Yes, it's true. I would go back to the 1980s.
I know, I know. I must be insane. I have at my disposal (for this week only) the ability to travel back to 1880s London or 1660s Paris and I choose the decade of "Rock Me Amadeus." Jesus at Gethsemane, you say? Give me Dukakis in an Abrams tank. The building of the Great Wall of China would be nice to witness, I agree, but I think I'd rather witness Witness.
Because I like indoor plumbing. I really do. I don't think I could survive long in a chamberpot society. I like having access to a faucet and I like knowing that the water which will come out of the faucet will have all pollutants artificially removed. I like hot showers. I like ice makers.
But my cell phone is too small. It's a phone. It should have weight to it, because Lord knows I won't be contributing any with my conversation. And it should have an antenna. I can trust an appliance with an antenna. An antenna offers the illusion of control. Better yet: two antennae. Rabbit ears. Why can't my plasma TV have rabbit ears? This is why I want to go back to the 1980s.
And don't even get me started on the internet. Did we really need to build another Tower of Babel? I got along just peachy at my local library. Literature, like a cell phone, should have weight to it. War & Peace should not weigh as much as The Cat in the Hat. That's simple physics, isn't it? Kindle schmindle. I want to be burdened by my books. I want my books to form a Tower of Babel in my arms. Will it topple before I get to the car? Will it? This is the stuff that adventures are made of.
If, in 1989, I really, really yen for a previous age, I can always watch MTV. Thank you for the 1950s, Paula Abdul. Oh, is that the early 18th century? So sweet of you, REM.
I miss you, pastel bandana. I miss you, Savings & Loan Crisis. I miss you, cassette player with AM/FM tuner. I miss you, Mrs. Garrett. I miss you, Intifada. I miss you, Margaret Thatcher. I miss you, Challenger.
I so miss you.
And in other, more contemporary news:
Today marks the street date for our own Kelli Stanley's City of Dragons! Normally I would provide an Amazon link for you to buy it, but when last I checked, Jeff Bezos still hadn't finished his temper tantrum and all of Macmillan's books remained blacklisted. So instead, buy it from Books, Inc., a terrific independent bookstore located in the novel's hometown of San Francisco - so how neat is that?
Today, also, it is my privilege to raise a glass (of Sprite) to another of our Criminal Minds, Ms. Rebecca Cantrell, whose debut novel A Trace of Smoke has just been nominated by Left Coast Crime for The Bruce Alexander Award for Historical Mystery. What novel won last year, you ask? Kelli Stanley's Nox Dormienda.
Don't you just love it when two seemingly disparate plot threads suddenly intertwine like that?