Carry the One has a dramatic beginning: it’s the evening of Carmen and Matt’s wedding and they are surrounded by their family and friends. It’s a non-traditional, very Bohemian wedding at a farmhouse owned by Alice, Carmen’s sister, and Jean, both artists. It’s the wee hours of the morning and several party guests — drunk, stoned and sleepy — are making their way home when there is a tragic accident. A young girl is killed on a dark country road. One guest will take the blame, but they will all carry the guilt.

For the rest of their lives, the accident will play in the background — their relationships, their careers, their friendships are all tested and changed. Their lives are already intertwined: Carmen’s sister, Alice, and her brother, Nick, were in the car when the accident happened. Nick’s girlfriend, Olivia, was driving. Alice’s new lover, Maude (sister to Matt, the groom) was in the car, as was Tom, Jean’s married lover. (If you’re confused, don’t feel bad. It took me a while to sort them out in my head.) Even Carmen and Matt, who weren’t in the car, carry the guilt of letting them all drive off, knowing they weren’t sober enough to be behind the wheel. As one character says, “When you add us up, you always have to carry the one.”

I think the most tragic story belongs to Nick. He was a wild kid with an equally wild girlfriend, but that all ended the night of the wedding. After that, it was just a slow spiral — although he still has flashes of brilliance and you always believe he can pull himself out. Alice’s life is a perfect example of  ”be careful what you wish for.” Carmen tries so hard, but she just doesn’t get it when it comes to relationships. I found myself wanting to sit her down for a stiff drink and some straight girlfriend talk. But that’s life, isn’t it? Things never seem to turn out the way you planned. It’s all ups and downs with long stretches in between and nobody ever really lives happily ever after. I was proud of Olivia; she had the hardest road of all, I think, but the peace she found came at a great price.

I really loved this book. I got caught up in these stories so easily and I was surprised by how invested I felt in their stories. Even when I wanted to smack them in the head or shake some sense into them, I wanted things to turn out well. It’s really a sign of great writing, I think, when you feel all wrapped up in the story. At the same time, I found myself afraid to turn the pages, because you just knew that some stories would end in tears — and they did, quite literally, for me.

My copy of Carry the One was a review copy, provided free of charge.

If this is a reasonable response, why do we need the nation-state? Or, multi-national states?

I just saw this particular piece about insurance companies providing armed escorts and establishing convoys for the Gulf of Aden and the Indian Ocean. Seems that NATO, the UN, the EU and the various entities in that area have been unable to secure the seas and so private business has turned to the old profit motive. I immediately thought of letters of marque and the use of privateers…in other words, in a world in which austerity by government has passed economy and spiraled down to suicide, DYSTOPIA rules the waves. Now, I claim no expertise concerning the Law of the Sea, but I thought privateers and letters of marque went out with wigs, wooden ships, and the rise of the modern state.

After all, the events that established the United States as a world player if not power were those against pirates in the Mediterranean. Great Britain became great behind the wooden walls of the Royal Navy. Hell,  Julius Caesar first gained notice for action against pirates who had captured and ransomed him; Pompey became a hero of Rome (again) for eradicating the eastern Mediterranean of pirates.  And on, and on  and on…if government can not protect its commerce, care and educate its people, provide for the common defense, provide for the common defense thus securing the blessings of liberty for itself and its people then it has no purpose. Why do we need it? It’s ironic that the the fast patrol boats the article alludes to are surplus Swedish Navy ships…the relevance of the Swedish Monarchy will soon be exceeded by the irrelevance of the nation state.

Ayn Rand is chuckling in hell; Jefferson is shaking his head in heaven with Aristotle and Burke while sipping some suddenly bitter claret; Hobbs and Locke just spit coffee all over each other in shock in response to Drake’s news as he walked in the Spectator Coffee House in Piccadilly ; and, Decatur, Jones and Hull are staring at each other utterly dumbfounded. As they should…

A few things reassure me. Mercenaries have worked so well in the Horn of Africa and middle east in the past. I’m sure this future is as bright as any other flock of tame wild geese in history. Another is that bureaucracies get somewhat irate at threats to their survival. With the EU in economic disarray and the Greeks threatening the Euro, a private navy for rent protecting critical sea lanes might encourage the EU to do something kind of meaningful. Like imitate Jefferson and bitch slap some bad guys.

