open, if you're keen to live in Dublin for the next couple of years. It's a lovely place, really, in spite of the climate which won't suit if you're accustomed to Southern California. More of a place for walking or hill-climbing, and the wearing of wool clothing to keep out the damp. But there is a thriving tech scene, aligned with Silicon Valley, and more than a few pharmaceutical manufacturers call Ireland home.

There is that whole tax haven issue, of course, which means you'd have to diplomatically press for an end to Ireland's low corporate tax rate while being diplomatically told to lower your own. All in all, it's just a lot of parties and speeches about how sad you are that the peace process in the Six Counties (that would be Northern Ireland when you're speaking to the unionists) has stalled after so much progress. Not at all difficult for the right personality, and with that grand pile to call home, you can't complain about the benefits.

An easy job, an expensive job, and a largely thankless job. But it comes with a very posh residence and if you're fond of golf Ireland is a great place to spend some time.

Applications are being taken at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue, Washington, D.C. But don't expect a quick reply. It's been fifteen months that the post has been open, with no clear sign of its being filled any time soon.

Thank You For Entering

The giveaway has ended with over 1,000 readers hoping to obtain a pre-release copy of THE LIBERTY FLOWER.

Sadly, we have only 15 books, which will be on their way to the lucky recipients before the weekend ends and we're all busy celebrating St. Patrick's Day.

So thanks a million to everyone who entered the contest.

If you didn't win, you can pre-order the digital edtion at Smashwords and have a copy of THE LIBERTY FLOWER the minute it lands. There's always the usual places for hardcover copies, of course, and if your local shop isn't carrying a copy, please be sure to ask for one.

For the 15, watch the post as you'll be receiving a little gift from Newcastlewest Books very soon.

Thanks you all again. The interest in our books tells us that we're publishing the stories people want to read. Our readers inspire us.

Free Book Giveaway Ends Soon

Would you like one?

One of fifteen copies of THE LIBERTY FLOWER, ready to leap from the box and into your book-loving hands?

The free book giveaway at Goodreads will be ending soon. On Friday, to be exact. And then you'll just have to buy a copy, which I wouldn't mind at all. The e-book will be available on April 15, when the book is laid down, if you can't manage the full price on the hardcopy.

Ready to give it a try? Go HERE and take your chance on a free book. Go HERE to read the opening pages if you want to know how a tale of love in the time of revolution gets started. Just go, now. Go on. Go on. You know you want to read Katie Hanrahan's third novel because she is such a talented writer.

A Small Nation That Could Never Be Got To Accept Defeat

So said Eamonn de Valera after Winston Churchill's long whinge about Ireland's neutrality during the Second World War. Which the Irish called "The Emergency", so clearly there were differences of opinion.

Ireland's first Taoiseach called out his British counterpart by giving a brief lesson in Irish history. The island nation had been beaten down by English rule for centuries, but it never gave up. Never accepted defeat.

You could say that this abiding principle is what is motivating Irish developer Garrett Kelleher to rise up from the depths of financial disaster, beaten down by his creditors, but determined as ever to build that feckin' Spire.

The Spire Will Rise...Maybe...Possibly

In 2008, when Mr. Kelleher first announced plans to build the tallest skyscraper in North America, he obtained financing from Anglo Irish Bank. Plenty of other developers with big dreams also dipped into Anglo's coffers, and when the property bubble burst, Anglo went down. The Irish State ended up with the past due loans, which it then sold on the cheap in an effort to reclaim something for the Irish taxpayer.

The Spire project debt ended up in the hands of Related Midwest, a developer with an interest in doing the Spire deal, but under their control. As it turns out, Mr. Kelleher's Shelbourne Development was forced into bankruptcy by Related as part of that effort, but Mr. Kelleher still has a few of his stubborn Irish fingers in the pot and is doing his best to get himself some financing to push out Related, bring in an ally, and still make a little money out of what looked like a lost cause.

The ability of the Irish developer to get his Spire project moving again will depend on the ruling of a bankruptcy judge in Chicago.

If Shelbourne Development can reorganize its debt, a judge may be willing to allow the Kelleher plan to go forward, leaving Related to accept a debt payment they don't really want. What they want is the prime site, with the future potential to rake in massive amounts of money from rentals on flats so unique they are beyond luxurious. Starchitect Santiago Calatrava designed every little thing, down to the pulls on the doors, and with the demand for housing on the rise in Chicago's downtown area, Related could command some very high prices. So naturally Related is calling Mr. Kelleher's proposal a fool's errand that won't work because the financing won't be there as claimed, etc., etc.

A small nation that could never be got to accept defeat....it's an adage that could well describe the stubborn Irish people. A little bankruptcy certainly is not enough to get Garrett Kelleher to abandon his plan to build a 150-storey building on Chicago's lakefront. The machinations of a big firm based in New York City is as nothing compared to centuries of British colonial rule.

An Expensive Analysis Of A Train Wreck

Secretly, you're hooked on Teen Mom 2 and more than once you've taken in the doings of the Kardashian klan. Admit it. We're only human, and we are fascinated by train wrecks.

Not $5 million worth of fascination, however. No more than $1 million for one particular disaster crafted by human hands and human foibles.

Literary agent Scott Waxman thought that Lindsay Lohan's train wreck of a life was worth an enormous amount of money. He signed on the troubled actress and made the rounds of the publishing houses, looking for someone willing to pay that enormous sum for the opportunity to publish an analysis of that wreck and how it came to be.

Only HarperCollins was willing to pay the reduced rate of $1 million for Ms. Lohan's memoirs, partially based on her personal diary penned during a recent stint in rehab. So you might say she's not exactly the most interesting woman in the world.

Publishers want to know that they'll earn back what they invest in an author, and it would be highly unlikely that the memoir would generate all that much profit. Ms. Lohan's incursions into rehab are old news, considering how quickly news comes and goes in the modern, speed of cyberspace, world. At this point, do enough people care to learn how she reached the bottom, after reading all about it in the tabloids? Apparently not. Hence, the heavily discounted sell price.

With a contract in hand, Mr. Waxman will put Ms. Lohan together with a ghostwriter because that's the only way this book will actually get written in a form ready for publication. The publicity machine is already in gear, with various teases appearing. Ms. Lohan will be interviewed by her mother on the Oprah network, you might have heard, and there's a clip of the Oprah commenting on the failed rehab with an "I-told-you-so" comment ready for quoting. Tell me more. Show the collision in slow motion.

A sturdy platform indeed for the former child star turned alcoholic druggie, and one that Mr. Waxman will use to the limit. As long as his client stays clean and sober, she'll be put to work making the rounds of all the talk shows that will have her, pushing her book in every venue where those who are fascinated by train wrecks are likely to gather.

If she falls from grace, even that can be used to promote the memoir. And don't discount the analysis that television psychiatrists and so-called experts can provide in such a case, with the memoir serving as a starting point for further analysis of how a person could go wrong.

