James Lee Burke-a-thon

With my recent activities, you might think that all I've done is run around, but you'd be wrong. I have managed to make time in my busy schedule for reading.

On the recommendation of the lovely Newt, I read "Electric Mist With the Confedrate Dead", by James Lee Burke, and enjoyed it. As I always tend to do with an author I "discover", I wanted to read everything he has written. This turned out to be a tall order, as he has written LOTS of books. At any rate, I have immersed myself in them, and have worked my way through eight or nine of them.

He has two series'. In one, his main character is Dave Robichaux, sometime New Orleans cop, sometimes ex-cop. Mostly, the books are set in New Iberia, the town in which he grew up. In the second series, his main character is Billy Bob Holland, a lawyer and ex-Texas Ranger, who lives in Montana sometimes and in Texas sometimes.

The more books I have read, the more my interest has waned, I'm afraid. The books are formulaic in the extreme. Every Robichaux book follows the same plot, with only the names changed. Robichaux is in his 60s, and his past seems to be littered with broken hearts all the way back to his teens, and in each book, so far, there is at least one female character who is STILL carrying a torch for the great swordsman, and longs for another crack at him. In each book, Robichaux decides someone is a bad guy, and then sets out to pin the crime(s) on him and/or her. And, in each book, he turns out to be wrong to one degree or another. I blame this on the obvious location of his brain.

Robichaux is also skating on thin ethical ice as a cop. His violent nature sometimes makes him cross the line and he is either fired or suspended, but they always seem to take him back because he's just a damn good cop.

In the other series, Billy Bob Holland is a kinder, gentler, younger version of Robichaux, but he's no wuss, either. He has the same history with women who keep popping up with regularity from his past. Burke has applied the same basic formula with these books that he uses with the Robichaux books, changing the names and geography as needed. Billy Bob is slightly more likeable, but I have to admit, he would turn me off completely.

Why, oh why do the men who write these mysteries have to endow their main characters with almost super-virility? Is it for the same reason that they drive fancy sportscars and big hummers?

These books are entertaining enough, though I think I should have read something else between each one. I'm not saying I won't read another one, but it will be a while.

Another Randy Old Goat Gets Caught

Well, I'm shocked, SHOCKED! You might think I'm appalled that New York Governor Spitzer allegedly met with a prostitute in a New York hotel. But, no. I'm shocked that we never cease to be surprised at this kind of behavior. And, I'm amused by the media's labeling it as "involvement in a prostitution ring." At this time (3:12 p.m.) all the media really knows is that Spitzer text-messaged (how stupid can you get?) his request for a meeting with a particular prostitute.

And, speaking of stupid, he did this knowing that all messages and phone calls, etc. were being intercepted by federal law enforcement agents. He didn't even use an alias, or code name! Typical, typical, typical.

I repeat, I'm not shocked that he "meets with prostitutes." What a delicate way to put it. Personally, I believe that prostitution should be legalized, the way it is in other countries. Wait, wait! Come back! I'll 'splain why. Just calm down.

Here's my reasoning. Generally speaking, men just don't have the same attitude toward sex that women seem to have. To them, it's satisfying a natural urge. Nothing to do, necessarily, with love. Prostitutes know all this. But, non-"professional" women, in general, want to at least LIKE, or at a minimum, know the last name of whoever they sleep with. In other words, we like romance, foreplay, conversation, SOMETHING to make us feel an emotional connection. This is why so many men are astonished to discover that the woman who so eagerly jumped into the rack with him Saturday night, is expecting a declaration of undying love on Sunday morning. A commitment, for heaven's sake.

Legalizing prostitution would make it easier for a lot of wives, too. Think about it. The Ladies of the Evening would be "regulated". By that I mean, they would enter "Prostitute" on their tax forms, etc., and would be required to be tested for any number of nasty diseases, which would protect their clients as well as their clients' wives.

Wives wouldn't feel obligated to divorce their husbands for cheating, because if the husband could legally go to a prostitute, it probably wouldn't be widely known and he probably wouldn't be as interested in his wife's friends or the women at work. So, wifey wouldn't get embarrassed in front of all their friends and families, which is really why they file for divorce, anyway.

Since men don't always equate sex with love, they are often heard to say they love their wives, even if they've just been caught with the baby-sitter. I knew one man who stated, with a straight face, "If my wife died tomorrow, I'd NEVER marry my mistress!" I took that to mean that he loved his wife, while his mistress was just a diversion, or something of that nature. He wouldn't have to have a "mistress" if he could just make a reservation at the local brothel. Thus, saving himself a lot of money that he could then spend on diamonds for his wife, the woman he loves.

So, let's just back off and see what happes to Eliot Spitzer. If all he did was pay a prostitute every now and then, that's one thing. I'll change my opinion if it turns out he was actually involved in the "prostitution ring". By that I mean, helping to run it or being paid to protect them, or something of that ilk.

Otherwise, he's just a randy guy, doing what comes naturally.