The Rainbow Horizon - A Tale of Goofy Chaos
Rated 5.00/5 based
on 6 reviews
This timeless satire of the able-disabled Pacific NW fosters friendships forever. Stars 3 Mexican American sillies, 1 Black feminist dietitian, 1 Jewish Holocaust and 1 or 2 Vietnam survivors - once Chinese. Hugely hugs a conflicted gay dude with character, surrounded by hilarious 20 to 80 year olds. And one roarin' drunk male Montanan! Racism lampoons, sexism sells...Viva la vida loca en Seattle! More
May be a precedent setter, I've been told by many readers. It's a rare, uniquely People of Color (white inclusive) and fetchingly gay humor novel by a widely experienced female ghostwriter. Over 35 years of freelance writing, editing, marketing, sales, publishing and working in-home as a Personal Care Attendant for the Physically Challenged. Once Rainbow Writing, Inc., now Ghost Writer, Inc.: affordable book, screenplay, script, lyrics, copy, website and music ghostwriting. I'm oriented toward commercial success, being a lifelong book ghostwriter and published author. But I need broader distribution of the inmost concepts than I'm looking for accumulated sales of the book.
The story? Well, it's a humorous ramble, maybe a laugh LOLROTF per page. I wanted to make sure there is a copy stored somewhere on the Internet, so you readers could review it. I also think our reading universe is now mostly run by machines. But this "people book" is about dozens of so-named colored, gay and transvestite, Jewish, Christian, Muslim and also "white folks in general" who congregate as extremely close friends. Plus enemies, stark-staring villains and hot-minded straight lovers.They all live in the little town of Rama, WA -- as in State of Washington, not District of Columbia. I have stayed in the Seattle area for decades, deciding to write a book about how everyone here technically lives within "the boonies" of Washington State. Among plenty of giant, sprawling evergreen forests around here. Too many forest fires!!!
Even in the City of Seattle, on the outskirts of the city proper. Beautiful deep woods you can barely view out your car windows, veering off into the far distance of a fading green light's blacker depths. The woods are lovely, dark and deep, but I have promises to keep, and miles to go before I sleep...so far away you can only imagine touching them, or see the low-hanging silver clouds as mountains in your wildest dreams. My book is strictly fiction, a lifetime of compiled stories about imaginary people, based on real life folks I hobnobbed with, while delicately generating its material.
All or Allah is duly tongue in cheek, without pointing the fickle index finger at your face. It salutes and taunts those who are pretentious enough to use names instead of labels, who wrote many books before me as clams who never could get that the audience does indeed have a sense of humor, whatever their "ritual politics" are (or might not be). As I sketched out the lengthy contents of this book, which has gotten many a major rewrite over the years, I discovered yet another dream. It involves somehow selling my book for cheap, spreading it around the world in due time. With millions of lonesome readers enjoying the anti- or pro-racist, peculiarly sexist, slapstick atypical stereo-funny contents. In Mexico, the United States, Canada and Middle Peoria.
I'm a feminist, I'll admit it, and also a sexist who toes that monstrous line. Read and review my book, if you like a silly blend of pain, sorrow, depth, pleasure, Cheech Marin references and non-stop chuckles, guffaws and LOLs per page. Or at least every other page. Maybe some of them...no, all of it, if you're willing to do the work and liked James Joyce's Ulysses. And Bill Cosby, who lost his only son to Death and doesn't really deserve...well, that's what happens when you run with scissors. Whether or not "we" deserve a break from what already happened. I think all we r--e victims do. Don't you?