I have been declared Emperor of the World. Let us not waste time explaining why or how; let’s all simply accept the fact that we are better off, as a result; hence, my next decree:

Emperor’s Decree No. XXIV: If there is a microphone provided, use it. Enough with the [begin nasal, whiny voice]: “Can you hear me back there? I don’t want to use this thing if I don’t have to…” [end nasal, whiny voice]. It’s 2012. Use the freaking microphone. Luddite. You’re not “warm” for not using it. You’re not “more personal.” You’re not lovably uncomfortable with technology. The only thing you are is “not loud enough,” so snap out of your naturally-acoustic hippie trance and take a courageous leap into the present tense.

The Punishment: The punishment (which shall not be described here, in detail, for fear of shocking those with sensitive constitutions) is, shall we say, one that is inspired by the generally tubular shape of your average microphone. Let it suffice to say that those metal windscreens are not, strictly speaking…comfortable.

The Emperor shall grace the world with a new decree each Tuesday morning

I have lately found myself in a grand funk. The condition is well described by a sentence at the very beginning of Henry Miller’s Tropic of Capricorn: “There was nothing I wished to do which I could just as well not do.”

This doesn’t happen to me very often, and when it does I can never quite figure why. It descends upon me and envelops me, like a dense fog. This time it may have had something to do — I can’t say for sure — with a project of mine. I have been gathering the reviews I wrote for the Philadelphia Inquirer with a mind to making a selection of them for an eBook.

I think of a book review as a kind of consumer report. I try to give the reader an engaging account of my reading experience. I don’t aim either at high art or profound criticism, just something worth about five minutes of the reader’s time that may help him figure out if the book under review is one he might like to read.

So far, in gathering up my reviews, I haven’t come upon any that I thought were bad, and a few I’ve come upon have struck me as uncommonly good. Most are decent and workmanlike.

I have spent nearly half a century writing book reviews. For a few years I was writing one every week. It’s actually a pretty pleasant way of earning a living and it’s something I had wanted to do since I was in high school. But last week I was working on one that was not going very well. Ordinarily, I would just keep hammering away until I got something that would at least do. But not this time. I can’t say I suddenly lost faith in what I had done all those years, but I had certainly, for the time being, lost my enthusiasm.

This grew into the aforementioned grand funk.

My wife is away on the annual trip she takes with her sister to the Outer Banks. Ordinarily, I make dinner for us, because I like to cook. I even like to cook for myself, usually. But not this past week. It was easier to eat a bowl of cereal in the morning than make an omelet. Since I live off the Italian Market it was easier to have a cheesesteak for dinner than make something.

Understand that my practice is to go with my moods. You can learn as much from a grand funk as you can from anything else.

I would try to read, of course, but nothing held my attention. I would flick on the TV, channel surf for a bit, then give that up. I would take a walk, but I wouldn’t go very far, and when I got back I’d feel just as lackadaisical as I had before I left. I managed to do the things I had to do, like put out the trash on Wednesday, but not much else.

I did bestir myself to attend the Philadelphia Orchestra’s concert presentation of Richard Strauss’s opera Elektra last night, and that was indeed thrilling. Maybe that’s what got me to resolve that, today, I would try to shake off this mood of boredom that had itself become intensely boring.

For that, I realize, is what a grand funk comes down to: being bored.

Of course, I woke up this morning feeling the same as I had the day before and the day before that. But in my mind I could hear some lines of Gerard Manley Hopkins, who seems to have experienced grander funks than I ever have. They were from “Carrion Comfort” — “… I’ll not … cry I can no more. I can; /Can something, hope, wish day come, not choose not to be.”

I hadn’t written a column for a couple of weeks because I hadn’t got an idea for one that seemed interesting, which is to say that I hadn’t come upon a quotation lately that had especially grabbed me.

But every day, on my blog, as I mentioned in my last column, I have a feature called “Thought for the Day.” So this morning I decided to search through those and see if I could find one that ignited a spark of interest in me.

I did. It is from the novelist Frederick Buechner (who is a Presbyterian minister):

Listen to your life. See it for the fathomless mystery it is. In the boredom and pain of it, no less than in the excitement and gladness: touch, taste, smell your way to the holy and hidden heart of it, because in the last analysis all moments are key moments, and life itself is grace.

Hopkins’s sonnet, which I looked up and read in full, made plain to me that my grand funk was a flirting with despair:

Not, I’ll not, carrion comfort, Despair, not feast on thee;

Not untwist—slack they may be—these last strands of man

In me …

Small wonder the phrase “not choose not to be” is the one that I heard most clearly on awaking this morning. And small wonder Buechner’s quote grabbed me tightly when I came upon it.

