Prudence MacLeod's Writings

I'm not just a wanna be farmer, I'm also a writer. I write romance, sci-fi, and action/adventure. Sometimes I even blend the three just for fun.

The romance novels are listed on the left of the page. The other books are listed on the right of the page. Please enjoy. You can also check the other pages of this blog for more.

I also play a lot of World of Warcraft; if you're a player you may spot where that hobby creeps into my writing. :)

You can contact me here:

Monday, January 16, 2012

Sleezy Advertising

Today started out great. The air is really cold, but the sun is shining and the world looks bright. We chatted over breakfast then K went off to work. The dogs and I set out for a long walk. It was bitter cold out in the wind, but we managed to get into the trees often enough to make it a pleasant morning. After the walk I got all my daily chores done, made lunch, chatted with K about one of my books then went for the mail.

Bang, that’s where I got hit by the sleeze bags. Ok folks, I know some of you work in advertising, but personally, there are places I would not go for I like to sleep at night. In my mailbox, and most others with grey hair, was a long brown envelope, very official looking, with this message on the outside.
Attention: Canada Pension shortfall. Important information inside. Please read carefully.

Ok, that shot my bright mood all to hell. I went home and putter around a bit before opening the envelope.  Inside was a huge guilt trip about how the government pension would never pay enough to cover half the expense of a funeral. If I don’t buy their insurance package, my family will be forced into poverty to pay for my death expenses. I had a serious tantrum; I even used several bad words. My older brother would have been proud.

I wonder how many older folks get suckered by this crap. I know companies have a right to advertise. Fine. Put your goram name on the envelope so folks can know what you are all about. Preying on the weak, helpless, or confused is a pretty low way to make a profit.  My gods, society has made an industry of preying on the grieving. $10K for a casket? Are you serious? $1K for the last ride from the church to boot hill? No way.

I am a Viking, all I want is a cardboard box and a hot fire. Take my ashes home and set me on the mantle; talk to me once in a while. If my ghost pisses you off, bury the ashes in the compost heap, but please, do not waste a lot of money on a fancy funeral or a massive monument. Why? Because here is where it all ends up, a moss covered stone, standing alone in an overgrown field or a dark forest.

That’s my rant for today, thanks for listening. I feel better now.
What sets you off? What one of your pet peeves?

Check out my book on reincarnation, It's called Second Chance. (It's a romance.)

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