Times are tough for ladies with Big Butts…
Written by Steve Kahn on March 19th, 2009


When I wrote chapter 1 of Death Wave (Chapter 1: The Death of SecureCo) I created a fictious CEO of a ficticous mega-insurance conglomerate, SecureCo, ultimately fleeing as the company goes under – and taking with him much of the corporate assets.
Writers need to use hyperbole much of the time. We’ve been known to write in exaggeration, at times, for effect.
Little did I know then that my writing of that chapter was not hyperbolic in the slighetst.
A sad thing happened today. My girlfriend’s little pet hamster died.
I never had a hamster as a pet before. They’re pretty insubstantial creatures. They don’t weigh much. They don’t really do much. They’re just small furry little creatures who sleep in their cage all day and ride their hamster wheel all night. Not much else.
But even though they don’t do much else we were both in tears when we had to have her put down. She was in bad shape. Bones skinny from not eating for a day or two and shaking, unable to stand on her own. It made me cry to look at her there in the vet office. She was so helpless. Even smaller than ever.
We talked about her through tears over coffee. But the tears were bittersweet becuase her little hamster made me again realized the reason we became artists: To celebrate life.
In this world, with all of the pressure for success, even all the pressure to stay afloat, it is so easy to forget that ultimately the important thing is love and the celebration of life.
That joy in the celebration of life through love is the sweetest of fruits. Sweeter than fame or money or any kind of personal glory which pale in comparison.
It is truly amazing that the death of one being so small and seemingly unsubstantial can make me feel so deeply how precious all life is.
For those of you who haven’t seen the video, America’s beloved stock broker was trounced on John Stewart’s “Daily Show” for his bad and reckless stock picks such as recommending Bear Stearns days before the company went under. Click to continue »
I was having a fight with my girlfriend yesterday and something popped out of my mouth which hurt to say: I told her I didn’t love her unconditionally. Click to continue »
[podcast]http://www.paintthetruth.net/allwebsites/deathwave/wp-content/plugins/podcasting/player/deathwavechaptera005.mp3[/podcast]
“Oh my God! She’ll love it!”
Women were always so strange.
Janie would ask for trips across the globe, longingly thumb through stacks of “Architectural Digest” then take them on house hunting expeditions, touring through mansions lavish enough to scare “The Donald”, and even, gulp, dream incessantly of the “B” word.
So how could this make her so happy?
[podcast]http://www.paintthetruth.net/allwebsites/deathwave/wp-content/plugins/podcasting/player/deathwavechaptera004.mp3[/podcast]
There was darkness then bright, bright light.
Stewart flipped his hands to protect his eyes from the illumination that streamed in from above.
He strained forward but a thick tight belt across his shoulder and one equally imposing across his waist kept him firmly locked into place. Click to continue »
[podcast]http://www.paintthetruth.net/allwebsites/deathwave/wp-content/plugins/podcasting/player/deathwavechaptera003.mp3[/podcast]
They were doing it like old times. Their fight from earlier that day dissolved into a distant memory, like a bad dream. And, Stewart was glad.
Slowly, in and out, their bodies heaved and grinded lubricated by dripping sweat and licking tongues. Click to continue »
[podcast]http://www.paintthetruth.net/allwebsites/deathwave/wp-content/plugins/podcasting/player/deathwavechapterb002.mp3[/podcast]
Looking back, the old days always seemed safer.
Disturbances were always resolved and the omnipresent red tide of death or despair or destruction always receded into a greater and happier time of prosperity. And in those olden days the people would always forget so easily the last flurry of tough times and continue about in their fancy fun free lives.
In those olden days tough times could even seem quaint and romantic.