Preparing To Be Irish For St. Patrick's Day

No, everyone is not Irish on the 17th of March. Marketers of alcoholic beverages would like you to believe that's the case, but you must then assume that the Irish are heavy drinkers and to be Irish is to drink large quantities of beer. Stumbling out of a bar at eleven in the morning does not constitute Irishness.

But you'll likely be in a bar somewhere, lifting a pint, so why not acquire some genuine Irishness in the form of useless trivia to sprinkle into a conversation?

Your textbooks can all be found here. Or here in their electronic versions. Or if you like Amazon, here.

Where to begin?

The Irish left Ireland in droves over the centuries and many arrived on America's shores to make new lives where they could worship freely without took sides with the rebels back in 1776.
having to pay a tax in support of the Anglican church. They brought with them a general dislike of England and the monarchy, and many of them

Meanwhile, back in Ireland, the British were not willing to relax the countless penalties put on the native Irish-Catholics. For a time, Catholics could not own land, and those who did had to leave it in equal parts to all their sons, unless a son converted to Protestantism. He would then inherit all, an act designed to wipe out the faith. It ended up stoking further anger, which in turn lead to a long-lasting unrest that found support across the world. The Irish diaspora had its revenge, even though it took a long time.

Speaking of the Irish diaspora, the group was well represented in Chicago at the close of the Nineteenth Century. Their covert activities got England's notice and the secret societies that had formed to raise money for armed rebellion were riddled with British spies. An attempt to send a message and oust one such infiltrator led to a murder that was called the crime of the century in its day. The murder, by the way, has never been solved, and the case so divided the Irish community in Chicago that it still resonates today. Brush up on the details before you head out and you'll have no difficulty in making conversation or debating with the best of them.

Prefer the more current version of Ireland?

It isn't all about the cead mile failte, and if you stumble upon an argument regarding the role of the Catholic Church in government affairs, you can best be prepared by reading up on the nightmare that was Ireland until 1996, when the incarceration of women for the crime of being unmarried and pregnant finally ended.

Generations of Irish children were locked away in industrial schools as the new nation sought to create a perfect society free of the ills of poverty. The result is a large population of mentally ill adults who were scarred by experiences that would be unbelievable if they were not true.

Toast to the reparations for the Magdalene laundry survivors and you're likely to draw a bit of attention. Can you explain the significance? Only if you go out prepared.

Study hard. The test is coming in a few days and you don't want to masquerade as Irish without a solid foundation in the soul of the land.

Gone With The Wind But Blowing Back In

Elizabeth I and her trained waist

A tiny waist was once the symbol of feminine beauty. The tiny waist was a fashion trend for a very long time, and women dutifully constricted their mid-sections to achieve the desired figure that was, of course, thoroughly unnatural.

You've come a long way, ladies

From Her Majesty's reign in the Seventeenth Century through the Victorian Era of the late Nineteenth Century, woman have damaged their abdominal muscles and internal organs with constriction devices meant to make their waist look thin. Wasn't Scarlet O'Hara so proud of her tiny waist that she decided not to have another baby because it just ruined her figure?

Women were happy to be rid of the corset when fashion and world politics collided during the First World War. No more was the abnormally small waist the ideal. A girl could breathe again, and do things like walk fast or even, if she dared, run, without fainting due to oxygen deprivation.

You would think with all this modern concern in regard to health and fitness that the last thing anyone would do is to lash themselves into a corset to make their waist look narrower than biology intended, but you would be quite wrong.

The waist-cinching corset is back and the celebrity crowd is crowing about how CUTE they look in their corsets that are now called waist trainers because that recalcitrant body part needs some serious discipline.

Is this where decades of fighting over women's rights have brought you? Have women really reverted to a fashion must that was declared dead decades ago?

Of course, if you write historical fiction you'll want to snap up one of these modern corsets to really get inside a character's head and feel for yourself how restricting that whalebone appliance really was. No need to imagine, writers. You can experience the constriction for yourself and your fiction will be the better for it.

If you don't pass out before getting the words down on paper (or hard-drive).

As for actually buying one, there will be plenty of young ladies who will emulate Kim Kardashian and take to wearing a corset so that they, too, can have that skinny waist that was SO CUTE for so many generations of women who wore the things because society put the pressure on them to conform.

One step forward, ladies. And two steps back.

A Dry Niche Not In Need Of Filling

It's a cold winter evening and you realize a short whiskey would warm your old bones. That bottle that's been sitting in a cupboard for years will still be drinkable when your desire for a wee drop strikes. Liquor doesn't spoil. It won't go bad waiting for you to drink it.

Then why do we need powdered alcohol?

What the creator is calling Palcohol has just been approved for sale in the US, which means every other nation in the booze drinking world will follow suit.

You the consumer would purchase a packet of this freeze dried product and then rehydrate it. Just add water and stir...or should it be shaken? That must depend on what sort of cocktail you're mixing.

What could go wrong?

For those in Muslim countries, it might be a little easier to smuggle in the forbidden. Some powder in a tin masquerading as talcum powder, for example, could fuel a nice little party.

if you have a drinking problem you could use Palcohol like those flavored sugars we used to lick up as children. No need to carry around a flask. Dip your wet finger in the pouch and there's your liquid-free drink. You could get thoroughly pissed and never touch a drop of fluid. Trips to the jacks would be greatly reduced.

Then there are the teen-aged set of curious thrill seekers. How much easier it would be for them to sneak alcohol into a party without the vigilant parents noticing. Imagine the fun after one drunken guest crashes the car on the way home and his or her parents sue the adult who hosted the bash. Will parties for the under aged set soon require strip searches to safeguard the legal rights of the host?

And if one packet is good, what would stop some fool from gulping down two or three or one dozen packets in one sitting just to see what happens?

Imagine the fun the doctors and nurses would have with a steady influx of alcohol poisoning cases presenting on a busy Saturday night.

Does the world really need powdered alcohol? Isn't the real thing better, not needing anything to improve it?

In Celebration Of Irish-American Movies

Ireland is full of film-makers so an American of Irish descent can't get noticed there. It's a frustrating fact for Mike Houlihan, who makes great movies but can't seem to crack the shamrock ceiling.

The Chicago-based director received great reviews for a documentary he created, but what's rave in Chicago didn't translate to admission into an Irish film festival. So he did what any other American would do. He's doing the film festival thing himself.

Mr. Houlihan has launched a film festival for the Irish-Americans who share his frustration at not being shut out of a festival that would fit their genre perfectly. These are the small independent film makers who have something worth seeing, but find it difficult to get noticed because they are small and independent. A film festival that showcases their works is the best way to reach the public, and Mr. Houlihan is doing what he can to provide the venue.

The "Movie Hooley" is scheduled to run in late September at the Gene Siskel Film Center. He's looking for films with an Irish-American touch, whether that come from a director or actors or even the style of story-telling. And Mr. Houlihan is looking for submissions.

The basic premise of the festival is to showcase three films with some Irish element. It could be written by an Irish-American, produced by a descendant of the diaspora, or starring some budding actors with Hibernian roots. Your film might be something that draws on Irish story-telling traditions, or it might be an Irish-American story (like LACE CURTAIN IRISH. Just a suggestion).

All you need are a couple of DVD copies of your film and the courage to give it a try.

