The Hollywood Portal – winner of Whodunit 2018 Mystery Award

The 2018 Mystery Writers Whodunit Award is to be presented at the 5th Annual Mystery Fest Key West, a gathering of world-class mystery writers and fans set for June 22-24 in Key West, Florida.

“Why just the first three pages? A book either captures a reader in the first three pages, or it doesn’t.”

Mystery Fest Key West

Whodunit Mystery Writing Competition.

The winner will claim a book-publishing contract with Absolutely Amazing eBooks, free Mystery Fest Key West 2018 registration, airfare, hotel accommodations for two nights, meals and a Whodunit Award trophy to be presented at the 5th Annual Mystery Fest Key West, set for June 22-24 in Key West, Florida.”

I’m going early so I can dive and snorkel- If it was the Bakersfield Award I wouldn’t.

“Candidates are invited to submit the first three pages (maximum 750 words) of a finished, but unpublished manuscript.

“Why just the first three pages? That criterion is a nod to late author Jeremiah Healy, a world-class mystery writer and a great judge of mystery writing,” says Shirrel Rhoades, co-founder of Mystery Fest Key West. “Jerry’s opinion was that a book either captures a reader in the first three pages…or it doesn’t. The competition judges all agreed with that assessment, and decided to use it as a yardstick for the competition.”

Below is the very beginning of the first three pages, maybe a page and 1/2.

It’s The Hollywood Portal, the sequel to Electric Detective – available in ebook, paperback and audible.

Below is the beginning of the winning pages.

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The Hollywood Portal

By E.E. King

Chapter One

The Chase

LA is a desert in a party dress. Despite miles of green lawn and chlorine oasis, the air is full of sand, grit, and hope so tangible you can feel it in the wind. Perhaps it is our thirst that makes us so isolated. Even the LA River is a highway. A drop of rain falling onto the paved thoroughfare in the San Gabriel Mountains ten thousand feet above the City can reach the sea faster than a speeding car. We are a city of twelve hundred thousand gold diggers prospecting on concrete banks.

It was unusually muggy, the air warm and heavy with moisture, the sky low and white. There was no horizon. In the Midwest weather like this might mean tornados, in the mountains a sky so pale signaled snow, but here the blurring of perspective felt like a premonition.

I’d been home for a couple of weeks. No cases to investigate, only the continual nudging of electricity in the air, speaking in whispers and signs that only Max-cat and I could understand. It’d been just about eight months since we’d been struck by lightning; eight months since the universe had begun to vomit its secrets into my unwilling ears.

I sat at my desk, staring into space. It stared back. We could relate to each other. We both had too much emptiness and nothing to fill it.

I poured a cup of coffee. It was black, and too bitter. I looked in cupboard hoping for some sugar, but all I could find was a jar of honey so old it had crystalized. Maggie had probably bought it. I closed my mind to memory and dumped a couple of sticky spoonfuls into the mix making it bitter-sweet.

I hadn’t drunk anything stronger for six months, two days and three hours. It wasn’t easy. Once liquor has your number it calls you often and makes more promises than an old lover. It nudges you when you’re lonely, whispering that it will ease your pain. It tempts you when you’re happy, swearing it can make you feel even better. It’s there late at night when all the world is sleeping. It guarantees that this time will be different, this time things won’t get out of control. You start to forget all the bad times. The headaches, the nights you can’t remember. All you recall is that the world had softer edges when you were together. All you can think about is that dusky glow wrapped around you like a cloak. You reconcile, you tell yourself that you can just be friends. By the time you remember why you broke up it’s too late. By the time you realize that the promises are lies you’re hooked again.

I sipped my honey-coffee, opened a can of tuna for Max, and watched him drink, his rough tongue scooping the liquid up like a dipper. As usual he refused to touch the flesh. Max likes his fish distilled.

Despite the humidity I decided to go for a run. If you’re going to let heat stop you, you shouldn’t live in a desert. I put on some old sweatpants and a discolored tee. A lot of men in Hollywood wear matching jogging suits made of terry cloth, or velour. It doesn’t seem to bother them. I’m not big on fashion, but I don’t like wearing matching clothes made out of towels. And I donated my velour to an artist for his Elvis masterwork.

