WHOREABLE MISTAKE by Leigh Lundin Mrs. Spitzer By now, even Osama bin Ladin in the mountains of Afghanistan knows about the unfortunate Eliot Spitzer. It’s not my intention to constantly play the contrarian, but once again, I find myself at variance with public opinion. For days on end, I’ve listened to television, radio, and newspapers […]

21 STORIES in the NAKED CITY by Leigh Lundin Sisters in Crime is an organization dedicated to promoting women mystery writers. They didn’t invent the all-female blog, but they strongly support them. This week, I draw from one of the leading edge trend-setters that has the wonderful name Women Of Mystery. That’s WomenOfMystery.net, which ends […]

99 WAYS to KILL by Leigh Lundin In my perambulations and peregrinations around the World Wide Web, I stumbled across a fragment of an article originally published by the Chicago Sun-Times, but archived for an annoying fee by High Beam Encyclopedia, which touts itself to be the comprehensive digital archive for information seekers of all […]

Factoids? by Leigh Lundin Amongst the glut of eMail was another of those with purported facts. This turned out to be one of the weirder ones, and I found myself wondering who comes up with these things! Some of the claims include: Alfred Hitchcock didn’t have a bellybutton. Really? Exactly how did this come to […]

A CLASSLESS SOCIETY by Leigh Lundin I must be one of the few males who’s not been in the Paris Hilton. I’ve never entered the glistening passage thereof, nor sunk into the plush though possibly overworn chambers, or been sucked into the whole celebrity thing. That Norwegian immigrant, August Halvorsen Hilton, would be so proud […]

CHICK PICKS by Leigh Lundin At 3 in the morning, a good time to mentally compose stories and columns, I awoke and flipped on music. The artistes transitioned from Procol Harum to the Righteous Brothers. I reflected that even with Remy Zero, Eminem’s 8 Mile, Vivaldi and Corelli on my iPod, I can’t hide age. […]

BLOGOSPHERE by Leigh Lundin So I’m in this Orlando bar and Terrie Moran’s there and one of her eyes isn’t quite focusing right. The bartender glares at me, mumbling, "Don’t you even think about hittin’ on her," and I go, "Hey, dude, that’s her hand on my thigh." When I go to the restroom, she […]