A checkered past that includes stints as an investigative newspaper reporter, a concert magazine publisher, an adult industry magazine publisher, the author of two self-published books (and hard at work on a third that hopefully more than seven people will read), three police arrests, way too many pharmaceuticals and cocktails, and some other things best left between me and my maker.
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Anyone Else Out There?
Prove It, Please
A short time ago, on a Monday morning at 8:15 to be precise, Chester Fortunberry, after a hot shower and a fulfilling bowel movement, in that exact order, had a sudden and startling revelation, which was that he was the only real living person, or real anything for that matter, on the planet. Everything else, he realized, including the aforementioned planet, were simply figments of his imagination. That revelation shocked the hell out of Chester.
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A Funny Book
About My Suicide
Suicide is the bastard stepchild hiding in the basement. It is the 13th leading cause of death worldwide, and the 6th leading cause of death in America. Twice as many people die from suicide as from homicide every year. And nobody talks about it. This is a chronicle of the author’s ten-day countdown to commit suicide, but it’s also a book about common sense and about red neckties and about Dan the Beautiful Snowflake and about strippers and bikers and about killing Grampy and about how to cook the perfect turkey and about Russian spies and about
flying dinosaurs and about lady cops with big guns, and about the author’s tiny confidant, Boo.
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More Don Waitt story links and a free Chapbook called "Police Stories" can be found at Neutral Spaces, along with links to a boatload of great independent writers.
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