Outside tiny damp pads of moisture prodded me. I ignored them and began to jog down Braham Blvd toward the Hollywood Knolls that rise above Universal Studios. I didn’t jog for the exercise. I ran so that the pounding of my feet on hard pavement, the gasping of my lungs and the beating of my heart would drum all thoughts from my head, leaving it empty and still. Thinking is overrated. It fills you with hope, fear and memories, all of which I could do without.

I turned up Wonderview Dr. that led up to the Hollywood reservoir. Large white Spanish houses with red tiled roofs fringed by green lawns and exotic flowers lined the narrow streets that wove up the hill like veins. Up here you’d never imagine that LA was a desert and that water was in short supply. But then, up here there were no shortages. Enough greenbacks and blue chips can buy green yards and blue pools.


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UPDATE on Financial Warnings Kindra Sailers of best interest financial gives you the WORST interest & Security Benefit is Neither

I invested with Kindra after my mother died. She set me up in an annuity that lost me a lot of money.
It gave me a tiny monthly income but would lose me the money that the annuity cost. I would have to live well into my 90’s to get out what I had put in.
Also, she took non-taxable income and made it taxable.

I pulled out and lost almost 20k – but it was worth it.
I invested with a great firm – Douglas Herdt CFP & John A. Brinkerhoff. Last year my investment earned roughly a small monthly income, BUT I did not lose the original investment, which is growing.

Also, I owe no taxes.
Kindra is very personable and will make you think she’s your friend- but keep your hand on your pocket!

Ms. Sailers has a 65 Securities License. That means passing one exam.
That’s less than the 9-month course required to be a hairdresser.

These programs take a few hours, or at most two days. In other words, Ms. Sailers graduated from the class of three o’clock.

I was not wise. Ms. Sailers completely convinced me she was my friend and could invest my money so that I could get a monthly income, which would increase and was safe.
Ms. Sailers told me that, if I should need it, most of my money was in “liquid cash.”
When I tried to access my money, Mrs. Sailors said, “I said that was what you have to pull from, not what you can take.”

My advice is, don’t let someone with only a single license plan your retirement or invest your money
There are good insurance agents in your community. A few of them do offer a wide assortment of investment products. Most don’t. The same could be said of stockbrokers who are generally selling stocks and not doing planning.

If you want a planner, you need to find a CFP – certified financial planner or a ChFC – Chartered Financial Consultant. They are trained to help you make the best investment decisions.
The best is a CFP or ChFC who is also a RIA – registered investment advisor.
The “alphabet soup” of financial credentials and confusing terminology such as fee-only vs fee-based (sounds similar, but actually very different!)
Sadly, almost anyone can call themselves a “Financial Advisor”. And almost anyone does.
If you read all these great reviews it makes me sad- these are people just like me who ” are from people like me,- To quote Amanda C. ” I honestly have no idea, the market is hardly predictable and I do not have time to learn and master it. ”
Maggie S. ” She’s a great listener and as we started to work together and have gotten to know Dillon and the whole “family”.”
That’s what she does- take you in, make you feel part of the “family,” and take your money.
I had a lot of trouble believing she had ripped me off – but finally, through the advice of CFP, I got it.
Get a second opinion.

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Blood Prism and cats

Blood Prism  Is coming out soon on audible- I love the reading by Emily Emerson.

It’s so nice to fall in love with a book I wrote  – Thank you, Emily!!!


