Attention voice over professionals, djs, and anyone else with a listening audience – when reading a website name, for the love of any godlike entity you believe in – DON’T say WWW before you list the site. You’re hurting my ears and wasting my time.

Thank you. That is all.

I guess I promised to write about Jeff Lindsay’s second book in the ‘Dexter’ series – Dearly Devoted Dexter and I wouldn’t want you beachcombers to think I don’t keep my promises. Of course, I do prefer to move on southern time, so slow going is to be expected.

Like so many sequels, this was good but didn’t live up to the first. Without giving too much away, most of the story focused on this whole ex-Special Forces scenario, which wasn’t quite as well developed as I could have hoped. There was a twist in regards to the ‘love life’ of Dexter which I thought was amusing (especially with regards to the children of Dexter’s ‘girlfriend’.) I normally don’t like the love interest aspect in most stories and usually find them more of a distraction, but this fit well.

I’ve read around teh interwebs that Lindsay should have a third Dexter book out this August or September. I’ll let you know what I think of it then.

Yeah, yeah another book review.

I just flew through Jeff Lindsay’s Darkly Dreaming Dexter. It’s an ironically humorous tale told from a serial killer’s perspective. Humorous, that is, if you like really dark humor. From what I’ve been told, this book was the basis for a Showtime series entitled Dexter, but I’ve never seen it and probably never will. Which is as well because I can be one of those book snobs that can’t stop comparing a crappy show/movie to the much better book.

Lindsay did a great job of creating a sympathetic serial killer. One of the highlights was how the tale switched between a straight, first-person narration and a stream of consciousness narration to help define Dexter’s moods. It was a great technique, which resulted in me being in the odd position of rooting for a serial killer. A bit off-putting, but a good book is supposed to stir unusual emotion, right? RIGHT?

Apparently, Lindsay has another Dexter book published. I hope to be able to get to the library this weekend to check it out.

Ok, enough screwing off. I need to get ready for tonight’s live broadcast of America’s Debate Radio. Tune in beachcombers, make me feel special!

Despite the topic title – no, this topic is not about Paris Hilton. Hope that doesn’t disappoint.

This evening Mike and I traveled out to Bazemore Park in Garden City (a suburb of Savannah) to see Mike’s nephew’s little league game. After a bit of difficulty parking, we walk up to the gate, were about to stroll in when a grumpy old man in a lawn chair says to us, “You gotta pay.”

We’re dumbfounded for a second. We recover and spew the obvious litany of questions and statements – pay? we’re here to see family. this is a little league game. this is a public park. no one from Savannah carries cash on them. are you serious? who pays for little league games?

Old jerk wasn’t budging and told us if we didn’t pay we couldn’t get in. So we left, pissed off.

Seriously, beachcombers, have you ever heard of anything so freakin stupid? Have YOU ever paid to see a little league game? Without getting too Sharpton here, I have a hunch this was a way to keep the black people out of the white, suburban park. A cursory look around the park certainly supported this theory. All white families on the inside, black families outside the fences. No matter what the reason, it wasn’t right. Bazemore Park is a taxpayer funded public park and by it’s very design should always have free entry.

Thanks to Bazemore Park for reinforcing my belief that cities are better than suburbs. The ‘burbs are for pukes.