As for HarperCollins, they will "encourage" Mr. Waxman to ensure that his client produces what was promised, beyond the few sketchy pages that were the basis of the offer. The publisher wants all the juicy detail to entice the buying public to buy, and if Ms. Lohan has to bare her soul or throw her parents under the oncoming train, that's the price to paid for a six-figure publishing contract. HarperCollins isn't coming up with that much cash for an examination of a minor fender-bender.

The Premise Is Dead

You don't know who is tweeting when you follow a tweeter. Say you're a regular reader of someone claiming to be an insider in a literary agency, hoping for tidbits of knowledge about the publishing game---or 140 character comments that reveal the ruthless side of publishing with a touch of humour.

In a similar vein, a lot of people were following someone who claimed to be working at Goldman Sachs, and who wouldn't like to know what the big money men are up to?

The writer who styled himself @GSElevator collected a large coterie of followers, which is enough to get anyone noticed by a literary agent like Byrd Leavell. It's all about the platform, and when you can claim thousands of fans, it's a naturally occurring market to be tapped. Sure it helps that the writing was witty, and reflected a talent for observation. At any rate, @GSElevator ended up with an agent and a contract to turn his series of tweets into a full book.

And then the power of Goldman Sachs put out a hit on the tweeter and it was revealed that @GSElevator didn't even work at Goldman Sachs, which meant all the tweets were pure fiction. While John LeFevre is now saying that the outing was all part of his overall marketing plan, he is either spinning or stumbling over the unintended consequences he did not anticipate.

Mr. LeFevre works for Citibank so he does indeed know about the world he passed off as elevator gossip. But it was sold as Goldman Sachs gossip, and sold as non-fiction. His outing killed off his premise. With the premise dead, his book deal was snuffed out as well.

Touchstone was going to publish his book, and now they are not.

They might be worried about legal challenges or libel suits or such, what with this work of fiction having its origins in a Twitter feed that was not sold as non-fiction. More likely that Touchstone is now worried about sales because what they thought they would be selling no longer exists.

Subtle satire is fine but it's tough to sell satire after the fact.And it's even tougher to promote a book not written by a Goldman Sachs insider when the twitter feed was quite the opposite premise. Mr. LeFevre says his book was meant to cast light on Wall Street finagling, but in a more lighthearted and readable style, which is commendable. However, his publisher was sold a bill of goods that did not live up to the hype. Think mortgage loan derivatives and you can see why Touchstone thought better of their initial offer. They didn't want to get stuck holding some worthless books that did not sell because the premise behind the original purchase was no longer valid.

The publisher has returned the manuscript and literary agent Byrd Leavell will now have to find some other publisher willing to take a different look at a book that cannot be marketed as was originally planned. Instead of playing up the Goldman Sachs elevator tweets, the agent will have to sell the manuscript for what Mr. LeFevre now says it is, an inside view of Wall Street banking in general.

The premise of the book is dead but a different publisher might be willing to try to revive the manuscript by replacing the marketing angle. That other publisher, however, might not be willing to pay what Touchstone was willing to pay the author. That's the price of the unintended consequence, or the cost of a deception that was unmasked at the wrong time.

Not The Example Of Fact-Checking That A News Organization Is Looking For

Not an acutal picture of the Great Chicago Fire, 1871

The ratings have been dropping at CNN and the once proud news network is turning to special programs to boost the ratings and get some eyeballs directed at their offerings. Advertisers don't buy ad time without those eyeballs, and it's the advertising that brings in the revenue.

What subject could be more fascinating, and garner more viewers, than a show about modern day Chicago? After all, the President arose from the political machine that runs the town. His former chief of staff, as well as President Clinton's chief of staff, is now the mayor of that fine city. All the hype that promoted a relatively unknown Senator from Illinois who wanted to be POTUS was generated by a Chicagoan who worked as the spokesperson for Mayor Richard Daley, who himself was the son of another long-serving mayor.

All that political swampiness makes great theater, right?

Wouldn't you know that a Chicago Tribune reporter would go and do some fact-checking on CNN's effort, and find something so very wrong that Chicagoans are laughing at CNN.

To promote Chicagoland, CNN created a web presence with a few still photos for visuals. Liam Ford did a bit of googling, because it's so easy to google an image these days, when he came upon a picture that didn't look right.

No one had a camera on them in 1837 when this picture was supposedly snapped. Chicago in 1837 was still largely a swamp built on the banks of the Chicago River, and it didn't bear any resemblance to the Old West style of architecture that Mr Ford saw in CNN's presentation.

So what did Google have to say? CNN took a still picture from the Hollywood blockbuster In Old Chicago, startting Alice Fay as Mrs. O'Leary of cow fame, and put it up on their website. They said it was a picture of Chicago, but it was a picture of a movie set.

So much for fact-checking, CNN.

It's the little things that eat away at your credibility, small errors that are easily corrected before being posted where Chicagoans can see them.

Would it come as any surprise if certain conservative competitors use this as an example of a news organization that can't get its most basic facts right because no one bothers to check them? Or will it give some credibility to critics who lambaste Chicagoland as inauthentic, a concoction of CNN's uninformed staff?

How can you do a show about the way that Chicago is run without talking to the men who really run it? Where's an episode featuring Toots Caruso and his Chinatown crew?

The Entitled

Where did we go wrong, cry the parents of Rachel Canning. Our sweet little girl has grown up to be a bit of a wagon (that's Irish for bitch). Even a private investigator determined that she was spoiled, and whose fault was that? The very people now reaping what they sowed.

For Mr. and Mrs. Canning, an attempt to clamp down on their daughter's activities has resulted in her filing a lawsuit against them, seeking damages for kicking her out of the house when she turned eighteen. How dare they? She has more education to be paid for and without the family home, where is she to go for school holidays?

The Entitled Demanding the Entitlement

With her sense of entitlement severely pricked, Ms. Canning turned to the courts, where all victims go to seek restitution. She believed in her cause and the justice of her plea. She trusted in her friend's father to pay her legal bills, and can't you just imagine the story she told him, filled with wailing and gnashing of teeth, to get that kind of money out of him?

The Canning family has rules, as do most families, especially those with girls of a certain age. Like most teens, Ms. Canning did not like the restrictions placed on her, especially since she was of age and wanted more freedom over her movements. A curfew of 11 pm? That simply would not do, and as for chores, isn't that why people hire Mexican immigrants to do the work Americans don't want to do?

The New Jersey judge who heard the case sided, not with the poor downtrodden child, but with the parents.

Mr. and Mrs. Canning are not obligated to support their adult daughter, even if she firmly believes she has been cheated. Neither do the parents have to pay any sort of weekly stipend to support her when she lives away from the family home. It was her decision, rash as it may have been, to seek shelter with a friend instead of accepting the house rules

As for paying her university tuition, Ms. Canning plans to continue the suit to win at least that much, but as her father claims there is a fund set up to cover her expenses, there is actually nothing to fight over. Her college costs will be covered, no matter where she chooses to live. It's just that she has to pay her own living expenses if she doesn't live at home and toe the line.