IMG_0246Someone reading blood prism


From Blood Prism:

“Let’s get something straight… I’m not. And I come from the kind of family that’s a whole lot happier seeing their son cradling a gun than another man, funny how you’re a paragon if you kill a man, but a pariah if you love one. I never told them I was gay…

I met Mark and fell in love. People seem to think that gay men have sex and straight man fall in love… that’s not true.  I’ve had a lot of sex, but only a couple of loves… I think that’s probably true for most…

I still dream of Mark sometimes…I like remembering him, though… tumbling into my ancient Ford. We were like wild creatures, so in lust and so in love… It was like a fever.   The windows of the car clouded with passion thick as a Thule fog…

Mark reached over me. I could smell him. I can smell him still. He smelled like longing and memory, hot chocolate and love. Onto the perspiring glass, with long, extended finger he drew roses and the silhouettes of birds flying skyward. The drops wept into silver lines. For months afterward, driving alone in a certain light, I’d see the ghostly outlines on the window, plastered across the sky like a memory of love.

We joined a theater company and I met other men. But, it’s never the same as your first… I ran a little wild… did some drugs… lots of drugs, actually. Mark and I both did. It was like stepping into a magical kingdom together… nothing will ever be the same again… nothing will ever be as good… Say what you will, drugs are fun. Only people who never tried them think they’re not. It’s why those anti-drug campaigns never work. Reality sucks.

I’ve had friends who say, “As long as I have books and sex, (or ‘love and wine,’ or ‘music and sex’…) why I would try drugs?  I’m happy. That’s all I need.” … and maybe they’re lucky… never knowing what they missed.  I’m fairly content now too… but it doesn’t mean I don’t remember.…

At the beginning, it seemed like doorways into new worlds were opening, the ‘doors of perception.’ You feel like people on the other side are duller, less aware, less open.

The world will never be as simple as it was, how can it? How can you trust that what you see is real after the alterations of acid? How can you hear music in the same way after becoming part of a melody with Mary Jane? How can you not miss the exuberant mind-sharpening acuity of coke or meth?

It’s kinda like climbing a mountain. It starts off like a nice hike; beautiful, new, a time of discovery… then you get too high. The air so thin you can’t breathe. You still have to come down, but now it’s night, supplies are low. You don’t have any water. That wonderful place you just explored is dark and cold…All the friends you hiked up the mountain with are gone, some turned back, some fell and those who are still there are fighting over provisions….”


On another note- two of my other books have just come out on audible too,

Electric Detective read by the incomparable Christopher Graybill. Not only did he do a bang-up reading ( it is a detective tale) he gave me some fabulous input that I incorporated into the book. Thank you, Christopher!



And the wonderful, talented Miranda Reading-Spring made The Truth of Fiction come alive.tof

None of my work is easy to read – so I am more than grateful to these wonderful talents who have lent their voice to work –

Also ,  Simon Prebble- who makes anything sound good, the wonderful Derek Perkins, 

the velvet- tongued Brandon McKernanBest Seller


So don’t just sit there, buy something:) bird and magCat food ain’t free ya know.


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Truth of Fiction Audiobook & Animal Pics

The Truth of Fiction Now available in audio. Narrated by the marvelous Miranda Reading-Spring

Do us all a favor and get a copy!IMG_2403 2 This is Heckel,  not Miranda Reading-Spring,   She has a MUCH BETTER voice.

This Miranda.


This is Dexter, too tired to keep editing.



From The Truth of Fiction:


The Road Less Traveled

I didn’t mean to kill her – not really – not at the moment of impact. But it’s hardly an excuse, especially because I’d been hired to do exactly that.

I can still see the moment of death. I probably always will. It was less gruesome and more final than I’d expected… if I had expected anything.

Truth be told, the only death I had anticipated was mine – mine and my three companions.  We had been sent to kill her, although a less likely gang of assassins you’d have been hard put to find. Not that that is an excuse.

It might well have ended differently, all of us dismembered, burnt and hacked to bits. It certainly seemed the most likely conclusion, if only she hadn’t gone after my dog.

I’ve had him ever since I was a girl, the only spot of color in my grey world.  When she’d threatened him I reacted with the closest element at hand, never pausing to consider that it might be deadly. That is how passion is – action without thought – and there you are, locked up and awaiting a trial that can have no good ending.

At least my dog is safe, for the moment, locked in beside me, small furry heart a drum beat next to mine. I hope it’s not a death knell.  He licks my face, his saliva mixing comfort with my tears.

