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Can you be a household name for doing a good deed?

If your dead, a state funeral does you no good.

There are ways to get famous, this way would not be my preferred way.

I am not sure what the world is coming to but, listen to this…

A neighbor reported that her cat got out and is missing.  It was the middle of the week.  My daughter was engrossed in some video games, and it was a nice day.

I walk the area on occasion but hardly ever in the middle of the day.  What harm can it do to take a walk and look for a stray cat?

As I chat with her about life and things in general while walking the sidewalks where the cat went missing, we see a cop pass by.  There are signs up with descriptions of said cat.

Without warning, the car turns around and now appears to focus on us. Two officers that get out to investigate us.  I wonder if they are there to help look for the cat?  Probably not.   

My daughter is a child, and I am not exactly threatening, but, rapidly the wrong end of a gun is pointing in our direction from the other officer.

“Woe, what the hell, officers?”

Separating us, my daughter is told to walk backward toward the other officer.  This child still has issues walking forward without tripping. Pffft.  I watch her, she is terrified. I am not exactly calm and collected, but I know not to do anything that would cause a trigger pull.

If she had tripped walking backward would that cop have shot her as she moved in an unexpected manner?

“We got a call of suspicious activity, and you two are out in the middle of the day, don’t seem natural.”

Are all Texans this slow, or do you have to be not real bright to wear the uniform?  Asking for a friend.

“We are not armed, and we live here.”

“Where is here?”

“Next street over.”

“I need to see ID.”

The end of whatever pistol the other officer was pointing at me looked like a cannon as I slowly reach for identification. 

“What are you doing out this time of day?”

I point to the sign on the post not twenty yards away.  They act as if they don’t believe me because nobody gives a damned about someone else’s cats or problems…

I do. What if it were my cat?

The other officer has my daughter by the car and is asking her the same types of questions.  Later she told me that the officer thought we were nuts to be looking for a lost cat that wasn’t even ours.

At least no more guns are pointing at us.

I happen to conceal carry; I did not have it on me then but, one has to wonder, what if?

Since this happened to me, a white person, I felt like it might be wise to pass on some salient info regarding concealed carry and cops.

By this story, it is not hard to tell that their anxiety level is much higher than what they might let on.  Like you and I, they deserve to go home to their family in one piece at the end of the day.

Whether you conceal carry or not, and I don’t give a shit what color you are, keep your hands in plain sight.  Statistics prove beyond the shadow of a doubt that cops kill more white people than black folks.  I realize that doesn’t fit the narrative but, facts are immutable.

If it is at night, pull over, put your car in park, turn on the dome light, roll down the window and place your hands on the dash.  You don’t want to be an accident.

Never adjudicate your case on the side of the road; the cop does not give a crap about your reasons for whatever you were doing that caused him or her to pull you over.  Yes, sir or ma’am or no sir or ma’am is about all you need to say.  A medical emergency is probably the one excuse you might offer up but make sure it is a medical emergency.

If I can have guns drawn on me while walking through my neighborhood, it could certainly have gone down a lot worse with a child by my side.

If you carry, when they ask, hand the cop your license to carry at the same time you give them your driver’s license.  They will ask you if you are armed.  In truth, they will know more about you before they ever talk to you than you would expect.  They will see if you are registered as concealed carry and if you have insurance, where you live, and so on.  The database is pretty reliable.  What you hand them is matched against it.

Never reach for your gun; you will end up dead.

Please keep your hands where they can see them.  Most probably, he or she will disarm you, allow them.

At the end of the day, it will be a story you can tell, or like me, blog.

I was unaware that Gladys Cravats from Bewitched lives in my neighborhood.  

The moral of the story, keep your cat or dog locked up when people are working in your house. Don’t expect me to go looking for it ever again.

The times we live in are much more dangerous.  Tensions are high as hate, racists acts, and all forms of violence sell air time.  The media has a 24 7 news cycle, and without people doing evil, stupid things they would not have advertisers paying them for air time. Emotional drama sells.

If things calm down, they will manufacture something even if they have to make it up out of thin air.

Had I been black and been shot for looking for a neighbor’s cat the press would have played the story for days.  Since I am white and didn’t get shot, it’s not worth mentioning. Unless, of course, you are looking down the wrong end of a gun carried by some cop who might be rattled.

They don’t need to be defunded; we need more money for more and better training.  We should be able to offer them good wages so we can attract the brightest and the best.  If they have the power of life or death in their hands, don’t you want the most brilliant and best wearing the badge?

Much Love -TW

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Are we Headed this way again? Part II

It seems someone needs to learn some history.

When we speak of the Holocaust, the number 6 million is tossed around.  Those that even think about it want to dismiss it as quickly as they read the word Holocaust.  It is unpleasant.

It is more than unpleasant. Indeed it is deplorable that humans were treated in such a callous manner.  Blamed for something that was not of their doing, dehumanized by the minister of propaganda and several media outlets, they were the victims.  The Brown Shirts crawled out of the cracks from where scum usually lives and became the muscle of the Nazi party.

Good Arian boys and girls waved flags with the swastika to show their support of their  ‘dear leader’ while turning a blind eye to the atrocities unfolding in their midst.

There are many facts that even they didn’t realize or know.

Those trains carrying victims came from far and wide, much like a dragnet of sorts.  The actual number of victims is far closer to 17 million.  Let that number sink in… 17,000,000 and Change.

I am curious why we don’t hear the Jews looking for reparations.

History is rife with wickedness, and much of it is based on racism, or is it?

Nobody in their right mind would stand there today and argue that the slave trade before the civil war was a good thing.  Nobody certainly would stand on a soapbox and justify it or do anything to try and repeat it, would they?

The number of enslaved people from Africa is all over the map.  If you go with published data points, 12.5 million Africans were brought to the US from the 1500s to the 1800s.

Missionaries might have opened the door, using God as a cudgel to control the natives; it was not white people running around Africa rounding up slaves for deportation.

It was white people or people of lighter skin than those that they oppressed who brokered the transactions; however, they did not physically round-up anyone.

When the Spaniards purchased them, they were treated as livestock. That livestock was sold to them by Africans.  From buttons to baubles, the slaves sold to them were prisoners of war.  Those people would have been a food source to those who sold them.  Yes, they were cannibals.

They were conquered tribes, slaves, prisoners, females for sexual gratification, and yes, dinner.  If the truth offends you, stop reading this and go live in your delusions. 

Like the missionaries used God as a club, we don’t want to blame them because they were doing God’s work.  Really? 

Slavery existed long before bible-thumping opportunists went looking for ways to make money from dealing in human trafficking. While some missionaries genuinely believed in what they were doing, any thinking person should realize that using your salvation as a bargaining chip is evil.

This blog post is not about race relations.  I believe that thinking people realize that skin color does not make a difference in who you are.  Those who rely on skin color as a crutch own that problem, and it is up to them to see the light or continue to live in their delusional misery. After having a president of color, the proof is there for anyone who will open their fucking eyes.

Americans are not systemically racists. Those who claim we are have an ulterior motive, and it is evil.

In 2008 when Obama ran against McCain, I knew it was a farse.  McCain no matter what you think of him, was a Democrat.  Picking his running mate, they never put up a serious threat to Obama’s race. Nobody running a serious campaign would have picked her, as a running mate.

Republicans were duped time and time again by this man.

Hope and Change sold well in the media. As a PR person, that is a campaign I would have devised if I were working on it.

Still, people of all races voted for Obama, and the media was his cheerleader.  From the thrill up a leg to the fawning, obsequious talking heads of the media, owned and controlled by big corporations, the fix was in.  Manipulating the masses with emotionally charged issues, white people became the villains.

They did not count on those talking heads who were caught in too many lies. People of color, their base, began to question the democratic plantation.  They needed to find a new breed of voters who knew less history, but who?

Why not import a whole new population of voters, and oh yes, slaves to live on the democratic plantation?

Hillary had all the name recognition and branding she needed to have an easy win.  Unable to keep up with her opponent, she only hit the states with the highest number of delegates. She was quoted as saying that she runs as a Democrat because Democrats are stupid and easy to control.  She was and is her own worst enemy, and still, she blames everyone but herself.

She underestimated Trump.  She also underestimated people of color.

While the media attacked him mercilessly, nothing stuck; they attacked him, Melania, and his children. They made fun of her accent, playing to those who are racist.  When that backfired, one of his opponents sent nude pictures of her to all of his constituents in Utah, knowing full well the Mormons would never have anything to do with anyone who was immoral.  Little did they realize the evil person was the politician using every dirty trick in the book.

Trump and JFK have much in common; I will explain that link in a future blog.

With people of color leaving the plantation and women not dissuaded by the attacks on his character, the country ended up with someone who believed in America First.

Countries far and wide only think they have the power over the politicians; they don’t. As many who read this blog can attest to, repressive regimes are everywhere.  While this country is the last bastion of freedom, we are falling to the whims of large corporations and the elite.

That is the root cause of racism. It has little to do with color.  That is a lie told to the ignorant who believe everything they hear or read from the media.

Yes, some see a person of a different color and fain disdain for them, but it is not a color thing in truth.  It is much more rudimentary than that.  This issue goes back to the Holocaust.  

There is this mantra that most of us grow up with, study hard, work hard, and you will go far.  There are too many that never see that example.

The Jewish people have a work ethic and are disciplined.  Many folks of all colors work hard and see that someone like Obama can live in the White House and do what it takes to go far.  Some do not and instead depend upon the ‘governments’ to take care of them. Others, unfortunately, look for illegal or immoral ways to fund a lifestyle.

It isn’t just the drug dealers living on the edge; it is people in power that have become so corrupt that the laws don’t apply to them.  They use racism as a deflection technique to distract those of us who look behind the curtain. 

Those that depend upon free phones, free health care, free food, and free places to live typically are happy to stay on the plantation. They are told where their bread is buttered, and they vote accordingly. 

Those of us who keep our noses to the grindstone are the providers of their funds.  There are no free lunches; someone pays for them.

Today we have an unprecedented surge at the border from countries that have been so corrupt they can no longer afford to provide free stuff.  Those in charge will give to those who come here. However, they have a hand in your pocket to pay for it.

Much like the nomads of early history, they are going where there is still milk and honey.

These tens of thousands will accompany the over 20 million illegal, undocumented, pick your adjective people that cross our borders. I would not be shocked to learn that their governments are assisting in the migration as American dollars flow home from those who secure work or free stuff.

While the good people who profess their disgust of the word ‘illegal’ will welcome them in, it is not those people who will suffer from the overpopulation of migrants. 

They are the haves, that live in their gated communities, drive their nice cars, and send one of the maids out to the store to purchase what they desire. 

To show you just how out of touch they are, when Mrs. Pelosi stood next to her two, SubZero, 25 thousand dollar freezers, in her mansion, showing the media $16 a pint designer ice cream, many on the media took note.  How many of you realize that a SubZero brand freezer is $25K?  She has two.  How many of you buy designer ice cream at $16 a pint?

Now, how many of you have a side-by-side fridge freezer that came from Sears?   You know the one you had to finance at 24% interest over a year…   Maybe you didn’t have a Sears card and had to get it from Rent a center…  They are clueless about how we live.

It’s worse; she and her ilk are paid by you.  On top of that, they are working hard to keep wages low.

It was never about race; it is all about the have’s and the have nots.  Those who live in the gated communities, show up on the silver screen, or live in the country’s wealthiest county (DC), are totally out of touch.  They don’t know what it is like to triple lock your door at night or duck every time you hear a gunshot.

Those of us who do not live in a gated community, hear sirens on an hourly basis, or have the occasional gunshot wake us at night would not know how to react if we were to trade places with them.  

What would it be like to have armed guards around your house at night?

I am reminded of Montgomery Burns on the Simpsons, “release the hounds.”

Some of these migrants will be the ones with guns, the disrespect for human life and the law, and become part of our communities.

It was never about race; it has always been about the have’s and the have nots.

Archeological digs have found skeletons of early man who had his head crushed by their neighbor for what he or she had.  In many of these cases, the head was crushed because they ate the brains of those they killed.

Oh, and they used sticks and stones.

As these migrants filter into the country and end up in communities, jobs will be more challenging to come by for those who already live there.  Crime will undoubtedly increase, and the murder rate will increase too. 

Pay scales will decrease as there is more cheap labor…Slaves.

If they are kept in limbo, as they have kept the current 20 million people, more American dollars will be funneled out of the country to those very countries they have escaped.  Further, as long as they are ‘undocumented,’ they will live in the shadows. They are modern-day slaves. This administration knows it, wants the cheap labor, and, of course, their vote.

‘How much does a vote cost these days?  Asking for a friend.’

I am not saying the migrants are bad people.  They are leaving a country with limited funds to become slaves. The migration has been going on for decades. The politicians know it and facilitate it.   Follow the money.  When a public servant becomes a millionaire, they are probably crooked.  Why else would someone spend $19 million of their own money for a job that pays $154K a year?  Did we stop teaching critical thinking altogether, or is something in the water?

Today we have a high rate of catalytic converter thieves.  This theft is happening all over the country.  Some companies will readily buy them knowing they are stolen, providing the demand.  If the thief is not careful, it can cost up to four thousand dollars to get it fixed.

Those kinds of thefts are what I think will be the beginning of more significant problems. There are some complete morons who want to defund the police or take guns away from law-abiding citizens.

One such moron is a lawmaker in Texas who wants to make it more difficult for the law-abiding citizen to use deadly force to defend herself.

Biden once told the ladies if you are going to get raped, pee yourself, and then the rapist will not want to rape you.  This is coming from a guy that sniffs the hair of little girls.  Another lawmaker from a few years ago told women if they are going to get raped, lie down and enjoy it. 

What the fuck is wrong with these people?

Me, aim and pull the trigger until it stops making that loud banging noise.  When it just makes that clicking sound, you can stop.  Who knows, the asshole might be into golden showers.   Judged by twelve, rather than carried by six, is my motto.

Save the hate comments, don’t need them.

Before you vote, think carefully about who and why you are voting that way.  The media is not your friend.  If your emotions are tweaked, you are being manipulated.

Much Love -TW

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Is this where we are headed, again?

When we fail to learn from history we repeat it.

The following is a story modeled after true events in our history. It is about racism and is worth your read, and you sharing it.

Comments are welcome.

History is rife with example after example of what happens when you devalue a race of people.  Blaming ‘white people’ is a cruel joke on society, and the mark of a racist worthy of the KKK.

I wanted to post pictures of naked dead people from a real event in our history that was so horrific; those pictures gave me nightmares to this current day. I am a humanist.  While I acknowledge that evil exists, I happen to believe that humankind is inherently good. 

Mob mentality is catchy.  More horse thieves met their death at the end of a rope, without the benefit of a trial by their peers.   Vigilante justice is not justice at all; it is the opposite of justice.  It is, in fact, murder.

There is a lengthy history of such actions.  Google genocides through history. 

I see pundits tossing around the race card much like a match in a fireworks factory.  In 2012 the race card was played nightly when we first heard of a game called the ‘polar bear hunt.’

Inciting violence against an entire race is easy to do when you shout hate from a megaphone like the Main Stream Media is doing every day.  The individual who attempts to knock out an elderly white person with one punch is responsible for playing the game; the person who yelled fire in the theatre is to blame for those who get trampled.