Quite a remarkable story. It's like seeing a future edition of the Saturday Irish Times, if you've been following the exploits of Ross O'Carroll Kelly. Rachel Canning is Ross's fictional daughter Honor all grown up. Which would suggest that you read him now, and see how one child could be shaped into a piece of entitled outrage. The columns are hilarious. The real life adventures that Mr. and Mrs. Canning now face are not. At least to them. Some of us are roaring with laughter, though.

Required Reading In The Vatican

Here's an interesting news beat for someone fluent in either Italian or Latin, with an ability to root out the most mundane and seemingly inconsequential tidbits to fill out a weekly journal.

If you land a job as a writer for this planned weekly, you'll have a captive audience for your prose. Relatively captive, that is. You can count on the underlings in the vast bureaucracy that you'll be writing about to snap up each edition. A wise employee stays current on what the boss is up to, because promotions require that sort of study.

Soon to be on a magazine cover every week

Silvio Berlusconi may be in hot water, but he's covering his arse in the afterworld. His publishing empire, Mondadori, has announced plans to start up a brand new weekly magazine devoted exclusively to the Pope. His Holiness Weekly. Can you see God smiling already?

Imagine the sales potential on this one.

What bishop, cardinal, nun or priest wouldn't be an avid reader? Every cleric wandering through Vatican City will have to be seen holding one, if not thumbing its pages while crossing St. Peter's Square.

And then there's the old ladies who worship all things Catholic. They would want the latest issue of "My Pope" prominently displayed in their homes, to show guests how truly holy they are.

Does the Pope say and do enough to fill out a magazine? Mr. Berlusconi is counting on it. So maybe there's plenty of room for a writer, like you, who doesn't mind flashing a bit of creative license.You have to keep the readers coming back for more, don't you, so your skill at stringing the narrative along could be made to pay.

There will be weekly quotes and wise words from the Pontiff himself included, to bolster the faithful. And if God should shine His light on poor Silvio Berlusconi, who is bringing all this to the world, then it's an investment worth the cost. Even if it doesn't turn a profit at 50p per issue.

Well, of course it's going to be cheap. Freelance writers aren't paid much at all. But you, the writer, are going for the byline and the publication credit, right? To put into the bio paragraph of your query letters when you try to snare a literary agent for your novel?

Regulations Against Common Sense

You've heard it countless times, that smoking will kill you. Don't smoke. It's bad for your health. It takes years off your life.

So imagine the outrage when Ireland' s health service bureaucrats discovered no less than three people in their 90s who were puffing away in their Co. Offaly nursing home. Their ages fly in the face of the dire warnings and it won't be long before someone makes a cheeky remark about government control and what's so bad about the occasional ciggie if these geriatrics are still going strong.

Here's to your smoking ban, HSE

What would happen if word of this longevity filtered out of Offaly and down to Dublin? Youngsters all across the nation would be lighting up in defiance, because clearly HSE was wrong about their declarations. Then it's pure smoking anarchy.

In keeping with the ever-spreading ban on smoking, HSE has decreed that smoking will be forbidden in nursing homes, the law taking effect next week.

So those three smokers in the County Offaly nursing home? They're going to have to quit.

When you hit ninety, you'd imagine there's little to look forward to beyond the occasional drink and a cigarette to go with it. And if you've been a smoker who has lived that long, would you want to go on living if you couldn't have a few puffs from time to time?

The families of those geriatrics have taken their case to the HSE, to have an exception made for their elderly relations. Anyone who's tried it, or been around someone in the throes of withdrawal, realize that smoking is nearly impossible to stop. It seems cruel of the government to demand that three of its citizens just up and quit, as if that wouldn't have a damaging effect on their health.

And what's the harm? For Christ's sake, these people have surely earned the right to smoke rather than be made to suffer the pangs of nicotine withdrawal. Is it being done because HSE can't afford to pay someone to haul the old folks to a permitted smoking location outside, a couple of times a day? Is HSE afraid that dragging them out in all sorts of weather would result in someone coming down with pneumonia and then dying because of some bureaucratic insanity?

Not a pretty picture for the HSE. Better to force the elderly to suffer quietly, craving that cigarette after dinner for the pleasure it brings, when there's precious little pleasure in being stuck in a nursing home, waiting to die. These are regulations we're talking about here, and as any government paper-pusher can tell you, regulations must be carried out without exceptions unless those exceptions are spelled out legally.

To prevent HSE from looking utterly ridiculous or petty, Edenderry Councillor Noel Cribbin has taken up the case and is working with HSE to grant that legally approved exception.

Why not treat the elderly with respect and give them some allowances to ease the misery of getting old and ending up in a nursing home where you have no control over your last dies because you're at the mercy of a government agency that doesn't have common sense written into its rules.

Letting three old folks have a cigarette once in a while won't convince everyone that smoking isn't bad for your health. But making them quit might convince people that the HSE is bad for their health and those who run it are in need of replacing.

The Sting Of Rejection Meets The Twitterverse

Seth Rogen speaks to an empty room

Seth Rogen is a movie star.

A STAR, people. Famous. His name commands attention in Hollywood. He gets the best tables at the trendiest restaurants. He is somebody.

How dare the members of Congress not recognize his authority?

How dare they not sit and listen to his so-called testimony regarding Alzheimer's disease, of which he is clearly an expert because his mother-in-law has Alzheimer's.

The Senators walked out on the acclaimed actor and he was deeply offended. So offended that he took to the Twitterverse to call out Illinois Senator Mark Kirk, who is an expert on strokes because he's recovering from one. Mr. Rogen had a snarky comment for the disabled gentleman, implying a deep hurt at being disrespected after the Senator left the chamber to attend another pressing meeting. With Jim Lovell, an expert on space travel because he's been in outer space.

What did the mass exodus mean? What lesson could Mr. Rogen draw from the poor attendance at his speech, when he is a famous actor who commands much respect in his field and in his native habitat of Hollywood?

Clearly Congress is not making a priority of Alzheimer's research because they ignored the facts as presented by Mr. Rogen, an expert in the field. If America's elected representatives pay no attention to Seth Rogen it must be due to their lack of commitment to finding a cure.

It cannot be that the Senators recognize Mr. Rogen's complete lack of standing to speak on the issue. It cannot be that the Senators understand that the testimony of the electorate, who also have family members afflicted with Alzheimer's disease and are equally knowledgeable about the illness. will be given attention because they vote and appeasing the voters is more important than appeasing some actor from California.

The sting of rejection is forgotten after you've reached the top. It hurts that much more to be rejected again, when you think you're somebody, only to find out that you are not such a somebody outside of your little bubble.

And after the Congress fawned all over Ben Affleck, the handsome film star, hanging on his every word and acting as if he really is an expert on the Congo. Why, because he's been there? How is that more creditable than dealing with an illness in the family?

That rejection really has to hurt.

Tuition Increases Anticipated At Chicago State University?