Who knows? Maybe the luck of the Irish will be with you and your little labor of love could be showing on the big screen in Chicago's Loop this September. Isn't it time that someone besides your immediate family and friends had a look at it?

Medical Research

Mortality rates were high back in the old days, when a simple cut could be a death sentence if bacteria took hold. For women, the risks of premature death were even greater when the danger of childbirth is factored in. After all, the existence of bacteria is a relatively recent phenomenon, and the concept of washing hands prior to assisting a woman in labor was completely unknown.

There are other considerations as well when you write about historical characters who are undergoing childbirth before the days of anesthesia and basic hygeine. Complications of labor and delivery exist today as they did in the early Nineteenth Century. Do some research on any aspect of post-partum problems and you'll find enough detail to really add some insight into a character you are developing.

So many germs, so little chance of avoiding infection

Take, for example, some historical character who features prominently in your manuscript. You read up on what is known of her life and you encounter some opinions as to the cause of her death, but those opinions are just that. What would a doctor think if such a patient presented at hospital?

The cost of such a consultation to discuss complications of delivery could make your research cost prohibitive. Unless you are lucky enough to have a friend in the medical field.

My character took leave of this earth soon after delivering a baby. Not immediately, like from hemorrhage. Several weeks later. Was there some connection? The historical record, such as it is, has her dying of tuberculosis. A common disease of her time, to be sure, but nothing in the letters she wrote at the end of her life gave any indication of consumption.

The closing chapter of the novel I am roughing out will not take the expected route. No, my conclusion is going to be based on a chance discussion I had with a friend who happens to be a doctor.

Sure my book is fiction and I could have my protagonist's husband could suffocate her with a pillow if that was a logical way to tie up the loose ends, but why not write something that could actually fit with what really happened in those weeks after a difficult delivery? The symptoms would be the same as they are now. In our modern times, there are ultrasounds to diagnose and antibiotics or minor surgery to treat conditions. That type of care was not possible in the heroine's lifetime, and so she died.

My conclusion is logically possible, but I might have not put it all together if not for the advice of an expert in the field. 

If not for a little research and a few questions I might have gone with TB and been done with it. Now there will be some fresh insight into an old story.

The Bonds That Remain Unbroken

From the perilous days of failed uprisings in 1798 and 1803, through the famine era and on into the years of struggle, the Irish have left their home and gone to America to make a fresh start and find the prosperity that was denied them.

We're talking of a time both long ago and not so long ago, as recently as the 1950s and 1960s when people left in droves. There was nothing much for anyone beyond poverty and repression, and so the people boarded planes or boats. Bound for America, the land of hope.

They left physically, but emotionally it seems as if the Irish never really left at all.

That fact played out in Chicago in 1889 when the Irish-Americans set up secret societies that were intended to funnel money to the land of their ancestors' birth. It played out in violence and murder, charges of espionage and infiltration, a scenario that frightened the staid Protestant leaders who were distrustful of Catholics to begin with.

The descendants of Ireland's diaspora continue to funnel money to Ireland. More specifically, Irish-American largesse fills the coffers of the political organization that continues to promote Irish freedom and the restoration of Northern Ireland to the republic that was born from the ashes of 1916's uprising.

Gerry Adams and the power of friends

Sinn Fein's very own Gerry Adams makes an annual sojourn to America every year around St. Patrick's Day, when everyone is Irish in so far as the drinking goes. He comes hat in hand, asking for donations. Just like those who came before him, he turns to those who were raised on tales of hardship and discrimination at the hands of the British overlord. Campaigns to bring about change cost money. And Mr. Adams has been very successful in raising a big pot of money to finance the work of Sinn Fein.

Martin Sheen and Anjelica Huston have ties to Ireland, and they have donated. Businessmen like Donald Keough have given money when Gerry Adams came calling. Friends of Sinn Fein host fundraising dinners to make it even easier to submit a generous sum.

It is not a case of contributing to some charitable cause. Everyone knows what Sinn Fein is about, what they have been about since the days of The Troubles.

Those who support Sinn Fein in Ireland tend to be closer to the bottom rungs of the economic ladder. The organization's socialist message resonates with them, but the poor can't help you much when it's time to pay for election posters and campaign advertising and office rent.

Over the course of the past twenty years, Sinn Fein has raised $12 million from Americans of Irish descent. The donors include people in the trades, as well as those in the professions. What unites them is the same sense of outrage that saw Chicago's Irish-American factions organize secret societies like the United Irishmen. Back then, it was all about raising money to pay for an armed rebellion. These days, it's all about raising money to pay for a peaceful upending of a treaty that was signed in 1922, ceding control of six Irish counties to Great Britain.

Why is the fundraising so successful? Sure the Irish have long memories and carry grudges. For centuries.

When Free Becomes Paid If You Don't Pay Attention

If someone offers you something for free, you're likely to take it if it's of interest to you. Let's say that a company like Amazon said you could have free shipping on their goods. You'd take them up on the offer if you were a frequent user of Amazon's marketplace and saw the deal as a way to save some money.

Would you then be shocked when your credit card was billed for Amazon Prime after a month of free Amazon Prime?

The devil's in the details

You would if you didn't read the fine print, which many people do not. If they did, it's less likely that Amazon and other corporate entities would bother promoting the free trial period. What good does it do you to have free Amazon Prime if you have to watch the clock very carefully to be sure to cancel the thing before Amazon could start ringing up charges that you would have to pay because, well, you did agree when the offer was made.

British citizens read about as far as the part where Amazon said "that's all there is to it". Sign up, and that's it? All right then.

Six people complained about the misleading offer. They accepted thinking the thing was free for a month and would then just go away. Instead, Amazon charged them for not cancelling the membership because it did not go away but became a regular, paid service.

Just six people, and it was enough for the Advertising Standards Authority in Great Britain to ban the advert. In the minds of the authorities, the language was not clear enough to make potential clients realize that once they signed on, they were there for life if they did not take action. The implication, of course, is that Amazon was trying to trick people into parting with their money, and that will not be permitted in Her Majesty's realm.

If Amazon wishes to try again, it will have to rewrite the offer so that it is made quite clear to the consumer that the free offer does not automatically cancel. Oh, yes, and Amazon will have to spell out right there in the advertisement that the consumer is going to be charged seventy-nine British pounds per annum. That little item was also missing from the original offer, and only showed up after a person had gone online to accept the offer they thought was thirty days for free but was more like an indenture for life.

How likely is that sort of highly informative ad copy expected to reel them in like hungry fish? If you spell out the details, you'll just create more sceptics who will determine that there is, in fact, no free lunch. Or free Amazon Prime.

What Is The Convenience Worth To You

You could create your own spreadsheet to track your queries. That's how it was done ten years ago, before tech-savvy types created websites designed to track queries. Back then, the sites were free and all you had to do was tolerate the pop-up ads.

So you signed up and took advantage of the convenience. You did not have to set up the columns and insert the different boxes to have all the functions you wanted in your spreadsheet. It was there for you. Click on a link to the agent's name and there was everything you needed, from e-mail address to genre preference.

In time, the tech-savvy thought aspiring authors would want statistics to tell them that they were not alone in their quest, that others were doing the same thing, and here are their results. How long to wait for a response? Which agents respond and which go the "no response means no" route?