I am less afraid of death than partings — endings.

What will happen to my three companions?  Will they be dismembered, burnt and beheaded?  Were their ends predestined? Is mine? Was hers?

I can still hear her shrieks and see her body writhing, smoking in pain – then nothingness, the flame of an extinguished candle. I will have to live with that, if live I do. I will awake to the smell of her passing, like burnt hair, and fall asleep, when I can, to the fact that I am an annihilator, a destroyer of worlds. For isn’t each person a world unto themselves?  True, she wasn’t a nice person, but even the saintliest among us have done evil. It’s only in fairy tales that princesses are solidly good and witches completely bad, as if they had been carved from a single element – soap or chocolate, diamonds or coal.

I may be dead soon, thrown from the parapets or torn limb from limb, but for now, here in this cell, all I have is time: time to consider the universe, time to reflect on my actions, time to wonder if it was my fate to be a murderer, time to ponder if it would have been better to be the one who died. In an instant, the world can slip through your hands and shatter, impossible to retrieve as an egg. Earthquakes open chasms while you’re wishing on a falling star. How odd this world is.  You wake up as a sweet young girl and by dinner you’re a murderer. Who would have thought that water could be more deadly than hate?  If only she hadn’t gone after Toto.



download (1)   OOPS! Wrong Toto

Now we’re talking!

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Publisher’s Summaryimages (2)

The Lake of Contemplation, which lies in the Forest of Ideas, is where artists go for inspiration, writers look for ideas, and philosophers seek the truth. They never find it, but there’s no harm in looking. The weather’s fine and there are few sweeter ways to spend a Sunday than searching for meaning and wild blueberries.images (6)

Sometimes a dreamer, for what are philosophers and artists if not dreamers, almost conceived of a better reality. Artists saw colors invisible to the eye, but not the heart. Composers heard music harmonizing above and below the confinement of scales. Writers envisioned new realities and scientists felt the soft edges of the universe.

But truth is slippery, often it slid through their fingers, sinking heavier than a pound of lead feathers, down, down, down to the murky bottom of the Lake of Contemplation.

images (1)Often a writer in search of a new story might lose an old one. Familiar tales, falling into deep water, take on a new existence. Love stories reveal hidden horrors. Childhood classics, distorted by wavering reflections, morph into tales so dark you could see them even through closed lids.

download (3)Thus begins The Truth of Fiction

Meryl, Josh, and Jessie go for a picnic in the Forest of Ideas. They had come to the woods to capture The White Hind. Hinds are usually red, but this deer was white, lacking the pigment of lies and it was rumored to contain the truth in its antlers and hooves. As they search for the truth, they discover old stories made new, truths about themselves, and the meaning of friendship.

                                                               COMMON BUY A COPY

IMG_2427Really, you’ll love it!
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Because I have been seeing more and more posts from people caught in an Amazon Algorithm loop I have decided to share this:

After I was unjustly removed from selling I did the following:




Call KDP and Amazon

Call KDP & Amazon names

Email them

Call againimages

Insult their relatives

Throw thingsct

Do research

jeff holocost

Post nasty pictures

Post funny pictures


Figure out what might have gotten me tagged as manipulating reviews.

Deciding that having the same seven people review my books, though I had other reviews for older books, might have caused an algorithm to have tagged me a manipulator.

Try to find a person to talk toimages

Try to explain that fans of my work would probably follow and review all of it.

Throw thingsdownload






Write all fans who reviewed more than one of my books and ask them to remove their reviews.