Is that a spruce tree in the logo? And if so, why?

More bad news for the embattled college on Chicago's south side...

The school has been saddled with an unexpected expense that will likely be paid by an insurance policy, but you know what happens when you file a claim. Right, the next bill is markedly higher.

If insurance costs go up, it stands to reason that Chicago State would have to boost tuition to cover the cost. And by doing it that way, no one has to tell Illinois taxpayers that the tuition is really going up because of cronyism and getting caught trying to stiffle a man who blew the whistle on shady business at one of the world's shadiest institutions of higher learning.

James Crowley had the audacity to let the public know that the school's president was guilty of misconduct. At issue were preferred parking spaces and travel expenses for one clouted student. He did not do his job in the crony way when he did not block the release of documents that reflected very poorly on the university's president. After he ratted about some odd contracts to the attorney general, he sealed his fate.

None of that was supposed to get out, and Mr. Crowley failed to go along to get along. So he was fired.

Being the senior legal counsel for CSU, you can see how Mr. Crowley would be familiar with legal issues. He also possessed some knowledge of the state's ethics laws which protected whistleblowers from retaliation, and so he used his knowledge to file a suit against Chicago State for illegal termination of employment.

Several years later, after the first-of-its-kind case wound through the court system, Mr. Crowley has been vindicated and the school has been ordered to pay him lost wages, with a penalty tacked on. He will end up with upwards of $2 million, and his job back. If he's still interested.

He'll be unwelcome, as you'd imagine, and the university's administration would wake up every morning with a new plot to undermine him or make him so miserable that he'd quit and stop snooping around. Things are very cozy there at Chicago State University, a bastion of the Chicago Way. Those who profit from the arrangement would very much like to keep things profitable for themselves.

And if costs go up because of the price of corruption, it's just another expense for the students and the taxpayers to cover.

Like the parking meter deal and the red light camera deal.....

The Drunken Sots Of Galway

Those who ride the train from Galway to Dublin are officially recognized as unrepentant drunks.

Iarnrod Eireann has spoken, in a very blatant manner. If I was from Galway, I'd be taking offense at the grave insult.

Teatotaler Express

The rail authority has instituted a ban on consumption of alcoholic beverages on the Galway to Dublin run. What's telling about the typical Galway rider is the fact that the train in question leaves Galway at one in the afternoon. How many people have a heavy feed of drink on them at lunchtime? Apparently, the people of Galway. Hence, the ban on further intoxication.

After fielding complaints from riders about the anti-social behavior of some people, Irish Rail had to act and the easiest thing to do was to tell the catering company to stop selling beers, ciders and tasty Irish whiskeys. Galway residents apparently were unable to help themselves, being a clutch of raging alcoholics, and were drinking up the stock until they became thoroughly obnoxious.

Imagine being trapped on an intercity train with a group of pissed lads heading to Dublin, trying to pick fights and arguing over football or rugby. It's not like you could get off at the next stop and wait for another train. You'd complain, and loudly. And you'd expect Irish Rail to do something about the problem.

From now on, Galway residents will have to get roaring drunk before boarding, knowing that there will be no topping off allowed once they've taken their seat.

By the time they reach their destination, they should be relatively sober and better able to navigate the winding roads of Dublin town, no doubt in a search for the nearest pub.

New Currency, New Scam

Anyone with sufficient cash reserves can start up a bank. By the same token, anyone can offer pieces of virtual currency and call it real, with real value, and there are those who will buy up those make-believe coins and see themselves as riding the wave of new technology.

Then the wave crashes against the shore and the investors realize that they are just the newest victims of an old scam packaged in fresh wrappings.

Values climb until the scam runs its course

There has been no end to the hype recently about Bitcoins, the virtual currency that is said to be quite popular among international drug smugglers looking for a place to launder their proceeds. On a more intellectual level, the bitcoin is supposed to replace all the various national currencies with this international token. The value is not set by the Bank of England or any other government-oriented source. Instead, the value is set by the free market. If someone will give you X times 5 dollars for a bit coin and you think it's a profitable exchange, you and your trading partner set the value and it doesn't matter what the LIBOR is or any of that regulatory business.

It is the free market in operation, but like any free market business, it is essential that the buyer beware. In a time when governments regulate and control so much that we are thoroughly accustomed to being protected from our greedy selves, it can be a bit of a shock to discover that currency traded outside of traditional avenues also lacks the traditional protections.

As happens with non-regulated entities, there is no one to turn to when a bitcoin exchange suddenly disappears from cyberspace, taking investor capital with it. Mt. Gox is not to be found, and those who sunk real money into it are out of pocket.

The vanishing of $409 million is said to be due to a hacker, which is the problem with money held in less-than-secured vaults. It is no small feat to break into a bank and steal that much money. Doing it online, where the locks are only so much code, takes far less effort.

There is no government insurance policy to protect investors from the loss. Neither is there a private policy to be tapped. Mt. Gox is, quite simply, gone as if it never existed, and several people are going to have no other recourse than to write it all off as a bad investment. A bit like those who were taken by Bernie Madoff in his prime.

You might think that the perceived value of the bitcoin is a case of well-crafted fiction, in which smart people suspend disbelief long enough to be taken under the spell of the narrative. The story has come to an abrupt halt, with an ending not particularly palatable to the "readers". They can issue bad reviews, but that doesn't recoup the investment gone bad, and it may not kill off the bitcoin genre.

Because there's a sucker born every minute, right?

Flow Gently, Sweet Little Dargle

The Dargle's famed waterfall is not to be replicated on the Little Dargle

The Dargle flows out of the Wicklow Mountains and tumbles down the red-hued rocks on its way to the sea. At the Powerscourt Waterfall it cascades fromt he heights, one of Ireland's natural wonders and a local tourist attraction.

Who could blame Adam Clayton for wanting to replicate it, in small form, on his 44 acre estate?

The U2 bassist purchased Danesmoate Estate back in 1987, when the band was enjoying success. He fell in love with the place when the group was recording 'The Joshua Tree' album there, and if you have the cash and a dream, why not realize it?

Like any older home (as in built in the 1700's old), there were improvements and repairs to be made. This being a protected home, the repairs and renovations had to be done in a manner that preserved the structure and the grounds. Such residences are best held by those with a desire to preserve history rather than make their own, because every little thing you do requires planning permission and such permission is hard to come by.

As Mr. Clayton discovered recently.

The Little Dargle River runs through his estate, the flow tamed by the presence of three weirs. Clearly these are man-made structures, but as it turns out, mandmade structures fall under the guidance of the Dun Laoghaire-Rathdown County Council. The Council determined that the weirs are part and parcel of the history of the place, and as such, cannot be removed.

Mr. Clayton wanted to turn those three weirs into a proper waterfall, which may very well have been how the Little Dargle was flowing when workmen first arrived at the spot to construct the house at Danesmoate. That, however, is not the part of the land's history that the Council is keen to save. If Mr. Clayton came along seeking a permit to raze the home and restore the acreage to its original form, he would be turned down as well.