Hooked you, didn't they?

Now that you cannot live without instant access to your query list and the data you so love, Querytracker has invested in their agent-centric website and you will have to pay for things that were once free.

Only $25 for a full year of statistics, genres, and the ability to organize your queries in just about any way you like.

Is the convenience worth it to you?

You could find agents and their genres on AgentQuery and it won't cost you anything more than the time it takes to cut and paste the info into your personal spreadsheet. 

What you'll miss is the statistical data that doesn't really serve a critical function. You know you're not alone. All you have to do is follow any writer's forum and see that you're in plenty of frustrated company.

You could come up with a couple of dollars each month. It's pennies a day, and you could easily meet the expense by dialing back your thermostat a degree or two, or opening the windows instead of opting for air conditioning. You could eat less and forage more. Dumpster diving is always an option if you want to lower your food bills and have money left over to buy the comradeship you get from a website dedicated to would-be authors in search of representation.

How much is the convenience worth to you?

I haven't decided yet, myself. Maybe it's a bargain. Maybe it's a waste of money that will make the website developer rich on the backs of those who want to break into the publishing world. Like most other things, I could live without it. But will I happy without my regular dose of statistical analysis and comments from fellow seekers of literary representation?

What do others in this same situation think about paying someone else to do the grunt work? Will we end up with more time to write if we pay for a small convenience? And will that up our odds of getting a foot in the door?

The Value Of Experience Depends On The Experience

You long to enter the publishing world but you can't get far if you don't know how the industry works. Without experience, you can't get a job to learn how the industry works because who is going to pay you for training? Your lack of skills just aren't worth anything.

Which means you would be expected to work for nothing, with the experience you gain having more value than some paltry salary.

All well and good, but what if your work experience consists of mundane office chores that don't teach you a thing about publishing?

Diana Bruk landed a non-paying job at Scribner during her days at university. She thought she was going to earn an education in the publishing industry by paying with her time, just like she was earning an education at school by paying with cash. Her employer would gain from the free labor, and she would show potential bosses what she was made of. In the long run, if all went as planned, she would shine and when she graduated Scribner would give her a real job and realize the expense of her training from the profits her dedication and hard work would yield.

To Ms. Bruk's dismay, she was given a stapler and told to connect the pages, when she was not shuffling those papers. There was nothing of the publishing industry inside knowledge to be gained from her chores. Indeed, she saw herself as a menial laborer who was being used. Instead of an industry intern, she was given the dullest tasks that had no relation to what she wanted to learn, and she didn't earn a penny from her time.

Not quite the return on investment that she sought when she landed the internship at Scribner.

Ms. Bruk is suing Scribner's parent Simon and Schuster, seeking back pay and whatever damages might apply to a victim of publishing slavery.

She is not the first intern to sue. Other publishing entities have been taken to court and later reached settlements with their former interns, while some cases are under appeal or have been thrown out. At the same time, publishers fearing future troubles have done away with internships completely, removing a very valuable source of education that is not to be had in a classroom.

The solution is simple, of course. Interns could be paid some sort of stipend so they are not taken advantage of. By offering a salary, the publishing company might feel more compelled to get something of value from the intern. Expectations would rise, and the intern would have the opportunity to rise to a challenge instead of dealing with the boredom of photocopying.

In the end, the loss of internships and the mentoring that is expected will not help the publishing industry develop new ideas with infusions of fresh and eager talent. The same holds true for the entertainment industry, where it's very much about who you know. If you can't get in to make some acquaintances, what hope do you have after you've completed your degree?

About the only industry that profits is the legal profession, in particular the law firm that is representing Ms. Bruk and several other former interns.

The Boy Who Believed

Female sexuality is such a complicated thing. Men are forever asking what women want so that they can provide what is needed and therefore have sex with the lady desired.

So it would follow that a boy in search of a clue to the female libido would look at what women seem to want, and then assume it's the key to unlock that mysterious portal.

I'll be Christian Grey and you'll be Anastasia Steele

Except reality is not the same as fiction, which is made up of fantasy that exists in the imagination. As Mohammad Hossain learned, the whole Fifty Shades phenomenon isn't really what women want. They might want to pretend they want bondage or submission in their secret yearnings, but when it comes down to real bondage, well, it's rape and the lady is going to go to the police to have you arrested.

The University of Illiniois at Chicago (Circle Campus for the historians) student was entertaining a guest in his dorm room. The story is murky, in that the couple had "been intimate" but were not dating. So they hooked up once, or something like that.

He decided that they would re-enact scenes from the Fifty Shades movie, just for fun. Once you're done studying, what else is there to do on a Saturday night when you're too young to hit the bars? Watch television?

The not-dating but once intimate co-ed stripped down to her underwear, which leads anyone to think that she might have been willing to play along. After all, the book was a huge seller so maybe women really do like the kinky stuff and you want to be like everyone else when you're 19 and inexperienced.

Once she was partially disrobed, Mr. Hossain bound her wrists to the bed with a belt and then tied up her feet. There was a necktie gag involved and a sort-of blindfold put to use. Those who are familiar with either the book or the film would be more familiar with the scene.

All good fun until Mr. Hossain replicated the punishment aspect by wacking his non-dating partner with another belt. She discovered that what looks like dirty fun on screen is, in real life, painful. She told Mr. Hossain he was hurting her and that he was to stop, but the scene didn't play out that way in the movie. No, the imaginary submissive only said stop when she meant keep going, and if you're going to play Fifty Shades, you stick to the script.

The co-ed, now wiser in the ways of fiction, managed to escape and file a rape charge against Mr. Hossain, who was then arrested. His bond has been set at $500,000 and he cannot return to campus if he manages to post the required ten percent.

What is that women want sexually? The boy who believed in fiction and the power of the best-seller blockbuster has discovered that just because a lot of women read something or go in droves to a movie doesn't mean anything.

The Partner Who Came In From The Cold

Before E.L. James was a shocking success, she was a self-published author of mommy porn. She turned to The Writer's Coffee Shop to get her bondage fantasy series in front of the reading public. Not much of a story there. Writers use several means to achieve their publishing ends, but it is not often that a book takes off like the Fifty Shades trilogy.

So The Writer's Coffee Shop sold the rights to what was clearly becoming a phenomenon to Random House. It was as much a boon for the indie publisher as it was for the author, one of those unexpected wins in a very difficult game.

Again, not much of a story in the transaction. Rights are sold on a regular basis. The publisher gets a cut, the author gets their royalty, and the new publisher does the promotions to boost sales to get a return on the investment. Random House picked a winner and expects to see continued income now that the first book has been made into a movie which expanded the market of interested women over 25 who did not buy the book the first time around.

However....

The Writer's Coffee Shop was a partnership formed by four people. Being a partnership, all four partners get equal parts. When the publisher sold the Fifty Shades rights to Random House, all four partners were supposed to get one quarter of the money pie.

Partner Jennifer Pedroza did not get her check as expected. Her cohorts, apparently, got a little greedy when the cash cow started giving money by the bucket full.

She took her colleagues to court, to force them to pay up what she was owed. As the case played out, the book sold like fur-lined handcuffs and then the film was released to big box office numbers. Her legal team continued to argue that she was entitled to a portion of all of it, a pot of gold that kept growing.

