Colds, Antibiotics, and Dead Men

My little family has been hit hard with colds. Nice way to start the new year, huh? Ava first, followed by Little d, and now me. I swear by Airborne because my symptoms are not as severe as my charmers and I’ve been popping ‘em into my drinks like an addict. And because I’m paranoid, I probably just jinxed myself with the previous sentence. Anyway, both charmers went to the doctor and were prescribed antibiotics and are starting to feel better.

Which reminds me of a pet peeve of mine. Every year at this time, some person will remark that s/he has the flu and needs to get antibiotics. Person #2 chimes in that antibiotics don’t work for the flu, but says it like a question because s/he’s not sure. Person #1, embarrassed that s/he doesn’t know what s/he’s talking about, turns to others who weigh in pro and con. This goes back and forth several times until someone goes on the Internet. In the old days, this conversation never got resolved so life has improved, and it has dropped this pet peeve lower on my list, but it’s still in the top twenty. Wanna know numero uno? It’s this: on December 31st at least three people looked at me, smiled, and said, “See ‘ya next year.” I killed all three before the smiles left their faces.

Last but not least. Jake Hinkson’s THE POSTHUMOUS MAN (released through our BEAT to a PULP Books) is garnering many positive reviews.

And Brian Lindenmuth just selected it as one of his best of reads of 2012. Please jump over to Spinetingler and take a look when you get a chance.

THE POSTHUMOUS MAN is every bit as crazily entertaining as Hinkson's hard-rocking debut, HELL ON CHURCH STREET, and it reads like a streamliner rocketing across the Bonneville Salt Flats.

--Scott Phillips, award winning author of THE ICE HARVEST and THE ADJUSTMENT.