Flow gently, sweer Little Dargle, tumbling over the weirs installed by the hand of man. The river was modified once and cannot be modified again because Danesmoate house and the surrounding grounds are part of Ireland's heritage, from the days of the Protestant Ascendancy, and like a museum exhibit it shall not be altered.

Make Ready A Welcome

Howard Morhaim is looking for a new agent to join his literary agency.

You're thinking you don't care because you don't live in New York City and you have no desire to take a position that is more sales than artistry. If you have a manuscript in need of a rep to do that kind of selling for you, you should be very interested.

A newly arriving agent, even one with clients following in her wake, is still looking to expand her stable of authors. Such an agent is more likely to be interested in seeing your work on the chance that an unexpected gem might land in her lap via the slushpile. That interest doesn't last forever, either.

At some point, the new agent will have a full roster of talent and will shift into stabilization mode. She might take on a new client if that writer is already published and looking to switch agents. Maybe someone with a laundry list of writing awards would send a query and she'd be all over it. But for you, the unpublished and untrained? Not so much.

Kate McKean was once a fresh face eager to take on new writers. Now? She's closed to queries. She's too busy. Which means that the Howard Morhaim agency is not entertaining queries at all, unless you come recommended and you write something that Mr. Morhaim reps. Chances are, you don't. On both counts.

Maybe you should put the Howard Morhaim agency in your list of bookmarks, to be checked with ease and regularity. Eventually, an agent will be hired and then there will be three agents, at least one of whom will actually accept a query letter from you.

This being a competitive business, you have to be ready. Think the Olympics, but in publishing. Polish your query. Shine up the manuscript. And be ready to hit the send key as soon as that new agent sets up an inbox at the Howard Morhaim agency.

Weary of the Crush

How much is Candy Crush worth, and would you pay that much for a piece of it?

You've tried the game, haven't you, and you have to ask yourself if you've reached the point where it's grown a bit dull.

For the hard-core addict

So how much is a digital game worth going forward?

The Swedish firm behind Candy Crush is going public, to make hay while the sun shines as the farmers might say. The game is still hot at the moment, but it's been around for a couple of years now and wise investors are not sure the game will keep on growing at the same pace. It's a game, after all, and people get bored with games after a time. When that time comes, do you want to be the one holding stock that is declining in value?

A figure of $5 billion has been suggested in some circles. If you're on the receiving end of that kind of money, you'd be hoping that investors will think of Facebook instead of Farmville as they consider making a purchase.

Will enough players continue to pony up their 99p for a set of extra lives? Can the game be as addictive in two years time as it is today, assuming that Candy Crush addiction hasn't already begun to wain as a distracted population with a short attention span notices some other shiny new object?

Games have a limited life online, with plenty of other developers hoping to cash in themselves with their own game. Competition is fierce out there. The King people will have shareholders breathing down their necks to develop new games or tweak existing games to stir up fresh interest and keep the pennies flowing in to the company's coffers. Those shareholders will be wanting a return on their investment and the inventors of Candy Crush could find themselves on the outside looking in if they do not produce the required dividends.

Of course, the outside would be far more pleasant with a few million in your pockets, assuming you could sell your shares before the bottom fully dropped out of the stock.

Facebook or Farmville? And wasn't Angry Birds all the rage not so long ago?

Mr. Darcy On Skates

Canadian ice dancer Scott Moir felt the loss of the Olympic gold medal, but he is wrong to blame the coach he shared with the American couple who took gold.


There were some who thought the judging was fixed, with the pair of Tessa Virtue and Scott Moir facing a rigged game. Scoring in dancing is bound to be somewhat subjective, and there is always someone who questions the eyesight of the judges. When you're a fan of the Canadians, you're going to criticize those holding power over placement, when all you need is a fan of Jane Austin and a lover of costume dramas to set your straight.

Scott Moir didn't stand a chance, poor lad.

He was skating against Mr. Darcy.

Look at Charlie White over there. Does that curly mop of hair remind you of anyone?

Think Masterpiece Theatre, the quintessential authority on British period pieces. Their 1995 adaptation of the classic Jane Austen novel has been the most enduring, the version that set the tone for Regency romances. Said to be the truest to the author's text, the show made actor Colin Firth the unquestioned master of the Darcy character. He owned Darcy, so much so that he played a similar character in Bridget Jones' Diary, in a nod to the romantic swoon-inducer that he owned in the television adaptation of Pride and Prejudice. 

You won't find the likes of Lawrence Olivier or Mathew McFadyen rising up out of the lake in London's Hyde Park. No indeed. It's Firth's Mr. Darcy, recreating the wet shirt scene that sets many a lady's heart to fluttering.

So what would you expect when Mr. Darcy steps out onto the ice and dances with manly grace? The Canadians didn't stand a chance, not when the judges were looking at Mr. Darcy in the guise of Charlie White. A minor flaw here or there for the American team? Mr. Darcy was flawed, in his way, but still he won the heart of Elizabeth Bennet...and enough ice dancing judges to give the American team the gold medal.

Alone In A Crowd

Nobody noticed he was gone.

Nobody asked if anyone had seen Nicholas Barnes. Nobody knocked on his door or even so much as rattled the knob.

Until a foul odor wafted down the halls of the International House at the University of Chicago, student Nicholas Barnes was not missed. His body was discovered on the floor of his room after the nasty smell was traced there and the door was opened.

A typical room at U of C

The dormitory is a crowded place. The rooms are small and the student body large, but Nicholas Barnes was wholly alone in that crowd and nobody noticed that he was around. For days they did not notice. Enough days for decomposition to set in, for the stench to make things unpleasant in the dormitory filled with his fellow students.

He missed classes during those days after he died alone. Those he shared a classroom with didn't think anything of it. Or they had no idea who Nicholas Barnes was, so busy were they with their own course load and their personal pursuit of academic excellence.

Was Mr. Barnes a loner, so completely capable of isolating himself and insulating himself from contact? How is it possible for a person to go through two years at a prestigious university and not have any friends? Not mere acquaintances, but colleagues with a spark of feeling for another that went beyond the selfish interests and extended to a touch of concern for another.

Nobody noticed because nobody cared.

The University of Chicago is looking into the situation, but the administration will have to delve deep into the university's ethos to find an answer to the question. How could a student be so alone as to die and not be missed? How did it happen that a link on Facebook provided the news to other residents of the dormitory? Do none of them talk to each other, socialize or mingle, or are they all too busy in their own little worlds of study and scholarship? Do they see their Facebook friends as real people who care about them? Why go through the trouble of connecting with living, breathing human beings when you can click on a link and add a new friend to your collection?

And is this the sort of place that a parent would wish to send their child, especially one who might be gifted academically but socially retiring?

One Door Down From History

Then

Ireland's history as a republic is a short one. Not even one hundred years old yet, and already there is talk of demolishing an area that played a key role in the 1916 Easter Rising. It isn't in the poshest part of town. It's quite rundown, really. Wouldn't it make a better shopping mall?