I had got into a mood of wanting everything to be fine and dandy all the time in every way. Routine things that have to be done every day — making the bed, brewing coffee — seemed annoyances for some reason. I wanted that review I was having trouble with over and done with. Only I didn’t want to have spend my time writing it.

Buechner’s point — and I hope I never forget it — is that there are no downsides to being alive. Even a grand funk can prove a blessing.

I guess I am naive. I tend to believe that adults, by their very nature, should be reasonable people. I manage to be regularly amazed by how often that belief is proven wrong. The world of sports is as susceptible to this as anything else, of course, and this column is usually dedicated to illustrating all kinds of foolish behavior. This week is no exception. On Wednesday night, two high school baseball teams from Arizona were scheduled to play each other in the state championship game for their classification. Instead of playing, however, one of the schools, Our Lady of Sorrows Academy, forfeited the game. Why would they do this, you ask? Because Mesa Preparatory Academy, the other school, has a girl on its team.

Our Lady of Sorrows Academy is a private school that is associated with something called the Society of Saint Pius X, which split off from the Catholic Church about 30 years ago due to difference of opinion about the Vatican II Council reforms from the Sixties. I know little about this group’s beliefs, but apparently one of them is that boys and girls should not play baseball together. The two teams played twice earlier this season, and Paige Sultzbach, who plays second base for Mesa Prep, sat out those games in an attempt to appease the other school’s beliefs. On Wednesday, though, Sultzbach chose to not step aside. It was the championship game, after all, and she had worked hard all season to be there. Instead of letting its team compete for the title it had been striving for, the religious school decided to quit.

OLSA’s actions are just so wrong on a number of levels. First of all, to be so openly chauvinistic shocks me, despite the fact that it’s not as rare as it should be. What exactly are they afraid of? I am not even sure I want an answer to that, as I have little doubt that it would disgust me. The school not only denied its own kids the chance to compete, it denied Mesa Prep the same thing. Sure, they were crowned champions, but anyone who has ever played a sport knows that players want to win it on the field. A forfeit win is just not the same thing as a real victory. Sultzbach should feel insulted and disrespected, and I imagine she does. Honestly, as an intelligent, thinking human being in the 21st century, I feel insulted by this myself. Mesa’s athletic director Amy Arnold was quoted as saying, “I respect their views, but it’s a bit out of the 18th century.” I agree with the latter but not the former. I don’t respect those views at all. Sure, the school and its players have a right to their beliefs, but that sure does not mean that I have to respect them. To the contrary, those beliefs nauseate me, and I know a few others who felt similarly. I was sent this story by several different people who had spotted it this week, as it is the kind of story that evokes a visceral reaction from a lot of people. As a father of two girls, I shudder at the thought that there are still people and organizations out there that would like to set them and all other females back decades to a time when women were regularly treated as if they were less than their male counterparts.

The decision-makers at OLSA should be ashamed of themselves. Any parent who would allow his or her child to attend a school that could make that decision should be similarly ashamed. Paige Sultzbach and her teammates should be applauded for not giving in this time. They never should have had her sit out the other games, and I am glad they did not do so this time.

Bad sports, continued:

2) Guillermo Mota, a pitcher for the San Francisco Giants, has been suspended for 100 games by Major League Baseball after failing a test for performance enhancing drugs for a second time. 100 games may seem like a lot, but I feel this is far too lenient. If you fail a steroids test, get suspended for 50 games, and then fail another, you should be out of the game forever. This isn’t marijuana…this is cheating.

3) Phillies pitcher Cole Hamels was suspended for five games after admitting he intentionally hit Washington Nationals rookie Bryce Harper with a pitch last week. He said he was trying to deliver a message to Harper that he needed to tone down his act. Whether or not you agree with Hamels throwing at Harper, there is no doubt that admitting it to the media was a seriously dumb move.

4) Speaking of Bryce Harper, he made an awfully dumb move of his own later in the week. After escaping injury from that beaning by Hamels five days earlier, Harper was having a rough game against the Cincinnati Reds. He went 0-5 with three strikeouts, prompting him to swing a bat against the wall of the tunnel behind the dugout. The bat bounced back and hit Harper in the face, opening a gash near his eye that required ten stitches. Something tells me Hamels was onto something, as far as Harper needing to calm down a bit.

