Snippets of The Prodigal Band Trilogy: Satire

The Prodigal Band Trilogy, being about the trials, tribulations, and triumphs of a fictitious and big time rock and roll band, is full of celebrities. That makes the trilogy and the books within it ripe for satire among other genres. Though the three-books-in-one trilogy leaves out much of the satire originally published in the original three books, there is still enough to regale the reader here, with two snippets posted. One involves celebrity attention-seeking behavior, and the other involves their hypocrisy, especially when it comes to their so-called ‘environmental activism,’ which, in my opinion, is just more attention-seeking behavior but often strictly for tax-write-off purposes.

Note: while it would be nice to be a best-selling author, one thing I absolutely do not want is to be a celebrity! I value my privacy as much as I could have what with having to market my books, but if I became a celebrity I would have no privacy!

Being a celebrity is a double-edged sword. Yes, they have fortunes and fabulous homes and cars and whatever, but while it takes attention-seeking to maintain celebrity, at some point the celebrity wants privacy and to go about with their lives devoid of constant media-tabloid-hounds chasing after them. And at some point, someone will come up with some nonsense about them that is not true and turns their lives inside out and backwards. Yet, whose fault is that? Theirs! They’re the ones who sought the attention, right?

Fortunately, for me and my characters, I realized these books were not going to be essays on satire. Yet I believe if your characters are celebrities some satire is necessary.

In one of the snippets, I highlight celebrity hypocrisy as to nature reserves and saving wildlife that so many celebs take part in because they have the financial means to do so and mostly do it for tax exemption purposes. Considering at galas and whatnot they wear furs, kid leather, and custom woolen suits, etc., can they actually be considered “friends” of the wildlife that they spent thousands of dollars on to wear? One of the reasons certain fur animals are endangered is because celebrities can’t stand to not be ‘seen’ wearing them! Meanwhile, they berate us “little people” for wearing clothing made from wildlife of the cheaper variety, and for wanting to go camping and hunting and fishing every now and then! Is it any wonder celebrities that fly to environmental conferences about ‘saving the environment’ in their private jets are considered hypocrites?

And then there is that attention-seeking behavior…and celebrities wonder why they have no privacy!

In Chapter Seven of Battle of the Band, New Age cult leader Swami Negran fights his way into a Bay Area night club where Sound Unltd is performing–drunk and on various cocaine-laced drugs–in front of hundreds of fans right after their stadium gig. The night before the gig, during a party given for the band, bassist Keith and his lover, pop star Lisa, arranged to meet again in Phoenix in the midst of the following week. But later at that party, she saw Keith with another groupie, Lolita, which angered her enough to try to ‘get revenge’ on him. Lisa, ever the attention seeker, then plotted a publicity stunt using another rocker, Pete Slade, at that night club. Slade, whom she used on a number of stunt occasions, went along with it.


Swami Negran, two hours late for the start of the circus at Forkyz, had to fight through hundreds of stargazers milling outside the club. Then he had to push and shove his way through a host of silky-tanned bodies raising their fists or jutting their hips to the tom-tom honky-tonk beat of Uh-uh-oh-oh-oh-oh! Until he made it to the northwest corner. He was almost accosted by a bikini-briefed Lisa Brent and a Peter Slade in nothing but spandex shorts and Denny Spradlin’s mojo-sandals as they tried to move Keith’s skuz-wasted, pulsating body which grasped his bass in his left hand and Lolita’s bra in his right.

While the lame bassist howled and laughed through Slade’s and Negran’s attempts to prop him against the wall, Swami shouted, “This is even worse than fighting my way in here. There’s a couple o’ thousand people outside clawing to get in!”

Keith slurred loudly. “Well why the hell don’t we bloody let ‘em in? There’s room for—” Down onto the floor he fell in a heap. “Ah, shit! Get me the hell up, eh Mystic Man?”

Lisa, still acting disgusted from Keith’s perfidy the night before, snickered. “Just leave him there!” She then turned to her back-up lover, Slade. “Sweet Pete, listen to this, babe. I got a plan that’ll get us mucho headlines. Help bolster your career, eh?”