Now

 Despite the disaster that was the property market meltdown, there are developers who long to develop something and what better something to develop than an area in need of refurbishment? Sprinkle in a little talk of jobs gained, taxes acquired, improved living conditions, and planning boards across the island sit up and take notice.

Do that to an area that should be sacred and you'll find people who cherish their history, the history that their great-grandparents saw in the present tense, and you get an uprising of another sort.

Next to the historic building at 14-17 Moore Street is Paris Bakery, a thriving establishment that gives work to 70 people. They've been told by the authorities in charge of redeveloping the area that they have to go. The reason given? The bakery has to be torn down so the historic building next door can be shored up.

Which would remove the historic building entirely from its context as a terrace building, making the location of the rebel headquarters the only thing considered worth saving. Seal the building into amber, and put a shopping center around it. Maybe 14-17 Moore Street could become an exhibit within the shopping center?

The people who own the bakery cannot afford to move. They have equipment that would have to be dismantled and installed elsewhere, which involves costs that require money and the cupboard is bare. Assuming they could locate something with rents equally affordable that suited their needs.

The National Assets Management crew wants to move the parcel on to someone else so that the government can recoup some of the money lost when the banks went belly-up and the State moved in to shore them up. To the beancounters, shifting as much of Moore Street as possible would be a good thing. Irish history? That's in the past, and aren't they saving the one single structure that really matters?

History is, unfortunately for NAMA, priceless. The area they are willing to see torn down is an area that should be protected and preserved. Instead of encouraging a developer to tear it down, they should be looking for a developer willing to restore and rehabilitate.

That way, 70 people could keep their jobs. Real jobs that actually exist. As compared to the rosy projections of a developer who is most interested in his own profit, even if it comes at the expense of irreplaceable artifacts.

The Only Irishman In The Parade

It's the sharpest edge of the knife that Enda Kenny is walking these days.

An Taoiseach wants to be seen as "in touch" with the common people, but it's near impossible to know where those common folk (that is to say, the Irish voter) stands on certain key issues.

It was easier last year

The man who leads Ireland would of course be a popular guest at anyone's St. Patrick's Day parade, and Mr. Kenny has enjoyed his visits to New York City in the past. He's all about promoting the Emerald Isle for business and tourism, and his face is suitably Irish to get him noticed during a parade that features more politicians than Irish-Americans.

The non-politicians who organize the parade, however, are still closely aligned with the Catholic Church and their rules for parade participation reflect that fact. Groups promoting homosexuality and related causes are not welcome, and are not allowed.

So they're angry because the New York parade is one of the most prominent in the nation. They can't get the sort of free publicity for their issues that they'd like, and all because the public parade isn't run by City Hall and they don't have the same strong voice.

The rainbow of groups that wants to march has called for a boycott (another fine Irish word) and New York's mayor answered the call. He proclaimed that he wouldn't go. Which left Mr. Kenny in a tight spot.

With the gay/lesbian/etc. community divided on strategy, it was no wonder that some who were upset with New York's restrictive parade told Mr. Kenny to go right ahead and participate. In their minds, the boycott is not the right way to gain support. Let the parade organizers have their parade, filled with politicians and trade union VIPs. To make a huge fuss is to annoy the straight community that is looking for any excuse to point at the other and complain about the tactics and how they're spoiling things for the rest of us and who do they think they are, that tiny minority.

Besides, Mr. Kenny isn't running for office in the States and Ireland remains a morally conservative country. He could have faced more damage at home if he didn't go than if he did. By receiving the approval of a segment of the non-straight population, he gained enough cover to keep the peace. If there's anything an Irishman is after it's about keeping the peace.

Now the mayor of Boston, another corner of Irish-Americanism, is going to boycott the parade unless the homosexual groups get to parade with banners that trumpet their cause. This being Irish people we're talking about here, you can guarantee that the organizers are digging in their heels a bit deeper and hardening their resolve further in an act of stubborn refusal to bend.

Anything to tweek the party in power. Labour is calling for a boycott and criticizing Mr. Kenny for attending, while his party is talking up the importance of an appearance along with a wish that things were more inclusive but what can you do.

Does he stay or does he go?

With the parade about a month away, there is not much time to change plans without costing the government money, and there are those in office who make complaining about such expenditures their life's work. And Mr. Kenny dare not ignore another segment of the voting public. He'd have to answer to Mrs. Kenny if she doesn't get her shopping trip to NYC.

A Big Day Coming

You might have glanced at the calendar recently, or even gone so far as to give yourself a reminder.

Friday is a big day. This Friday, two days hence, is the day on which you can begin entering the free giveaway at Goodreads.

The one linked just to the right over there --------->

Right, yes, it's also Valentine's Day and there is no better gift for your significant other than a bid on a copy of Katie Hanrahan's third novel, one that will arrive well before the book is available to the general public.

Not sure if a novel about a relationship set in the tumultuous years of the American Revolution would suit? There is a strong romantic element in this particular bit of historical fiction.

The book tells the story of American partisan Sarah Mahon and the man she would marry, if forces beyond her control had not interfered. Her intended, Jack Ashford, fights for England while harboring a secret desire to leave his homeland behind and settle down in South Carolina. Politics keep them apart, while determination keeps them together in a bond that frays but never quite breaks.

You can read the opening pages here.

You can pre-order the e-book here.

What do you have to lose? Go on. Take a chance on the free book, a lovely trade paperback that will be available when you'll most need a happy distraction. On that other big day. The one where you have to be sure to have paid the tax on your hard-earned income.

It's appropriate, isn't it, to go back to a time when taxation without representation had people so enraged that they took up arms and ended up creating a brand new style of government.

Can You Hear Me Now? Sister? Hello?

Fair play to Minister for Justice Alan Shatter. He's still trying to get in touch with the nuns who once ran Ireland's notorious Magdalene laundries.

Slave labor

The Sisters just won't pick up the phone.

For decades, Irish girls were thrown into a workhouse that was essentially a prison, but without the usual legal preliminaries like a trial and a set length of their sentence. Many of the inmates never left. Their only crime was often that of being too attractive to men, or of keeping house for a bachelor brother because that was the first step on the road to incest. Some of them were pregnant outside of marriage. Some of them were rape victims. It didn't matter. Women had to be contained.

They were made to work, backbreaking work, and received not a cent in compensation. The nuns who benefitted from the slave labor failed to pay into the government's pension funds. The women who survived the harsh regime are now elderly, and have no pension coming to them. Financially strained, many are afflicted with mental problems that go unaddressed because they cannot afford the help they need.

Mr. Shatter politely asked the religious orders who ran the laundries to be good enough to contribute to a a little fund he hoped to establish, one that would compensate the abuse victims. Is it any surprise that the nuns cried poor and declined the offer?