Write Jeff Bezos, God and some other high echelon folk

Get reinstated with the warning I will be “closely watched.”fu

Then get the following:





Dear Elizabeth,

My name is Martin Costa with KDP Executive Customer Relations. Jeff Bezos received your letter and I’m responding on his behalf. First and foremost, I’d like to offer my apologies for the frustration this process caused. Also, I’m happy to let you know that your account has been reinstated and you’re welcome to continue to publish with us. If you have any questions, please don’t hesitate to contact me directly at

Martin Costa
Executive Customer Relations
Kindle Direct Publishing


Dear Martin,

As noted in my letter to Mr. Bezos, I’m an author who had begun publishing exclusively with Amazon. At the Beginning of February my account was canceled, and though I tried to contact KDP customer relations many times, often for hours at a time, I got nowhere.
After a lot of research, I decided to contact every one of my fans who had favorably reviewed more than one of my books and ask them to remove their reviews.
This was done. My account was reinstated.
However, neither they nor I, am happy with this solution.

A couple of these readers, longtime fans, and supporters of my work requested that they be contacted. They did not write false reviews and were upset and insulted by that insinuation. I too am upset that genuine reviews for my books, about seven per book, were deleted.

Therefore I am writing you to ask if I can have those fans, the ones that aren’t too angry at me as well as Amazon, to repost their reviews.
When I was reinstated I was told that my account would be subjected to “extreme scrutiny,” as if I were a villain.
As a result, I have planned to no longer publish exclusively with Amazon and encourage readers to buy from other outlets.
However, if you would allow my totally genuine reviews to be reposted, which would require some actual intervention, I’d be most grateful.

These reviews are from fans who have requested that Amazon contact them so they can verify that they are real people who love my work. I have never solicited or manipulated reviews.Elizabeth Eve King

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On #Amazon, being nominated for a #Rhysling Award, Monsanto is the Antichrist & #CUTE CAT PIX

Yes readers, all two of you,  Today I received this:

“We reviewed your account and the information you provided, and we have decided that you may publish on again.
images (6)
Your future submissions may be subject to additional review prior to being published. This may result in a delay in publishing.

If any of your submissions fail to comply with our Content Guidelines, your KDP account, and any CreateSpace account may be terminated. You may also lose access to optional KDP or CreateSpace services.”


I had to email every person who reviewed more than one of my books and ask them to remove their, honest, unsolicited reviews… I think that sucks.

I’m now on Smashwords – Barnes & Noble, Kobo, Apple etc- and if you want to download one of my books please do it there

cat rr

On a Happy Note, I was nominated for a Rhysling Award!

images“The Rhysling Awards are named for the blind poet Rhysling in Robert A. Heinlein’s short story “The Green Hills of Earth.” Rhysling’s skills were said to rival Rudyard Kipling’s. In real life, Apollo 15 astronauts named a crater near their landing site “Rhysling,” which has since become its official name.

Nominees for each year’s Rhysling Awards are selected by the membership of the Science Fiction Poetry Association. Each member is allowed to nominate one work in each of two categories: “Best Long Poem” (50+ lines; for prose poems, 500+ words) and “Best Short Poem” (0–49 lines; for prose poems, 0–499 words).

The Rhysling Awards are put to a final vote by the membership of the SFPA  The Rhysling Anthology is available to anyone with an interest in this unique compilation of verse from some of the finest poets working in the field of SF/F/Horror poetry.2017

The winning works are regularly reprinted in the Nebula Awards Anthology from the Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers of America, Inc., and are considered in the SF/F/H/Spec. field to be the equivalent in poetry of the awards given for prose work— achievement awards given to poets by the writing peers of their own field of literature.”

So I’m impressed:)




My Poem, Signs that the World might be Ending, or Making Pink Lemonade  is published by Zoetic press


It happened to a friend of a friend. You read it on a conspiracy theory website. It seems like it should be true. It’s a heartwarming story. This is the stuff of urban legends, and the place you go to prove or disprove those legends is But where do those stories come from in the first place? What are the stories behind the rumors? In this issue, twenty-seven authors and artists confront twenty-seven rumors, theories, and NBR_UrbanLegends_printready (1)legends to give us the reality behind the website.


I think this is a very cool concept – It’s works based on Snopes stories.

I’d add the poem here, but I’m  not sure if I should.