I researched this for a story I was working on.  It breaks my heart to see those with megaphones yelling fire in the auditorium of life.  By their actions, they are dehumanizing white people.  Now before you say, oh boo hoo, I want you to read this story below.  I could have put tons of pictures here, but in all consciousness, I cannot.  They are far too graphic. 

If the news is reporting any event regarding race, I want you to take out the word white, and insert the word black, and see if it is still ‘ok.’  The odds are great it will not be ok so it is, NOT OK!

Not all that long ago, a group of people tore down statues.  They banned free speech. They blamed the economic hardships on a particular group of people.  They then instituted gun control.  They made fun of those who hung on to their guns and their God.  Indeed, you were to put your country or your government ahead of God.  They then nationalized health care regulating the industry with an iron fist.

With runaway inflation, printing money was the beginning to the end. The government needed to find ways to reward the faithful.  Since money was worthless, they came up with a plan.

To give to those that were patriots or loyal to the cause, they took the possessions, businesses, and personal property of this group deemed responsible, and re-distributed it to the good loyal followers.

This group of people were taken from their homes and moved into the ghettoes. They were forced to wear identification as to who they were. Everyday citizens spat upon them.  They heard about the camps and knew they were suffering, but they didn’t care.  They were to blame for the state of affairs, weren’t they?  All the news stations said they were to blame.  As the rape gangs brutalized women and children, they again looked the other way. This group was to get no sympathy from the good citezens.

You watch as your children are stripped naked in the streets, beaten and raped by gangs of roving ‘elites.’ The law is on their side, not yours.

The proper people ignore their screams while fussing at their kids; they might catch something by having sex with a dog, you or your child were now worse than rabid dogs.

Imagine your husbands are taken away, leaving you and your family defenseless after losing your home, your business, and being forced to live on the streets. 

Your customers who used to greet you when entering your shop now look down their noses at you and spit on your naked body as those that still want to rape you do so at will. Gang rape is in fashion, and you are defenseless. Nobody cares about you or your spawn.

You and your kind caused this whole mess and you don’t disserve to live.  That is what the media reports night after night, so it must be true.

The proper women complain that their boys might catch something, so the government stirs to action to protect the good citizens from street people’s scourge. The several year plan is complete, you and your kind are officially vermin. Never mind that your kids played with their kids, that is over.  How could they have been so blind as to not see that you are the spawn of Satan?

Imagine soldiers are rounding you up to save you from the rape gangs.  You and your children are loaded into boxcars with the promise of taking you and your children away from this dangerous place. If your boys can labor for the war effort, they go one way.  If you and your daughters are of no value to the war effort, you go another way.

Some find that their next destination is a concentration camp, or worse. In this place, if you go there, you will most certainly starve to death.

Some will not make it to a camp, they are filling up. They have to invent new ways to offload the refugee population faster.  They need to become more efficient at what they do.  While the scientists work on better ways to manage population control, many will be managed the old-fashioned way.  You and your daughter are on that train.

With the train’s chugging through the mountain pass, you are packed so tightly; you jostle into each other with every motion.  The smell of the smoke from the locomotive passes over as an occasional cinder lands in someone’s hair or on their clothing.    The top of the car is off, exposing you and everyone to the elements. Air from the mountain pass occasionally wafts in, causing the black smoke to blow to the side instead of over you.

A whistle blows before it comes out of the mountains echoing off the hills.  You hear it, but you have no clue it is to alert the men ahead that they soon will be busy.

The train lurches to a stop in the middle of nowhere.  The sounds of the clacking steel brace on the side of the car give way to the sliding door as it opens, allowing the cool air to circle among you.  You grab your child close as you witness officers brandishing machine guns.  The mood is dark as their orders are stern. You and your children line up as you leave the train cars, looking for evidence of your new home away from the rape gangs, you see none. 

Thankful to stretch your legs, your relief soon leaves as you catch a whiff of the odor you remember from a dead animal or worse.  On top of the foul smell, there are no buildings, tents, or anything that resembles a bathroom.

There is heavy equipment sitting idle and freshly piled mounds of dirt block your view of what lies past it.

The cool air in the middle of the field soon feels a little too cool. Orders are given to remove your clothing and put them into a pile.  You and others begin to sob, knowing that you have not escaped the rape gangs. 

There are too few soldiers to rape all the women, however.

One of your friends argues with the officer and is shot on the spot.  The sound of the gunshot shocks you as you watch her drop to the ground with blood staining  her white dress as she drops.

This is no longer about rape, and you realize in your heart what is about to happen.  You look for a way to hide your child to protect her from what is to come.

The children are too scared to cry as coats, dresses, and soon underclothes are placed into a pile.  Several of the other women are ordered to pick up the dead woman and carry her to a pile of dirt twenty or so feet tall.

As the rest of you approach the area, watching them carry your friend, blood drips from her dangling hands as the odor of death fills your nostrils.

The grass and cold dirt on your bare feet are a stark reminder that you and your children are naked as you walk closer and closer to what will surely be your last moments on earth. You make eye contact with a young man carrying a machine gun.  He orders you to stop looking at him.

Crossing the field there is a haze in front of the mounds of earth that you don’t quite recognize.

Reaching the precipice, there is an audible gasp from your peers. You glance into the ravine carved into the earth like a deep crimson scar.  Bodies, still letting out steam from their last moments on earth are piled on top of bodies that have been there for much longer.

The sound of your friend tumbling down the side of the ravine landing on top of naked dead bodies shocks you back to reality.  Like sheep, you do as your told, waiting for God to rescue you.

Her white dress is now crimson with brown spots where the mud has clung to her.  What was blond hair is also crimson with brown soil on her face.  Shuddering, you look at your daughter who is in shock.  She is not moving or talking your ear off as she normally would.

Flies and flesh-eating birds hover over and around the bodies as you peer at them until you see someone that you once knew. The shock of what you see silences your thoughts, causing you to go numb inside.  Stella, a good friend lies lifeless with her eyes still open as if she is gazing into the heavens. Her face is contorted oddly as her body lies unnaturally on the top of mountains of flesh.  You knew more women who are face-up, with gaping wounds where the bullets exited their body.

Those face down had small holes ranging from their legs to their backs.  Many had let loose their bowels after they died.  The odor was almost toxic.

Children cry as you pick yours up, holding her close.  You call out to your God to save you from what will surely be the sting of death. A warm liquid leaves your arms as your daughter has lost control of her bladder.  You hold her close, kissing her as the soldiers bark out more orders to the end of the line.

Ordered to face the ravine, the last few of your friends and colleagues are lined up, all facing the rising sun.  Steam from the gorge causes an eerie fog to obscure it. The call of angry crows catches your attention as they fly by, distracting you for a second, as they chase after an owl that stayed out too late.  For a moment, you wish you were the owl only having to confront the murder of crows.  Were the crows much different from the rape gangs you wonder.

You hear mechanical sounds of metal on metal.  That is the arming of machine guns, and you have heard them before. A shock of sorts goes through your body from your toes to your head with the last click of the guns closest to you. You squeeze your daughter tight to your breasts, knowing the bullet that kills you, will kill her too.

Orders are barked as you hear the first of many pop pop pops.  Screams, grunts, and the sounds of people collapsing, falling forward, and landing on those that died before you, fill the air.  As the bullets get closer, you hear the shot’s splat, as they tear through the flesh of a friend. You see red vapor explode from your closest friend’s chest.  You close your eyes as you hear your friend tumble away from you down into the ravine.

The sting in your back and butt and leg causes your vision to flash a bright white before you see the vapor of red escaping out of you and of your child.  Time seems to slow to a crawl as you slowly fall to your knees. Your legs no longer can hold you as you see shattered bone just below your knee poking out through your skin. Frame by frame you watch as the world turns upside down before you realize it is you looking up to the sky through your blood soaked legs. Light glints off the broken bone as blood spatters around you and in your face.  Headfirst you fall into the pit, still grasping your child who is gasping for air. Your body slides down the mountain of flesh, coming to rest close to your friend who still has a vacant stair.

For just a flash of a second, it is you peering at your friend, before you realize that Elizabeth is crying in agony. A bullet went through your mid-section and pierced your daughter’s chest. Reaching for your daughter, you can’t help but close your friends’ eyes as your last gesture of humanity, before more bodies land around you.  

You hear another fall and still more dirt accompanies those that tumble down into the ravine. The rat a tat tat of the guns are now but an echo far above you as more naked women tumble down onto the mountain of flesh.

You witness strange white shadows leaving the pit from those around you. The smell of death no longer bothers you as you listen to your child try to cry, gasping for air through the gurgling blood pouring from her gaping mouth.  Pulling her close you try to comfort her to no avail.

“We going to see grandma Elizabeth, just let go!” you whisper…

Your tears mix with blood that is now dripping from your own lips. You pray that god will be merciful and take her quickly, not even thinking about your own pain.  The sight of Elizabeth suffering is much worse than anything these bastards could do to you.

The sounds of moaning, crying, accompany an unsettling silence which fills the air. You can still hear the sounds of the men talking above you. The ache in your hip is nothing compared to the burning, searing pain in your side. Your daughter is gasping up more blood as you pray for God to take her. Her blue eyes are not as bright as they were a few days ago before the rape gangs had their way with her.  She watched as they had their way with you and many of your friends. Closing your eyes, you cannot look.  Reaching for her you hear the soldiers walking the precipice above.

Bang! You hear the first of many single shots from handguns finishing the job of the executioners.

The soldiers, looking for signs of life, pull out their sidearms and send bullets tearing into the bodies of those still clinging to life.  You watch as your daughter’s head splits open as a bullet rips through the flesh that was her brain. 

Time once again stops as you see a curious vaporous like ghost, leave from her diminutive body. It rises above the dead becoming part of the mist you noticed earlier.

You thank God for his aim. 

Pow! Another bullet rips through your neck, missing your head. A flash of another bright light as you notice that breathing is all but impossible. You no longer feel the rest of your body as the sounds of gunshots fade.  Another bullet finds your back but you don’t feel it.

Rising above the death and misery you see the face of the man who just killed you.  He watches for a second before moving on to the next target.  Your shopkeeper who stocked the shelves and watched  Elizabeth after school is the next to get a bullet in the back of her head.

Susan joins you as do others as you rise above the crimson river caused by evil racist animals who are truly the subhuman life forms that they have accused you of being.

Elizabeth waits as you reach up for her leaving the world behind. ‘Foolish imbecilic creatures.” One of your friends imparts to you through thought.

The coppery odor of blood mixed with the stench of rotting flesh causes the men carrying machine guns to light up cigarettes to mask the odor.

Some take time to reload their hand guns while ordering the lower ranking among them to load the pile of clothes and shoes into the back of a trailer. An occasional gunshot from one soldier ends the life of those who are still trying to live.

Larger birds return in the silence, as the train that brought the hundreds of Jews, leaves to pick up more from up north.  The fragrance of tobacco does not manage to mask the odor of death.  There are jokes passed between those that executed the hundreds of women and children; some are crude and off-color but, that is ok; those people in the pit were not human’s; they were Jews. Oh, and they were ‘White People.’

As the last of the shoes, underclothes and other garments are collected they hear an echo in the mountain pass.  The conductor is giving them fair warning that they need to reload the machine guns and get ready for more refugees.

Politicians, the media, and the Elite are playing a perilous game.

I cannot begin to quantify the number of people I know and consider friends.  If any of them value or devalue anyone by the color of their skin, it is a secret to me. Racism has no place in a world where we are all tied together by the mutual bonds of our DNA.

If we are to be judged, it is by who we are and what we might have done in life.  Where we were born or what color our skin happens to be, is irrelevant.  Who we love in our lives or bedrooms is nobody’s business. 

However, some are so ignorant that they light matches, tossing them down irrespective of where they land or on what.  If they start a fire, they move on and watch the destruction they caused with their carelessness.  The destruction is news, and news brings ratings.

The pictures I found, and the research I have done are much worse than what I have depicted in this story.

The Jewish people were never responsible for what happened to their economy.  They needed a scapegoat, and it is easy to hate an entire race when you have state-run media spewing out lies, dehumanizing a race as a whole.

Asians are not responsible for the virus.

Nobody alive today had anything to do with slavery.

Hate is a poison you take in hopes it will affect someone else.

Those espousing equity and critical race theory are the racists.  They are dangerous and most certainly ignorant of history.

If the holocaust was not enough to convince the dullest among the elite to stop playing with fire, look up Mao or Stalin.  If that is still not enough, try searching for Vlad the Impaler, he was probably your kind of guy.

It is imperative we teach our kids history.  It is not always pretty but necessary to avoid making those same mistakes again and again.

We are capable of such great things, and we are capable of so much evil.

Unlike sheep, we can choose. 

Much Love  -TW

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Greetings Fellow Earthlings

What does Normal look like?

I am wrapping up a companion book to How to be a Camgirl.  If you don’t know what that is, it’s ok.  We don’t judge here and I am not about to start.  This book is called Camming for Couples.

While there are a few who will look down their nose at those who model, keep in mind that we all need to eat.  With the virus morphing and changing, much like actors on a screen, they do what they do. It is my hope that this non fiction book can assist them in their vocation.

The editor has it now, and I still have to come up with a book cover. 

What’s next?

Today marks the one-year anniversary of ‘two weeks to flatten the curve.’  What have you been doing with your time?

After I sent Camming for Couples off to the editor, I started a science fiction.  The damned thing has a virus as part of the problem, which undoubtably is being done to death. So, why write it?

Unlike our predicament here on planet earth, which is ruled by imbecilic creatures that should be in those nursing homes, my virus is a bit player.  Aliens are coming to the rescue.  Providing the method to save our skins, they are only giving us a hint at how to live from here.

Two chapters in, stay tuned.

Why write it?  Firstly, it is on my heart to write it.  Secondly, it is therapy to write it.  It amazes me just how many books have been written with the virus as the main bugaboo.  When Epstein was big in the news, I wrote Schadenfreude which was a novel about sexual impropriety on an island.  

You know he didn’t hang himself… I wonder what is to become of his girlfriend?  I would love to interview her after the trial.  Twenty-one days after we had minus 18.9 C today, we had 23.89 C.  Yes, the air conditioner was switched on…

That is the way we roll here in Texas.  From snow and ice to BBQ and Sunscreen. 

Ok, back to my latest novel, I have aliens to seduce. 

Much Love -TW

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HB 196 Texas

Don’t let the novels I write fool you, I can match wits with the best of them.

Recently a Facebook post announced that there is a new proposed bill HB 196. This bill would amend the Texas Castle Law. Some fear-mongers have modified the post to make it even scarier than it is. 

Even after looking at the original bill, I have a few thoughts.

Currently, the castle doctrine protects the homeowner by giving him or her legal defining rights to defend themselves and their property. 

HB 196 is designed to weaken the castle law.  The creator wrote that (nobody should die for stealing lawn ornaments.)

I agree that nobody should be killed for stealing, period, but it is their choice to steal or not to steal. Where do you draw the line?  Is it one garden gnome and one flamingo? How many flamingoes do we allow them to take before we defend our property?  

Let’s ask this another way. Why should I willingly be a victim?  Why should I choose to cower in a corner while some criminal ransacks my house or my family?  Why should I sit idly by while my cars or property is taken from me? Why should I run out the back door if someone breaks in the front door?

The truth is, his or her life is in my hands when they violate my domain, my castle. Just like the lady who died breaking into the capital, she screwed up and died. She was shot in the throat while entering a window.  An air force veteran was killed because she was with the wrong crowd.  She is the only one of the five that died that day because a weapon was drawn. She didn’t have one; it was the cop.

