Circles of influences, which is more like a disjointed highway map.

A magazine called The Longshot had this drawing floating around lately about the circles of influences with literature/philosophy/Moby*.

Other than forgetting me and Jackie Collins, it looks about right.

*Yeah. Moby. Because beats-heavy tecnho is timeless.

Obama summer reading list lacking any serious attention to Jackie Collins.

First off:

The White House says President Obama has five books to read in nine days of vacation on Martha's Vineyard. Five books?? Because I know when I go to Martha's Vineyard I want to make sure I never once lay my eyes on the ocean.



Second off:

Four of five are fiction.

What? No biography of Lincoln or Washington like every president reads?

Third off:

Where's the Jackie Collins? Or even Danielle Steele in a pinch? You need to reach the average voter!

Fourth off:

Even the president doesn't read poetry.

Donor demands Ayn Rand be taught, in hopes as many students as possible learn to dislike Ayn Rand.

I assume.

I mean, really, who knows these things? But it's the only rational reason someone would teach Ayn Rand.

Donors to colleges and universities are laying down firmer stipulations whenever they donate cash, to the point of demanding what's taught in class. The former chairman of a banking company called BT&T, John Allison, did just that. Being a banker, he had a little extra coin in his pocket and decided to donate it to some universities.

But not so quick there, you anti-American, pinko Communist colleges and universities. Mr. Allison demanded you teach Ayn Rand--with her laissze-faire, pro-capitalism, non-government interference mindset--if you wanted his cash.

And around sixty colleges and universities did just that.

In essence, if you've got $5 and a desire to see your favorite Jackie Collins book taught in college, there's probably some school out there willing to listen.

Reading and driving: two things that should always be done at the same time.

With Valentine's Day coming soon, romantic books come to the forefront. But there's such a wide array of romantic books available that it can be difficult to know what to read. Thankfully, there's a type of romantic book available that everyone can identify with: NASCAR romantic novels. The glitz, the glamour, the pork rinds for sale in the stands--it's as if those Harlequin novel folks have their fingers on the pulse of Dixie. Who hasn't wanted the thrill of love mixed with the smell of gasoline fumes?

If you ask me, Jackie Collins has always been lacking references to motor oil and radiator leaks. Finally, NASCAR comes through with novels about men breaking records and breaking hearts. These novels are probably so steamy that you'll need the defroster set to max in your own race car. And how can you resist books with titles that blend together both the action of NASCAR with the innuendo of seduction? 

Titles such as:

Checkered Past

Black Flag, White Lies
Running on Empty

Risky Moves

Hot Pursuit

On the Move

Teaming Up

Hitting the Brakes

Slingshot Moves

Speed Bumps

Within Striking Distance

One Track Mind

Slow Burn
 
But why stop there? Do NASCAR romance novels lack the appeal of putting you in the action? Well, good news! Booksbyyou.com has their "Racing Hearts - Love in the Fast Lane!" collection. According to their website:

Remember: You co-author Racing Hearts by selecting the heroine, hero and heroine's best friend - and even your dog or cat! The novel is 195 pages and professionally bound, with more than 25 characteristics to personalize, making it a gift that is truly unique and sentimental. A gift that will be cherished forever.

Did you just say I get to pick my own dog and cat, too?? Well, as long as you let me include Mr. Whiskers in my romance novel, you've got me sold! So, too, are some happy customers who already received their personalized race car romance books. A guy named Richie M. from Ontario (proposed race slogan: "Where 'y'all' becomes 'eh?'") is more than happy:

"My girlfriend showed me my name on the cover and I almost fell out of my chair. When I started reading we were "driven away" by the story. It's like being at Daytona, only better because I took home the ultimate prize."

A pick-up truck with brand new mud flaps? All we know is Richie is one very happy man. With Valentine's Day coming up, I think we can expect the girlfriend is getting a sweet dinner out to Tim Horton's (the Canadian doppelganger of Hardees) as a thank you. That's love in the fast lane, Canadian style.

But is Fabio posing on the cover?

Beth Gannon has a problem. It seems she likes writing smutty romance novels in her spare time. Sadly, that's not her problem.

The problem is that Beth is a principal in the Lawrence, MA, school system, and she thought it'd be a good idea to bring her self-published novel to school with her and ask fellow teachers to buy the book. Now, according to whoever you believe, this is where the story gets murky.

A math teacher named Peggy Lynch apparently balked at buying the book. Peggy says that because she refused to buy the "smut" she was assigned after school detention duty. Apparently detention duty is the equivalent of the 7th level of hell, and Peggy feels like she was being singled out. The principal, Beth Gannon, says that's not the case. (Read all about it...here.)

Of course, the problem doesn't end there. No. The book apparently has graphic sex scenes, drug and alcohol use, and suicide. In other words, it's like a Jodi Picoult book, minus the fanatical book club following. And since this is a school, parents are up in arms that their beloved children are reading light porn while eating PB&J at lunch. Likewise, teachers are offended at the vulgarity on display in the book and their being forced to read it, especially math teacher Peggy Lynch. As a result, poor Beth is on paid administrative leave, and is probably going to lose her job.

Listen folks, let your friend Paddy help you all out and be the voice of reason here. Beth's only crime is a lack of imagination. She hasn't written anything that a Harlequin novel hasn't rehashed a couple hundred times at this point. She should be punished for apparently channeling Jodi Picoult's shoddy writing skills and forcing more over-the-top ridiculousness on the reading public. And do you know what the real crime is? Beth Gannon was charging $13.95 for each paerback book. $13.95! For paperback! What in the world is it coming with? A 24k gold leaf cover and winning lotto numbers?