As for Monsanto being the antichrist, I was thinking of that when I saw they hit  Avaaz with a 168-page court subpoena that “commands” them to hand over every private email, note, or record we have regarding Monsanto, including the names and email addresses of Avaazers who have signed Monsanto campaigns. unnamed.jpg

They’re a $50 billion mega-corporation, infamous for legal strong-arm tactics like this. They have unlimited resources.

I used to have a gig lecturing about Island Evolution and biology on cruise ships – FUN!

But once, in the Q & A someone asked me how I felt about Monsanto and I said they are the anti-Christ – I wish I’d been less flippant, but even though I LOVED that gig, I do believe Monsanto is evil incarnate, along with Dick Chainey, And the current Republican party…  And it’s not the act of genetic modification I object to, it’s their poisoning of the earth.

Below is a rant I had to cut from my latest book (II in the Eddie Evers Electric Detective Series, The Hollywood Portal) because it reads as if Ayn Rand were an environmentalist… by that I mean it’s not helpful to the book- just my own rant….. BUT I DO BELIEVE IT…


“In the 1980’s,” Onde said, “the scientific community noticed a die-off of amphibians. Why?”

She looked at me as if expecting an answer. Ah, the old Socratic method. Well, two could play at that game.

“Why?” I asked.

“Chytrid fungus.” She said, smiling enigmatically and sipping her drink.

I sighed, it was gonna be a long night.

Chytrid is a type of fungus. Most feed on dead organic matter.”

“Like zombies and Congress,” I said.

“Others are parasites.”

“Like lawyers and politicians.”

“But in 1999 a new species of chytrid was described that infects the skin of amphibians. It was named Batrachochytrium dendrobatidis or ‘Bd’ for short.

“I love nicknames. Let’s call it Bd.”

“It roughly translates to mean ‘frog chytrid,” she said. “It appears to have infected most of the world’s approximately 6,000 amphibian species.”

“Why not call it amphibian chytrid then?”

She ignored me and finished her drink. I watched her Adam’s apple slide delicately up and down, taking the smooth whiskey with it. I wondered what is in inside of a man that makes him yearn for the things he knows will hurt him, love, liquor, and a desire to be someone’s savior.

“Bd causes the skin to become very thick,” she said, “which is deadly to amphibians because they absorb air and water through their skin.”

“Unlike zombies, Congress, lawyers and politicians who absorb nothing.”

She rose slowly, walked back to the whiskey and poured herself another drink. She was absorbing plenty. I was envious. She raised her eyebrows, but I shook my head. I thought I’d hold out till she told me that Bd was infecting babies.

“Not all amphibian species infected with Bd become sick or die. In fact, resistant species are a major concern because they can be carriers.”

“The Typhoid Marys’ of the amphibian world,” I said, just to show I was still with her.

“Since its discovery, Bd has been found on every continent and it’s spreading at an alarming rate.”

She sank back down on the couch and looked at me with those wide, pale eyes that missed nothing.

“But Bd is not new. In fact, it’s one of the oldest types of fungi in existence. It’s always been there – but now, suddenly, it’s deadly. Why?”

We stared at each other as if the answer might lie between us.

“In the 1990’s,” she continued, “bats begin dying mysteriously. Why?”

I shrugged.

“They were suffering from a disease called White-nose syndrome, because of the white mold that grows on the muzzle of hibernating bats.

“It too turned out to be caused by a fungus, Pseudogymnoascus destructans, or Pd.”

“Lemme guess, Pd colonizes the bat’s skin?”

She nodded.  “Pd is not a new fungus. It’s been around for a long, long time, but now, suddenly, it’s spreading and it’s deadly. Why?”

I shook my head.

“In 1990’s,” she said, “bees begin dying mysteriously. Why?”

She didn’t wait for me not to answer.

“Colony collapse disorder, or CCD. It occurs when the majority of worker bees disappear. We don’t know what causes it.

“Mites and viruses are a problem. They can cause anything from wing deformity to dysentery. But once again, they’re nothing new. “

“Bee diarrhea?” I asked, looking at my thermos of coffee. I made a mental note to switch to sugar.

