"Equal and Opposite Reactions" http://amzn.to/2xvcgRa
and the sequel, "Hail Mary" https://www.amzn.com/1684334888
Buy them on Amazon.
and the sequel, "Hail Mary" https://www.amzn.com/1684334888
Buy them on Amazon.
DONALD TRUMP, ME AND THE WIDGET
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What do Donald Trump and I have in common?
The answer is, we've both been denied by Facebook.
Now, granted, Donald Trump was offed from Facebook for using it to help cause an attempted insurrection against the United States government,
The answer is, we've both been denied by Facebook.
Now, granted, Donald Trump was offed from Facebook for using it to help cause an attempted insurrection against the United States government,
...whereas I was just trying to hawk a couple copies of my book.
Lest you get the wrong impression, Facebook did not nix me because of the image on the cover of my book, nor should it have, what one perceives on the cover being a suggestive silhouette, but then silhouettes are seldom what they seem, which is what the novel is about. Facebook obviously picked up on that much.
No, Facebook liked my book's cover well enough. What Facebook apparently didn't like was the fact that I wanted to run an ad that included a brief excerpt from the novel that, ironically, Facebook felt - or rather its computer, algorithm, or whatever robotic widget calls the shots felt - was a rank attempt to influence the Presidential election against Donald Trump.
Hence Facebook rejected my ad for my book. Multiple times. Facebook continues to reject my ad even though the election is unequivocally over and Donald Trump is on the verge of getting the heave-ho less than two weeks before the end of his term, and for good reason.
Now, I'm quite sure that if my ad had been adjudicated by a live human, said human would have understood that a writer could hardly have influenced the outcome of the election just by using the words "Trump," "Donald," and "lard arse" in the same paragraph. But the widget that read my excerpt obviously didn't get those words in context. Or maybe the widget that read my ad was a Trump-supporter widget.
No, Facebook liked my book's cover well enough. What Facebook apparently didn't like was the fact that I wanted to run an ad that included a brief excerpt from the novel that, ironically, Facebook felt - or rather its computer, algorithm, or whatever robotic widget calls the shots felt - was a rank attempt to influence the Presidential election against Donald Trump.
Hence Facebook rejected my ad for my book. Multiple times. Facebook continues to reject my ad even though the election is unequivocally over and Donald Trump is on the verge of getting the heave-ho less than two weeks before the end of his term, and for good reason.
Now, I'm quite sure that if my ad had been adjudicated by a live human, said human would have understood that a writer could hardly have influenced the outcome of the election just by using the words "Trump," "Donald," and "lard arse" in the same paragraph. But the widget that read my excerpt obviously didn't get those words in context. Or maybe the widget that read my ad was a Trump-supporter widget.
But anyway, I figure maybe in a few weeks, if things transpire in such a way that Donald Trump's political future ends up with as much lift as a Macy's balloon the day after Thanksgiving, then maybe I'll try floating my excerpt by the Facebook ad widget again.
However in the meantime, the heck with that widget, you can read the excerpt for free if you want. Take your mind off everything for a minute.
An Excerpt from "Hail Mary"
By Patti Liszkay
Darren pulled off Oregon Avenue into the lot of Angelo Barbieri’s warehouse.
He was buzzed into the warehouse and greeted by Dina, Barbieri’s receptionist, who smiled at Darren then buzzed for the elevator from her desk. Darren took the elevator to the second floor then knocked on the mahogany door of Barbieri’s office.
“Come ii-in,” sang a voice from the other side.
Aw, screw me, Darren thought. He pulled in a deep breath then opened the door to see his step-brother Geoffry behind Angelo Barbieri’s desk, lounging back in Barbieri’s chair, his stocking feet on the polished desk as if he owned it.
“What are you, nuts?” Darren gasped. “Where’s Barbieri? He sees you like that he’ll grab your tongue and wrap it around your balls!”
Geoffry laughed and removed his feet from the desk. “He’s down the hall in the can.”
“What do you mean down the hall? His bathroom’s right there,” Darren pointed to a door next to a far corner of the office, “he’s got a shower in it and everything.”
Geoffry shrugged. “He likes to take a dump in the other bathroom down the hall. Go figure.”
“Yeah, well, that’s great, but you better get your butt out of his chair.”
Geoffry stood, pushed the chair back closer to the desk and rubbed his sleeve on the desk where his feet had been. “There,” he said as he put on his shoes, “you happy now, Mom?”
“I’m not your damn mom,” Darren mumbled.
“What?” said Geoffry.
“Whadja do to your hair?” said Darren. “You look like Donald Trump Junior.”
“Hey that’s just what I said!” Angelo Barbieri was standing in his doorway tucking his pale blue checked Brooks Brothers shirt into his expensive tan size forty-two husky Regent-Fit trousers. “His hair all slicked back like that, doesn’t he look like Donald Junior now? Or wait, not Donald Junior, but the other kid, the blonde guy, what’s-his-name, the one looks like there’s nobody home, you know who I mean?”
