Just My Personal Opinion, Of Course...

If you’re a knock-around guy like me, live long enough, make it a point to frequent as many places you shouldn’t as possible, you will meet a woman. No, not just a woman. The woman. She will be unique. Different. Very different. Just how different, you won’t find out. Until it’s too late. Way too late. For me, that woman was Trina. Trina, a force of nature. Not a benevolent, sunny, blue skies, warm spring breeze, force of nature. No, Trina’s force was malevolent. A hurricane, tornado, earthquake, force of nature. Unpredictable as it was uncontrollable. I had two rules for keeping my head above the raging waters of our tumultuous relationship: One . . . don’t fuck with mother nature / Trina. Two . . . if you break rule number one, cross Trina, don’t ever turn your back on her. In retrospect, I should have paid better attention to both those rules. ~~~ Kiss Me, Evil By Blackie Noir Blackie comes to visit my Facebook Group, Reviewers Roundup, whenever he's relea

My mother was a tall woman, over six feet in height, and slender. My father was  a bit shorter, but he was a stout-built,  powerful man with a temper. Within  a short time after my arrival into their  world, they made it very clear that my  conception was an accident and a regrettable  mistake. Alcohol and drug abuse by my  mother during pregnancy created a pre- maturely born and jaundiced infant  with severe bouts of the colic. Thus, from  the moment of my birth, my destiny lay  in the hands of an angry, deceitful, and  dangerous mother void of maternal love for me. ~~~ I honestly don't remember how I learned of this book, and went out and bought it... But instead of posting a review, I am sharing my thoughts here as part of my thoughts on what a book should include... Frankly this book sounds like what I might have written right after I went on medical leave for job burnout. incomplete and directionless... It does provide a chronology of events, which I "want" t

When I recently went out to find pics of David Copperfield, there were many different versions that popped up... Of course, this book has been published and republished many times over the years... But what about those books that have been self-published or put into book format by a press? Even though most authors know it these days, there are still new, unsuspecting writers who, having their manuscripts ready, routinely begin to submit for a publisher's consideration. Perhaps your book was rejected and you decided to self-published... Recently I've received several books that should never have been published. It wasn't because the topic was not something that might be worth being available as a book... yet they immediately were questionable in my mind... Who am I? Nobody really... But, somehow, when a book comes to a reviewer, there is an expectation by the writer... Is it good or bad...Tell me what you think, please... What should I do now that you refuse to rea

  B-17 PREFLIGHT By Adolfo... I There is no dreaming In the world of Sigmund Freud, Only dreams interpreted By pseudos And other psychiatrists Devoted to fulfill The gullibility of those Finding answers in dreams As though Life were a dream And vice-versa, The truth being That without dreaming, There'd be no dreams And, Only death instead of life With no continuity From the conscious to the unconscious Of our existence, Dreaming being only A chemistry without biology! II In the third phase of preparing  The B-Seventeen for another flight, This young couple stood by-- Hardly looking at the aged bomber Being prepared for a spcial flight (A payload of human cargo)-- As they embraced and kissed, In a world of their own Free of war machines Or battles with killing fields, Enraptured in their kisses In a harmonious correspondence, Broken by yours truly: "Wearing a Harvard shirt?" "Yes!" he said, surprised

Attention: Just got word that this book has been revised and updated and expanded... I already had that book as well so since I'm a fan of Blackie... I'll be reading it and will update this review... ASAP... GB  Kiss Me Evil is the new title so if you want to go ahead and get it...make sure it is the latest! Noir fiction is a literary genre closely related to hardboiled genre with a distinction that the protagonist is not a detective, but instead either a victim, a suspect, or a perpetrator. Other common characteristics include the self-destructive qualities of the protagonist. ... http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Noir_fiction Trash had always said I was a mark, I guess somewhere down the line it was inevitable he would feel that it was up to him to prove it. Well, prove it he had. In spades. ~ Yet, Trina’s recent behavior gave me the mind-set, the fortitude, the fucking balls, to resist this most transparent, yet powerful, ploy. Fuck being a mark, I was through. Of c

"Now to business. If he is not already with you watching this then please inform the one they call the Monk that his presence is requested.   The Monk, or should I say more correctly Mike Delaney, will find clues to this location in this video. Mr Delaney, you have until six o'clock tonight to find your way here alone and unarmed and substitute yourself for your friend. It's that simple. You must offer your life in exchange for Bob Messenger , a family man, remember? Bob Messenger will be set free as soon as you arrive and give yourself up to your fate. One second late and Bob Messenger will never go to the ball," he said with a snigger. "because he will be chargrilled. And Pandora will be forced to watch. Very unpleasant for a fifteen year old, don't you think?"  And Delaney, a trained assassin and veteran of so many bruising fighting contests in the South-East Asia games, had vowed never to kill again, unless forced to, when he joined the B

  I had the feeling I was getting set up, but I answered seriously. "Well, I'm not sure what's in the report. It was the usual failed resuscitation. She was agitate, and then she tanked. There was a rapid, thready pulse before her pressure dropped through the floor and she flatlined. Two unusual things, though, pinpoint pupils and bilateral inframammary dressing, like from breast implants. Could be an OD, but otherwise I'm in the dark. Did I miss something?" "You got most of the fine points, but perhaps you didn't notice that she is a he." As my face reddened, I could imagine the assistant MEs around the chief getting ready for the big laugh. "Shit. Don't tell me that. Why do you have that?" What can you say when you feel like a fool. There was no reason to pull her...his pants down during CPR, but still I felt well beyond foolish. I said nothing. Defending myself would feed the laughter. I could already hear over the speaker.