5) Rafael Nadal and Novak Djokovic, arguably the two best men’s tennis players in the world, are talking about boycotting next year’s Madrid Open if the organizers don’t change the surface by the time the tournament comes around. This year’s tournament, which concluded this week, was played on a surface that was not only bright blue, but was also quite slippery, according to the players.

6) With the whole Bobby Petrino mess still a very recent memory, the University of Arkansas football team was back in the news this week. Three of the team’s players were arrested on Saturday, charged with burglarizing several dorm rooms on campus.

7) Sixteen people were injured in a fire in a Formula One garage on Sunday at the Spanish Grand Prix in Madrid. The race winner, Pastor Maldonado, was the driver for one of the team’s involved in the fire.

8) Boston Red Sox pitcher Josh Beckett is in trouble in his home city. After sitting out a start last week due to some kind of injury, Beckett went out and played golf the next day. When questioned about it after getting hit hard in his Thursday night start against Cleveland, Beckett was surly and arrogant, stating that he could do anything he wanted with his precious days off. Way to endear yourselves to the fans who buy the tickets there, Josh.

9) Osi Umenyioria, continued his feud with Philadelphia Eagles running back LeSean McCoy on Sunday, tweeting a Mother’s Day greeting to McCoy. This started last summer, after McCoy referred to Umenyioria as “soft,” and the defensive end for the New York Giants replied by calling McCoy “Lady Gaga” and referred to him as “she.” Oh, haha, I get it. You’re saying he’s a girl, and that is inherently funny, because, well, you know…girls are so beneath you. Maybe you should go to Our Lady of Sorrows Academy.

Good sports:

1) Josh Hamilton had a rough offseason, which included a partial relapse into his well-documented alcoholism. It does not appear to have impacted his season, however. The Texas Rangers outfielder hit four homeruns in a 10-3 win over the Baltimore Orioles on Tuesday. As of Sunday night, Hamilton not only leads the league in homeruns with 18, but he has five more than anyone else does.

2) Manchester City won its first EPL title in 44 years in amazing fashion on Sunday, scoring two goals within four minutes during extra time to beat Queens Park, 3-2.

Bad sports, good sports appears every Monday

10. You have more empty takeout containers than P.F. Chang’s

9. You’ve lost three pets to indoor avalanches

8. Your refrigerator mold and your oven mold are caught in a life-and-death struggle

7. Even Jehovah’s Witnesses won’t come inside

6. You check to make sure cheese isn’t supposed to fizzle

5. Your bathroom has hot and cold running roaches

4. When you accidentally moved your Christmas tree, you finally found out where Gramps has been all this time

3. The odor has that certain ‘skunk-in-an-outhouse-getting-a-perm’ mystique

2. Your “bean bag chair” is made of accumulated lint

1. Your “dust bunnies” are actually breeding
 

Bob Sullivan’s Top Ten Everything appears every Monday.

Ok, I’m a smart guy who can be very stupid at times. This is particularly true when it comes to physical limits. I know, for example, that enrolling in the ProAM Bull Riding contest would be a serious mistake. I know that. It would have been a serious mistake 20 years ago and there’s no reason to think it might be a good idea now. I know that   El Capitan is not in my future unless they build an escalator. I’ve figured that out…

So, of course, I made a wise crack to a guy 20 some years younger than I that the Mojave Free Press ought to enter a team for the Barstow Mud Run. Figured a leisurely job across the desert, splash through some forgiving water obstacles and then pick up a T-shirt at the worst case. At the best case, he’d laugh and say no thanks, he had to cover it for the paper. How hard could it be? What could go wrong?

Most things.

Well, the principal architect of that electronic fish wrapper is a guy named Charles Waybright. He’s a nice guy, but he either has a sense of humor more twisted than mine or he’s very stupid. Charles thought it was a great idea. So, there we were, Charles, Bruce Klein and me, surrounded by 1000 or so of like-minded lunatics set to take off across the desert to benefit the Barstow Veterans Home and the Barstow Kiwanis. Both of which are worthy of support for their services to this community which really needs it and more of it. Oh, the guys who bailed on the run so that Charles had to recruit Bruce but volunteered to video the thing and provide coverage for the paper, also bailed. Charles had his lovely wife worried that I might not show or be found and that she would have to pick up the banner. She was prescient enough to be glad to see me.