“Yeah, I don’t know,” said Darren. "Jason, or something,”
“That’s who you look, like,” Angelo Barbieri said, walking over to the men and slinging an arm around grinning Geoffry’s shoulders, “Jason Trump.” Barbieri lightly poked Geoffry’s stomach where it bulged over his belt. “Gettin’ a little grassone, there, huh, Jason? You don’t lay off the pasta fazzoule you’ll have a lard arse on you like your daddy Donald.” Angelo broke into a loud guffaw shared by Geoffry. Angelo pointed to Geoffry. “You see, Bobby Darren?” he said, calling Darren by the nickname he’d pinned on him, “Jason Trump here’s got a great sense of humor, that’s why everybody loves the guy.” Barbieri turned back to Geoffry. “Whataya say, J.T.? Can we get your brother here to loosen up a little? He’s standing there looking like he’s got a Popsicle up his can.”
“He needs to warm it up in his wife’s hot cooch,” replied Geoffry.
“This guy,” laughed Angelo, again poking Geoffry’s stomach, “is he a paisan’ oobatz, or what?”
Darren stood with a tight forced smile stretched across his face while Angelo and Geoffry yucked it up.
Barbieri released Geoffry’s shoulder then said, “Aw, J.T. what are we gonna do with Bobby Darren, here? He just doesn’t like to make the battut’. You gotta work on this guy. Hey you got that cash ready for him? And the checks?”
“Yeah, it’s in my desk, there,” said Geoffry. “You want me to go get it?”
Angelo looked blankly at Geoffry for a moment then he ran a hand over his bald head and said, “Yeah, Jason Trump, go get it.” While Geoffry was pulling the envelopes of money from the desk drawer with his back to the room Angelo leaned close to Darren and said softly, “You musta got all the brains in the family.”
However in the meantime, the heck with that widget, you can read the excerpt for free if you want. Take your mind off everything for a minute.
An Excerpt from "Hail Mary"
By Patti Liszkay
Darren pulled off Oregon Avenue into the lot of Angelo Barbieri’s warehouse.
He was buzzed into the warehouse and greeted by Dina, Barbieri’s receptionist, who smiled at Darren then buzzed for the elevator from her desk. Darren took the elevator to the second floor then knocked on the mahogany door of Barbieri’s office.
“Come ii-in,” sang a voice from the other side.
Aw, screw me, Darren thought. He pulled in a deep breath then opened the door to see his step-brother Geoffry behind Angelo Barbieri’s desk, lounging back in Barbieri’s chair, his stocking feet on the polished desk as if he owned it.
“What are you, nuts?” Darren gasped. “Where’s Barbieri? He sees you like that he’ll grab your tongue and wrap it around your balls!”
Geoffry laughed and removed his feet from the desk. “He’s down the hall in the can.”
“What do you mean down the hall? His bathroom’s right there,” Darren pointed to a door next to a far corner of the office, “he’s got a shower in it and everything.”
Geoffry shrugged. “He likes to take a dump in the other bathroom down the hall. Go figure.”
“Yeah, well, that’s great, but you better get your butt out of his chair.”
Geoffry stood, pushed the chair back closer to the desk and rubbed his sleeve on the desk where his feet had been. “There,” he said as he put on his shoes, “you happy now, Mom?”
“I’m not your damn mom,” Darren mumbled.
“What?” said Geoffry.
“Whadja do to your hair?” said Darren. “You look like Donald Trump Junior.”
“Hey that’s just what I said!” Angelo Barbieri was standing in his doorway tucking his pale blue checked Brooks Brothers shirt into his expensive tan size forty-two husky Regent-Fit trousers. “His hair all slicked back like that, doesn’t he look like Donald Junior now? Or wait, not Donald Junior, but the other kid, the blonde guy, what’s-his-name, the one looks like there’s nobody home, you know who I mean?”
“Yeah, I don’t know,” said Darren. "Jason, or something,”
“That’s who you look, like,” Angelo Barbieri said, walking over to the men and slinging an arm around grinning Geoffry’s shoulders, “Jason Trump.” Barbieri lightly poked Geoffry’s stomach where it bulged over his belt. “Gettin’ a little grassone, there, huh, Jason? You don’t lay off the pasta fazzoule you’ll have a lard arse on you like your daddy Donald.” Angelo broke into a loud guffaw shared by Geoffry. Angelo pointed to Geoffry. “You see, Bobby Darren?” he said, calling Darren by the nickname he’d pinned on him, “Jason Trump here’s got a great sense of humor, that’s why everybody loves the guy.” Barbieri turned back to Geoffry. “Whataya say, J.T.? Can we get your brother here to loosen up a little? He’s standing there looking like he’s got a Popsicle up his can.”
“He needs to warm it up in his wife’s hot cooch,” replied Geoffry.
“This guy,” laughed Angelo, again poking Geoffry’s stomach, “is he a paisan’ oobatz, or what?”
Darren stood with a tight forced smile stretched across his face while Angelo and Geoffry yucked it up.
Barbieri released Geoffry’s shoulder then said, “Aw, J.T. what are we gonna do with Bobby Darren, here? He just doesn’t like to make the battut’. You gotta work on this guy. Hey you got that cash ready for him? And the checks?”
“Yeah, it’s in my desk, there,” said Geoffry. “You want me to go get it?”
Angelo looked blankly at Geoffry for a moment then he ran a hand over his bald head and said, “Yeah, Jason Trump, go get it.” While Geoffry was pulling the envelopes of money from the desk drawer with his back to the room Angelo leaned close to Darren and said softly, “You musta got all the brains in the family.”
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