“And yours, Lisa love.”

“My career’s doing nicely, thank you!”

“So’s mine, thank you very much!”

“Oh, shut up, Pete, and listen. Both of us’ll go out there in front of the people out there—” Lisa turned to Swami. “Did you see any paparazzi out there?”

“Dozens of photographers, and some with camcorders.”

“Super! Okay, Pete, we’ll go out there and I’ll do my little act. You know, yell and scream about how Keith has betrayed me? And you escort me in your limo to the airport. I need to go on to Phoenix anyway to see my agent there about next year’s tour. I’ll meet you again when the Party Machine lands in Phoenix. Then, I’ll finish the little bastard off! How’s that sound, Pete?”

Slade answered noncommittally, “Sure, babe.”

Lisa then looked down on Keith. “Is that okay with you, you little shit?”

The bombed bassist mumbled his assent, knowing full well that the night before, he and his prime lover planned to greet each other with lavish affection aboard the jet—in full view of perplexed reporters.

Just as most of the horde of stargazers thought they’d leave the sidewalk in front of Forkyz and go home, just as reporters decided to call it a night, an enraged Lisa Brent blew out the front doors of the night club, escorted by a confused-looking Peter Slade. Seeing the mass of reporters hovering in front of Slade’s limo, she saw her chance. “Now listen to this, press boys!” she yelled for their benefit. “You can forget that goddamned Keith Mullock! We’re finished! You understand that? And you can quote me!” She stomped into the car.

Some scribes held Slade back.

“She’s just upset, eh?” he told them. “I’m just here to help her get over it.”

“What happened, Mr. Slade?”

“Listen, I can’t get into that here.”

The second snippet from Chapter Eight of The Prophesied Band highlights celebrity hypocrisy regarding ‘saving the environment’–only for the sake of tax write-offs. Said celebrities in the novel did not consider that wearing expensive furs and clothing of animal skins would in no way ‘save’ endangered species or help the wildlife they claimed to want to protect. The following scene involving singer Erik, pop culture-narrator Jay, and a group of pop star celebrities at a gala to support funding for new Church of the Circle of Unity cult leader Cole Blessing’s ‘Ashram’ south of the fictitious Bay area city of Richmont. Jay, the narrator, also references band manager Joe Phillips’ ‘watchword’ of hypocrisy of wealthy ‘guardians of the environment’ such as his own bank-oligarch father, not just rich celebrities. If anything deserves being the focus of satire, it is celebrity hypocrisy!


DomGerry, April’s poster boy for the Nature Club, discussed a juicy tax-break idea with his friends Jonny Kirk and Jillian Lowe—stars of the live-action movie version of Tree Huggers—and Jeff ‘Ax’ Axman, a major stockholder of a new cable TV network called The Whole Earth Channel. As I approached them I thought to myself how ironic it was these ‘nature activists’ wore either kid leather, ostrich leather, or leopard skins; DomGerry wore alligator-skin boots; Kirk and Lowe both wore chinchilla furs to the bash.

Joe Phillips had once told me the watchword of his father’s new order was hypocrisy. Protection of nature really meant protection of the right of the rich to plunder nature while denying access to the masses like those hapless people being loaded on that windowless bus.

“This forty-thousand acre ranch I bought in Desert Valley last year?” The singer smiled just thinking about how he’d top Ax’s tale of how he saved hundreds of thousands on his taxes by selling his own ecology foundation wetlands to set up a wildlife preserve. “From some old rancher who needed big money. Said he couldn’t afford to raise his cattle ‘cos the government kept lowering beef price supports.”

“The one in the Paramount Mountains?” Ax asked.

“Yeah. But I did you one better, Ax. Take a lesson, eh?” Laugh. “I sold it to my Desert Valley Wildlife Foundation for one tax break, then my foundation sold it to Sustainability, Inc., my ecological R & D corporation, for a double tax break.”

Though I stood behind Ax’s left shoulder, neither the singer-guitarist, nor the others, noticed me until Erik, who I’d been looking for, showed up next to me.