Drove up there from my home. This being primarily a fund raiser for the Vets Home there were lots of guys and gals there who were former Soldiers, Sailors, Airmen and Marines who were volunteering, and of course, in charge. One of the nice things about people with military experience is that if someone needs to be in charge of something, and no one else will do it, they’ll step up. At the same time, a lot of times they’ll take charge because they need to be in charge. Of something, anything, doesn’t matter what. I work very hard at not being like that – it’s less tiring. Still, I can understand the tendency. Six to twelve of these guys were directing traffic. Guy who directed me into my parking space and made certain that I was parked on-line with the rest of the cars must have been an Aviation Bosun’s Mate in the Navy, because a couple of those folks shared with me that their primary function underway was to serve as a valet parking lot attendant for airplanes. Deviance from the line was not to be tolerated…

I kind of regretted that this guy wasn’t organizing the start. It gets hot in Barstow, in the sun, in May, and there was limited shade. Like almost none – the crowd mulled around, and the start was in heats. Somehow Charles and Bruce found me, and I pinned up my number, tied my timing chip to my shoe and we muddled our way through. One reason for running as a team – in our case, Old and Fat! – was to support each other, but somehow we all wandered into different heats.

Now, back in the day, I was a distance runner. Then my back went to wherever things go when they decide not to work anymore, and I don’t run. I was figuring the high intensity workouts I do in the gym would cover me. I wasn’t planning on setting records. I may have…probably was the slowest finisher. Hit the first water obstacle and found myself running through water and mud but only up to just below the knees. Climb out, over a birm and head for the next obstacle…which was slightly deeper, and had tires that had embedded themselves in the mud at this point. If you are light on your feet, long legged and run with a high knee lift, this isn’t a problem. If you’ve just turned 61, have always had a squatty body, lift weights for sport and have short legs, this is not going to work. Step, spash, fall, get caught in the mud, pull boots out of mud and repeat.  This turned into an ordeal. Got out, shook my head, and started slowly jogging toward the next obstacle. More tires and a birm on each end…you get through the first one, and over it and then there’s another one, just like the other one…

Crashed on the next one, which may have involved piranha but did involve a water truck raining on you as you fought you way through the mud, tires and so on.  Got through, got out and started walking…got to the first water stop, and stood there drinking warm water out of a cup, which frankly didn’t help all that much. I started to feel less bad when I realized that two college girls were there, both wearing women’s cross country team t-shirts, and one of them had just had an exercise induced asthma attack. She probably weighed about 100 pounds.

So, on I slogged. Skipped an obstacle, continued to slog. Got to the water slide thing…slide down the slide into the water, what could go wrong. Well, a lot…as I found out when I landed and slammed my leg into some immovable object –heap of dead bodies? Left-over rocks? Railroad ties? – pinning my leg back. Guy manning the thing in the pond pulled me out of the way, and I realized that I was now golden – I had a low calf/high ankle strain and could hobble through the rest of the course but couldn’t go through any more obstacles. Yeah, buddy – of course, I’m soaking wet, my Palladium BUDS course boots are full of desert and water as well, my ankle is not swelling that much because it is encased in a muddy, tied running boot, but it hurts like hell, and I have a mile or so of desert to cross. And, so I did. Bumped into Charles who was having problems seeing, because he had listened to someone talking jive and decided he had to splash him, primarily splashing himself. Muddy water in the eyes…hot…dirt…he told me that I had mud on my teeth and looked like a caveman in a rugby game jersey. Didn’t see Bruce…I hope it wasn’t him dead in the mud at the water slide….

OK, I can see the attraction of this event. I think it’s important not to over- or under-think the obstacles – one tire obstacle with several non-tire obstacles before the next tire obstacle one for example would be better – more aid teams and watering spots, and more attention to safety would be helpful, and if you decide to run one of these crazy things, I strongly recommend making certain that they are in fact paying a lot of attention to safety. I heard about a couple of broken bones, and the MEDEVAC chopper taking off from near the finishing line was, well, troubling. But, this is a budding sport similar in a lot of ways to Cross-Fitness – it’s simple, it’s cheap and anyone can play. Even 61 year old men with bad backs and a smart mouth.