As for the math teacher...we all know math teachers don't read books. That's why they work with numbers. It's scientific fact.

But despite all that, Beth Gannon's crime is definitely not having a book with sex, drugs, and rock & roll in a school, and any parent flustered over this needs to stop watching too many episodes of "To Catch a Predator" on Dateline. Trust me folks, little Bobby and little Suzie at school aren't kicking back at recess reading about bare-chested lotharios with flowing hair getting it on with buxom women. Kids will barely read a comic book these days, never mind an overpriced book their principal wrote. When I was in grade school my principal would've needed to pay me $13.95 and given me a back rub to get me to read anything she published.

Teachers, of course, are saying the issue is that they felt threatened--that they HAD to buy the book. Except, oddly enough, no teacher is complaining about buying the book so much as they're complaining about the raunchy tone of the book. Come on now, we all know if this book was called "The Care Bears Dance on Rainbows" then no teacher would have complained about it. The issue here doesn't seem so much to be about buying a book (how come these same teachers don't complain about buying Girl Scout cookies?), so much as they're uncomfortable about the book's topic.

And what if the kiddos did stumble on Beth's book, as entirely unlikely as it would be? (Are kids going to be crawling through the air ducts at the school so they can shimmy into the teacher's lounge and get a glance at the eye candy on the cover?) What's the worry? If parents do their job and actually raise their children correctly, then the kids will know between a poorly written book and reality. And are we to assume none of these parents have second rate Nora Roberts books on their nightstands their kids could catch a glimpse of?

In the end, Beth Gannon will probably lose her job as a principal. But let me tell you, she's going to make a fortune writing smutty romance books. Jackie Collins can't live forever.

Carrot cake? Carrots? Same nutritional quality to me.

Somewhere lost between Jackie Collins and William Faulkner is good writing. I'm sure of it. You don't find many knitting circles talking about a Faulkner classic that just tickles them pink, just as you don't find many pipe-smoking literati wearing ascots talking about the latest trashy Jackie Collins book that kept them up all night. Do Faulkner and Collins both serve their purpose? Sure. But are both good writers? Eh. Somewhere lost between the mental candy of Collins and the synapse-firing overload of Faulkner is a happy medium of writing.

I'll probably be excommunicated from the religion of literature for saying Faulkner does nothing for me, but so be it. Math textbooks have kept me more excited than most any Faulkner story. Maybe it's the force-feeding of Faulkner that loses me. When my mother tried force-feeding me beets as a child I rebelled. Faulkner = beets. My only redemption is that I don't rebel against Faulkner just to embrace the lusty nature of Jackie Collins. If Faulkner is beets then Jackie Collins is an ice cream sundae dessert on steroids. But I'll pass on getting literature diabetes as well, thanks.

Debates over good and bad taste are as old as humanity. I'm sure cave dwellers 20,000 years ago argued with one another over charcoal drawings of fish and horses on the cave walls. Today, we have people arguing with Gwyneth Paltrow on her own blog about books she, Madonna, and supermodel Christy Turlington say are good. (I don't know what part of that last sentence disturbs me most--that Gwyneth Paltrow has a blog, or that Christy Turlington is telling me what books to read.) So, if Christy Turlington can sashay down the runway and then turn around and tell me to read The Sound and the Fury by Faulker (as she does...here), then I can turn around and argue what's as equally overrated. Here are a few random strays to get you going:

1.) Catcher in the Rye, by JD Salinger: I've come across more pubescent angst in a Miley Cyrus song than I ever read in this book. Yet, again and again and again I'm told this book cuts to the bone on examining society and human relations. Maybe it was cutting edge when it was published in 1951. "I Love Lucy" still had Lucy and Ricky sleeping in separate beds after all, so maybe society wasn't ready for Holden Caulfield getting reprimanded by a pimp. Still, I don't see the genius behind it. Shakespeare had cross-dressers 350 years earlier, so it's not like touching on taboo issues was only broached by Salinger.

2.) The Twilight books: Like lawyers and mosquitoes, blood suckers in the form of vampires never did anything for me. A literate 6th grader amped-up on Little Debbie snack cakes and 7-Up could probably conjure up a more interesting premise.

3.) Song of Solomon by Toni Morrison: Morrison is a great writer, don't get me wrong. Sula? Good stuff. It's just that Song of Solomon feels as realistic as a Days of Our Lives plot line. But if this is all it takes to be considered for the Nobel Prize for literature, then I can't wait to win my own in about 30 years. I could use the money.

4.) The Poky Little Puppy by Janette Sebring Lowrey: Hey, don't knock it. The Poky Little Puppy kept me captivated as a wee one. But the devastation I had at the conclusion of the book when he goes to bed without strawberry shortcake and feels very sorry for himself cut too close to the heart. Here was this puppy--a rebel ten times more powerful than Holden Caulfield--and he gets his comeuppence at the end. Can't we send our children off to bed on a high note??

5.) Anything by Mitch Albom: Like The Poky Little Puppy, only for adults, and more ruthless in trying to convey a "lesson." Pretend The Poky Little Puppy decided to die at the end for no other reason because he led a misbegotten life and didn't hug his children enough. Then you get a Mitch Albom book.

That's it for now. If you don't mind, I need to go see what Christy Turlington and Gwyneth Paltrow are telling me to do next. They promised a "yummy meal" at the end of their best books blog post, so I've got my fingers crossed for a tasty Sunday meal in store!