Thoughts from the ammo line

Ammo Grrrll has an important announcement to make (with an exclamation point for emphasis) in BOOK ROLL-OUT, Volume One! She writes:

Well, dear readers, this is IT! Remember that great scene in The Jerk with Steve Martin when his nebbish character, Navin R. Johnson, goes crazy with joy because the new phone books had arrived and his name was in them? Well, I am almost as excited!

Ammo Grrrll Hits the Target is out on Amazon. It is the compilation of columns from the first “Ammo Grrrll Year” which runs from the end of March 2014 to the end of March 2015. Attractively priced at $9.99 for the e-book and $15.99 for the paperback – well, it’s attractive to ME, anyway — there are instructions in the back of the paperback on how to send off for a personally autographed peel ‘n stick label with Bullet Hole Option! Yes, you read that right! How many autographed books do you have with the impression of a .45 round alongside the signature? Yeah, I thought so. I had a ball shooting up labels all morning. All I can tell you is if I am ever ATTACKED by a peel ‘n stick label at 4 feet or less, that label is TOAST.

A few weeks ago I also alerted readers to the opportunity to get acquainted with new writer, Max Cossack, whom I have seen shower. Just sayin’. Eat your heart out, Harvey Weinstein. I want to thank Power Line readers and friends who ordered Max’s book Khaybar, Minnesota, and especially those who were kind enough to review it favorably on Amazon. For those who have not yet bought the book, or who have bought it but not yet reviewed it, those opportunities still exist. Supposedly, the Magic # for 5 Star reviews is 50. Almost there!

But enough about Max. He doesn’t even help with the dishes much. Write, write, write, write, write, that’s all Max wants to do – several plays, many CDs full of music, and now, novels! He is hard at work on his second novel. Back to me!

Ammo Grrrll Hits the Target features all but a couple of columns from that first year, plus additional never-before-seen material and a very special surprise at the end. I’m not going to tell you what that surprise is, because then it won’t be a surprise, will it? I am notoriously terrible at keeping secrets. Espionage would not be a wise choice of profession for me or anyone in my family. Here is an example of the secret-keeping chops in my family in a series of phone conversations, all within 10 minutes:

My brother Jim: How’s everything?
Me: Good, how about you?
Jim: Oh, I quit my job, but don’t tell Mom. I’m sure I’ll get another one soon.
Me: It’s a good idea to HAVE a job lined up BEFORE you quit, but whatever. I know you were unhappy there.

Phone rings. It’s Mom.

Mom: Have you heard from Jim lately? I just have a bad feeling that something is wrong.
Me: He’s fine. He’ll be much happier now.
Mom: Now? Why now?
Me: (DOH!) No special reason. Okay, okay, uh, he quit his job. But, he told me not to tell you. So, for Pete’s sake, don’t tell him I told you, OK? Do NOT tell him I told you!

Phone rings.

Jim: What in the hell is the matter with you? I asked you not to tell Mom!
Me: I know. I’m sorry, she tricked me somehow. I specifically TOLD her not to tell you that I had told her!

See what I mean? I’m not good at keeping secrets, and I’m even worse at plugging my own work. Colonel Kurt Schlichter, a columnist I much admire, relentlessly pumps his books in every single column. That is his right and apparently okay with Townhall, but I tend to skip right over the plugs now. To avoid becoming a tedious pest, or worse, being fired, I promise to mention my book only every so often. Like if sales lag. Of course, I have no control over beloved readers, should any of THEM mention it every now and again.

However, you can do your part to keep the column commercial free by just ordering more books every so often and in mass quantities. For those of you who still maintain Facebook pages, maybe plug it there for me. For those without a Facebook account, you might consider sending out an email blast to everyone you’ve ever known who might still remember you, like I did. It also makes a fine gift for Thanksgiving, Christmas, Chanukah, Super Bowl Sunday, or Arbor Day. A personally autographed book LOOKS more expensive than it is!

There will be three more volumes in the series before I am current, one released every couple of months, and then one a year after that, God willing. As long as Power Line will have me. Thank you in advance for reading me and being more supportive than any writer has the right to expect.

If this book is not successful, I may be forced to be photographed naked. Apparently, judging by recent election efforts, certain unhinged women think this is an effective form of persuasion. Or threat. It wasn’t exactly clear which. Let’s just not let it come to that, okay? My book is only 6 x 9 inches. If that is all I have to cover myself with, I will be forced to make some difficult and disturbing choices.

By now most of what could be said about the election has already been said. I have just a couple of thoughts to add: Money alone was not decisive, as evidenced by the obscene amount squandered on “Beto,” the Irish pretend Hispanic. Also, celebrity endorsements had little or no effect. Poor Babs Streisand will continue to get fatter from TDS and Ms. Swift opted to lose fans to no avail. Nobody gives a rat’s patootie what Cher has to say and never will. It was a blue wave in a toddler’s wading pool. On to 2020.

The important thing is my guy, Glenn Morrison, won for Constable. That and my book is out.