The court has decided that Ms. Pedroza was played for a fool by her fellow partners. They tricked her into signing an agreement that prevented her from an equal share, giving themselves more. Failure to provide her with all the particulars, and misleading her into signing away her rights, constituted fraud.

Ms. Pedroza won her case and will eventually be given what is owed to her, as soon as a forensic accountant can figure out how much she should have made.

The partnership is clearly over, and it is unlikely that she will ever again speak to anyone connected with The Writer's Coffee Shop again.

Do you think she might invest her windfall in a start up? Having gotten a taste of publishing success, who knows if she doesn't go and start up another independent publisher in the hopes of catching lightning in a bottle yet again.

Time And Time

The question is not one of time, but of the kind of time.

I have the time in the course of a full day. What I do not have is the time alone, without distractions or the press of others' needs.

While I write this, I could be working on a new idea for a novel. There is too strict a limit on the kind of time I need to let the ideas rumble around in the brain. I have time, but not much of that time.

So instead of trying to craft a paragraph in a few minutes that will drive a narrative that I cannot quite follow because I need more than a few minutes to get my head back into the early Nineteenth Century, I will just note that Susan Golomb is packing up her literary agency and moving it to Writer's House.

Ms. Golomb has had her own agency since 1990. Twenty-five years of agenting. A long time. And we do not grow younger as the years slide by.

The cost of operating an office is a burden to anyone whose industry is declining. Fewer books are sold these days, as compared to twenty-five years ago, and the competition among literary agents to acquire those blockbusters so much in demand has only increased. It's a young person's game, perhaps, and Ms. Golomb has seen the wisdom in sharing some of those costs with a bigger agency. She may end up making more money in the long run, reducing her expenses by abandoning her own office, even if a portion of her commissions will go towards office maintenance. By sharing, it is likely to be less, and there is a benefit in reducing a financial burden as you get older and the energy starts to decline.

At some point that she can see more clearly because the horizon is not quite so distant anymore, her stable of clients will need a representative to tend their needs while she eases into retirement. Even literary agents don't live forever. What could be more considerate than to put them into a safe place, where they will be looked after when she can no longer look after them?

That's what happens with time. Eventually, it runs out and you have to move on to other things. You just hope that you don't leave anyone dangling, alone in the cold, cruel world of authors without agents.

I Take What's Her Name To Be My Wife

If you're going to scam the immigration authorities with a faux marriage, the least you could do is ask the bride-to-be what her name is. You know, in case someone were to ask? Just to be sure it wasn't a wedding scam?

Zubair Khan of Pakistan did not want to be deported from England, so he thought he could just marry someone for convenience and then go on his merry way. They could divorce when the time was right, for example, after Mr. Khan had gotten the papers he needed to remain in the UK. Wasn't there a very romantic movie about such a thing in America? Gerard Depardieu and Andie MacDowell were the couple involved in some sort of harmless obfuscation of immigration status or getting a green card in a less than honest way.

Could Mr. Khan not have taken the time to rent GREEN CARD and do a little studying to see what he was going to be up against when he showed up at the registry office with his wife-of-convenience?

He arrived for his appointment prior to the wedding ceremony, and the registrar asked him to name his bride. A simple question, to be sure, but one that the groom could not answer. He rang up the man who had arranged the marriage to find out, and the registrar promptly called the Home Office. Mr. Khan and the marriage arranger were arrested, along with Beata Szilagyi of Hungary.

In a way, Mr. Khan got his wish. He will remain in England for the next twenty months as a guest of Her Majesty's prisons. After that, he will most certainly be deported back to Pakistan.

Due to security concerns, the British government is cracking down on the sham marriage industry, and registrars are now interrogating couples they suspect of fraud. And it is security concerns that would see a Pakistani male under a bit of scrutiny, in case he is a Taliban operative.

Apparently, Mr. Khan never thought about any such possibility or potential pitfall to his little scheme to avoid deportation.

All he had to do was conduct a little research and be prepared to answer the sort of questions that any couple would be able to answer if they have indeed been in any sort of relationship.

Like her name, for example. It's the first thing you learn about a lady you're smitten with, isn't it? 

Start At The Bottom, Give Your Friends A Leg Up

Ann Rittenberg is looking for a literary agency assistant. This could be the opportunity you've been waiting for.

First, you'd have to move to New York City, which isn't entirely a bad thing if you thirst for adventure. Because you wouldn't be making much money, you'd have to find a flat in a more downscale part of town. Plenty of adventure just walking around your new neighborhood!

Ms. Rittenberg would like to find someone who loves reading. Sure your first love is writing, but you know that every good author must also be a voracious reader. Part of your new job will be to read incoming submissions, so how easy would it be to insert your own brilliant prose into a pile? You couldn't submit under your real name, of course, but once a literary agent fell in love with the manuscript, you could come clean.

Or just learn to live with a pseudonym and tell your friends that the new blockbuster is actually your work, but don't tell your boss who is also your agent.

You can answer a phone and take a message. You can shuffle papers with the best of them.

If you aren't ready to publish yet, what about your friends? Why not get their words under an agent's nose? You would gain an ally who would owe their literary career to you, and when it's your turn, well, they'd have a relationship with an editor at a publishing house and they'd be owing you a favor.

Jump on the opportunity now, before someone else edges you out and gets a publishing contract that could have gone to you if you'd shifted a little faster.

Opportunity does not always come knocking. Sometimes you have to go out and find it and then wrestle it into submission.

A Legal Treatise On Bondage, Valentine's Day Edition

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The Wages Of Sin Is A Suspended Sentence

Where can an experienced playwright/actor go to make a few bob when the acting jobs dry up and the plays aren't getting produced? Sure a man could go tend bar or take orders at some restaurant, but what if that same man was not interested in anything quite so full time?

For James Gantley, the answer came in the form of an acting gig. Acting, after a fashion. A crminal enterprise hired him because he was good at doing different voices and they needed a man with a good, clear speaking voice who could maybe talk like someone from Leitrim or The Liberties to throw off the authorities. A good disguise is often critical to a successful crime when it comes to getting away with it.

James Gantley

Mr. Gantley was promised some portion of the proceeds of an extortion operation, and all he had to do was make the phone calls to arrange payment for the return of stolen goods. The goods, as it turned out, were legal documents that the criminals threatened to burn if they didn't get the ransom as demanded.

The bags were prices at one thousand euro each, for a grand total of €100,000, a very nice haul. Mr. Gantley was in charge of ringing up the transit van company after the thieves had stolen one of their vans, using his talent as an actor to demand payment and his ability to write fiction to create an entire scenario of deadly menace. All those documents going up in flames! Important data never to be seen again!

The manager of the transit van company was not fooled by the mellifluous tones of James Gantley. He asked for proof that Mr. Gantley and his associates even had the bags of documents. The thieves sent him three bags, and then Mr. Gantley was back on the phone to haggle the price down a bit since the manager didn't seem to be budging.

All that time on the phone allowed the gardai to trace the call back to James Gantley, who got himself arrested and never did get paid for the acting gig, or the play he wrote and performed on the telephone. The bags of documents were eventually recovered and nothing came of the caper beyond arrests and trials.

The judge suspended the sentence he imposed on Mr. Gantley, in large part because the idea of making money by stealing legal documents seemed like the most stupid of crimes. It isn't as if copies of those same documents don't exist in computer files, scanned for all time and readily reproducible.