Nobody could make the argument that the cop was afraid for his life against an unarmed woman, could they? Sure they could; a reasonable defense attorney could make the case in a heartbeat. Just get the right jury and the right judge.

Why didn’t they kill Chewbacca? Why her? What was so special about this petite woman that she needed to be shot in the throat?  Was she the only one that he wasn’t afraid of?  We will never know.

This bill, HB 196, would weaken my rights in a court of law, making it harder to prove my intent.  “Why didn’t you run away?  How do we know you were terrified for your life? Did you pee yourself? Is a life worth a catalytic convertor of tires?

Was her life worth entering a window along with hundreds of others?

Why should the burden of proof be on the homeowner’s shoulders? 

There is a broken door, his fingerprints on the crowbar, and a dead body in my hallway. Case closed.

Not so fast…

The simple facts are; the police seldom prevent a burglary or rape or murder; they arrive in time to write it up while shaking their heads. It takes hours to investigate a crime scene, and they were ready for dinner. The cops come after the alarm has cycled, and the alarm company was unsuccessful at contacting the homeowner.  Three minutes after the door is broken down, the alarm company finally places a non-emergency call to the local police. A dispatcher will find the closest officer and ask them to drive by and check out why the alarm sounded.

Now, this is not like smokey and the bandit, where they are in hot pursuit.   No, no, they will receive the call and casually drive to the neighborhood in question, frequently joined by another unit just in case.

The criminal has done his or her dirty work and is long gone by the time the police arrive. 

Bright lights from the car-light up the door, and they see evidence of a forced entry.  They report this to dispatch, who now asked who is available to back up that unit.

They push the door open while the hinge’s creak is accompanied by the sounds of broken glass under their feet. Bloodstains on the floor; the putrid stench of a coppery odor of blood hangs heavy in the air as they trip over broken lamps, stuffed animals, and a dead dog. Their hearts race in the silence.   Slowly they search the house, listening for movement with their guns drawn.  A grey cat streaks by them, causing them to jump and almost shoot each other from the freight.  Flashlights peer through the darkness to find what is left from the carnage after some people did something.

Ever been to a murder scene?

MS 13 are not the kinds of people taking garden gnomes.  They enjoy killing for sport, and they are here. They do what they do for the sake of terror. Much like ISIS beheads people for effect, they cut people up most horrifically for the fear and terror engendered in the little people’s hearts.   And there are attorneys whose job it is to defend them.  Those who live in gated communities make laws that they might never have to worry about, as they have private duty security looking out for them.

Why not make it easier to defend the criminal?  Yes, let’s cripple the castle law. Let’s narrow the scope so it is easier to defend the bad guy and easier to convict the home owner. We could accuse them of being a racist of bigot because that always plays well with juries.

Those who perpetrate crime don’t worry if their gun is full auto or not.  They don’t fret about the large capacity of their clips, and they certainly don’t care if the weapon is registered to them or not.

But you, Mr and Mrs. homeowner, you need to dot every I and cross every T.  This is the same logic the Obama administration used in sending our boys into combat.  You can guard them, but you don’t get any bullets. Before you engage the enemy, you need to seek permission, and it could take a few days as we have to consult several committees in DC.

After we that we take several polls of likely voters to see if there is support for any action against a particular group. Hang on, we can usually get this done in just a few weeks.

Texas has suffered a rash of burglaries, home break-ins, and vandalized property.  While companies like Ring are enjoying profits from the sale of security devices, the folks who make and sell catalytic convertors are also having good sales.

The quality of the video from Ring is not where it needs to be. Higher res cameras need to be installed in these devices. Yes we can see if was a guy and he wore a cap but that is about it.

Why should we as a people entertain limiting our rights to defend our stuff or make it more difficult to prove our innocence in a court of law?   

There is an uptick in the theft of tires, wheels, and catalytic converters.  Those are not ten-dollar garden gnomes. Are they funding criminal activity with our stuff?  What do you think?

The creator of this Bill knows this, but sluffs it off as garden gnomes. She knows damned well they are stealing things like (tires, convertors or anything else that is not nailed down.)

If this bill passes the homeowner would have to sit idly by while their car is broken into while waiting for the cops to finish their dinner before responding to a 911 call. Wait, can you even call 911 if someone is breaking into your car?

If you look at the Next Door app, you would see that more and more citizens are victims of crime at an alarming rate.  This amendment would encourage more criminals. We have videos of porch pirates, cars vandalized and lawn mowers and other expensive items taken by a criminal. If her bill passes the homeowner would have less legal rights than the criminal.

Reading the post, Americans are becoming more paranoid as they feel that they cannot depend on the police to defend them.  Since Biden took over, the price and availability of ammo have changed dramatically.  Did he pull an Obama and place vast orders to create a shortage, or are people that paranoid?  

I don’t know about the average person but, I work hard for what I have.  The cost to replace a catalytic converter is anywhere from $1000 to $3000, depending upon the car. It takes a few minutes for the criminal to slide under your vehicle with a battery-operated saws-all and take a costly item from your vehicle.

Insurance may or may not cover it, and even if it does, there is a deductible and then the hassle of dealing with a wrecker, the police, the insurance company, and a rental company, and then the dealer, which all takes time. There is the stress of dealing with the fact that you were violated in some way.

Garden gnom, ok, I can live with that; what dollar amount do you place before you pull a gun and shoot the bastard?  While the community would be thrilled to have one less thief in the area, the lawyers would be delighted too.

Some lawyers are sympathetic to the thief. Why? Some might claim they are cut from the same cloth, but I digress.

If you want to create a new law,  create one that makes it harder for criminals to profit from the sale of used (stolen) catalytic converters.  I realize that would cut into the ease at which the criminal would benefit from his or her ill-gotten gain, and it would also cut into the profits of those who purchase such things, but that law would make sense.  That law would save the lives of the criminals who are stealing ‘garden gnomes.’  How?  If it were more difficult to sell what they steal, it seems that would make stealing such things less attractive.

I am confident that insurance companies would offer campaign funding for that kind of legislation.  

Japan did not invade the mainland in WWII because they knew every farmer had a gun.  True story. History is replete with useful information; try reading it.

While some might take literary license with what she is proposing, the hard facts are that when we look at a massive influx of illegal immigrants, our laws should not be made more favorable to the criminal. These folks already have a track record of not respecting our laws or Mexico’s, for that matter. Why would any American Law Maker seek to diminish the rights of Americans?  

This country is a country of laws.  We respect them, and everything works better.

Five years ago, then-Vice President Biden told rape victims to piss themselves.  That way, the rapist would not want to have sex with them. So, piss yourself and possibly dissuade the criminal.  At what point is it reasonable to defend yourself? 

This same person also said if someone is breaking into your house, open the back door and shoot a shotgun out the back door, that will frighten them away.  What is wrong with leveling the gun at the person confronting you in your own home? They can turn around and run or keep the projectiles and consider them a door prize.

At what point will an attorney who makes a living defending rapists and murderers and the like say, oh hell no? What is the line that you, as an attorney, will not cross?  Do you have one?

If you defend yourself, that person had a name and was once someone’s child.  Even if your defense of yourself were legally proper, some attorneys make money by chasing down any relatives and then taking the victim of the crime to a civil court.

In this court, they will do their best to play to the emotions of the jury.  The guy that raped you will be portrayed as god-fearing, good to his mamma, blah blah blah.  They will paint you, the victim, as a short skirt-wearing girl who sent out the wrong messages, so it was your fault. You knew what you were doing when you dared to wear a sleeveless blouse; it is all your fault that this man is now dead.

The jury’s pictures to consider will not be of a tattooed twenty-something but a child with their parents at a birthday party. There will be baby pictures and that of a sad mother who lost her child to some gun-crazed lunatic. This person dared to hang on to their guns and their bibles, putting stuff over the sanctity of life.  The dead person had a name, damnit!

They have no shame.  It is all about winning.

HRC defended a rapist who raped a 12-year-old girl and won.  She bragged about it to her peers. She convinced the rather feeble-minded jurors that the 12-year-old liked sex and knew what she was doing. She was proud of it. 

While there is wisdom in chasing them off, it is even wiser to be judged by 12 than carried by six. Just be prepared to defend yourself against another type of monster.  

“Were you terrified for your life?  How did you know this person intended you harm?  Did you see a weapon? Did he shoot at you?  Only once, how do you know that wasn’t just a warning shot or the gun didn’t miss fire? Why didn’t you run away?  Did you realize that he was using that money to feed his kids and his elderly mother? Now how is his family going to live?  Pfft ! 

If you have not ever sat in a court of law, do it.  OMG!   You will quickly realize just how screwed up the system is. Once you do this you will never vote for a politician that is seeking to limit your rights.

Percy Foreman was a friend of mine. Unfortunately, I know the way the system works. People like Percy would defend the indefensible and win more times than he lost. Winning was their reputation, it didn’t matter what the person did; it was all about twisting the law enough to get an acquittal.

 He once told me while looking me right in the eyes, ‘it is easier for me to get you off if I know you are guilty.’  Cold chills ran up my spine with that admission, and I lost much respect for not only him, but our entire legal system that day.

The day he died, the criminals lost a friend.  That is the sad truth.

No, the Castle Doctrine should be strengthened, not weakened.   A castle is a bastion of freedom for the occupants, and the law is already too mailable.   

Americans are witnessing higher amounts of crime.  There are efforts to defund the police and restrict what kinds of guns Americans can own. The innocent are under attack by the system that is supposed to be there for them. Why would we entertain any bill that would weaken our legal rights to defend ourselves or our property?

Any member of a governing body that puts forth an argument that restricts law-abiding citizens’ rights over those who don’t respect our laws, or our rights to protect ourselves or our property, should not be in office.  

Don’t mess with Texas, and don’t mess with Texans. We do cling to our bibles, our God, and our guns.

-Best

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What Radio Station do you listen to?

From shortwave to Facetime around the world..

The world continues to shrink.

Years ago, I got into Amateur Radio.  Now that was back in the early ’70s.  Before, there was the internet.

Why?

Earlier than that, I had a shortwave radio. I still have it. 

Radio to me was magic.  As a child, I could not understand what magic happened for this voice to come out of this box.  Television was just FM!  Effin Magic…

Anyway, a shortwave radio back in the day opened the world up to me. I fell in love with accents. To get your license to operate the Ham Radio back in the day, you had to learn a lot, including Morse Code.

I wanted it, so I did it.

You and I know that the internet screwed all that up.

Computers were a natural evolution for me.  Spending thousands on an IBM PC with a green screen and floppy was just one box in a transition of many computers.

I would imagine that I owned over the years just about every kind of computer that was made.

They are a horrible investment, but if you wanted to make a career out of it, the time and money were a good investment.

Once the ham radio was part of my daily routine, I met many people worldwide.  I talked to a king of a country that no longer exists.

Now IHeart Radio has been around for a while, but I have not investigated it. Today while doing the regular Happy Birthdays on social media, one of my friends mentioned Radio Garden.

There is an app for that BTW…

A picture of the globe appears, and then it says it is planting seeds.

Hover over a green dot, and Viola, voices from anywhere in the world are now blaring into my office.

Currently, I am listening to a station from York, Australia.

Folks, the world got a little smaller.

Here is my challenge for you.  Tell me in the comments what radio station you listen to and where to find it.

There are so many of you who I see comment or like my posts regularly, let me hear what you hear.

From music to talk radio, tell me about what you listen to.

I have long held the belief that we are but the sum total of our environment.  Our mores and attitudes on life all come from our environment.

Currently, I am working on several projects.  This radio thing might be a distraction; however, I want to know you a little better.

If you are a writer, as I suspect many of you are, what music, if any, do you listen to when you are writing?

This station right now is playing fifties and sixties music.  The DJ sounds like a version of Julia Childs. 

It’s 206 AM on Tuesday here, and it is 406 afternoon Tuesday in York. 

Wrap your head around all that, take a deep breath, and tell me how you are doing.

Much Love -TW

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Baby, It’s Cold…Inside!

Are your buns toasty?

The Butt Effect

Writing a blog post about this subject without putting the politics in it is challenging.

It is almost as if they look for stupid people to run for office.

So, without calling ex bartenders dumber than a box of rocks, allow me to ‘splain’ why Texas got so cold.

Climate change will not kill us all in 10.5 years, as our Nine-year-old expert from the UK claims.

While she might have the patent on glower, at her age, she should be thinking about flowers and possibly learning some science from someone other than an activist.

To explain this in ways that even she can understand, we will be speaking about celestial mechanics. 

When the power went out in my north Texas home, I happen to have natural gas too.  Lighting the fireplace to stave off the chills and wearing several layers of clothes, I quickly came up with a way to explain the current cold snap to the world.

Backing up to the fireplace, I would get rather toasty.  Sitting back down, away from it, I would get rather chilly, much like our Earth in respect to the sun. I could see it, but I could barely feel it unless I got much closer.

What we are experiencing is ‘weather.’

The weather is typical for this time of year, except that we are a few degrees colder than usual.  While Al Gore still has those carbon credits to sell you, changing the label from Global warming to Climate change won’t get him off the hot seat while globetrotting in his private jet.

Climate change is nothing more than a way to control you and your behavior by the ruling class.

If you look at this picture that I drew, you will notice that the Earth is tilted 23 degrees.  During the Summer months, our days are longer, and our nights are shorter.  Since the sunlight has less atmosphere to travel through, more energy makes it to the ground, thus heating things up.

During the winter, the opposite is true, and our friends down under enjoy longer days and more energy to keep things toasty.

If a simple 23-degree tilt can make this huge difference in our temperature, is there anything else that might cause severe weather?

Several months ago, NASA announced that Mars was going through Climate change.

Wait, all the experts tell us that climate change is human-made and we must stop whatever we are doing, or the Earth will die, the plagues will come, and so on.

This had me scratching my head.  Climate change on the Earth and Mars…

Firstly, I wish to address the sun and its eleven-year cycle.  Every 11 years, the sun has these massive storms that toss plasma streams out into the cosmos.  These streams often strike the Earth as cosmic radiation, causing the northern and southern lights.

If you have one or two active storms on the sun, the holes caused by them are larger than the planet Jupiter.  With spots on the sun, that effectively means the sun puts out X amount less of energy that strikes the Earth and other planets.  Think of it like turning your burner on the stove on low and trying to boil water.  Eventually, you will get there. It just takes longer with less heat.

While that could contribute to some variances in our weather patterns, and I think upticks in skin cancers, there is something else. There is something that is much more obvious, but we don’t talk about it. “The Butt Effect.”

When we back our ass up to the fireplace, it gets hot. Hence I am labeling this the ‘Butt effect.’

When we examine other stars for worlds, we search for suns or stars that exhibit a wobble.

The greater the wobble, the larger the planet orbiting it is.  While we cannot see the planet, we can tell from the duration of the wobble, the length of its orbit, and we can guess how large this planet might be.

Here is the thing that our News does not cover because it does not fit the narrative.

Our star wobbles.

If you look at the picture below, you will see what our Solar system looks like today.  Our Earth is almost diametrically opposite of the two largest gas giants in our solar system.

Since we just landed another probe on Mars I wonder if it is colder than usual.

We know that Jupiter pulls the sun half a million miles closer to it as it orbits.  We can assume that Saturn also has a similar effect on the sun.

