SNYDERMANIA: Sep 24, 2011

Saturday, September 24, 2011

AMAZON REVIEWS FOR THE EIGHT FINGERED CRIMINAL'S SON #3

This review was posted earlier this week on Amazon.com.

"In 1959 a comedy writer by the name of Jack Douglas wrote a book entitled 'My Brother Was An Only Child'. My sense of humor gravitated to that book. The Eight Fingered Criminal's Son is more gravitational. You cannot help but smile and be sad at the true life glimpses of a man's early life. It conjures up memories in our own lives."
Wayne Mossbarger

Here are the latese Amazon Stats.
Ebook sales: 43
Amazon Best Seller Rank: 13,246

Thank you to fellow blogger, Miflife Job Hunter for purchasing a copy.

You can download a copy of THE EIGHT-FINGERED CRIMINAL'S SON by clicking on the link below. The book costs a measly 5 bucks and you don't need a Kindle. There is a free and easy to download app that will allow you to read the book on any phone, computer or pad.

http://www.amazon.com/The-Eight-Fingered-Criminals-Son-ebook/dp/B005NWH8L4/ref=cm_cr_pr_product_top

Embrace the Chaos! Read THE EIGHT-FINGERED CRIMINAL'S SON.

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NORTHERN EXPOSURE

Goethe's final words: "More light." Ever since we crawled out of that primordial slime, that's been our unifying cry: "More light." Sunlight. Torchlight. Candlight. Neon. Incandescent. Lights that banish the darkness from our caves, to illuminate our roads, the insides of our refrigerators. Big floods for the night games at Soldier's field. Little tiny flashlight for those books we read under the covers when we're supposed to be asleep. Light is more than watts and footcandles. Light is metaphor. Thy word is a lamp unto my feet. Rage, rage against the dying of the light. Lead, Kindly Light, amid the encircling gloom Lead Thou me on! The night is dark, and I am far from home- Lead Thou me on! Arise, shine, for thy light has come. Light is knowledge. Light is life. Light is light.

FIELD OF DREAMS

Well, you know I... I never got to bat in the major leagues. I would have liked to have had that chance. Just once. To stare down a big league pitcher. To stare him down, and just as he goes into his windup, wink. Make him think you know something he doesn't. That's what I wish for. Chance to squint at a sky so blue that it hurts your eyes just to look at it. To feel the tingling in your arm as you connect with the ball. To run the bases - stretch a double into a triple, and flop face-first into third, wrap your arms around the bag. That's my wish, Ray Kinsella. That's my wish. And is there enough magic out there in the moonlight to make this dream come true?