There were a lot of kids and families which I thought was great. I was particularly taken by the number of kids running with their moms and dads, although I did see more than a few groups where the kids who appeared to be about 9 were waiting for Mom or Dad to catch up. I saw a few people I used to work with who were volunteering and having fun. Interestingly, one guy who used to work for me and resembles Mr. Clean physically and a wimpy weasel spiritually but who always had to be taking time off to take care of his two very athletic boys was there with the boys. He was dry and clean and I overheard him say, “Oh yeah, they did good…”

Well, I didn’t but I still feel good about it. Don’t know if I’ll ever do one again…whom I kidding, no way! Put this on your reverse bucket list along with spending time in a North Korean Labor Camp, using a do it yourself appendectomy kit or, hell, bull riding! But, if you feel the need, look around. I’m sure’ll you’ll find one. And, in order for there to be a “There I was, me, myself and I, alone, surrounded,” you have to be there first.

Charles asked me if it was fun when we finished. I laughed and said it was more fun after it was over than while I was doing it. Ain’t that the truth?

In an interview with ABC News yesterday, the President finally came out of the closet — kind of. He stated for the first time on the record that he supports gay marriage. But he stopped short of promising any executive or legislative action toward this cause. How convenient. Just the night before, North Carolina voted by a wide margin for a constitutional ban on gay marriage, becoming the 30th state to pass such a ban.

I admit that Obama’s vocal support for gay marriage is monumental. I also recognize that the issue of gay marriage is the next social battlefield in America. However, I hope this election does not get bogged down with social issues. High unemployment, the poor housing market, and a disaster of impending debt are the urgent and important issues. No one is going to be able to afford gay wedding ceremonies, easily accessible birth control, or teenage abortions if we don’t fix the economy.

That’s what killed Rick Santorum. I think Republicans and even some Democrats respect a politician that opposes gay marriage. There is a plausible argument there. Gay marriage seems contrary to the original definition, intent, history, and overall institution of marriage. But when a politician goes out and asks for a (federal) Constitutional ban on gay marriage, it seems zealous. In today’s modern times with real economic and international problems, do we really need to amend the Constitution of the United States for the sake of marriage? As much as I like Rick, I think he let his social convictions get the best of him.

To some people (the economy be damned!) gay marriage is a human and civil right. But I disagree. A right is not something the government can give you; it is something they can’t take away from you. I believe this is the big misconception of liberal thinking and the entitlement culture. Freedom to choose your work, life, home, and leaders is a right. But jobs, education, and healthcare are not rights. You are not born with them. Marriage is the same. Who you choose to be with is a right, but government benefits and recognition related to this choice are a privilege. I think the only right that is compromised in prohibiting gay marriage is the right not to be discriminated against. Heterosexuals can marry who they are naturally attracted to, but homosexuals cannot.

Homosexuality is not an uncommon phenomenon. It has been around since the beginning of time, and is a small part of all of us. But as much as I respect the nature and history of homosexuality, I do not support nor encourage it. All other social factors being equal, homosexuality is atypical to, and less salutary than, normal romantic and sexual behavior. In the realm of evolution and biology it is deficient in that it does not perpetuate the species. Also, acts of sexual intimacy between gays require at least one form of sodomy, which is traditionally less sanitary than conventional intercourse. There are also inherent disadvantages in parenting. To me, these are signs of human dysfunction that I find hard to promote.

However, I don’t condemn homosexuality either. I believe almost all homosexuals have a neurologically wired mental and emotional disposition to it. They engage in relationships and sex with other consenting homosexuals, without hurting others. I like gays, but they usually don’t like me, because of their liberal politics and hyper-sensitivity. And despite my sharp comments on evolution and sodomy, I don’t believe they have anything to be ashamed of.

People might ask me, what if your son or daughter were gay? I would love and support them. I might even support gay marriage on the political front, but for very selfish reasons. I would do it to show my kids support, not because I felt it is was right in my heart. The same if I were gay. I would want my kids to be straight. Not because of the social challenges they might face, but because I would want my kids to have all the things heterosexuals take for granted and homosexuals have to compensate for in their relationships. More than anything, I would want them in the body they feel most comfortable in.

Many liberals try to frame gay marriage as a civil rights issue, which to me is an absolute joke. Homosexuals are fighting for nominal recognition with gay marriage, not human integrity. Not being married (single people for instance) is no less dignified in society today than being married. Black folks and other minorities on the other hand fought for voting rights, criminal justice, safety, and civility. Gays have these rights already. Any claim of equivalency between the two movements is ludicrous. A similar weak equivalency was made by teachers and union clowns in Wisconsin between their protest and the Arab Spring. One group was fighting for more leverage in contract negotiations, the other for the right to walk down the street without being shot at or imprisoned. Preposterous comparisons.