Notice where Saturn and Jupiter are.

The two largest gas giants in our solar system are yanking on the sun in a similar direction.

If we would pay attention to where the sun is in its cycle and where the gas giants are at any given time regarding Earth’s location, we could determine when we should stock up on firewood.

More importantly, energy providers could predict when it might be unseasonably hot or cold.  I realize that the words Celestial Mechanics might spook politicians and nine-year-old girls, so let’s stick with the Butt Effect.

I am currently working on a new novel which should be ready for the editor shortly. Stay tuned.

Cheers -TW

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Breaking! Meme creator arrested and jailed on charges of creating a political meme.

Is free speech under assault?

I might not agree with you but, I will defend your right to say what’s on your mind.

Since the early days of social media, I learned to fact check my sources before I posted.  While FB still goes over the top on many occasions, I am not an activist, and in truth, I probably have more liberal friends than conservative ones.

We all need to listen to each other, and Free Speech must be protected.  While I will not debate with emotional people, I want to hear what each side has to say.

Tonight I listened to the news as I heard that some meme creator was arrested for creating a meme that the left didn’t like.

I create memes more for fun than anything, but if what I heard was accurate, we have much larger fish to fry than FB fact-checking us to death.

While I still want to know all the details, the story on national TV led me to believe a lie.  It would make anyone who listened upset about their rights to free speech.  If it is on TV, the source is reliable, right?  No….

https://www.nbcnews.com/tech/internet/twitter-troll-arrested-election-interference-related-disinformation-campaign-n1255864

The link is to the story, and it is much more damming than someone putting a MAGA hat on Taylor Swift.

If you can trust NBC News, that reporter paints a grim picture of what this person was up to, unlike Fox, who led its viewers to believe this story is all about free speech and a simple political meme.

I might disagree with you but, I will defend your right to say what’s on your mind. Can you do that?

How many memes have we seen of Bernie the last few days?  This is America.  Can you get arrested now for creating a meme of Mr. Mittens or mocking a US senator? If so, that is a country I don’t want any part of. Mocking our elected officials is like WWE wrestling.  You pick a wrestler and then mock the other one. 

You know Mitch and Chuck smoke a cigar and drink beer together after they call each other names. It is all show for you.

Do not come at me with, ‘there is your problem, you heard it on Fox.’  No, that is not my problem.  I listen to multiple news sources, including those outside our country who have less of an ax to grind. I even listen to the news on shortwave.  Granted, I am basically on a news hiatus at the moment, but this story caught my attention.

The bill of rights must be sacrosanct, period.

I would challenge any of you who are stuck in one camp or the other to check out what each network has to say before you get on social media and rant.  It is hard to find unbiased press these days, which is why I often get my news from down under.  I also happen to enjoy the accent.

When one of your friends starts out a post with WOW! There is a dead give away that they fell for a story like I am speaking about.  Fox nor CNN have a monopoly on sensationalizing a story for ratings.

When each side is so ensconced in their ‘beliefs’ that they are willing to name call or block someone for their opinion, that division will not go away. Are you so insecure in who you are that you would block those that you disagree with?

I have snoozed some folks because they are over the top ranting. I have not blocked anyone.

What if?  What if you are wrong? What if your long-held beliefs that you learned in college are erroneous?  Wouldn’t you want to know?

Regrettably, I have ‘friends’ that are family, who are unable to do this. They are so emotionally invested in their beliefs they cannot even consider that they might be …wrong….

Lots of people drank purple Kool-Aid and died because they followed a crazy person.  The idea that this crazy person could be crazy was just  …crazy…

When your emotions are triggered, someone might very well be manipulating you.  It could be the fact-checkers, or it could be big tech who has an agenda.  It might be news media that triggers you for the ratings.  Hate is a powerful trigger.

Boys using girls showers is a trigger, a diversion.  Emotional triggers are usually the shiny coin the magician uses while he slips a card up his sleeve.

You win public opinion and votes by telling them what is wrong with the world, getting them emotionally invested, and telling those same people who is responsible for it.  It works every time.

There are complete sciences built around manipulating the people. Cults work this way, too, hence the purple Kool-Aid.

As we begin to see the, I told you so’s from friends and relatives, those will not help bring the country together either. Possibly they need us divided, and there are thoughts on that too.

I visit with people all over the world.  Some of them have such divergent cultures from what I am used to; one would think there would be no common ground.  But there is.

I have acquaintances in many different countries because I build those acquaintances on common ground. 

Can we agree to disagree and still be friends?  I hope so.

-Best

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National Underwear Day #NUD

Can we make #nud trend? Pick a day world and let’s do this!

Yes, we will move away from computers and metafiles and all kinds of forensic things.  There are times you have to change the scenery or, in my case, change the topic.

If you own a company and have not put together a business continuity plan by now, the Virus has undoubtedly made it abundantly clear just how much you screwed up.

I am not going to visit with you about disaster recovery or forensic computing today.

Switching gears, I want to talk about the need to stimulate your brain.  Yes, I want to talk about mental health but not in some psychobabble, couch lying, you hate your mother kind of way.

One of the first things I would encourage you to do is change what is ‘normal.’ Insert routine for Normal.

I am the president of a writer’s group in North Texas.  In a few weeks, many of us’ non-essential’ employees will have been homebound for the better part of a year.  Virtual is not stimulating.

When we began to communicate via e-mail back in the early 80’s, I quickly realized just how wrong things could go without the visual or verbal cues we get from in-person communication. 

Here we are a year into this Virus, and we don’t see others.  If we do, they and you are wearing a mask.  We have lost touch, or are losing touch with our humanity.  We have celebrities of all things, preaching from their ivory privileged towers that anyone who does not see something the way that they do, need to be punished.  Can we talk about having lost our collective minds?

As a celebrity, you have a responsibility to be that voice of reason. WTF people?

I was thinking about this, wondering if this is how Jesus met his end?  It is mob mentality, and it is time to put a stop to it.  How?

With Zoom or some other webcam communication, we now can see a face, smile, and yes, sometimes we catch a hint of your home life, including your underwear. 

I have witnessed people in their pajamas, and yes, we catch a glimpse into your home.  Is it a bad thing?

What would it be like to have a national underwear day? I think the distraction would be humorous, delightful, and would shake many out of their comfort zone.  I worked in the medical center for years.  The sight was not pretty but think about it—a dose of reality.   We need something like that to get us talking about other things than the Virus, or politics. National Underwear Day #nud

We need to come together as a people, human people, and make a point of how much the same we are.

I visited a nudist beach once—clothing optional.  Folks, that is a humbling and awakening realization.  Quickly you see just how insignificant you are in the overall scheme of things.

No Mika, you don’t need to tell me what to think.  To the rest of the news media, I have a brain; tell me the facts.  I don’t care if you live in a gated community; when your clothes come off, you are no better than I am.

You have heard of the ugly Christmas Sweater.  How about we have a national underwear day and…we add the qualifier’ audacious.’

People go to the beach wearing less, why not?

Do you realize that would trend in no time? Do it…#nud You know you want to…

We need the small-minded in Hollywood and DC to come to grips with the facts that this is the United States of America and not America’s playground for the rich and famous.

Would a bearing of the souls as it were, cause us to come to grips with we are all the same?

If you strip away the thousand dollar blouses and other designer clothes, would we then see that we are not so different?

Let’s talk about normal, shall we?

Here is the first thing you should change if you have not already done so.  When you crawl out of bed, act as if you are going to the office.

Shower, dress as you would, and yes, make the morning coffee or whatever you would do if you commute.

Arrange to have as many of those calls as possible with the camera on.  That face-to-face time is essential in keeping not only you but your co-workers from feeling isolated.

Keep regular hours.

Turn off the news.

I will not go into a long rant about how craven they are or how they only have ratings on their mind as they spin the facts.  Unless they are Pollyanna or Walter Cronkite comes back and tells you how it is, turn it off.

I am beyond sick of the bias that exists on both sides.

Be careful about any online news sources as they have ratings (in the form of clicks) as their determining factor of what gets published. 

Reagan said to vote with your feet; I say vote with the garbage you allow into your head.

Social media is another excellent place to either visit or abandon. Many keep up with their family and friends, but what they ingest via the news often makes it onto your plate.  I have found that snooze works well for those who are eaten up with the desire to ruin your life.

There is something about using the bathroom and ingesting information from social media at the same time.  It all stinks.  Remember this one fact.  If what you are consuming jerks at any emotion, you are being manipulated.

So, what can you do to keep your sanity?

I am so glad you ask.

Diversify what you do.  While we joke about vacationing to the garage, we will have spring here in North America before you realize it.  Today we hit 66 in Dallas.  The heat is off, the windows are open, and I spent time in the sun.

Yes, indeed, ladies and gentlemen, get outside!

I usually have my first cup of coffee in the sunshine if at all possible.  Your brain needs that light to set your circadian rhythm.  There are probably hormones and chemicals released too, so get outside, even if the weather is not great, stay warm or dry but get some fresh air.

Along with writing and other hobbies, I have taken to ‘tinkering’ with a 3d printer.

If you have ever wanted a challenge, a 3d printer is the ticket.  For less than $200, you can find one at WOOT or Amazon.  These things do not come out of the box ready to print.

Opening the box is a daunting process.  The thing is a kit.

Don’t chicken out or turn away; embrace the challenge.

There are many videos online on how to get it started, and then many more groups that I feel are more like support groups for those afflicted with 3D itis …  Yes, I invented the term.

While this challenge is not for the faint of heart, it is much like learning cross-stitch or knitting. 

Over the last year, I have gone back and re-taught myself many things.  School subjects that I did poorly in now make sense to me. My poor English teacher would probably die again if she knew I was writing and president of the league.

Not only have I published in international magazines, but I have over 30 novels.

Math and history were not interesting to me in school, and now I see them for what they are.  With the internet, there is no limit to the information at our fingertips.

In a roundabout way, I am trying to say this, turn off the damned idiot box and learn something.  Netflix and other entertainment sources are fine, but you can use this time to teach yourself new skills.

I have determined that the Raspberry Pi is a handy computer for the price.  No, it is not difficult.

There are tiny microprocessors known as ESP 8266 that are great fun to learn and play with, regardless of age or gender. (you are never too old.)

As long as this blog post makes sense to you, go forth and enjoy.

Once you look at this time as a positive thing instead of a poor me moment, you can use it to your advantage.

The last bit of advice I would offer to you is this, don’t give the politicians the time of day.

Biden spent 1.5 Billion dollars, much of which came from dark money.  He will be paying those favors back, which is why what he is signing seems counterintuitive to unity, from killing the Keystone to raising the price of insulin. Dark money came from special interests, and it doesn’t take a lot of intelligence to figure out who or from which organization.

Hate is a poison you take in hopes that it will affect someone else.

Anger is beating yourself up for the mistakes of someone else.

Did you know that once you print something with your 3D printer, it is damned hard and sturdy?

Yeah, focus on what you can control and let the other stuff vanish.

Take care of yourselves and those that you care about.  This Virus will not keep us down forever, and anything that guy does with an executive order can be undone with another.

If you see #TEXIT trend, then you might want to watch the news.

-Best

PS…I would not be shocked to see #FEXIT and #TEXIT trend in the upcoming months.

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$200,000 a month for Stripping on webcam?

I somehow doubt her story.

This is a story you just have to read.

Is your jaw dragging the floor like mine?

Many of you know the story, but I had this twitter follower who works in the sex industry just briefly.  Or should we say adult entertainment?

The last thing you will get out of me is judgment. I have friends from all walks of life, and I tend to straddle all of them at times. Walks of life, not my friends…

In my professional life, I chase bits and bytes. A mild-mannered IT person that happens to have a passion for writing novels.  Some of them cross the boundary of nice to naughty. Hell, no, I make no apologies for creating fantasies for you or others like you. I hope you enjoy what I write and it pleases you.

I have not locked into a particular genre as of yet.  They are all fun to create.  With over 30 odd novels published, one would think I would have found my niche.

Maybe I like to explore all of them.  For instance, I wrote a how-to book for camgirls.

‘TW, why are you writing nonfiction?”

I freely give of myself in many different ways.  Local writers don’t know me as TWScott.  They know me as someone who likes to write.  They know me as someone who spends time and energy to assist others in becoming all they can be. Those that know me in person would probably never dream that I would try to help someone working in the adult entertainment industry.

Truth told if you are going to do it, why not do it right?

This twitter follower had a bio that said she was a cyber slut.  Yes, I scratched my head.

If you follow me on my blog, I will peek at your blog and comment.  If you are a Twitter follower, I will look at your bio and possibly your tweets.  If you take the time to reach out to me the least, I can do is recognize your effort.

I followed her tweet, and I found myself on an adult webcam site.

Truth told, that was an eye-opener.  I had no idea such things existed.

If you are over 18 and curious, go check out my free cams.

I tend to get in trouble as a person as I tend to take in my surroundings wherever I am.  I listen to people, watch people, and create in my mind how all of what I am experiencing could become fodder for a novel.

My Free Cams soon became a pivotal story device for Cyber Subs.

That one wasn’t enough, so I used it again in Schadenfreude.

Since those two novels have been published, more of my followers have found me from that site, and others like it.

People, that one site alone has close to 2000 girls on it at any given time.  Now I find places with both men and women, couples, gay, trans, and I am not sure what they do.

Remember what I said, no judging. I am not judging anyone.  My eyes were opened, and I think my innocence was molested by the time I finished my research. 

Some of it is like driving by a traffic accident.  You know you look for the blood, and if you see it, you cringe.

For the most part, I witnessed people attempting to live out some fantasy.  Men were masturbating in hopes someone was watching them. Trans folks were also masturbating.  I must say I have never seen such lovely breasts coupled with a bountiful male anatomy on one person. I chuckled thinking, ‘they have the best of both worlds.

Couples, both gay and straight, are there for your pleasure.

Chaturbate and Stripcam I think, were the other two’s names, but wait, there are plenty more.

How can so many sites exist with thousands of ‘models’ on each site?

During my research for my novels, it hit me why some models were succeeding and some failing. I am a business person, after all.

As the pandemic continues to take lives, people are doing whatever they can to put food on the table.  Some of these girls are putting themselves through school. 

So, I wrote how to be a camgirl and make money.

I don’t market it as people seem to find it without any effort on my part.

It doesn’t make a difference what site you’ work on.’ If you are of that mindset and desire to make extra funds that way, the book is dirt cheap and worth every penny.

Some people go on those sites to be an exhibitionist.  Harvey Weinstein could have gone on there, put a camera on his stuff, and masturbated until he was worn out, and he would have been one of the hundreds.

Some ladies are also on there simply to get naked with the idea that thousands of men want them.  One reported that she felt their eyes touching her.  Good imagination.

Today, it perked my interest when a lady was quoted as saying she makes $200K a week modeling on such a site.  The kicker is, she said, it does not conflict with her Christian faith. 

I want to read whatever bible she is reading. It would be a best seller.

In my research, those girls realistically make about $2K a month.  If they want to make more, they should read my book.

One person purchased the eBook and turned around, and ordered the hard copy.

Honestly, I think many go on those sites to be exhibitionists.  My Free Cams boasts the most registered purveyors of smut.  They are also a girl only site.  Pfizer should be doing well with all the men keeping it up on the rest of the sites.  I did learn this during my research. ‘Not all men were created equal.’

With that, my loves, I will bid you adieu for now.

