You Burn A Man's Pickup, And He's

When You Work At Street Level You Never Know Who's Going To Walk Through Your Door.

There Is No Devious And Dangerous Life. I've Lived A Charmed Life, Especially In The Last Thirty Years Since I've Started Publishing. I've Won The Lottery. And I Keep Winning It Every Year And I Am So Fortunate To Do Something I Thoroughly Enjoy And Still Enjoy After A Bunch Of Books.

Mr. Buckley, Let Me Explain It This Way. And I'll Do So Very Carefully & Slowly So That Even You Will Understand It. If I Was The Sheriff, I Would Not Have Arrested Him. If I Was On The Grand Jury, I Would Not Have Indicted Him. If I Was The Judge, I Would Not Try Him. If I Was The D.a., I Would Not Prosecute Him. If I Was On The Trial Jury, I Would Vote To Give Him A Key To The City, A Plaque To Hang On His Wall, & I Would Send Him Home To His Family. And, Mr. Buckley, If My Daughter Is Ever Raped, I Hope I Have The Guts To Do What He Did.

I Was On The Verge Of Tears, So I Turned And Ran Past The Trailer And Along The Field Road Until I Was Safely Out Of Their Sight. Then I Ducked Into The Cotton And Waited For Friendly Voices. I Sat On The Hot Ground, Surrounded By Stalks Four Feet Tall, And I Cried, Something I Really Hated To Do.

I Have Learned Not To Read Reviews. Period. And I Hate Reviewers. All Of Them, Or At Least All But Two Or Three. Life Is Much Simpler Ignoring Reviews And The Nasty People Who Write Them. Critics Should Find Meaningful Work.