The shame is that these beliefs too often fall along religious lines. I am Christian, but I really don’t think my religion plays a role in my beliefs. You shouldn’t need to be Christian to think homosexuality is a bit unnatural. The same goes for abortion. I hate the way abortion falls along religious lines too. Do you really need to believe in God to think that terminating a living fetus with lungs and a heart and a little brain is not the right thing to do? How does that not transcend religion? I’ll never get it.

Despite all the strong opinions that gay marriage and abortion might invoke, they are not the pressing issues of this country in the 2012 election cycle. But if they were, I would propose a tradeoff. Get all the Republicans to support gay marriage, and all the Democrats to support a repeal on Roe v. Wade. Because in reality, Pro-Choice people don’t want to murder, and religious folks don’t’ want to discriminate, even if each ignores these acts as “murder” or “discrimination” in the first place.

As far as the President’s statements, the guy is playing politics. He knows his very liberal base is unenthusiastic. In fact, they have been downright disappointed with him on this issue. But he stayed away from supporting gay marriage to keep independents and moderate republicans within reach. Now he has a sense that they are no longer in play, so he’s coming out. The President never ceases to amaze me on how he will say just about anything the uninformed masses want to hear. But that’s for another blog.

The thing I really don’t understand about gay marriage is why do homosexuals want to fight for marriage so badly. If they have civil rights, and can attain the rights bestowed by civil unions, then why marriage? Don’t they know that 50% of marriages end in divorce? Don’t they know that marriage kills otherwise healthy relationships? Wait until they get a taste of divorce over the next couple of decades. Then you will see gays first in line to repeal gay marriage. What better excuse not to pop the questions than, “I’m sorry honey, it’s against the law”?

Joe O’Loughlin is an unlikely hero. He’s a psychologist with a failing marriage, serious health problems a troubled relationship with his daughter. He’s in a holding pattern, not sure if he’s looking for a safe place to land or just circling until he runs out of fuel and crashes. He makes some bad choices in Bleed for Me, but it’s hard not to root for him.

Joe gets a late-night call from his estranged wife, Julianne. Sienna, his daughter’s best friend, showed up at the door, covered in blood, and then ran away. Joe finds her — wet and shivering, silent, eyes flat and staring. By the time she comes around at the hospital, Joe will have the news: her father, decorated police officer Ray Hagerty, is dead. And it looks like Sienna killed him.

Maybe I’m a little burnt out on family drama right now. This is a pretty good mystery — there’s a lot of suspense, a good lead-up to discovering the killer, some misdirection and at the center, a troubled man, struggling against some pretty long odds. I just didn’t find it as moving as I had hoped.

Sienna is a difficult character for me, although that probably means Robotham has done an excellent job of writing a teenager. Most of the time, I want to whack her on the back of the head with something. She is that special teenage blend of stubborn and pathetic; she desperately wants help but she is dead-set against doing anything to help herself. Even when it becomes clear that she is in real danger — danger of being railroaded for her father’s murder and possibly a target of the real killer, if she’s not the real killer — she is unwilling to tell the truth, unwilling to give Joe anything to work with. He’s a psychologist, he understands what he’s dealing with, but getting through to her is a long, slow process.

Mr. Parkinsons is a main character in this novel, without having a single line. Joe O’Loughlin suffers from Parkinson’s Disease; it is largely at fault for the changes that lead to his marital problems. It makes it difficult for him to continue his work, it makes it difficult for him to get through the day, in one case it gets him arrested, when an officer sees his jerky, disjointed movements and draws the wrong conclusion. It has clearly changed Joe’s outlook on life and as much as his wife loves him, I can see how it would be difficult for her.

Overall, I enjoyed the book, even if I wasn’t swept away by it. It’s a good mystery, interesting characters and a main character you can root for. Maybe it’s a good thing I don’t have teenage kids, because I found the teenagers in the book the most difficult to deal with, even as a reader.

One small note of warning: as I mentioned in an earlier post on my website, there is one small instance of rather extreme animal cruelty in this book. I struggled over mentioning it, but I think many readers will find it disturbing. It is moderately graphic, and if that bothers you, I suggest skipping it. It has a definite place in the storyline, but you will see it coming, I think. Simply turn a couple of pages and go on; the disturbing details do not come up again after that point.

My copy of Bleed for Me was a review copy, provided free of charge.