I am working on bringing Kelly McGuire out of retirement, taking time, as you might guess.

Much love -TW

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Kelly is back!

We don’t take prisoners, we clean up our mess!

I have some excellent news!

Kelly is out of retirement.

Kelly McGuire of Presidential Assassins is out of retirement and back in the forefront of my mind.

If you have not read this novel yet now is the time.  Kelly is one kick ass red head that takes names and kills.

While the good guys skate free the bad ones, are not so lucky.

Presidential Assassins is a thriller that is jammed packed full of action.

Today, she is back.  I have written the first two chapters. 

It amazes me how I can start something like this and all of the sudden the characters come to life and I just have to take notes.

Go find it, read it and wait till you see what she is up to now.

Once you meet her you will want to follow her on Twitter.  Yes of course she has her own account.

There has been much material thanks to the media so, I am full of ideas.  Let’s see what trouble she can get into.

Don’t waste a single day folks, life is short.

Much Love -TW

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Gamma-Ray Burst GRB 080319B

Did you see what I saw?

The following is an accurate recount of witnessing an event that happened 7.5 billion years ago.

The earth is four and a half billion years young. Think about that as I try to figure out how to tell the story…

I have always been a bit of an astronomy nut.  My heroes range from Tesla, Aristotle, Voltaire, Galileo, and the more modern folks Sagan.

Tesla was probably close to crazy, but he thought outside the box.  All of these men thought outside the box.

Einstein would be in this group, except he did not think his invention through to a logical conclusion.

I would never give ‘man’ as he exists in this time a weapon as he did.

From sticks to boulders to viruses, man will use anything as a technical advantage over their peers.  Instead of fixing what divides us, they spend time and energy to find better ways to subdue their enemy, their peers.  I digress.

7.5 Billion years ago, an event of monumental proportions was witnessed by yours truly.

March of 2008, my back was killing me, metaphorically speaking.

Switching on the hot tub, I was soon sitting outside in the cool night air soaking in a bubbling cauldron of chlorinated, heavily salted water.

As the water jets worked to soothe my spasming muscles, I allowed the steam to clear my head.

There is something magical about watching the night sky. Once while floating in the pool during a hot summer day, I witnessed an orange ball of fire with a turquoise flame at the front of it streaking toward the southwest from overhead.  There was no trail of smoke or sonic boom, so I figured it had to be pretty high up as it blazed through the earth’s outer boundary’s

Watching the shuttle chase the ISS was another one of my rare glimpses of human-made oddities in the night sky.

While binoculars are a favorite for searching the heavens, I did not have them that night in March.

Watching for satellites would be fruitless. My part of the world, including that area of space over me, was in total darkness.  It was a little after one in the morning when I switched off the jets and debated if I could get some rest or not.

Taking one last look at the heavens, a bright flash captured my attention.

For a brief second, I wondered if I had stayed in the hot tub too long, when there was another and still yet another.  A succession of flashes about the brightness of a car’s headlights on a dark road continued for a little over ten seconds.

A blast of white with a slight yellow and red color around the edges that resembled an inkspot, lit the night sky.

I sat back, watching them for a second, twiring around briefly to see if something from behind me was causing them.

No, there was nothing from the streets or in the house. There were no clouds of any kind. 

My mind quickly took me to the Marfa lights.  I researched them after I went inside to see if the conditions were right for that phenomenon.  No and no.

What did I see?

Of course, Google searches rendered nothing.

Days turned into weeks of ‘nothing.’ I let it go.

One day, I am researching material for one of my novels, and what appears but an article on Gamma-Ray Bursters.

Focusing on the date and time and the sky’s location at that time of year, I found what I saw.

“It was a whopper,” says Swift principal investigator Neil Gehrels of NASA’s Goddard Space Flight Center. “This blows away every gamma-ray burst we’ve seen so far.” *

“No other known object or type of explosion could be seen by the naked eye at such an immense distance,” says Swift science team member Stephen Holland of Goddard. “If someone just happened to be looking at the right place at the right time, they saw the most distant object ever seen by human eyes without optical aid.” *

Naked-eye Gamma Ray Burst | Science Mission Directorate (nasa.gov)  *

I remember as a kid watching the night sky. Orion is my favorite constellation.  I am sure it has to do with the horsehead nebula or Betelgeuse and its eventual demise.

Since the star is 642 light-years from here, it might already be gone. 

Much like the Gamma Ray Burster that happened 7.5 billion years ago, time marches on.

Look up, my friends.  Check out that Y-axis if you will.  There is no telling what you might see.

Much Love -TW

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Diamond Joe

Just when you think you found the exit, someone moves the door.

Who is Diamond Joe?

Diamond Joe

Buried in her work as a professor, Donna creates a ‘new normal’ after her husband dies unexpectedly. Hiring a horse trainer, Donna’s world turns upside down when Samantha plays to one of her wildest fantasies. Forbidden love captivates both of them. Accepting Sam’s love was only the beginning of the social disaster confronting them.

Here we have the classic story of Cinderella, well, no, we don’t.  This book is nothing like that fairy tale.

You know, speaking one on one, I must tell you, I was thrilled when Hallmark mentioned they would start making movies including a more diverse culture.

When you read this novel, you will get why that is important.  I know there are so many who only judge a lifestyle by some outrageous performance in the street.  Some judge a race solely by the actions they see on the late news.

Not all black people loot, kick white people when they are down, or push white folks in front of an oncoming subway train.

This, these actions are what many see in their living room.

They hear about the shootings in Chicago every weekend, and it is black on black. They don’t see the good that they do, and that is a problem we need to fix.

Conversely, not all white folks think black folks are ignorant.

This novel is not so much about race as it is forbidden, love.

Not all that long ago, interracial romances were not something tolerated by society.  When Sidney Portiere played John Prentice, a black doctor who came to dinner; the movie was groundbreaking.  This was 1967. 

I was a child of the sixties, and I never had an issue with race anything, and I was raised in the south.

Gay, that was a tough one because of my exposure to Levitical teaching.

It wasn’t until I had a deep dive into biology and science that I understood where man screwed things up.

While I never had an issue with the person, it took this ‘enlightenment’ to be ok with their actions.

I won’t belabor the points here because I go into detail in the novel. 

It took me writing about it, developing the characters, and having them interact did I become ok with who they are.

Who is Diamond Joe?

In short, for our story, he is a horse.  Not just any horse.  The story takes on a wild journey through the trials and tribulations of training a racehorse.

I think Diamond Joe is probably one of my favorite books that I have written.  I haven’t read it in a while I might have to reread it.

If Hallmark wanted to make a movie with female lovers, this would be one to consider.  My writing style was more dialogue so, it would be easy to make into a film.

Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you Diamond Joe.  If you like it consider leaving me a review. 

I would love to hear what you thought of it either way.  Use the web portal on the contact page to contact me directly.  www.authortwscott.com

I respond to emails that are not about getting more traffic or auto insurance.

Much Love -TW

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Where are you?

No, I don’t mean physically; I mean something else.  Where are you mentally, spiritually?

With the attack on the capital ten days ago, I was in a rather dark place.  Removing the news,  the TV, and all of my social media friends who were ready to lynch half the country, I needed to get away.

Where the hell can you go?

Besides teaching myself new skills and taking care of a lot of things that need taking care of, I am ready for a change.

Today, my background picture, is of a castle, most probably in Scotland.

By the fog behind it, I suppose it is by a lake or lock.

The rolling hills are covered in dew or possibly frost, but man, are they green.  There is an interesting dichotomy between the castle and some tiny frame house in the foreground.  I have no clue what the little round buildings are with pointy roofs; maybe one of you knows.

Anyway, my mind has been on that farm or those green hills a better part of the day.

I wrote one of my novels where the characters were in Scotland.  I loved the research, and I went so far as to find people to speak with.  Truth told, much of my lineage comes from there. 

I did the DNA thing with Ancestry.  Be careful what you sign up for.  You might not want to know.

It is all fodder for stories.  While we wait for the cure or whatever will come to be, the best we can do is keep a stiff upper lip and push on.

Where are you?

Are you ok?

Are you keeping your wits about you?

Are you exercising and eating, right?

There are stories out there.  There is fodder for your stories and your novels if you are writing one.

When my characters are busy, asleep, or hiding, I find other things to occupy my hands and my mind.

Carpe Diem.

-Best

TW

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What an Honor!

Is it time to blog about my novels?

So, I just looked at my sales for the first of this year.  Last year was good; 2021 looks like it might even be better.

When you realize how many different authors are out there, I am humbled by the purchases.

Before I go much further, allow me to thank you!

Currently, I have no campaigns going.  The news has ‘befuddled’ the creative side of my brain.  I see the remarks on social media, and it hurts. So much of what we hear and read is for some political agenda.

In their angst, and the media’s craving for ratings, they have not only injured the creative side of many people’s brains, but they have hurt the people who they claim to serve.  To regain some sense of normalcy, I find that it helps if I leave my phone somewhere away from me.  The phone is constantly blaring news feeds from CNN or some other site, all with some tease. I don’t need or want the distractions.

The burdens of the pandemic, friends that have passed, and the unknown all play a part in how we deal as a nation and as a people.  The vitriol and animus from the media and the elite class is revolting.

How do we survive the virus and, oh yes, the pandemic?  The virus being politicians.

I escape through my novels and others that I read.  To be a good writer you must read a lot.  Even the books you think are terrible, read them. As you read them before you throw them at the wall, ask yourself why they are so terrible.

In that way, you can make your writing better.  I champion self-awareness, even in my slightly naughty novels.  It is imperative that you know why you like or hate something.

One thing you might try if you too are like I am, go back and read something you wrote when all was well.  I look at the titles that people are buying and remember the stories with fondness—some of those stories I might revisit at some future date.

I find that when I read them, invariably I think of new ways to make it better.  I also enjoy what I write, so it is a win win.

Writing is much like any other activity. Suppose you play a musical instrument or even video games that require some amount of talent.  It will come back to you. I don’t really want to call it muscle memory but, it kind of is.

As to the people buying my work. Thanks again.  If you like it, please leave a review for me.

Reviews are essential, and few leave them.

Here is the kicker, if there is something you didn’t like, contact me via my website at www.authortwscott.com. Go to the contact page and tell me where I missed something.  Many of you have taken advantage of that portal, and I appreciate it.

Feedback makes us all better writers.  Since I am now president of a writer’s group, I have many beta readers, which helps. I love giving back to the community and friends; that is what we are.

Whether I know you personally or though this site, we have that in common.

For now, I am off to another world where the news of the day will be a distant memory.

It is rather funny when you think about it, I dream about my characters.  In many of those dreams I am those characters.

Yes, I lived through the sixties.

Take advantage of every moment you are alive.  Make your mark in history, (in a good way).  I choose to do so through my art and my novels.

Much Love -TW

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I’m Blind!

Do you think you have all the answers?

Ok, not blind but certainly seeing red.

So, here is a serious question.  Can you affect any change in this country’s political atmosphere by bitching about it on social media?  Then Stop.

If you are a writer like I am, the last thing you want to be is an activist. One of my favorite journalists was Walter Cronkite.  Why?  Other than he loved cats, he told it like it was.  No spin, just the facts.

It makes little difference what Trump or Biden said or did. You are going to change nothing by whining about it and, you will piss off half your readers.

That goes for actors and anyone in the public spotlight.  What you do for a living makes you/us more reserved in our decrying foul. 

Under your pen name as an author, your politics should not enter into the picture.

I have one friend who is a writer.  His public displays of venom are so entrenched in his social media post he will never publish.  Why?

So here is the truth of it.

Let’s say you have a desire to be traditionally published.

Everyone thinks they can write and, after NANOWRIMO, the agent’s inboxes are flooded with shit.  No, it is shit for the most part; why? 

A good writer knows to put their baby in a drawer somewhere and start on something else.  After they finish that draft, they pull their baby out and mature it, and so on.

Many of my published works should have stayed in the drawer.  The truth of it is, I needed feedback from you or people like you.  Self-publishing, making mistakes, and learning is how I chose to mature as an author. Now let’s take that to the next level.

I am currently working on a trilogy with magic and gods and witches and all of the things YA love. While my beta readers are looking it over, I am working on it and other things.

Recent events have screwed with my creative eye, so to speak.

My friend, who is spewing venom on social media, is a good writer.  When he queries an agent guess what they are going to do if they like his writing?

Yep, search social media.

When they find his hatred for millions of Americans, how far do you think they will pursue representing him?

I usually don’t swear to swear.  When I do, it is for a reason.  The reason is I want to drive the point home. Don’t fucking share your political shit on social media!

Did it work?

There are some actors that I enjoyed over the years that I can no longer stomach.  They are ugly ass people inside.  If and when I see them on TV, I think of who they really are and switch them off.

That is why they should never use the soapbox to preach to us peons about how we should feel or vote.  They are by far some of the stupidest people who ever walked the earth by what they say.  They are only worth watching because of writers like you and me.  They can remember a script and emote—big damned deal.

They spend their lives delivering line after line on the silver screen, and we fall in love with them.  When we meet them or listen to their take on life living in their ivory towers, I wouldn’t walk across the street to save them from getting hit by a streetcar.

Who you love is the writer or writers that created that dialogue for them.

If you want the world thinking that of you as a writer, go ahead.  Tell the world how you feel.  Then retire and hope you have enough saved up to survive.

Just because you listen entirely to Fox or CNN does not make your point of view any more important than mine or your neighbors.

We have lost the ability to respect differing opinions. It is best to keep your damned mouth shut.

I mean this is the most loving of ways.  I wish my friend would listen as he is a good writer.  He is merely acting like an asshole.

The sun will rise, and it will set.

Those who control the politicians will reign them in, and life will go on.

Read my novel Presidential Assassins if you want to know how it all works.  I bet I am close to accurate.

TATA, for now, Happy 2021.

As 2021 tells 2020 to hold my beer and watch this, buckle up, the ride has just begun.

Much love- TW

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Breaking News!

You think 2020 sucked?

Pictures captured on a cruise liner show that the dead were likely the victims of Murder Hornets infected with a mutant strain of a virus, which is believed to have come from a horseshoe bat. The pictures indicate that the passenger should have been wearing a mask to fool the Covid laden hornets.

We know the virus was a designer virus but until confirmed …’nothing to see here.’

The hornets are now the size of eagles and appear to be growing with the more blood they consume.

As the hornets make landfall, people are advised to wear a mask when outdoors to disguise themselves from the virus, I mean hornets.

When the Trump administration was asked for comment, the president said he would make a deal with them and then tweeted out his response to learn who their leader was.

Biden was asked for his advice, and his reply was “C’mon Man.” It should be noted that he was not prepared for the question when he was found wandering the neighborhood aimlessly.  He claimed to be walking the dog, but all he had was the leash, and no dog.

Congress is busy taking polls to figure out the right response to the threat.

The unbiased fact-checkers have been working hard to scrub any conservative talking points from the web.  They are also scouring news of the Covid Hornets, as they are sure this is a conspiracy by the Trump administration.

Meanwhile, Fauci was asked for his advice. “Stay at least six feet away from them.”

Man, am I glad he is working for us.  Phew.

Disney and Netflix have decided to sue for the movie rights, while both were seen with their photographers getting possible footage for their upcoming movie.  Rumor is it will be titled “You only wish hindsight was 2020.”

They are both claiming that they each read this blog post first, which somehow gives them the rights to run with it.  The Supreme Court is expected to hear the case unless the hornets or the virus get us first.