After the UN issued their rather scathing report, he's giving it another go, hoping that the nuns have had a change of heart. When the UN says you're guilty of abuse, you might sit up and take notice. At least that's what he mentioned in his letter to the four congregations, offering them a gentle nudge (these are nuns he's dealing with and you can't get cheeky with them) to remind them that they are expected by the world to take responsibility for what happened under their reign of terror.

Alas, the nuns are remaining behind the tall walls of their various fortresses and they're emptying their noses in Mr. Shatter's general direction. Instead of money, they provide records, except so very often the records were lost in a fire. Convents are notoriously combustible in Ireland.

While it's grand that a former inmate can get her hands on records to prove she was incarcerated and thus eligible to receive compensation, those pieces of paper won't make up for the years of slavery and an old age without a pension.

The Sisters have yet to respond to Mr. Shatter's most recent missive. They may be too busy grading his penmanship and grammar to comprehend the actual contents.

You Are Being Mocked

The Starbucks culture has become a punchline, shorthand for hipsters following trends without considering the expense. When you get right down to it, the coffee isn't all that good and it costs a fortune. But still they line up, for the chance to parade along the street with a paper cup emblazoned with a mermaid.

Long lines, so who is the dumb one

Where else but in Los Angeles would people get in line at a shop that has all the earmarks of Starbucks, with a clever little addition to the sign? This isn't your ordinary coffee shop. This one is dumb. Are you dumb, then, for going there? Are you trying to get in on the very latest trend in a city where trends come and go in the blink of an eye?

Little is known about this place that just appeared one day. Is it owned by Starbucks? But why would they call the place "dumb" as if they are trying to insult their clients? That doesn't sound like good corporate policy.

Might it be a piece of art?

Performance art takes many forms, and isn't this whole set-up a perfect gesture of mockery?

Instead of fancy baked goods, it's commercial products served out of the box. There is coffee, of course, but is it the real thing or did someone stop at the nearest supermarket for a five pound bag of the cheapest beans on hand?

Then there is the line out the door, with people waiting to buy something that is maybe new or maybe not and is it actually Starbucks or is someone playing a prank? In the meantime, the people who conceived this parody can sit back and laugh their heads off at the trendinistas making fools of themselves over a beverage.

If Starbucks is not behind it, you can expect a flock of lawyers to descend and drop legal writs in an avalanche meant to bury those who mock the mermaid. If they are actually trying to get some publicity for themselves, in a down economic period when the first advice on how to cut expenses is to stop going to Starbucks every day, the lawyers will hover with menace but never actually do anything.

My bet is on the performance artist getting away with a clever parody because you can't sue an artist for making fun of some corporate behemoth sellling burnt grounds as a tasty brew. The thing won't last because performance art is about the performance and in time the show does not go on. The funding eventually runs out and there's rent to pay at the storefront that is mocking Starbucks fanciers.

The Things You'll Learn On Twitter

The first rule of novel writing regards the opening of the novel. Never, ever, unless you're an established author and can do what you like, open your story with one of the characters waking up from a dream.

Editing and revising

To literary agents and publishers, it's a cliche opening and one that they consider lazy. It's too easy to create a spark of interest in a reader because a dream is not your character's reality so you can manipulate things in ways not possible in ordinary circumstances. The reader is then left disappointed when they discover it's all a dream and the time they invested in reading the sequence is wasted. To punish the author, they abandon the book, and that's no way to boost sales.

If your novel starts with a dream sequence, go back and rewrite it. Scrap that whole first chapter and start over.

But wait, there's more.

Who knew there were other openings that will land you on the rejection pile? I didn't know all of them until I checked Twitter.

Alec Shane is a literary agent at Writers House, a fairly prestigious and large agency in New York City. He's on Twitter these days, chatting in 140 characters about the things that agents often chat about. That is, he's promoting his authors when they have new books coming out or responding to writers who wonder what he's looking for.

Then there are the tweets that offer tips to writers. Little pointers that MFA students might learn early in the creative writing program but you don't know about because you're not in a position to go back to school. Here it is:

"Overused opening scenes for books:at a funeral, running/getting chased, waking up/getting woken up, on a plane/car on the way to a new place"

And here I am with a manuscript ready for submittal, and the opening features the protagonist on the way to a new place.

Using travel opens up a host of possibilities to drive the narrative, including meetings between characters that will then set the novel in motion. Until Mr. Shane tweeted it, I never would have noticed, and as a voracious reader you'd think I would have noticed it before. But then again, I don't confine my reading to debut novels and it's a fact that established authors get to break the rules which misleads those of us still learning the craft.

The writing idea I had before will now have to be stored away while I take out the manuscript and completely rewrite the entire opening. A new way has to be found to bring the key characters together. A different approach has to be taken to introduce the protagonist and present the first hints of the conflict with her parents that will make her later actions logical.

All because of a short burst on Twitter.

You can learn something from amazing sources. Like the fact that Twitter is more than a place for advertising or your friends' announcements of where they are or what they're eating or how hungover they are. It's definitely educational, in between the drivel.

It Takes A Computer To Make A Computer Game

Femi Adekele had a problem on his hands. He had a brilliant idea for a computer game, but he had no computer.

In support of downtrodden pigs

At least that's the excuse he gave to the gardai when they nabbed him for stealing computers and related equipment from Dublin City University.

At the time of the burglary, Mr. Adekele was a student there, so you'd expect that he would have access to the computers that he tried to steal. The purpose of the computer lab is to give students access to computers so they have what they need to complete their studies. All the student needs to add is a flash drive on which to store their work so they can keep what they've done until they come back to fine tune the code.

That, apparently, was insufficient for Mr. Adekele. He had to have the computers in his possession.

From there, you'd have to assume that Mr. Adekele and his assistant consumed a few alcoholic beverages because their caper smacks of drunken antics.

The perpetrator entered the premises, armed with tools to remove the equipment. They filled a couple of shopping bags with Apple products (still the best graphics and beloved by graphic artists) but that sort of work done by a non-professional tends to generate noise. A security guard caught them, and the pair of thieves thought it best to make their escape.

The escape route was a window which, unfortunately, was not on the ground floor. Mr. Adekele broke his leg in the fall, and his trustworthy companion hid him in the shrubbery until the heat died down. It only went further downhill from there.

It took twelve hours for the assistant to locate a means of transporting a man with a broken leg, and as bad luck would have it, the only item available was a wheelbarrow.

Unless you're Molly Malone, a barrow being pushed around Dublin is instantly suspicious, especially when the contents are not mussels and cockles but a Nigerian man in some pain. Gardai stopped them and then the story came out.

The purported story, that is. In court, Mr. Adekele's counsel offered up the "computer game inventor" theory, in which his client intended to make his fortune in a game that competed with Angry Birds. To be called Angry Pigs. Retribution from the unfortunate victims of the original app; the pigs strike back, and Mr. Adekele would be rich, rich, rich.

He's pleaded guilty and will await his sentence while his broken limb heals. There'll be no healing of his pride, however. That's damaged beyond all hope of repair.