Even though Mr. Gantley has a rather checkered past, with previous convictions for robbery, he was sent home to take care of his infirm spouse. A man in poor health himself, he also will not be burdening the jail system with the cost of his medical care.

In the end, he earned nothing from his little caper, and will somehow have to find the money to pay his legal fees.

But he should have the nugget of a plot after everything he endured, and if he could turn that into a clever little comedy, he just might have gotten something worthwhile out of an act of remarkable stupidity.

Bias Against The Big Mac

No golden arches and no love from Temple Bar residents

You can drink until 2:30 in the morning if you do your drinking in Temple Bar. There are plenty of establishments open late, providing enough alcohol to ensure that you are thoroughly inebriated before you head off in search of something greasy to soak up some of that booze.

A Big Mac from McDonald's would do wonders for your head. Stave off the hangover and have a good gastric purge. That's just the cure for a long night of indulgence, but the Dublin City Council won't let you have that small measure of relief.

Clearly, they have a strong bias against McDonald's.

McDonald's sought permission to extend their opening time to 3:00 am, to provide the necessary junk food to those who have spent the night in the various pubs and nightclubs that make Temple Bar such an attraction. The members of the council, however, are of the opinion that there are already too many places that are open all hours and the people who live in the area have enough to put up with without adding another late venue. Spewing is a big issue for those walking along the streets the morning after.

Except that McDonald's does not serve liquor. The American fast-food icon serves food that is high in fat. Would a late-night craving for burgers and chips really be that disruptive? I mean, have you been to Temple Bar after midnight?

McDonald's has taken their case to An Bord Pleanala, citing a few other spots that are open late. Places like Supermacs, which is not an American-owned takeaway outlet, is churning out burgers until the wee hours. Why not add McDonald's to the selection of food offerings available to those who are stumbling out the doors of all those bars?

A few local residents complained when McDonald's asked permission. Are they displeased with yet one more spot open late, or are they stockholders in Supermacs or any of the other spots that serve junk food and stay open late? Is this really a case of citizen outrage, or just blatant discrimination against a foreign invader?

An Bord Pleanala will have to answer that question of fairness. After all, if you let others do something, can you really deny that same status to the next one coming in for permission to keep the grills hot for a few more hours?

And if not, then by what right do the others get to do it?

It's not fair, to deprive the drunks of that secret sauce and the slices of cheese-like yellow product that resembles the real thing if you've had about ten pints in the span of two hours and you can't see clearly, let alone taste anything.

Fifty Shades Of Censorship

Sorry, Buncrana.

No Fifty Shades of anything for you while the rest of the world is watching soft-core porn this Valentine's Day.

Not playing in Buncrana's church hall

The anticipated release of Fifty Shades of Grey is receiving all sorts of free publicity. The novel was rather explicit, but how explicit will the film be? Twenty minutes of sex and pseudo-bondage in a one hundred minute movie? That's a great deal of the naughty business, and it is far too much for the owners of the cinema in Buncrana, up there in the hills of Donegal.

Buncrana is a small town in the back of beyond, and the only cinema is located in St. Mary's Hall. On St. Mary's Road. And if you haven't already, guessed, it's owned by the church.

Local resident Mary Doherty is relieved to know that her objection to the film's viewing has born fruit. She has a point, in that the plot revolves around sexual violence against women. It's the female getting bound and gagged and spanked and what have you. Among those who practice bondage or sado-masachism, they laugh at the depiction of BDSM in the novel and expect more of the same in the upcoming film, but even the lighter touch supplied by Hollywood does not sway Ms. Doherty.

The Fifty Shades phenomenon is not grounded in reality, but is meant to be a sexual fantasy aimed at women. There is that promise of fulfillment, as opposed to what happens in the average bedroom. The foreplay and hints of romance in exotic locations is a large part of the appeal, filmed in carefully framed scenes that are charged with orgasmic potential.

The reality of bondage and sex toys is somewhat different. Just ask Graham Dwyer, now on trial in the death of Elaine O'Hara.

The women went missing and when the gardai examined her flat for clues, they found plenty of items that showed Ms. O'Hara was part of the BDSM scene. Perhaps some of the sex toys that viewers will discover on the screen were similar to those found in her flat and the pond near where her body was found. The prosecution hinges on contact made between Ms. O'Hara and Mr. Dwyer, who shared a mutual interest in the sort of sex that is depicted in soft focus in a film that won't be shown in Buncrana.

Sometimes the sadism goes too far. The bondage isn't harmless fun.

The people of Buncrana won't know unless they travel outside of town, but it's the middle of winter and it's cold and the nights are long and the film will be available on DVD so you can watch it at home in the bedroom after the wee little ones are fast asleep.

But as they watch the forbidden erotic adventure, will they think about Elaine O'Hara and how she died?

No, likely not. Death isn't part of the fantasy.

Go Set A Watchman: Harper Lee Opens An Old Trunk

So there's to be a new novel by Harper Lee, the reclusive author who wrote one book and never gave us another.

TO KILL A MOCKINGBIRD was an enormous success, and the reading public waited for Ms. Lee to write more. As it turned out, she was far from prolific. One and done could be used to describe her literary output.

She did not put down her pen, however. Somewhere in the detritus collected over a lifetime there was a manuscript that was written in the 1950s, a manuscript put away in a trunk and forgotten. It was not the sequel to her first novel, but the first effort at writing a story that ended up getting altered by a publisher's suggestion to take a slightly different approach in the story.

GO SET A WATCHMAN is, as it turns out, a sequel to the first. The same characters are there, but older, and moved on with their lives.

Somewhere in the detritus of a lifetime's accumulations, Ms. Lee's attorney found the old manuscript that the author did not know still existed. The acclaimed writer is nearing the end of her life, and that may have given her the incentive to share the story with friends to see if it was worth publishing.

Was it fear of the second novel failing that kept Ms. Lee from pushing her publisher to take another look at the first manuscript, or did she believe that she had told her story, although in a slightly altered form, and the original would have been the same story repeated in a slightly different way?

She is allowing this book to be published before she dies, which means she can edit it to her satisfaction instead of letting someone else try to shape the words in a way that would not be exactly true to Ms. Lee's vision.

Do you have a manuscript stored away in a closet, or collecting dust under a bed?

Maybe it's worth taking another look at the thing....in about sixty years or so.

Stab City Meets The Gun

People who hail from Limerick City don't appreciate the name that's been pasted on their town. Limerick has a reputation for violent crime, but in Ireland, most of the violence comes from a knife.

Garda Brian Hanrahan may be familiar with that sort of violence, but at a distance. He works in Newcastlewest, County Limerick, which is far more rural and peaceful than the big city of Limerick. A murder is quite rare, and the gardai are more likely to be dealing with cases of cattle rustling or a battle between Traveller factions. As he has recently learned, Newcastlewest criminals are a far cry from their American counterparts.

It isn't all floats and beads during Mardi Gras

Mr. Hanrahan thought it would be brilliant to vacation in New Orleans during the Mardi Gras madness that draws in tourists who aren't quite so aware of the crime problem in the unique city. Certainly the local authorities would prefer that tourists be safe while partying, but the notoriously corrupt police force can't keep all the criminals in check. The criminals, for their part, see Mardi Gras as their best season, with all those drink-impaired out-of-towners stumbling along like little lambs unaware of the wolves.