Another idea for the title floated around was “Buckle up Buttercup, the real fun is just about to start.”

Who knows, maybe Amazon will try to get the rights to it.

Liberal lawmakers have stopped all production of a pesticide that will kill the hornets.  They are concerned that the spray will get into the Ozone and seep into space, causing climate change on other planets.  They have noted that Mars is undergoing climate change right now, and they believe that flatulent cows are at fault.  Their lead scientist, ‘a women on the View who claimed to have once read a science book,’ believes that the gases escape through the hole in the atmosphere and travel to distant planets.

“The peasants must go back to the stone age to be good neighbors in the Universe.”

The science guy has confirmed this, which is causing quite the stir in the scientific community. The Hollywood elite and other business owners are flying to Switzerland in thier private jets to discuss how best to stop the methane gasses from escaping on Mars.

Congress is suggesting that we attempt to reason with the hornets and try to get along with them.  They have noted that a tiny percentage of those attacked dies.  While the long-term effects are unknown, they are encouraged that only the elderly seem to die as they cannot move quickly enough to avoid the dagger or vampire-like teeth.

PETA also weighed in against killing the hornets. All life is precious, unless it is human life.

Bill Gates has decided the best way to combat the hornets is to fool them into thinking it is nighttime.  He is looking at ways to keep the sun’s rays from hitting the earth. The bonus will be the earth will quickly fall into an ice age, where the hornets will slumber until such a time the sun once again shines on a dead planet.

Earth to Bill, Montgomery Burns did this in The Simpsons.  I am confident that his science is just as reliable as yours.

A darker planet would mean less food grown.  If we didn’t freeze to death, we would starve.  I think I will take the hornets. The hornets might actually be edible.

The news media blame the hornets on the Trump Administration for failing to look into his crystal balls.  The president’s job is to consult with his soothsayers and prophets to know what the future holds.  They note that if Trump spent less time tweeting and golfing, he might have seen this coming and taken steps to protect the American people.

Yep, this is how I feel about 2020. From the looks of things, 2021 will be run by people even less intelligent than what we have today.

I hope you had a wonderful Christmas and that you make Merry on New Year’s Eve, no matter where you are.

If you cannot physically be with your family or friends, skype, zoom, or at least call them.  You never know when the Murder Hornets with Vampire fangs and a dagger will be at your doorstep.  BWHAAA!

Here is a virtual toast.  At the stroke of midnight, I will hold my glass up high and take a drink in your honor.  You my friends, readers, and followers, make what I do worth it.  Please join me at midnight on the 31rst, wherever you happen to be.

 

Much Love -TW

 

 

 

 

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The Write Stuff

What would it be like to find an alien world that drives your sex hormones crazy when the third moon rises?

Yes, I know, I love clever.

Nano went off well for me. How about you?  Did you partake in NANO this year?

People ask me how I have managed to crank out so many novels. I don’t watch TV, and I don’t play video games.

Years ago, I complained I didn’t have time enough in the day to do those things that made me happy.  From the time we get up in the morning, we rush here and there to get ready for work. It doesn’t start at daybreak and end with the proverbial Fred Flintstone whistle in my work. Time clock jobs are meant for entry-level employment or factory work of some kind. Personally ‘in my opinion’ those folks will live longer.

My job doesn’t end at five or six or sometimes much later. Since I left the corporate world, where I put in an average of 70 hours a week on salary, now it is for me.  I am a bitch to work for…J

Nobody drives me harder than I do.  I thrive on it. On the rare occasion that the TV is on and I manage to see it, my attention span is there for just a few seconds when I know why I gave it up.

We write because we lack something. I don’t write to sell books, I wish they would sell more than what they do, but that is not why I write. I write because I escape that world or this realm and sneak into mine.

In my world, I can be a button-down person, or I can be a whore.  Think about it. In your novel or your short story, you can be something you are not. What is it like to be a serial killer?  What about a madam?

Picture yourself in the role of a madam. You are holding a crop, and your boss is now your bitch. The fool wanted to be punished for his abuse of women, and he found you.  What would his or her ass look like when you finish?

Maybe you are the naughty boss and require a little over the lap action to set you straight. It is your world; you can be what you want.

In one of my novels, I took a childhood fantasy and wrote it as part of the plot.  I have always wanted to go back in time and have a do-over. While I doubt I will use the phrase hindsight is 2020 much longer, I would do many things differently.

For one, I would value time much more highly than I did.

In my novel Saga of the Starduster, I find myself in the body of a fifty-year-old man.  An astronaut on the ISS.  Out of the blue (or black), a mammoth-sized space ship hovers over them. Sucking the whole thing up into a cargo bay.

Don, my main character, gets probed so to speak but more importantly, through a series of events, he gets to go back to his third-grade class and have a do-over.  Don, unlike what would probably occur, has all of his memories and his education.  He gets to see his mother again after she had passed from cancer. Does he change history?  Does the timeline change?

The novel is a roller coaster of emotions and time travel and aliens, yes, aliens.  

The Saga of the Starduster has the Right Stuff.  It is my best seller.

Nano has seen the birth of another TWScott original.  This novel is 108K words, and unlike anything, I have written to date.  Magic and Mayhem is a young adult coming of age story. Of course, it involves magic and witches and goddesses, and even Fae.

I have parts of it with Beta Readers, and I will be sending it off to the editor soon enough.

Covid Update.

I am still pretending it is Groundhog Day.  My nights and days are screwed up. I am on a first-name basis with UPS, FedX, the Mail delivery person, and even the Amazon guy.  A salesperson happened by the other day, and instead of pretending I was not home, I stepped out and chatted with them for over an hour. Hey, door to door salespeople’s lives matter… I think I did brighten their day. We are friends on social media now.  How strange is that?

The recycle is full of little boxes with smiles on them, as I am making Jeff Bezos even more money than he currently has.

I do have a mystery for you to puzzle.  If I stick a box on the floor, at least one cat will jump into it.  What is the deal with cats and boxes? Even if the package is too small, they will attempt it.

I love to hear your thoughts, what you are working on, and how you are coping.  I am sick of zoom or the virtual world, but I guess it will have to do in lew of hugs and kisses.

Much Love -TW  

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Sign of the times

Finished NaNo with 102K how did you do?

The world is a stage, and we are all just actors. Shakespeare was on to something.  We have learned first-hand just how tenuous our first amendment rights with access to the world through social media. If you support the Orange man, your opinions were invalidated, muted, or squelched by tech moguls who control a narrative. Big Tech is not the only industry to control the narrative. Over the last four years, we have seen the absolute worst from the petulant elite demigods in Hollywood. Now I see the PR agencies are in full bloom, rescuing what is left of their shredded reputations. Who they are on the silver screen is not who they are in real life. We fall in love with the characters, but that is not who they are. What we fall in love with is a façade created by a writer such as yours truly.

I worked at a large PR firm for years.  We came up with new and innovative ways to sell product to consumers, but we also sold people.  Yes, that is correct; when an elitist pig does something that damages their reputation, we develop ways to fix it. We were hired to sell them as the good guys.

Just like Smollet, who faked his mugging to appear to be a victim of gay-bashing, racists Trump supporters, pr firms are working on it.

The man was so stupid that he kept the magazine that he cut the words from to make the infamous Trump Country note.  Yes, a PR firm has worked tirelessly to salvage his reputation.

Of course, corruption is when the DA dropped the case against him after he was caught.  Was she paid to drop the case, did they have something on her, or is she racists and wants to perpetuate the narrative that all Trump supporters are white supremacists?

Are the laws equally applied in this country?  Hell no. If you have money and power, there are a different set of rules for you.

If Harvey Weinstein had hired our firm, we would have tried to come up with ways to salvage his reputation. Someone did, in fact, come up with the idea of him looking frail and old by having him use a walker.

The world is a stage, and you should question everything.

Today I see on the news that one actress has been covered by the media doing something nice for animals. Not mentioning names, but I can guarantee that is a PR firm at work.

When the media begins to blow smoke up their skirts, prevaricates to you about how noble they are, you know it is all just a lie.

What is the take away from this?

If you are a writer, actress, or another public figure, you should keep your opinions to yourself. Some in that business are history, and it won’t matter if they ever work again.

Some who have tarnished their reputation with their vitriolic contempt for half the country will need the services of a PR firm or hope that people have a short memory.

Since I know the tricks, I will happily point them out.  I happen to think that one should be accountable for their actions.  If they screwed up, they should admit it and make a heartfelt apology and not compound their lies with more lies.

Just because you think it, does not make it so.

Your opinions are formed by the input you receive.  Yes, the media is biased, and if you only seek information from firms that you agree with, you are setting yourself up for manipulation by those who espouse propaganda and not the facts.

Lastly, and this is worth remembering, if your emotions are tweaked, you are being manipulated.  For a thespian to risk their entire career because they ‘hate’ something is idiotic. Possibly they should investigate the facts before they make utter fools of themselves.

I hope your holiday was good and I pray that you are safe and well. I have finished my latest novel and am in the process of editing it.

Stay safe and stay tuned; more to come.

Much Love -TW

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Why do customers put your book down?

How is your hook?

Hello fellow readers, writers, and humans…  If you are none of the above and reading this, um, is your planet more evolved than this one? 

I will assume that only humans are reading this, so on with the reason for the blog.

Firstly let me tell you folks in the states, Happy Thanksgiving.  I hope that you had an excellent quiet time with your bird of choice.  Yeah, it was different this year.  Crazy uncle, whoever was not at the table poking his fingers in the air telling us how stupid we were for voting a certain way.  That might be a COVID blessing.

I read a lot.  I write a lot.  I spend more time in front of the keyboard than I care to admit.  One question that comes up often regards marketing their book.  They have the best novel ever written.  After years of trying to get an agent, they stopped wasting time on query letters and just published on Amazon, where Jeff and company make more money than the author if it sells.

The problems are many.

Firstly because of programs like KDP, people don’t value books like we used to.  I could have lived in a bookstore.  When half-price books came into vogue, I came close to living there.  Spending $20 on a book was nothing, especially when you are used to spending a lot more on college textbooks that were hardly ever used.

Along came Kindle and Kindle Unlimited.  Before we knew it, people who still read would not dream of spending $20 on a book when they can find something for free that is close.

KDP and others have programmed the reading community to value the written word as nothing.

Do you remember when Napster and similar music streaming services were online?  Musicians much like authors, should be paid for what you enjoy or consume. I won’t confuse you with too much more of the music industry. I will say that price is one reason your novels do not sell.

Statistically speaking, a new independent author earns $10 the first year. If you knew that going into a book project, would you still do it?

The numbers are sobering, but they put things into perspective.  Writing is hard.  Anyone can tell a story, but can you write the story as a real novel? 

Confusion on the reader’s part is one reason many books get placed back on the shelf. They are standing at the bookshelf in a major book store, and they see the spine of your book.  What is on the spine?

Your pen name, and the Title.  There might also be some color in the artwork.

Let’s assume that by magic, you picked the right fonts, colors, and Title intrigued them.  I am not going to lie and tell you the size and feel of the book doesn’t matter; it does.  Not very much but in the physical bookstore, everything matters. Suppose you could incorporate a certain scent in the pages that would be cool.

When the cover is opened, what do they see?

Her breath was haggard from the nightmare.  The tangled sheets must have been why she felt as if the trees in the forest had captured her—falling to the floor, pulling herself from the fabric, Priscilla headed to the bathroom.  Had she looked behind her, she would have seen the muddy footprints on the carpet from the forest floor in her dream.

Meh, never start a story with a dream scene but, I kind of like it.  Would that cause you to read further?

How about this one:

Silence filled the cabin of the craft as the engines ceased to function.  The gauges warning low fuel were still flashing an amber warning.  Steve knew they would be cutting it close, but, he never dreamed he would be tens of thousands of miles from his rendezvous with the space station, and no fuel. 

The asteroid that pulled them off course was not detected by the agency. Laden with supplies for the station, the one thing they did not have was fuel.  They had a week to figure out if they were still on course. Then they had to figure out how the space station stops them from heading out into the void between galaxies.

Hmm, I like that hook too.

Yes, the hook, as in fishing, is essential.  The hook is your bait.  Once you know who your audience is, you write for them. 

In our critique group, we have several different authors who write in other genres.  The second hook would not be well received by many of them as science fiction is not their thing.  In the first hook, we can guess that magic of some kind is involved.

A strong hook and a non-confusing story is only a small part of the process.

From POV to story structure, we are only scratching the surface of writing a novel that will sell.  My advice to writers is this.

Sit and write your story. Don’t worry about any of the ‘stuff’ that must be part of your novel to be any good.  Just tell the damned story.  Too many overthink it and never get the first story published.

Once you get the story on paper, stuff it into a drawer and start something else. Come back at it with fresh eyes months later and edit it. I always have what I call a manifest right after the title page. It includes all the pertinent information about the characters, places and so on.

I am close to 40 novels published, and I keep going.  Why?  Practice.  The story is the easy part.  Think of something that excites you, put yourself as the MC, and write the blooming story. Vomit it out until you wretch, and nothing more comes out.  Store that manuscript in a safe place and then write another. Don’t think about publishing an unvarnished attempt at a story.  Let it age.

When the next novel is finished, put it in that drawer and then read it as if you are seeing it for the first time with a fresh look at it.  Yes, have your red pen handy and make notes, lots of notes.

Wait, her eyes are green in this scene and blue in this one…  The list of issues will be mind-boggling.

Tackle them one at a time.  You will learn that you have to flesh out other characters and scenes that were very clear in your head.  Now a few months later, you have no idea what you wrote.  That is a good thing.

I had no one to assist me when I started this journey.  I made all the mistakes, and yet I am still here, still writing.  I am attempting to lift others on the same road as I travel. Why?

Why not?  I know many who are so competitive that they would not lift a finger to assist another writer.  That is sad. When you draw that last breath, what will others say about you? 

Some will say…’ it matters not.’

With as many novels and works of art that I have out there, I hope to be more than a footnote in history. Would I change anything that I am doing now if I knew nobody would care?  No, I care.

When I write you my lovelies, and I am not just spitting niceties into the wind. If I can lift you up in some small way either by my words, works, or actions, then that is a life well-lived.

One of my characters in one of my novels said. “When I slide into the grave, I want to have left it all out there on the field of life.” 

That was one of my early novels I need to go back and re-write.  I loved it, but I know I can do better.

I hope you got something out of this blog.  Take care, and have a great weekend.

Much love -TW

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Hello from my Hell

Are you ready to leave the planet?

That title sounds so dark. I guess I should explain why it is what it is.

Three weeks to flatten the curve has turned into a prison sentence, with Neanderthals attempting to cow me into some form of submission of their warped sense of the facts.  While I am much too nice to ‘flip someone off,’ the rude finger came close to making an appearance the other day.

I order my groceries, and I wait patiently for them to show up outside my vehicle.  Frequently I end up with several items missing.  My guess is the pickers are either too lazy to find them or get them.  I can say this with some amount of certainty.  Friends of mine had been forced to go into the store after similar experiences.  When they were told they were out of this or that, they went in to find a shelf of it.

I wish this were an isolated incident, but it is not.

I have a mask that I wear if I am forced to be around people.  The mask is rather telling as it has cat asses printed on the material. Yes, it is my passive-aggressive nature on full display.  Today once again, I left the store waiting at a light when some ‘lady honked her horn and pointed at my uncovered face.’  Um, I am alone in my car with the windows up; what does she expect from me?

