Posted on November 16, 2009


Really? Me? I guess I can see that. Sort of.

Here’s the deal.

DH was watching the local news and they were doing a segment on a pack of animals—four men who need to be put down like rabid dogs a father and his three sons. They have spent the last dozen years or so molesting little girls.


The punishment I have for them is even better than what they deserve. (Slender glass tubes inserted into their male appendage them smashed with sledgehammers.) Anyway, hearing this news segment sickened me and I just froze.

“How can you watch that crap?” I asked incredulously. (Now usually I complain about the news because a) The crime, the violence and the insensitive nature of the reporters makes me ill but also b) because 90% of the media proclaims I’m racist because I’m anti Obama/Clinton/Pelosi.)

“What?” he asks.

“The news. It’s horrible!”

He looks at me like I’m crocked. “It’s the news. Besides, what about the stuff you not only watch but that you write? It’s way worse than this.”

“But that’s different,” I counter.

“No it isn’t. It’s depraved. It’s sick. It’s demented all in the name of entertainment.”

“But it is different,” I repeat, wondering if it truly is. Deflated in the argument I head for my office. My mind whirling. Am I a hypocrite because the news sickens me and I refuse to watch it but I write about some of the same things they show?

Fiction is different.

After all, in my books the bad guys get their punishments, the good guys always win, no bleeding heart liberals force taxpayers to support violent criminals in their job hiatus until they can get back on the streets and everyone has a happily ever after.

Do you think I’m being hypocritical? Inquiring minds want to know!