Beck Enlightens Again With "Dreamers and Deceivers"

Riding on the heels of the bestselling Miracles and Massacres, Glenn Beck’s Dreamers and Deceivers had big historical shoes to fill to live up to its predecessor. In the former, Beck, already proven as a number one author in the fiction, nonfiction, children’s, and self-help categories, takes up a subject near and dear to his heart – history. Unlike many authors of historical works, who simply replay facts and dates in a dry, straightforward manner, in Miracles and Massacres, Beck applies a mesmerizing knack for storytelling to bring little-known events to life. Each fascinating account occupies its own chapter, making for a page-turner that reads like a favorite novel or short story. In addition to his absorbing style, Beck enlightens readers with enthralling and moving content. Critics seeking political bias from the pen of the nationally syndicated radio host are hard-pressed to produce anything but some liberties taken with scenes and conversations added to enhance the storytelling aspect of the historical accounts. All in all, Miracles and Massacres is a brilliant piece of storytelling that both delights and informs.

from: barnesandnoble.com

Understandably, a second venture into our rarely realized history brings with it some skepticism. How could Beck not only find moments that hold a candle to those he revealed in Miracles and Massacres, but also craft them into the enchanting stories to the same degree of success? Indeed, skimming the chapter titles in Dreamers and Deceivers suggests a slight letdown after enjoying the first book in the series. It takes few pages, however, to realize Beck successfully duplicates the stories and the storytelling that placed Miracles and Massacres not only on the national bestseller’s list but also among the most significant history books today.

In Dreamers and Deceivers, Beck focuses on the people, both well known and obscure, who played considerable roles in molding our nation. Not since Paul Harvey’s “rest-of-the-story” accounts has someone delivered rare artifacts from our history in beguiling narrative format. Beck reveals fascinating truths about the likes of Walt Disney, Woodrow Wilson, and Desi Arnaz, and exposes true-life tales of inspired heroism and intricate deception. As in Miracles and Massacres, the stories that flow from chapter to chapter in Dreamers and Deceivers bring awe, laughter, shock, tears, and amazement. Also like its predecessor, this sequel prompts realizations that may challenge perspectives and promote deeper thought on the issues we face today. If nothing else, readers will be “entertained and enlightened” – like the claims made of Beck’s shows on his radio and TV network, TheBlaze.

from:glennbeck.shop.musicoday.com

While it may not surpass Miracles and Massacres, Dreamers and Deceivers is every bit as fascinating as its precursor and well worth the read. Readers should remove any blinders and forget any stereotypes and dive headfirst into both books for a mesmerizing revelation of truths from our nation’s ultimate story – its own history.

Go here for info on Miracles and Massacres

Go here for info on Dreamers and Deceivers

Fruitcakes Anniversary Spurs West Texas Memories

This weekend, RadioMargaritaville is celebrating the 20th anniversary of the release of Jimmy Buffett's platinum-selling album, Fruitcakes. This album is possibly my favorite of the trop-rock singer-songwriter's collection, which numbers around 50 now. For me, though, I think it's all about the timing.

May, 1994 places me in Abilene, Texas - a snapshot of the West Texas of old. Imagine a barbecue joint, scuffed plank floors, hardwood walls infused with mesquite smoke, a large board up on the wall that displays the menu - from brisket to steaks, which are ordered by thickness, and a long counter directly below, which multitasks as a buffet, check-out station and massive cutting board. Inside are ranchers, bankers, oil people, college kids, golfers, and actual cowboys, discussing the weather, prices, scores, and parties in between savory bites of smoked meat or pinto beans or homemade bread. It was into this world of Stetsons, Justins, longhorns and extended cabs that I brought Jimmy Buffett.

I became a Parrothead during college in the late 80's. But, having grown up in sunny South Carolina and spending my childhood summers at Surfside Beach on the Carolina Coast, I started unconsciously cultivating a coastal gypsy soul at an early age. So, Jimmy's stories of adventure and messages about enjoying life fit perfectly with my blossoming escapist dreamer's mentality. Armed with an arsenal of tunage, parrot-phernalia and ideologies to match, I rolled into Abilene in 1992, reunited with my brothers, who found Buffett with the same ease as I, and set out, peacefully making converts of their friends and my new acquaintances, including this cute co-worker who would become my wife in October of '94. 

Soon, as is customary of the Phlock, we held a party to celebrate life as it is seen through the salt-rimmed sunglasses of Margaritaville. My soon-to-be wife's family had a great remote West Texas spot out in Buffalo Gap, complete with pool, house, scrub brush, and the perfect sunset viewing mesa. We began an annual gathering here, away from the everyday two-step. The event grew exponentially, garnering the status associated with highly anticipated let-your-big-hair-down events.  It was around this time when Fruitcakes was released, providing the perfect accompaniment to the revelries of our ever-growing throng of newly tropicalized Texans. We found our inner fruitcakes as we quietly made noise with Miami cousins and Frenchmen, listening to Uncle John's six-string music on sunny afternoons with visions of lone palms, vampires, and mummies, Apocalypso on the near horizon (confused? see the song list from Fruitcakes). 

Jimmy Buffett had finally arrived in Abilene, Texas. Before, Margaritaville was a vaguely familiar tune, heard on rare occasions on the local country and western stations. Now, it had become a state of mind, an island reachable simply by imagination - not some far off South Pacific paradise that landlocked West Texans vacantly thought of after watching John Wayne in Donovan's Reef. For a few decadent days, boots became bare feet, starched white shirts gave way to leis, but we still wore our cowboy hats, even in the pool (rumors abound that those hats were all that some of us wore). Tiki torches blazed as we danced like natives about the base of a volcano. Pirates and parrots, sailors and surfers all joined this carnival, the likes of which had rarely, if ever, been seen in the heart of West Texas. Fruitcake city. 

The Buffalo Gap parties became too large to somewhat reasonably manage. So, we discontinued the official gatherings, leaving them to the ageless stories of legends. I returned to South Carolina, wife in tow. Some friends remained in Abilene; others scattered to other ports, both near and distant. Families naturally grew. Careers emerged. The movements of life shifted. The property in Buffalo Gap was sold. 

Those of us who can wrangle the cost and scheduling still gather annually in Frisco, Texas for the Jimmy Buffett concert and tailgate extravaganza, where we watch the parade of fruitcakes, indulge in our own brands of craziness (to prevent insanity), and reminisce about those few summers in Buffalo Gap when Jimmy Buffett's Fruitcake album accompanied a realization of the wonderful and wacky ways of life among friends old and new. Our kindred spirits rejuvenate. Our perspectives realign. 

We discovered back in 1994 and continue to discover still today that there was and is, indeed, "...a little bit fruitcake left in every one of us."

Tour shirt from the Fruitcakes tour - Saw the Dallas show