Whadda ya want unda the Xmas tree?
We're all one-digit midgets as we get close to Christmas. Hopefully, everyone is done shopping for presents. I am and they're all in the mail (or UPS).
But we need to pause and announce the winner of our drawing for Juliet Blackwell shwag. Thanks to all of you who posted comments during the week.
And the winner is...Debi Murray!
Please send your snail mail address to Juliet at Julietblackwell dot net to collect your prize. Worth gazillions I'm told (in good karma).
Last Friday, the Biting-Edge attended the fantabulous literary smack down between Stephen Graham Jones and Jessie Bullington at the Broadway Book Mall.
Bloody punches were thrown. The audience gasped. Women swooned. Cookies eaten. Books sold. Everyone went home happy.
I've been working my way through Jones' anthology, The Ones That Got Away. Favorite story so far is about a treacherous ship-wrecked werewolf and the porpoises who get revenge. Weird and fascinating.
Years ago, I got a little blah about the whole Holiday spirit thing. But I've tweaked my attitude and enjoy every opportunity for music, mirth, and merriment. Anything to justify appropriate libations and hand waves from pretty carolers.
We've all got a Christmas list and here's mine. Of course, there's the usual: Good will to all, world peace, an end to hunger, yada yada. And also, getting on the NYT bestseller list, phone calls from Steven Spielberg, mega-buck contracts, the unqualified adoration from millions of strangers. You know, the simple things.
But what's Christmas without presents under the tree? Such as:
A Maserati Quattroporte
A Piper Meridian Turboprop
Plus I'll need a destination for that airplane. How about a villa in Tuscany? Something modest.
What's on your list?
So you won't leave this blog empty handed, our special gift to you. From Mr. Christmas Spirit hisself...Weird Al Yankovic.