When a renegade East Coast bowling team moves into the sunshine state, the bowling buddies discover the ultimate weapon in their war against political correctness. They learn the secret of a dangerous new chemical that dissolves wood into piles of sawdust. They use it to inflict profound social change on bewildered Californians. In this whimsical and demented story from exciting new satirist Barbara Jones, nothing is sacred, and California's only hope to restore its imbalance lies in a band of beleaguered exile attorneys whose laws don't work anymore.In Moonlight Bowl Manifesto, self-appointed ligno-terrorists strike at the very heartwood of what makes California so weird. The 'Easters' decree: no more face-lifts, no more breast enhancement, and no more bottled designer water. Bowling shirts are the new dress code, and drug abuse is a thing of the past.
Stand at ringside as Barbara Jones takes a tongue-in-chic swing at California's absurdly square jaw with her wry humor and dry Georgia wit.
Will the General Sherman Tree survive? Can Californians survive behavior reengineering and learn to use bus tokens? And where is the Federal government while the Easters deal a coup de maitre to reason and politics in the west?
