The Atlantic Posts

Don’t Share that Post


This election season has a lot of us running around putting out fires. Between Hillary Clinton’s propensity for dodging the truth and Donald Trump’s inability to bridle his tongue, and the media’s lack of professionalism, is it any wonder all of us are having a difficult time fettering out truth from fiction?

In the past 24 hours, I have personally dealt with at least five or six fires created by people clicking and sharing outright lies, or if you prefer, half-truths, which if you ask your mom is the same thing as a lie. read more

The Fairytale of Gloryland


They are commonly known as Heaven Tourism books. You may have read one or two of them yourself. You know, those books about somebody dying, going to heaven, then returning to tell us all about it.

The only Heaven Tourism book I want to read is the one Rick Steves writes.  Rick would be the perfect tour guide for Heaven, pointing out all the best places to eat and all the best vineyards.

Frankly, Heaven Tourism books have always creeped me out. I figure the person who wrote the books are either delusional, lying, or selling snake oil. Besides almost all the bestselling heaven visitation books are written by men (or boys). So does this mean women face gender bias in the afterlife, too? Are men the only ones allowed to tell that story, too? Geeish. read more

Exploitation of Harper Lee

Harper Lee

Readers and writers the world over are abuzz with the news that Harper Lee is releasing a novel.

Doing the very thing she swore to the Barefooted Jesus she would never do.

It has been a well-known fact that Harper Lee, now 88,  has been in poor health since suffering a bad stroke. Those who know her best say that Harper Lee is deaf, blind and confined to a wheelchair.

One gushing commentator on the Huffington Post said that they never ever expected Harper Lee to publish another book.

With good reason. read more

Proud to be Trailer-Bred

Pic.9C.Crystal Valley

Several years ago, while I was speaking at Village Books in Bellingham, Washington, a lovely woman approached me.  She didn’t give me her name at first but she said we knew each other.

Don’t you remember me? she asked.

I studied her face for a moment. She seemed like somebody I would want to know, somebody I would want to be friends with, but I simply couldn’t place her.

I can’t believe you don’t recognize me, she said.

I could tell she was disappointed. I was disappointed, too. I hate it when I can’t place a name with a face. read more