“Viruses cannot live independently. They can only multiply inside the cells of a host.”

“Like barristers and legislators,” I said.

“Aren’t you forgetting zombies,” she said raising a perfectly arched eyebrow.  I raised an imperfect eyebrow back. It was as close to a joke as she’d ever gotten. Granted it wasn’t very funny, but humor takes training. The woman had obviously been wasting too much time on physics and chemistry. Being a natural, takes a lot of practice.

“Colony collapse disorder is an RNA, the same kind of virus that caused AIDS, Mr. Evers. And just like AIDs, chytrid and White-nose, CCD by itself is not a killer. All these virus and fungus do is weaken the immune system so that other diseases, already extant, become deadly.

“I believe that by poisoning the earth and water with pesticides we have weakened the planet’s immune systems to such an extent that, in effect, we have given the earth AIDs.”

She sipped her drink. It was almost finished. If she kept on expounding her theory I might join her for the next round. She was more depressing than a library of Russian novels.

“What can we do?” she asked.

I shrugged.

“Well, banning a family of pesticides called neonicotinoids would be a start – We did it with DDT – we can do it again.

“In 1939, DDT came on the market. It was a powerful insecticide and was hailed as a miracle. It was initially used by the military in WW II to control malaria, typhus, body lice, and bubonic plague and it produced amazing results.

But what’s poison for the pest is also poison for the pollinators. DDT had a very long half-life and decimated insect, fish and bird populations. It also caused birth defects and cancers in mammals.

“In 1962, biologist Rachel Carson published Silent Spring, which claimed that continued use of DDT would lead to a world without bees, butterflies and birds. And, as a result, in 1972 DDT was banned.

“In 1996 agrochemical companies, Bayer and Monsanto developed neonicotinoid resistant crops. Soil treated neonicotinoids is toxic to all but the genetically modified crops. Not only does this wipe out many wild plants necessary to maintain bird, bee and butterfly populations, it also makes the crops lethal to insects.

“Neonicotinoids too will lead to a world without bees, butterflies, and birds. And while neonicotinoids are being slowly being restricted throughout Europe, all measures to constrain their use in the US have been resisted.”

“Well, big-money resistant politicos are hard to find,” I said.

“A few agrochemical companies have agreed to donate money for thin ‘no chemical strips’ along the enormous farms that are being poisoned by neonicotinoids, as if a wind couldn’t blow deadly pollen over a fence. And the sad thing is, Mr. Evers, is that this is being viewed as a victory.”

“Politicians respond to cash much more readily than they respond to science,” I said.

“Yes,” she said. “And of course, all these companies have scientists on their payrolls who deny the evidence.

“Analogous conditions are happening in the dairy industry where cows, forced to eat meat or grain instead of the grass which their stomachs were designed for, must be continually infused with antibiotics to keep them healthy. Bioengineered hormones injected into cows to increase milk production, cause elevated levels of puss, antibiotics residues and cancer-accelerating hormones all of which end up in the milk.

“I’m sure glad I take my coffee black,” I said. All I had to worry about was a little bee dysentery.

“Today, 80% of the world’s antibiotics are used to treat healthy animals – and this overuse, this misuse, causes the proliferation of antibiotic-resistant bacteria.”

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So, that’s today’s blog- feel free to write me on questions OR if you want a free download code  to any of the new books!!!




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Another #HateLetter to #Amazon

1) I have contacted every one of my legitimate fans who have posted more than one positive review of my work and asked them to delete all their reviews. download (5)

These fans have requested that you, Amazon Customer review contact them because they are upset that their honest reviews have to be deleted.
 I have published three novels, one children’s book, four short story collections, one stand-alone short and have been included in over twenty anthologies, so it is logical that fans of my work would have read and reviewed more than one of my works.
But, I have been tagged, erroneously by one of your algorithms, and so am taking the only steps I can to clear this up.
2) I am writing a letter to many of  Amazon’s upper echelon about this.
3) I’m blogging and postingimages (10)
4) I’m going to publish on Smashwordsdownload (2)
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