So there was Mr. Hanrahan in New Orleans, drawn away from the crowds by some friendly-sounding lad who told him about an after-hours bar. A trusting sort from a small town, the garda proceeded to withdraw money from an ATM to cover the costs, and off he went with his new mate, without an escort, in company with a stranger. The new mate had an accomplice who pulled out a gun and demanded Mr. Hanrahan's wallet, now refreshed with 200 American dollars. Mr. Hanrahan was having none of it. He's a guard himself and deals with criminals all the time. He refused to hand over his wallet. He told the robber to go fuck himself.

However, in America, the criminals do not use knives, but guns. It doesn't matter how illegal it might be for them to own a weapon. They break the law on a daily basis, and gun ownership is such a small crime in comparison to the armed robberies.

When the Newcastlewest garda failed to give up his money, the robber shot him and then rifled his pockets, taking the wallet and the money.. Lucky for Mr. Hanrahan that his assailant was such a poor shot or the man would be dead. As it is, he is in hospital recovering from gunshot wounds to the legs and lower back. Even more lucky that he was shot in front of a residence where a dog started barking on hearing the commotion, alerting the homeowner who then called the police.

New Orleans police have identified one suspect as a 40-year-old black male who is known to them. This particular crime was not his first, nor is it likely to be his last. They are also searching for his accomplice who did the shooting. Both will be charged with attempted murder, a serious crime intended to get them off the streets for more than a few months.

New Orleans detectives are going to solve this case. They are motivated, in part, because Mr. Hanrahan is one of them, a man who serves and protects the people of his community. But more than that, Mr. Hanrahan is a tourist who will go home and tell his friends about how dangerous New Orleans is, and the story will spread through An Garda Siochana and the number of visitors from Ireland will shrink.

The city desperately needs the tourists and the money they bring because there isn't much industry in a city that sits dangerously below sea level. The last hurricane showed how precarious commerce can be when everything can be wiped out with one storm.

If Mr. Hanrahan had asked me before making his trip, I could have told him about friends in Chicago who were debating a long weekend holiday in New Orleans until they checked the calendar. It's Mardi Gras, they said. People get shot in the streets during Mardi Gras. And they cancelled their plans.

My Battle Against Hitler: A Book Review

History is filled with stories of resistance fighters battling the Nazis, but it has forgotten those who fought with their intellect and their words. Dietrich von Hildebrand is one such warrior.

He was an ardent Catholic and professor of philosophy in Munich when Hitler started on his climb to tyranny. The professor recognized the danger that National Socialism represented, approaching his subject from the standpoint of Catholic teaching. He gave lectures, participated in seminars, and created a literary journal that were all put to use in combating what he saw as a deadly threat to the world.

The professor never got around to completing his memoirs, and what is presented in this book is a rather rough draft that can make for heavy reading. He drops countless names of his colleagues and acquaintances that will likely mean nothing to those who did not major in philosophy. Get beyond that and hone in on the heart of his story and you will find yourself in a world that did not recognize the danger that he saw with ease.

In his recollections, von Hildebrand describes his ongoing arguments, spanning almost the entire 1930's. He parries the points of those who found compromise with the Nazis as they gradually took over Germany, even as he counters what some saw as positive aspects of Hitler's gang. His influence is clear as he speaks of his need to flee from Munich and find refuge with a sister in Italy before landing in Vienna, only to watch with horror as Nazism drifted across the border despite his strongest efforts to combat the political movement.
 
What is perhaps most fascinating, as a Catholic, is his disgust with prominent clergymen and the bishops of Germany who either surrendered to what they felt was inevitable, found a way to live with Nazism, or went so far as to embrace National Socialism as compatible with the teachings of Jesus. Increasingly, his well-constructed arguments to the contrary fell on deaf ears and you can imagine him shaking his head in wonder at the inability of those with two good ears refusing to hear.

The book closes with a selection of von Hildebrand's essays that are of greater interest to an academic or a biographer, but are still intriguing. For example, he wrote an article that made the case for being against National Socialism, which only existed in Germany, without being against the German people. It rang of current events, as if he foresaw our present discussions about a stance against Islamic extremism equated to an anti-Muslim position.

The reader will come away with a deeper insight into the rise of the Third Reich, and how it could have enticed Catholics despite espousing values that were utterly contrary to Church teachings.

Female Authors: Advice Before You Die

Women writers, drop your pens and do something about your appearance before it is too late.

Don't end up like the talented author (and neuroscientist) Colleen McCullough, who has been memorialized first and foremost as "Plain of feature, and certainly overweight..."

Sure she penned The Thornbirds and Tim, a couple of outstanding novels that did more to generate interest in Australia than the country's tourism board ever accomplished. What "The Australian" newspaper put right at the top of her published obituary was a comment on her appearance. Don't let this happen to you.

If you have been as successful as Ms. McCullough, you can afford the extensive plastic surgery needed to shape your face into something that is not plain. As for your body that has been sculpted by years spent sitting in a chair (unless you write standing up but who does that?), there are plenty of diet programmes available. Why not ask your plastic surgeon to shave off the belly and the love handles clinging to your hips while he's re-making your nose? It would save time, especially if you're getting up in years and your time is short.

It isn't about your ability if you are an author of the female persuasion. At least not in Australia, where one of their iconic citizens was noted for not being a beauty. All of Ms. McCullough's accomplishments took a back seat to her looks. If she had only known, she could have done something about it.

So don't let your obituary open with a remark on your lack of physical attrributes. Take action at once.

That way, you'll just be another writer of talent who did not stand out because she looked like everyone else is supposed to look if they are female and write anything even faintly hinting at romance. Talent alone just won't win you a glowing obituary these days.

Query The New

Agents come up from the ranks, starting as interns at a literary agency to get a feel for the business. In time they might become an assistant to an agent and learn how it's done before moving up to the role of junior agent.

At some point, those who are eager to get ahead will move to a bigger agency. Some will leave that bigger agency and start their own firm.

Query the new agent who is looking to build a client roster. Query the newly independent agent who has a business to fill with clients.

Alex Glass has gone off on his own and he's open to queries. Not historical fiction, but if you have some literary fiction, family saga or YA, you might consider shooting off a query. While he may have brought most of his clients along with him in the move, he won't build up his business without fresh manuscripts from unknown writers. It's worth a try.

At Curtis Brown, Kerry D'Agostino has made the move from assistant to agent and she needs clients. You could be one of them if your query draws her attention and your manuscript is so highly polished that she can see her reflection in your words. I'd query her myself but I just can't make myself write up a synopsis for the manuscript I re-revised last summer.

Then you've got Susanna Einstein who split with her partner and is going it alone. That's half the clients gone with the old partner, so why not got into line as a replacement?

The older, established agents can choose their clients because they don't really need to add to an already full stable. They'll go after the MFAs with a string of awards to their credit, and send you a quick rejection if they reply at all. Try hitting the agents who are hungry and possibly willing to take a chance on someone who is unpublished but shows talent.

Just make sure there are no typos or grammatical errors in anything you submit. No one is that desperate for a new client who requires an enormous investment of time to edit what has to be perfect before getting any kind of consideration.