The newcomer suddenly asked, “So what’s up with the tree-huggers?”

Light laughter, until Dom and the others told Erik about Dom’s nature preserve activity.

“Can’t do that sorta thing back home,” Manning responded. “Can only lease it, eh?” He’d brought a long-stemmed champagne glass with him, and he sipped it.

“I thought you were on the wagon?” Ax asked.

“What, champagne, man? I gave up booze, not bubbly, eh? And besides, Ax, I have a nip o’ whiskey from time to time. But, you see, man, I got it under control.”

Lowe blurted, “Well that is sooo super, Erik. Bet you’re much more in tune with Mother Nature now.”

“Yeh, really,” the singer waxed sarcastic. “You know I’d like to get into something like that here. A nature preserve or a refuge or something. Leave it completely untouched for all the animals—all the animals but you, Ax.” Loud laugh.

“Hey up your British ass!”

They laughed, as the two always did after their jibes.

So, of course, the foursome had to tell Erik how he could do that and claim his preserve on his British taxes. The gist of their advice was provided by the singer. “Tell Cole what you need, and he’ll set it up for you.”

And there are more instances of satire besides satire involving celebrities. Buy the book to find out! And if one has read the trilogy or any of the separate books within the trilogy, any review or rating at any of the online sites such as Amazon or any of the others linked here would be appreciated. Or at Goodreads.

The Prodigal Band Trilogy © 2019 by Deborah Lagarde, Battle of the Band © 1996 by Deborah Lagarde, The Prophesied Band © 1998 by Deborah Lagarde and The Prodigal Band © 2018 by Deborah Lagarde. Permission needed to copy any materials off this page.

Feel Censored? Use Fiction to Tell the Truth. Plus: More Spring Sales

First, about the spring sales…out in my neck of the woods in this mountain rural community we have (sponsored by our Community Church primarily to help our volunteer Fire Department with donations)…last year I “broke even” financially with sales of my two printed novels Battle of the Band and The Prophesied Band at this event. I have sold some more at the “second annual” spring event and handed out “business cards” with the URL for downloading the FREE PDF e-book FREE PDF e-book The Prodigal Band.

Before I go on to the main topic regarding present-day censorship especially with narratives, political and otherwise, I must say that I have a problem with Christians, including authors, that get on my case because my characters cuss or play rock music. Sorry, folks, but if you really think no Christian ever cusses (and I don’t know a Christian who doesn’t cuss every now and then!) or if you think rock musicians are all “devil worshipers” then you haven’t done your homework or you have bought into nonsense. Plus you have Christians who think all “Christian rockers” are really devil worshipers! Stryper then, Hillsong now, right? Did Stryper sing and play about Christ? Yes. Does Hillsong today sing and play about Christ? Yes, despite the appearance of Justin Bieber (I’m being facetious, okay?), and despite some “symbology” issues some have with Hillsong. Now, why would a non-Christian sing and play about Christ? A joke, right? Harking back to the late 60s and Norman Greenbaum’s hit song, “Spirit in the Sky” about Christ–and assuming Greenbaum is Jewish–why would he do a song about Christ? A reminder–the late 60s saw a surge in a movement called “Jews for Jesus.” Maybe Greenbaum was part of that.

There are people who are Christian authors who believe all “Christian authors” should write a certain way and not have cussing characters or characters who sin before they accept Christ as Savior. All “Christian author” novels should be squeaky clean. Sorry, but I can’t write that way when, first of all, I accepted Christ as Savior after repenting of the following behaviors: dabbling in the occult (as one of my band characters does); having pre-marital sex (as several of my characters did); being rebellious against some authority; cussing (I have dropped the “f” word but occasionally use the “s” word–and it was hard for me to type that “f” word into my novels, but my characters are my characters!); and questioning what has been certain interpretations of the Bible, among other sins. Because of this, my novels are not “Christian adult fiction” but “adult fiction.” My novels are meant to try to get non-believers to consider believing on Christ. Isn’t that what Christ said? “Make disciples of all nations”? I’ll let others “preach to the choir.”