Again the rude finger about made a showing but, these are stressful times, and these idiots have no idea why they are prattling on about things they know nothing about.

The virus is .001 nm.  You need an ELECTRON microscope to see it.  Your mask under an electron microscope looks like a chicken wire cage.  The virus, in comparison, is hardly a dot.

“But TW, you are saving lives by wearing a mask.”

In my car?

Unless you can get the real PPE and are trained on how to wear it, you do little to protect yourself.  And here is the big truth of it, pay attention.

If that mask is not worn correctly, your breath leaves you and follows the path of least resistance.

“TW, what do you mean?”

I mean, unless that thing is tight to your face, everywhere, it will bypass the mask and go out wherever those leaks are.  Usually, that is up past your nose, and yes, like a mushroom cloud, those particles or germs and viruses travel on the Y axis, straight up.  So my lovelies, if you go into a store and others are wearing masks that are not fitted correctly, they are pushing copious amounts of the virus, if they have it, straight up. 

I would love to have a thermal camera and show this as a demonstration. A picture is worth a lot of words.

Since the thing is .001 NM (nanometers), you can bet that it has very little mass.  Much less mass than, oh say …dust.

How many of you have ever sat on the couch with a ray of sunshine cutting through the room.  In that ray of light, you see the sparkles of dust.  You pat the sofa, and the air is filled with clouds of speckles.  Do they drop like bricks?  No, and they have much more mass than the virus, even a virus that is ‘heavy with moisture.’  That virus in that moisture will very quickly lose its H2O counterpart and stay aloft for hours. It will remain aloft until it lands on your food, your body, clothes, packaging in the store, and so on.

While the media is lying to us all by not using the words ‘electron’ in their microscopic descriptions of a mask and the virus, little old ladies like the aforementioned are doing their best to cow the rest of us to tolerate their uninformed bullshit.  Oh my, where are my manners.  I meant El Toro De Caca!

Here is the truth of it.  If you can smell anything while wearing a mask, it is not protecting you.  Perfume esters, smoke particles, and yes, those silent farts that kill us all are made up of things that are .4 NM or larger.  The virus is .004 to .001 NM.  That means if you can smell it, you are wearing something that will allow farts to enter the room. Fart molecules are much much larger than that tiny little .001 NM virus.  Got it yet?

I see people wearing a bandana, which is less protective than panties. Those are the people who are preaching to us about how irresponsible we are. FFS!

How much longer can we keep the rude finger in the holster?  How much longer can we smile and mutter ‘fuck you’ under our breaths?

Many of you know my roots are from the UK.  Churchill was a cousin of mine.  On the opposite end of the scale from Winston, is a lady also from the UK that I would pretty much disagree with her on everything but, one of her songs.

Lilly Allen was made known to me by a younger crowd when I was having a particularly bad day.  One of her songs made me happy.  It still does.  If you have not heard it, look it up.  It is the infamous fuck you song.

To all the idiots out there who ditched science classes, and are now preaching science to those of us who didn’t skip those classes…Yeah…Fuck You Very Much! 

But TW, what are we to do?

The first thing is to know the truth of it.  The lies peddled by the media are hurting people. 

You wear your knickers over your nose and think you are protected.  That misinformation, those lies are why we have the spike in cases.  They want to weaponize the information and blame people for it, but the truth is, they know what I am telling you.  The real question is, why are they not telling us the truth?   Why are they blaming people who voted a certain way?  Why are they doing more damage by pointing the finger at groups of sick people and folks who are tired of staying at home?

Those are the questions you should be asking of your blooming media, who come off as informed with their black-rimmed glasses.  Folks, they are actors and are stupid actors at that.  They are hurting everyone in the world.  They are the enemy of the people, everywhere, in every city, town, and country.  Until they can report the facts without the bullshit, they are the enemy and are state-run, Joseph Goebbels style propaganda.  You might as well be listening to Pravda or the stations from North Korea. 

Stay out of crowds.

Know your mask is not some shield like on Star Trek. It will blunt the distance of a sneeze or cough on the X Axis but, it will direct that same sneeze or cough up past your nose to hover over the masses for hours.

Even if you have the masks reserved for health care workers, you would need proper training to know how to wear it.  By the way, if you did have that mask, by the end of the day, your face would be bruised.  Yeah, it has to be about that tight.

When this mess started back in February, I purchased ozone generators.  Ozone sanitizes the surfaces of things and kills germs.  No, I have no stock in any bloody company; I am just telling you that Ozone is one possible thing you might consider, especially during the winter months when you cannot open your house up.  Be warned; Ozone is an irritant to your sinuses.  That means my lovelies, don’t run it in the room while you are in it and air out that room before you occupy it.

Suppose I owned a restaurant, school, church, etc.; I would run them at night to flood the area with Ozone.

I have one that will do half the house during the nighttime hours, and another I can put in a closet during the day to sterilize clothes and such.

Yes, there is science behind what I am telling you.  However, I don’t know if it will get through the shell of that virus or not. A virus is not a living thing per se.  Since I don’t own, or have access to an electron microscope, perhaps one of you can get me a grant to do some research.  Someone has to step forward and cut through the bullshit.

While I cannot fire the media, I can turn them off, and I have.  I would suggest highly that you do the same.  It is past time we take power away from those demigods telling us what to think.  Yes, Mika, I saw that film. I will never forget you said it.

As a writer, I would suggest you read a book or two.  Start with Animal Farm or perhaps 1984.

Need something newer? Presidential Assassin is a novel I wrote a few years ago.  I think a sequel might be on the way.

I do care about you.  That is part of my frustration.  I read your blogs; I hear you.  Know that I, too, am hurting and am pissed.  I feel as if idiots rule us, or perhaps there is a darker, more nefarious presence at work.  Follow the money.

Much Love -TW

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Day Three of NanoWriMo

If you want to vote on something important, tell me what you think about my pen name question below.

I want to start this blog for my friends in the States. If you voted that is all you can do. Your voice matters. While I pray that your voice came from informed sources and not those of the biased media, your task is completed.

Stop fretting over what the results may be.

If you read my novel Presidential Assassins I feel like there is more truth buried in the story than one might think. You will draw comfort from that novel if you need it or would like it.

Now on to what you can do. If you are like me get to writing. I have reported my 12.6 K words and will spend a little of that writing time to share this with you.

Magic and Mayhem which is my latest novel is coming right along.

Here is a question to authors everywhere. TWScott is my pen name much like many writers use. Everything I write to date has been under this name.

My latest novel is nothing like any of the previous novels, as this is a YA. Coming of age witch story.

Since this novel is not racy like other works, do I publish it under a different pen name or, do I plod ahead and use TWScott?

Advice on the matter is all over the board.

Do I self publish like everything else or do I go through the excruciating efforts of trying to prostitute myself out to agents?

You know what, in keeping with elections stuff, VOTE!

Should I publish YA stuff under a different pen name than my racier, well naughty stuff?

Which one should I do and why?

As for NaNo, my goodness write my lovelies. If you are a writer or author carve out some time away from the telly and write. Trust me they are just selling advertising time anyway. Vote, write and worry about the results when they are posted.

Much love -TWScott

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This is a short pep Talk

Elections are Toxic…Start writing!

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Never before have I ever…looked forward to November 1 like I am currently. Why?

No, the elections in the States are not why.

I saw a meme that depicts it all…The left wing and the right wing both belong to the same bird. So true.

We would do better to force our elected officials to hold those that hide behind the first amendment accountable for the propaganda they spew. Over the last few years they have gone above and beyond to yell fire in an auditorium.

They should be held accountable. The riots, the deaths, the looting and destruction are their fault. Why? They are telling the world what to think and what to believe. They use emotional triggers to foment hate among the tribes. They play to the worst elements of society and to the most vulnerable.

Every despot that ever lived did the same thing. Many are too ignorant of history to recognize the playbook.

One of our parties is running on the Green New Deal, which is the same thing as Mao’s Great Leap Forward, you know the one where he murdered forty million people. You wonder how people could be so stupid as to fall for it.

So why November 1?

#NaNoWriMo

But TW, you have over 36 novels published…why?

Because my dear friends, if you are partaking in this event I want to hear about it. If I can lift you up, encourage you, or be your cheerleader, let me know.

If you follow me you know that I value each of you. Yes, I read many of your blog post and yes, there are nights things that I have read keep me up, sometimes on my knees.

I don’t care what your belief’s are or where you live. If you are reading this we have something in common, more than just the color of our blood.

By now you should have your outline finished, you should have an idea what the contents of your 50K words will be and if you don’t, start now.

Yes, one of my gifts is, I can crank out 50k words tonight.

That is one of the first things as a person you should evaluate. What are your gifts?

Clint Eastwood said “A man’s got to know his limitations.”

Folks, the converse it also true. What are your strengths. Even in my naughtiest novels I write about enlightenment. That is part of what makes me who I am. I know who I am. I know what I am about. When I find a deficit in my character I will move heaven and earth to fix it, or at the very least mitigate it.

Yes this is what I hope to leave as my legacy.

There are countless religions and philosophies and most of them weave into the tapestry that makes them, becoming a better person.

You cannot become a better anything until you know that person in the mirror.

That you can do through your journaling, writing and of course you could spend tens of thousands of dollars paying someone to tell you but, that just makes someone else rich.

Lets get writing!

Much Love -TW

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Reviews, Feedback and yes, some Assholes

Have you had someone just trash your book and give it one star?

One of my favorite little bathroom books is a quick read called ‘Dear Asshole.’

The authors are Jillian Madison and Michelle Madison. 

Before I became an author, I was known well for my ‘Dear Shithead’ letters.  When someone gave me this book for my birthday, they knew I would appreciate it.

Dear Shithead, letters never made it to their intended audience as written.  Instead of sitting around fuming over the world’s injustices and stupidity, I would take to the keyboard and write.  They were probably rants in truth, but they never saw the light of day.

Many, too many of them were directed at my boss, who only had the position as he was a good liar. I think he had pictures of his boss with someone’s wife, but that is another story.

If you need to vent, writing such a letter is an excellent way to do it; just don’t hit send.

Now, on to the reason for this post.

I research a lot of stuff for my writing.  Part of that research is to look at what other books are available in that genre.  Lastly, I look at the reviews.

Here is some ‘shithead’ advice from someone.

“Just because you can write, does not mean you should.”

I love how people who write shit like this always post under a pseudonym.   Firstly, Asshole or Shithead, pick your adjective; you suck. 

No, this was not written to me or one of my novels.  One day, as there are shitty people who build themselves up by criticizing others, such a comment might be directed at me. 

Have you published a book?  

It takes guts to write a book, believe in that book, and then put it out there for assholes to write negative shit about.  I am perfectly ok with constructive criticism.  I welcome it.  Any writer should; that is how we improve our craft.

It can cost an easy $1000.00 for an editor to read your book and fix things.  Most self-published authors might make $10 the first year.  Now, the cover art is another bugaboo in that you can spend $500 on.

One of my author friends spent over $5000 to get her book on the market, and it is just sitting there.   In truth, unless you can score an agent or are very rich, it is a tough market.  If you can afford to navigate the shark-infested waters of predators, your novel is not going to be up to the quality of one published by Simon and Shuster.

This particular author has it for free on Kindle Unlimited, which is the kind of abuse he is getting.

If you cannot say anything nice, or at least constructive for your free read, keep your mouth shut!  That is why people write books like Dear Asshole.  You should get that book and read it in front of a mirror.  I would wager more than one of those pages will apply to you.  Just try to put yourself in someone else’s shoes before you write bullshit poison pen nonsense.

This world needs much more love and a lot fewer assholes!

Ever notice how you might be in line at the store, and everyone is polite.  You get in your car, and those same people will run you over while flipping you off.  That is the world we live in, and we need to change it.

Whew!  For you authors, if you would like constructive criticism as time permits, let me know.  With NaNoWriMo in a day or so, my time is limited but, I believe that a rising tide lifts all ships.

I donate a lot of time to local writers groups.  That is what I think we all should do.  Lift each other up instead of using them as a stepping stone to lift yourself while on their backs.

I know people who will Beta Read for a whopping $20… Can you imagine someone who will do that?

Yes, I have used them.

For you authors, realize that objectivity is not going to be your strength.  Also, understand that other authors will give your novel a one-star review because they have written something that competes with yours.  Yeah, some people suck!

I ignore one-star reviews, especially if they are under a pseudonym. Let’s face the facts; we give a percentage of the book away for free.  If they look inside the cover and buy it for a whopping two dollars after reading some of it, and then give it one star…sorry, that is unbelievable.  

I hope you find this post informational and inspirational. 

Much Love -TW

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Another Week in the Books

A mere 642.5 light years from here.

Hello fellow writers, poets and readers.   The sun is three hours from switching the stars off.  I took an opportunity to climb out of my warm bed to check out Betelgeuse.  A mere 642.5 light years from here it is practically in the neighborhood.

The star is a red giant and is part of the constellation Orion.  Orion is my favorite constellation.

While the Big Dipper was most probably the first one I learned as a child, Carl Sagan opened my eyes to much much more.  With his iconic Billions and Billions of stars, Cosmos was one of my favorite PBS programs.

My novel Under Roswell had an adapted image of him on the cover, which I painted.   Since the original cover, I changed it after re writing the novel.

This morning the temperature is 41 F, no wind and the stars were easily spotted.  Even with the moon, Mars still in its close proximity to us cast its reddish glow.

Betelgeuse is dying and for all we know it may already be dead.  Its luminance has waned dramatically last year which means 641 years ago, something happened.

This morning it seemed like it might be a little brighter than it was last spring.  Any number of things could account for its magnitude.  From air pollution to an actual change in the star.

Why all this talk about Orion and the Stars?

If you have ever walked into a cathedral and looked up, there is purpose for its size.  We don’t have an image or statue of God to compare our lives to but, we have ‘his house.’

I reject man’s attempt to compare man to god in such a manner.  I understand why they do it, but, I don’t need it to revere God.

Now my friends, if you stand beside the ocean, which is a perspective I can appreciate.

Find a night like tonight, and go out and look up.  There are Billions and Billions of stars and we are made of Star Stuff.  That is humbling and that is why I identify with Orion and Betelgeuse.

Make the most of the time you have.  Remember, hate is like a poison you take in hopes it will affect someone else. 

Much Love -TW

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I Get It

Conspiracy theories are the stuff of writers everywhere.

I read many of your blogs where some of you are bitching about the virus.  It is not so much the virus you are complaining about but how it has affected your lives.

Total truth in transparency, I am too.  I am a people person.

When you discover that you forgot your mask and have to return home just so you can pick up a few things at the store, yes that bites.  That is the problem with using a mask we wash.  So, keep a few store-bought ones in your purse or car.

Some of us are so vain that wearing a mask covers that expensive dental procedure or perhaps yes, that last minor fix from the dermatology folks or even our friendly surgeon who erases the effects of time.

I get it. 

Some are so self-centered that they don’t give a damn and do what they want or what they feel.  The truth is your ignorance does not excuse you from being responsible for your actions.

Those of us who ‘think’ know that for the foreseeable future, life will look different.  Until the political elite stops using the virus as a cudgel and get the truth disseminated among the rest of us, only then will we honestly know what ‘normal’ is.

In the states, if it were up to me, I would vote every long term politician out of office irrespective of political stripe.  Talk is cheap, and that, my friends, is all they offer talk and lies.

