Smart Bitches Trashy Books | All of the romance, none of the bullshit.

For every post I make bitching about what went wrong with the aftermath of Katrina, I make a post about what people can do to help, or link to people who are by gum by golly doing things right.

Like Amy E., for example. She rules.

Buy her novella, Three Wishes. And show her some love.

Also, AAR is holding a series of auctions on behalf of Katrina victims. Go! Buy! Be good little consumers, because it’s a good cause.

Also: Help Larissa Ione out. She lost everything. And I mean everything. Auctions on her behalf began Thursday. Go forth and bid!

Updated to add: And Amy alerted us to another awesome auction. It’s for Inga Mahn, who lost everything except except her kids, her pet and her computer. Bid, bid, bid!

And don’t forget the animals. They oftentimes get fucked over worse than people in these disasters, so spare a thought (and a few dollars) for them, too. The Humane Society, the ASPCA, the Louisiana State University School of Veterinary Medicine and Noah’s Wish are just a few of the worthy organizations who would appreciate any money you can throw their way.

Check it out: Wikipedia does not have a page defining “Regency novel.”

Shall we write one? Submit your best definition, explanation, and examples in the comments! 

I’ve been operating under a weird haze of rage for the last few days.

It started when I read about how funding for flood management and levee construction had been slashed in the past few years, and how advice from experts has been steadily ignored for even longer. (This is not a bash on the Bush administration, by the way--Clinton was just as guilty of ignoring sound advice about development on flood plains and not funding flood management research adequately.)

It escalated when I read that big chunks of the National Guard are in Iraq, instead of back home.

It shot through the fucking roof when I realized that help was going to be a long time a-coming for the people hit hard by Katrina, especially the residents of New Orleans, and that the authorities were trying to spin everything to a fare-thee-well so they don’t look like quite the incompetent, brain-dead fuckasses that they are. Then I read about how a guy who should’ve hailed as a motherfucking hero was instead called an “extreme looter.” (What, does he snowboard, eat Doritos AND drink Mountain Dew on top of stealing an unused bus to ferry over a hundred people to safety?) And then I read this bit here on Daily Kos (link courtesy of Kate Rothwell):

It goes to show how overwhelming things are here right now that I encountered the First Lady yesterday and I almost forgot to put it in this e-mail.  It actually couldn’t have been a worse experience; a team of us were working to put up a website with directions to every Red Cross shelter in the region when we were evicted from the computer room by the Secret Service.  There’s only one room in the Cajundome with telephones and internet access for refugees, and Laura Bush shut it down for eight hours (along with the food service rooms to the side and the women’s showers).  You may have seen it on CNN; apparently seven refugees were allowed back so Laura could help them in front of the cameras.

Add to that an article about how food sat undistributed all fucking day because of Bush’s visit to New Orleans, plus assorted comments from assorted people on assorted blogs about how it’s the residents’ own damn fault for not evacuating and/or for being poor, and I can’t concentrate on anything right now. My husband has had to listen to me ranting and raving all day. I suspect the poor darling has resorted to drink to drown out the sound of my dulcet voice.

Regular programming should resume tomorrow.

I think.

Edited to add:

Just found this link courtesy of Making Light:

The state Homeland Security Department had requested--and continues to request--that the American Red Cross not come back into New Orleans following the hurricane. Our presence would keep people from evacuating and encourage others to come into the city.

Our presence would keep people from evacuating and encourage others to come into the city.

Motherfucking...what the...GAAAAAAAHHHHHHH.

That popping sound you heard? Was the sweet symphony of several blood vessels exploding in my head.

Carry on.

For those of you who haven’t found out about this site on Maili’s blog, go check out Lovespace. It’s a blog dedicated to Futuristic and SF romances, with lots of listings, excerpts, covers (ahhh, new fodder for Covers Gone Wild!) and space for reader reviews and ratings on the books.

I’ve visited the blog several times, but I just end up drooling over the banner instead of checking out excerpts.

Here is a fine picture of Andre Agassi sporting some fine spandex-clad man-titty.

And he’s bald.

And, some would argue, hot.

Why don’t we get men like him on romance covers?

(Thanks for the link, Hubby)