Book Sales Shrink While The Rent Remains The Same

Eason's has been having a tough go of it, as have most other book sellers. The market is down as people struggle to meet critical bills which means they aren't buying books.

Last May, they shuttered the shop in Drogheda. The site had been losing money, and when the landlord wanted to take over the spot to install a cinema, it was not a difficult decision to make. When you are operating at a loss, you look around to see the source of the negative cash flow and you stop the bleeding.

While in search of savings to stay afloat, Eason realized that their location in the Liffey Valley shopping center was not as profitable as necessary. A large part of the loss was due to high rents. Fees that made sense in the glory years of the Celtic Tiger are out of line in our modern day of austerity. The owners of the shopping center were giving all sorts of discounts to newcomers willing to fill empty storefronts, even accepting pop-up type shops. At the same time, they held Eason to its lease, glad that they had someone paying full freight.

Eason was plagued by the fly-by-night operators who competed with its offerings but at a greatly reduced cost. Then there was the type of businesses that were opening and closing all around it. Who wants to shop at Eason and Sons if they have to navigate through a maze of vendors appealing to someone not likely to browse the stacks at Eason? It's all about the foot traffic and neighboring shops driving that traffic to your door. Eason and Son simply did not like doing business in an area that was in decline.

There was a bit of jealousy over the accommodations made to HMV as it fell into receivership. Like Eason and Son, the music vendor was losing to tough competition from Amazon and Apple, and the owners of the Liffey Valley center were willing to restructure HMV's lease while inventory was liquidated.

Where was the love for Eason and Son?

Ignored by the landlord, Eason and Son took matters into its own hands and held back 25% of the rent due. When that failed to generate any further discussion, the Liffey Valley location paid no rent towards the first quarter of 2015. Can we re-negotiate the lease now, the book seller shouted, and the landlord has finally responded.

By hauling Eason and Son into court over unpaid rent. Eason and Son owes over 400,000 euro in back rent, according to the suit, and the landlord wants to be paid.

Eason and Son is planning to ask for arbitration to settle the matter because they have a litany of complaints that the landlord has failed to address. Besides letting the neighborhood go to the dogs, there is an issue with smelly toilets that has put many a shopper off the browsing. The smell of raw sewage isn't amenable to a pleasant thumbing of books, and Eason wants the landlord to pay for the inconvenience and loss of business.

The biggest problem is not of the landlord's doing, or Eason's for that matter. Books have become a luxury and readers don't have the money to buy them. If the landlord were to adjust the rent to fit this modern hardship, Eason and Son would have the space free of charge.

Ireland's Loss Was Rosemont's Cost

Garth Brooks wanted to launch his comeback in Dublin, where his adoring fans would have welcomed him to the historic Croke Park with sell-outs and adulation. The location was perfect for attracting European Union residents who would have flocked to Ireland. Indeed, many of them had already booked hotels and made plans to spend a few glorious days awash in country music.

Those who manage Croke Park, however, could not meet all of the musician's terms, not the least of which was the number of shows that would be permitted on consecutive evenings. Despite feverish negotations, no middle ground could be found, and so the hallowed ground was abandoned as the site for the much-anticipated return of Garth Brooks live.

Not only did Ireland lose the financial opportunity that the concert series represented, but all of Europe was not given a second glance. Instead, Mr. Brooks looked to the States to find a venue that would give him what he felt he had to have in order to stage a successful return to the concert circuit.

Garth Brooks and the Mayor of Rosemont. Note absence of Rosemont taxpayers

He found what he wanted in Rosemont, a mobbed-up suburb west of Chicago.

The town owns the indoor stadium where the concerts took place, and after all the stir in Dublin, some people wondered how Rosemont managed to appease the singer after Dublin's city council refused to budge on something as minor as the number of shows allowed but could not reach any sort of accord or compromise. Clearly the singer was being stubborn.

What did Rosemont give to Garth Brooks to entice him to stage his comeback there, rather than any other city in the entire United States? Sure the town borders O'Hare Airport, making it easy for out-of-town guests to arrive and not have to travel too far to reach the concert venue. But it is not the only place to have a similar arrangement.

The Chicago Tribune asked that very question, taking things a step further by requesting financial documents from the town. Since it is taxpayer money that is involved, all the records should be available to the general public under a Freedom on Information request.

Except this is Rosemont, and the town council swiftly passed a law that declared any financial dealings of their local indoor stadium were not public after all. The information that Rosemont gave to the newspaper's reporters was, therefore, so heavily redacted that it was impossible to determine what was given in terms of financial incentives or perks to lure the concert promoter.

Garth Brooks has his fan base, but not everyone cares for country music. Especially watchdog groups that are more interested in corruption than a song about dogs, rain and pickup trucks.

The town is now being sued by the Better Government Association, which is asking for complete records that will show how much the promoter recieved in a rebate. That was the public's money being thrown around, and the public has a right to know how much and where it was tossed.

So Ireland lost the Garth Brooks comeback concert series. Maybe it was the taxpayers of Rosemont who really lost on the deal.

It's A Hard-Knock Life

Literary agent Sarah Megibow recently announced that she was opening her own agency, with the blessing of her mentor Kristin Nelson.

Thus was the Megibow Literary Agency born, as the year 2014 closed.

Here we are in the third week of the year 2015 and Ms. Megibow has announced that she is joined KT Literary Agency.

It can't be easy out there in the trenches, battling competition and a downturn in publishing that has editors demanding nothing but blockbusters. But only three weeks in business? Is it all that bad?

Did she not start her agency with sufficient capital to manage for the first few months? Unexpected expenses, a deal falling through that would have funded the operation until she got over the hump?

RIP Megibow Literary Agency. We hardly knew ye.

The Rush Of Bingo

The secret life of the bingo enthusiast

Does your grandmother frequent the bingo halls? You better check her nose when she comes home.

Gardai have alerted the public to the latest trend among our elderly, and it is a danger to their already precarious health. Yes, it's drugs. The old ladies with the sheets of numbers spread before them are playing bingo under the influence of cocaine.

Clearly the thrill of bingo is no longer enough of a rush for these grannies.

Helen Heaphy was arrested outside of Ireland's popular Rock Bingo emporium. Where bingo rocks, indeed. It's the whole rock 'n roll culture with all its excesses, the drug-taking and the binge bingo-playing far into the night when a respectable gran would be home in bed. Instead, they're snorting a line and buying another game card, burning through your inheritance by the way.

Ms. Heaphy is one of those grandmothers, although she claimed to be "holding" the cocaine for someone else who was supposed to take it off her hands. The quantity in her possession was small, indicating that she is no major player in the illicit drugs trade. In her defense, she said that she was not intending to bring the drugs into the bingo hall, but was only delivering them to some unnamed second party.

Delivering the cocaine to another grandmother, you can be sure, and most likely an entire party of retirees out for a night of wilding.

The judicial system cannot conceive of these supposedly innocent women seeking more stimulation than they would ordinarily find in the joy of winning a game, to say nothing of the thrill of waiting for that one critical number to be called.

The judge accepted Ms. Heaphy's expression of guilt and remorse without ever probing further. Who was she holding the cocaine for, and why was she waiting outside a bingo hall to deliver it? Who goes to the bingo halls but our grandmothers, those self-effacing angels who can't get out of the house fast enough on bingo night.