Walking In The HMH Shadow

After Barry O'Callaghan swallowed up a string of mighty behemoth publishers and promptly choked to death, the scraps of an educational publisher that remained went into a period of debt restructuring, sackings and reorganizing that led to bankruptcy court.

That was in 2012. A bit less than two years on, and Houghton Mifflin Harcourt emerged from bankruptcy as a slimmed- down version of its former self, under new management and with fewer employess. But it survived, to the relief of those fortunate enough to hang on to their jobs.

Publisher see, publisher do

Back when Barry O'Callaghan was an acquisition machine, Thomson Learning decided to follow in his footsteps, under the assumption that he was getting too far ahead and would leave the educational publisher in his wake. So they bought Houghton Mifflin's college division when Mr. O'Callaghan didn't need it anymore, and they picked up a few other bits and pieces to cobble together something that was big like the O'Callaghan creature that he named EMPG.

And like the wreck that was Education and Media Publishing Group, Cengage found that it was drowning in an ocean of debt, an ocean of its own creation.

The corporate suits walked in O'Callaghan's shadow and ended up in deep financial trouble. They're still trodding the same path. Cengage has just announced that it, too, is going to undergo the rigours of a Chapter 11 bankruptcy proceeding to restructure their debt. Their creditors will become their owners, just like HMH.

And in time, they hope their situation will mirror that of HMH, which came out of the process still breathing. Cengage will reduce its debt load by turning the debt into shares, but in a way, those owed the money essentially owned the failing publisher. For the debt holders, the arrangement gives them some slight chance of getting back more of their investment than they might otherwise have gained in a sale of assets.

That's how it worked for HMH debt holders, at any rate. So if you're following along in HMH's shadow, why not finish the journey and hope for the same success?

That success will depend on the folks in the corner offices making the right decisions, which is what happened in Boston at HMH headquarters. A misstep, and Cengage won't emerge from Chapter 11 with a pulse.

The Protection Of Power

They feared they would not be believed.

For the hundreds of Irish children who were abused by priests, they feared they would not be believed. They feared the power that the abusers held over them because the abusers were people of influence.

Influential, with a clutch of worshippers at their backs, to refute the allegations and tear apart the victim. Clergymen. Doctors. Television actors. Film stars.

Woody Allen.

Dylan Farrow, daughter of actress Mia Farrow, made accusations against her stepfather many years ago, when she was a child. She came forward and her mother believed her, and then they met the juggernaut that protects the powerful. It was not the famed film director/writer who was demented, no, it was the girl. Making up horrific stories. Likely a figment of Mia Farrow's imagination. Using the daughter to get back at the husband over some marital spat.

The man is a great writer (clergyman). A brilliant comic (priest). Not capable of the actions of which he stood accused.

In a letter to the New York Times today, Ms. Farrow states quite simply what it was like, to not be believed and then to have the protective force behind Woody Allen turned on her.

The abused children of Ireland had the power of the Catholic Church turned on them. For Ms. Farrow, it was the power of the Hollywood elites who held her stepfather in such high regard that he was proclaimed blameless. After suffering abuse, she was made to suffer further. Woody Allen continued on with his life, to win great acclaim from his colleagues who deflected criticism so that there would be no retribution for his sins. The abusing priests continued on with their lives as well, untouched, adored by the parishioners for their apparent godliness.

The Catholic Church rallied around its pedophiles and shielded them from prosecution. Hollywood rallied around its pedophile and shielded him as well, and in both cases, the children who were harmed were left to fend for themselves, to be seen as liars or psychopaths, fantasists looking to bring down someone of influence, someone important, someone beloved by the masses.

Now the abused has come forward, to speak truth to power at a time when her abuser is being lauded for his body of work. Can you blame her? But will the protectors of the powerful take another look at what they've said and done, see that they are complicit in a crime by their silence? Or will they shrug like they did when Woody Allen married his adopted daughter, and go back to heaping praise on a talented man? 

When The Profit Is Not Profitable Enough

Looking back to the early days of Amazon, there were stock pundits out there who laughed at the price of Amazon stock. The company was losing money, not showing a penny in profit, but investors loved it just the same. The stock price was bid up beyond normal expectations, especially for a company with huge expenses to cover.

Jeff Bezos, the early years

Amazon has released their quarterly profit report for the end of 2013 and it's happened. The firm that began as the world's largest bookstore is turning a profit. A small one, but then again, the average grocery store is happy to see a 1% profit. That's how it is when profit is based on volume, on selling a lot of stuff cheap.

Amazon investors are not happy. The investors are displeased.

No profit, and the stock climbs. Small profit, but it's not profitable enough and the stock is punished.

Amazon reported an increase in sales, so that's a good thing, you'd think. More sales is better. But investors felt that the more was not more enough, or not what they were expecting. Someone must be believing that the economy is roaring back and people are buying, to expect some big surge in growth. The fact is, for most who buy from Amazon because it's cheaper, they don't have to gas up the car to get the merchandise, and they can often save the expense of their local sales tax, they weren't buying more. The expectation was based on a false premise.

But the stock got punished just the same.

As for the prognosticators at Amazon, they've issued guidance for the upcoming year that reflects far more modest growth. They know their clientele, and they know there isn't a lot of extra money out there for things that are not critical to life. Things like hardcover books or gadgets or new clothes.

They may not even turn a profit next year, but return to the old days of losses. That should give the stock a big boost. The investors showed a preference for the money-losing Amazon back in the day.

Why Stop At False Eyelashes

From now on, dancers under the age of ten will not be allowed to wear make-up during Irish set dancing competitions. To which we can all breathe a sigh of relief. A child does not need cosmetics to improve appearance. The heavy make-up does little more than make little girls look like some sort of miniature adult, and the false eyelashes are too much glamour for the wee little ones.

For some reason, fresh faces were deemed lacking in a certain something that some dancing coach must have thought was needed to push the dancer over the top. How to make a girl stand out in a field that calls on regimentation? Cover her features with paint and slap on some abnormally long lashes and the judges will be captivated.

Except that many people are made uncomfortable by children in the guise of sexy adults, especially in a nation still reeling from child sex abuse scandals. To make a girl look like a hoor touches too close to that particular nerve, and even if the original idea was well intentioned, it has now been banned.

But why stop at the eyelashes?

Grand, Coimisiun le Rinnci Gaelach, that you've taken this first step. But can you please do something about the false hair?

Where in God's name did these springs come from and who thought it was an Irish look? I've known girls with curly locks, but not one of them looked like she'd plopped Medusa on the back of her head.

And it's become part of the costume, as much as the proper shoe and the fancy dress.

No one has hair like the this. No one. Yet every girl out there dancing has to don this hairpiece, and then there's the headband to hide the seam so we can all pretend it's her real hair. For feck's sake, why not just put them in hats and be done with it? Something in a lovely Irish tweed that sheds the rain would look far better than the bizarre confection that's de rigeur these days.

Please, official body that governs the art. Please make it stop. Ban the spring heads.