Friday, January 31, 2020

The Friday Edition by Betta Ferrendelli



It's a blog tour, folks! Dozens of people writing reviews of the same book, and you chose to read mine? I can't say that speaks highly of your judgement, but I am grateful to you nonetheless. As I was grateful to read this suspenseful murder mystery! Samantha Church, our cunning protagonist, faces a slate of obstacles in her quest to make sense of the circumstances of her sister's death, but believe it or not, as she gets closer and closer to the truth, she has to deal with the possibility that people won't believe her because of her own personal flaws. And that, my friends, is something I can relate to.

You will probably find it shocking to learn that I have often been accused of having personal flaws myself. And not all of these relate to my personal hygiene! I have at times been demeaning to others, especially people who deserve it, mind you, like my no-good son-in-law Gerry, who insists that laundry be sorted into 5 groups from light to dark. God damn it - don't you realize that all those fancy buttons are lies? The washing machine only does one thing, for crying out loud.

Also, my language is not always pristine, I have occasionally spoken ill of my neighbors, last week I told a cashier that I had a coupon for Metamucil that didn't exist and asked him to give it to me half price anyway, I once put bullion in my grandson's showerhead, I hate puppies, I am a bad listener, I don't understand how the internet works, I won't share my pickle recipes, I occasionally berate people in public with scant provocation, I have poor feng shui, and I tend to write run-on sentences.

And because of these trivial shortcomings, my opinions are often discounted unfairly. And yet, I am almost always right! When they came out with New Coke, I was in one of the first taste tests, and I told them if they thought anyone would drink that swill, they were a bunch of fucking idiots, and you know how that turned out. And no matter how many times I have told my family that we should invest in one of those underground bunkers because one day the whole world will be run by trigger-happy fascists, they never listen, and now look where we are. And I told my grandson that Golden Corral was the absolute last place he should take his prom date, but even after two liters of IV fluids, did he ever admit I was right? No, he did not.

So, the moral of the story is, don't kill people. And the moral of the review is, listen to me, damn it!

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