You thought it was all about bingo, didn't you. It's the cocaine they're after, delivered by one of their own who was just following the Jesuit axiom to be of service to others.

After little more than a slap on the wrist, Ms. Heaphy is again allowed near the Rock Bingo building. She has been given three months to pay her fine, a considerable sum for a grandmother separated from her husband, and with a family to tend.

There are other bingo parlors in Ireland where grandmothers need a little snort to liven up the night. Will the scourge of cocaine-fueled bingo binges be allowed to continue now that the door into this sordid world has been cracked open?

For Love Or Money...Just Money, Actually

Money makes the world go around

The rich are different because they have things to fight over that the rest of us don't have. Namely, money. And when it comes to money, they fight like jihadists.

Men who make money by the millions are very appealing to women who would like to enjoy the lavish lifestyle that comes with wealth. No matter how not handsome a man like Bill Gates is, he can still command the admiration of the female sex. It's supposed to be all about resources for child-rearing, something hardwired into our prehistoric brain centers that helps the fittest survive. Just because said ugly man has a life partner, however, does not take him off the market for those who lust after money.

Ken Griffin made a tidy fortune by managing a hedge fund, and if all a lady is admiring is the size of his bank account, he's one of the best looking men in the world. His wife is equally driven to succeed, and managed her own hedge fund before settling down with the man of her dreams. They made a nice little family, with three children, over the course of an eleven year marriage that went wrong.

Chicago socialites would have noticed that the power couple stopped appearing together at various functions in 2012, when Mr. Griffin moved out of the family's home. Being polite, they wouldn't have talked about it, except among themselves. Who wants the servants gossiping about a person's private life?

Then the money entered and the divorce proceeding is very, very, very public and the servants, along with the rest of us non-1%ers, are shaking our heads in amazement.

There's little children involved, we say, and all these people care about is who gets the most money in the end? What's best for the kids? It doesn't seem to matter. Unless, of course, the kids can be used by the parents as pawns in this game.

And it is a game, one with winners and losers. These are high-powered, driven people engaged in a fierce battle over assets that go far beyond a bungalow on Chicago's south side. Millions of dollars in property and art are at stake, with the winner coming out of the war with the most trophies to display as evidence of their victory.

You might wonder what sort of marriage it was anyway, if the wife was paid monthly in accordance with a pre-nuptial agreement. Is it really a union if the missus tracks the required monthly payments that were her compensation for abandoning her own hedge fund to be a stay-at-home mother?

The court case is playing out in the newspapers, with every "He said, She said" dutifully reported. Pettiness is on parade as the aggrieved parties lob their little arrows that are meant to do damage. Accusations and counter-points fly, while those of us who cannot imagine taking a vacation beyond the Wisconsin Dells watch people with far too much money slug it out in a determined effort to keep as much of that money as the best lawyers in Illinois can manage.

And they haven't even started to fight over custody of the three children yet.

Maybe a price could be set and one of the other of the warring factions could buy them?

Memoirs Are As Real As The Reader Wishes Them To Be

Only days ago, we discovered that the boy who came back from heaven never went there at all. The memoir that was supposedly penned by Alex Malarkey is a work of pure fiction that was heavily promoted by those who were making a load of money off the book. It was a bestseller and flew off the shelves because readers wanted to believe what little Alex told them about the afterlife, reaffirming their beliefs in what awaits us after death.

Shin Dong-Hyuk wrote about his time as a prisoner in a North Korean camp. His readers believed what he said because it reaffirmed their theories on life in North Korea under a brutal regime. It is a land of human rights abuses as a way of governing, and the author provided plenty of evidence to back up that theory.

Except that everything he wrote isn't exactly true. That would make his memoir a work of fiction, not unlike the Malarkey memoir or the James Frey memoir or the memoir written by the woman who said she survived the Holocaust when she wasn't anywhere near where she claimed she was in her book.

ESCAPE FROM CAMP 14, as told to author Blaine Harden, is riddled with holes that the subject might have inserted in an effort to make his story all the more horrific. Were there lapses in memory that Shin Dong-Hyuk is only now recalling, or did someone do some fact-checking after the fact to puncture the human rights balloon? Certainly North Korea would have an interest in discrediting the memoir. As for the former prisoner, he's claiming that his recollections were too painful so he had to alter things a little. Is that true, or did he embellish to reinforce his argument about North Korea being a land of pure evil?

Another memoir, another scam?

The Guardian is now running an equally sensational memoir on its pages, written by an inmate of the notorious Guantanamo Prison in Cuba. Like other memoirs, it is being heavily promoted by those who believe every word written because it fits into their narrative. Mohamedou Ould Slahi reveals his inhuman treatment at the hands of his American captors in stirring prose that has been heavily redacted to avoid revealing classified information. His memoir is being used to lobby for his release from the prison, and strikes a chord with human rights groups who are at war with the conservative element that shouts them down with cries of "Security".

Has it been fact-checked? We've been down this memoir road before, with the book getting published amid a flurry of promotion, only to have the publisher pull back when certain elements of the story don't hold up to scrutiny.

You can't believe everything you read, especially when it's a memoir. They're not the most reliable narrators, the people who pen their life stories based on recollections. Sometimes they have an agenda and the whole, unvarnished truth just doesn't fit in as neatly as a writer would like.

The Latest Fiction Genre Is A Load Of Malarkey

Once again, a memoir has been debunked and proven to be a work of fiction.

The average sceptic thought that THE BOY WHO CAME BACK FROM HEAVEN was completely made up, but among the believers, the book was considered a true and authentic bit of non-fiction. Who would doubt the word of a six-year-old boy, right? He said he died and went to heaven. Why would he lie about such a thing?

What? He didn't go at all? Who'd have guessed the story wasn't real?

Alex Malarkey was in an auto accident when he was six, a collision that left him in a coma. He claimed, or his father claimed for him, that he had an out-of-body experience and sailed up into heaven. It was grand up there with the seraphim and cherubim, especially if you're a fan of the harp. Choirs of angels singing away, and there was little Alex at the Pearly Gates.

Ah sure it was all a fantasy, Alex is saying today. Which leads to the question, how did it get written in the first place? And who sent it off to Tyndale House to be published? The average ten-year-old is not clever enough to prepare a submission, and a ten-year-old is definitely not legally mature enough to sign a contract. A boy partially paralyzed is not penning his memoirs by himself, either.

Another memoir gets shredded into a million little pieces as the author comes clean. Tyndale House has pulled the book from its catalogue, but have not yet offered to refund the purchase price for those who feel they have been scammed.

It's all quite sordid, this particular outing of a false memoir, because it involves a child being used. According to Alex's mother, who is divorced from his co-author father, the boy has made nothing from sales of the best-seller. So who did profit from the lie?

For the past couple of years, Mrs. Malarkey has been trying to get Lifeway Christian Store to stop promoting the book, so it would appear that she was aware of the lack of realism in the so-called memoir for some time. No one listened to her tiny voice, but when your chain of shops is selling something popular, it would take a strong dose of Christian morality to stop doing the unethical. 

Another memoir debunked. Another load of malarkey foisted on the gullible public who want an answer to the greatest unanswered question we will all face. What happens after we die?

No one's come back from heaven to tell us, have they?