Now, the main point: my novels also include a certain amount of satire and parody of how the music industry works, and it’s not just the “sell your soul for fame and fortune.” It is actually more sinister, what with signing recording contracts whereby the label virtually owns you unless they dump you, and both the label and the distribution outfit (the corporation that owns the label) take well over half of the take on sales (today it is supposedly most of the take) and where the recording artist must pay for recording studio and production and album cover art and even tours, assuming the recording label pays out some “advance” which also must be paid back. (And I thought authors had it bad!). But the really big time acts (as chosen by the moguls, that is) do get more leeway and more of the take–for a price, which is not a “sold soul to the devil” price literally, but agenda-wise. Once you are made huge, you are forced to stick to an agenda that you might eventually discover is laden with evil. And then the crash begins…And, if you start to oppose the agenda…watch out!

But why do a non-fiction book about some band that underwent this agenda years ago that I would have to interview for the truth when the possibility exists that one or more of these band members “suicided” or whatever when I can state what I know to be true by writing a fiction novel?

And then you have politics and the powers-that-be. Take George Orwell, who was somewhat of a socialist but understood the dangers of socialism-communism-fascism. Now, he could have written some non-fiction trope about life in the 1940s Soviet Union or 1930s Nazi Germany, but instead he wrote “1984” and “Animal Farm.” Truth, disguised as fiction. What would occur when censorship reigned. Since I am not political and do not trust any political side, I have no intention of writing fiction about politics. Spiritual is what I do. And take Aldous Huxley, from a very prominent political-socialistic-Fabian Society family and a member of the Fabians as well who knew backwards and forwards what the elites he hung out with planned to do. Most everyone has heard of his dystopian magnum opus “Brave New World” (and some scientists seem to be carrying out the gene-editing designer-babies scenario these days), but where he really tells what he knows is the fiction novel set in 1920s London, “Point Counterpoint,” about various elitists in the scientific, political, social, educational, and religious/atheist circles and their plans to rule the world to their specifications, what with a rebel or two trying to put a stop to these plans (the rebels, of course, are socialists and some working-class patsies.) Since it would have been heresy of sorts for a member of the elites to state the truth in non-fiction, he did it with fiction. Then you have Ray Bradbury’s “Fahrenheit 451″…Prescient, or what?

If anyone needs a reason to write fiction these days, I’d say telling the truth about something you need to tell the truth about is as good a way as any!

Project Alert–Will Post More About My Books Soon (In Case You’re Wondering)

Right now I am working on turning my printed books, Battle of the Band and The Prophesied Band into e-books. That is, they need to be formatted for e-book purposes and sold through e-book outlets (several, in fact, not just Kindle or Nook.) That is, I have to re-type them! My printed books in 1995-6 and 1997-8 were formatted for ancient floppy discs on an ancient Macintosh LC475 computer using Mac OS 7.5! Both Mac computers (mother was an early PowerMac with Mac OS 8), both desktops, have had their hard drives removed and sold as scrap. Since I can no longer access these ancient computers (I now have a laptop with Windows 7, and no floppy drives anyway!), I am re-typing both books. Hopefully, Battle will be finished by the end of the year –and keep in mind, I have to format it according to specifications of the book seller, including a table of contents and a new cover.

Why? Because multiple people want me to do this, and because since I live way out of town it is not easy to go into town every time I have to send out one of my printed books. Our Post Office keeps weird hours, the price of gas is high in these rural areas, and my vehicle right now is not in good shape!

Here, and on my book blog, I will as soon as possible post articles about not only the characters and the story itself, but the factual events and historical narratives that these books are based on and drove me to write them. As I am re-typing Battle of the Band, I am realizing just how satirical it is! Since I’m not really into genres, the genre of “satire” might work for this one: genres–satire, horror, spiritual, adult.

But not “adult-adult” if you know what I mean. And I am taking out all the “f”-words if you know what I mean. The “s”-word is staying. My characters are my characters, right? Folks, I’ve never met a man who didn’t cuss–ever Christians cuss a lot!