While a particular politician told us not to worry about the virus, she was investing heavily in Amazon.

When public servants become millionaires, you should kick them to the curb.

Our social media platforms are working against us, too, which is troublesome. I posted a question about an individual person’s laptop, and my account was suspended.  That is an infringement on free speech.  I happen to believe that selling access to the Vice president of the US is treason. Why is the media covering this up?  Why are the social media giants carrying water for them?

While the reality of conspiracy plays out on the nightly news and the tabloids, as a writer, it is all fodder for my next Kelly McGuire novel.

I finished rewriting and redoing the cover on Presidential Assassins The God Killers last night.

In preparation for NaNoWriMo, I wanted to finish this project so I could jump into my next project.

Check out my book and tell me what you think.  If you like it, leave me a review.

COVID has changed all our lives.  The holidays will not be the same.  Those special dinners and times when you go over the river and through the woods might not happen this year.

Grandma has Skype and Zoom, and just maybe it is time for you to learn how to make her stuffing or perhaps pumpkin pie.  If you live by yourself like many of us, well, just maybe it is time for you to pick up a good book, sit back with your hot tea and a warm blanket, and get lost in the world of a writer’s mind like myself. 

I will not hazard a trip to my children’s house if there are grandkids who wipe their snotty noses with their fingers.  They don’t appreciate the invisible enemy’s hazards and what it can do to more mature individuals.

As much as you might want that cuddle time, it is not worth it. Call them, skype them, or even use Alexa to talk with them.  Find a way to connect where you are safe.

For us writers, NaNoWriMo is upon us; why not use this time as an excuse to hide in your lair and allow your imagination to run wild.  Unleash your mind and vomit the world you dream of on the screen or paper.

There is a race to the cure, as there are considerable dollars in play.  Someone will come up with something soon.  The snow will melt, the leaves will return, and 2020 will be a blip in the history books.  Those of us who have lost people will remember them, honor them and press on as we must.

That bell will toll for us soon enough, don’t waste your days waiting on it.  Make your mark, tell your story, and reach out to those that you love.  Find light over dark, love over hate, and stop lamenting that which you cannot control.

Much love –TW

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Do you fall in love with your characters?

Are you writing about you?

Greetings, my fellow writers, authors, and friends.

I find it exhilarating when a character becomes more than a Skelton.  We, you and I start with an idea, and before you know it, we have become Gods.  Yes, we have created the Sahara or perhaps a moon with an atmosphere the Earth’s size that happens to orbit a failed star.

The tension, of course, is, what is the stability of the failed star? How close must the orbit be to a gaseous giant that is only working at twenty percent?

Our Captain ‘Dirk’ is either a lovable single syllable kind of guy, or perhaps it is a fierce redhead who her subordinates refer to as sir.

Somewhere in the pages, our characters become real to us.  We see them.  We can hear their soft sexy voice or perhaps the shrillness of her commands as she orders the helmsman to face the enemy five times their might.

Having written over 34 novels and then some, I find that my characters come to life in other stories.  They call that crossover, but, to me, I think it might be a little deeper.

What if we are creating the perfect lover?  When we play god, what if our needs and desires leak out from our axiomatic ink wells and land on our proverbial parchment paper?

Guess what my lovelies, they do.  If you want to know someone in an even more intimate way than perhaps their spouse knows them, read what they write.

Even on these blogs, I read many blogs that you all write.  You see, pets, if you are following me, the odds of me ever getting a hug or even a handshake are distant.  There are a few of you who I wish I could hug; I feel your pain in your words.

I peruse your musings.  Some of you keep it very much business and use your blogs to eke out a living. 

The truth is I have a company, a job that occupies much of my time.  I should be writing murder mysteries inventing a new Sherlock Holmes.  We could use a Digital aware investigator, with the charm of an English gentleman, don’t you think?

I write because it removes me from this world.  My characters, for better or worse, are all parts of me. My god, I think I know where they came up with the story for Cybil.

Some poor bastard fell off his trolley, and they left him or her with a pen and paper.

I have read many of your posts. Some made me laugh, some cringe, and others cry.  The world we currently live in sucks in so many ways.  I would count those ways, but that is counterproductive to who I am as a person.  To me, the glass is half full.  It must be.

How do we not fall off our trolley?

If you are young and healthy, I think you go about your life.  I believe that living in fear will create toxicity within you, much like harboring hate will. Those of you who have written such blogs, you know I am speaking with you.  Notice I did not say at you.  From me to you, this is a gesture of friendship and love from a stranger. I share what I do, so you know that you are not alone.

Like so many others, these words are much more revealing than if I were walking down Main Street anywhere, naked.  Our Body is but a house for our soul.

My relatives come from the other side of the pond.  Winston Churchill is in my family tree. I’m not too fond of cigars, but brandy, now we both could agree on that. I can picture him and I sitting in a library sipping brandy while discussing what must happen to save the country.

My characters are all parts of my soul, from my cheeky redhead in Presidential Assassins to Don in The Saga of the Starduster.

My god; what fun that was to be abducted by aliens!  To trek across the voids of space to wake up in a space station in another Galaxy.  Don, part of me, was kidnapped by a ship full of nudists.  Can you imagine nude aliens?

Kelly, she is part of me too.  She is the part that takes no shit from anyone.  Trust me; I have that side.  Unlike many of my writer friends, I love to shoot guns.  From skeet to competitive target shooting, a bad guy does not stand a chance in hell should he or she trespass.  That is one reason I can never return to where my cousin did so much, for so many, to have it all taken away by so few.

To be stripped of my right to bear arms is unconscionable.

Presidential Assassins is a thriller and a half, with sex and action.  Much more action but damn, Kelly is …mmmm.  It is too bloody bad Kelly could not get turned loose today.

There are other novels, some very naughty and some nicer.  My point is, all of those characters are parts of my Cybil. 

When I am at conferences, I don’t wear a badge that says TWScott.  I rather like that incognito mode.  You see, some might only read the naughty novels and think I am less of a person than they are.

That is why we use pen names, so the judgmental assholes of the world don’t piss in our cheerios. Yes, we walk among you mere mortals, so beware.  The truth of it is we all have our bedroom face and thoughts.  Those who would look at you or I, and think less of us should look into the mirror.

I hope this epistle brings you some comfort, some joy, and some laughs.  I meant what I said about not being alone.  There is much more that ties us together than tears us apart.  Those who preach hate on the cable channels are the assholes you should gird your loins to avoid. Someone is paying them to spread lies, misinformation, and well, propaganda.

Much love -TW

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Why Do We Write?

Here is an example of POV switching.

I lead a group of writers where I live—inspiring them to write means that I must also be encouraged to write.

Here, let me inspire you.  This piece is off the cuff.

The waves crashed around her while walking the smooth sand.  Water had made the beach appear like silk with a sheen capturing the streaks of orange and shades of red from the morning sun.  Seabirds called to her as she made her way to her special place.

There among the rocks left by time and tide was her place.  A thrown of sorts created by Poseidon for his daughter.  That was her idea of it.  The wind blew through her sheer cover as it had done so many times before. 

She scanned the horizon to find nobody.  This time of year, the tourists had all gone home. 

The usual echoes of children’s screams and mothers telling them “stay close to the shore” were not there.  Other than the birds and the waves, ambient sounds were devoid of humankind.  It was sad in a way as she enjoyed the laughter of children making sandcastles.  Where were they today, she wondered.

The invaders with funny accents, and strange smelling lotions, were missing.  Most probably, many of them would be in a tiny desk, with the scent of chalk and crayons and the echoes of Miss Manners teaching them how to read and write.

Poseidon or one of his minions had erased all evidence of their invasion.  Locals had scoured the beaches, removing plastics and broken beach things, leaving it as pristine as Athena would want it.  

More birds cried out as if to welcome her. The scent of saltwater mixed with the occasional aroma of a bakery on 24th street. A mere half-mile from her thrown was where she would re-join the humans selling fresh muffins, teas, and coffees.

Jessica did not mind the locals.  Many of them, she looked forward to seeing.  There was Old Man Tanner, who always smiled while ordering his slice of banana bread and black coffee.  She would glance out the window at him, sitting under the umbrella reading an old tomb. The breezes tamed by the seawall would lift crumbs off his plate, feeding the small birds at his feet.

Then there was Priscilla.  She was a few years younger than Tanner but a widow, much like him.  Smiling at Jessica, she knew that her motive was transparent to everyone except Tanner, as she collected her slice of iced lemon loaf and her latte.  As she passed Tanner, her small dog stopped at his feet, sniffing of them, catching his attention. 

Tugging at her leash, Gypsy was going nowhere until Tanner scratched at the soft fur between her ears.

Tipping his hat to Priscilla, she smiled as the events played out much as they had for the last few weeks.

“Have you heard from Joe?” Old lady Simmons asked.

Breaking her attention from replacing a tray of muffins, Jessica looked into her piercing stare. 

The morning at the beach had been to clear my head from the letter I received yesterday. 

I could answer her in the affirmative, as Joe might say.  In truth, they had redacted much of the letter with large ugly black streaks, I was not sure if I had heard from him or his sergeant.

“Yes, well, I think so.”

The look on her face most probably mirrored my own.  The half-smile told me she remembered when her husband was in Vietnam. “They still use black marker?”

I shook my head.  “You would think with technology; we could find a way.” My voice trailed off.  She knew her words brought my fears up to the surface once again.

Martha Simmons had been a resident on the island for eons.  Her husband passed of cancer, and she swears to be damned; it was from what they used to defoliate the trees.  I would not argue with her as it was pointless.

“I am having a small party this Saturday.  Come by.  I know you would be the youngest, but I would love to have you.”

She was dear.  Martha wanted to take over for my mother after she passed. 

One of the arguments I would have tried to make to her regarding her husband is this. Tom and my mother both died of the same type of cancer.  I feared that the power plant across the bay might be at fault, but I had no way to prove or disprove it.

Joe might know how to make sense of it, but he was off in a desert a half world away looking for ghouls who sew the seeds of hate in their every action.  I just wanted him home.

******************

Yes, I just created this in the last twenty minutes, give or take.  I wanted to play around with switching from the third person to first.  How did I do?

POV is a very tricky part of the writing process.  While writing provides us with an escape from life, we can also use a short prompt to improve our craft.

Speaking of writing, I think I just wore out my Logitech Keyboard.

I love this particular keyboard, as it is ergonomically well designed.  Every time I hit the “quote,” the mark does not appear until I hit another key.

I changed out the batteries and it still does it.

This is the first keyboard I had to purchase stick-on letters as I have worn the paint off the CVJKLOP keys.  LOL

The model is the K 350…

Do you have a favorite?  What is it, and why?

Ok, well, happy Saturday to you.  If you like what I wrote, spend a minute telling me why. What worked and what did not.  Would you like more of it?

Much Love -TW

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Open letter to the presidential team on Covid-19

It appears we know less now than we did.

Dear Dr. Fauci and company,

I think it is fair to say that information and guidance regarding COVID has at best been inconsistent.

Early on, I asked if the virus was airborne.  We were told no.

The virus is .004nm in size; you need an electron microscope to see it.  If we were to examine a mask under such a device, one must wonder what a mask would resemble.  Instinct tells me if one can smell anything wearing a mask, the virus will go right through it.  Most esters and smoke particles are much larger, around 4nm.  If you can detect the scent of hand sanitizer or the Sulphur from a lit match, either the mask is ineffective, or you are not wearing it correctly.

If your breath is fogging up your glasses, guess where your virus is going?  Yep, into yet another orifice, your eyes. Of course, it is now vertical or on the Y-axis.

Do you feel like people are too stupid to grasp this concept, or perhaps you think the mask is a psychological placebo, giving the masses the illusion they are doing something?

Is the virus airborne?

Have we attempted to trap air samples in crowds to determine the virus’s PPM?

I read where you have said that vitamins and other costly efforts are ineffective against COVID. Let’s look at the converse, are there things we do that make us more likely or susceptible to the virus?  

At this time of year, typically, many of us get a flu shot.  Usually, after we take one, speaking for myself and others I have talked to, we develop mild cases of flu-like symptoms afterward.

Does this scenario not make us more susceptible to catching COVID since we are now less well?

Even though the virus is dead, our body becomes a factory of sorts for antibodies that act as if they are attacking a live virus.  It appears our body is creating tiny ‘soldiers, antibodies’ to stand at the ready.  Is this an accurate portrayal of the immune response?

Since our body is creating antibodies, I suspect that it lowers our immunity to other viruses besides COVID.   Why do we feel horrible after a flu shot if it is not the flu? Does the response to the virus trigger those same mechanisms like a fever? Are we more susceptible during this time?

While on the mask’ philosophy,’ here is another question.  If we have a virus and are shedding it, if we are continually inhaling our breath, are we not adding more viruses to our system?  

Instead of shedding it as our body most likely does in self-defense, wouldn’t wearing a mask make the symptoms worse?

Lastly, I would like to visit with you about re-infection. Let’s assume the reports about re-infection are accurate. 

If one is infected and their body builds up antibodies, is this not what a vaccine does? 

My understanding of vaccines is this.  An antigen is introduced into the body.  This act triggers an immune response, which I have loosely talked about previously.  The body’s response develops antibodies which will identify and destroy invaders like Covid-19. 

If this is factual, either the re-infection is due to some anomaly with this virus or, we are overwhelming our bodies with the virus by inhaling large quantities of it, which would otherwise be shed through normal respiration.

Is the mask a good idea or not?

If I understand the physics of the virus and the body as laid out, I would think a mask is a terrible idea.

Now I realize some non-medical people will question my logic of wearing the mask and the size of the virus. 

For you, the explanation is straightforward. 

Once the virus becomes part of your respiration, the moisture, you know that humidity that fogs up your glasses will contain much of the virus.  While that which escapes on the X-axis will be blunted, remember that a percentage of your breath travels on the Y-axis both up and down past your chin. Your breath will moisten the mask over time as water droplets are much larger than the openings in your surgical type mask.

I am dying to see if we get an answer.

I will tag him, but if you want a response, re-blog this.

Re-tweet it, and so on.

We need to know these things.  I am sorry that journalism in this country is dead.  One would think someone in the media would have asked this.

Much Love -Tw

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How much is that Doggie in the Window?

Is this a swamp monster?

This blog is as close to political as I will get.

The following is my opinion and, therefore, does not constitute any information that needs fact-checking by political hacks.

Since 2016 we were convinced beyond the shadow of a doubt that the president had colluded with Putin. We were told Russia is the reason Hillary lost.

We spent over 25 Million Tax Dollars and close to three years of his administration to investigate every nuance of the election. We had Spartacus moments to convince the public that Trump’s campaign was littered with spies for Putin.  It was reported he had a secret yearning for Golden showers from Russian ladies.

Yes, that was designed to make you think EWW and cringe, and for many of you to say on social media how depraved he is, as now you have the truth.  Funny, those posts were not edited or removed by the demigods of social media.

They were false.  Even the lawyers who used those lies to get the special investigation going knew they were lies.  We spent over 25 million dollars to have The View and the MSM drone on about ‘this is the nail for his coffin.’

Now I understand soap operas.   Hate more than love drives the viewership.

After three years of propaganda failed, we had a fake impeachment as a virus was unleashed from China.  While Trump took advice from a staunch democratic activist playing doctor, the rest of the world followed our lead. 

We still don’t know the truth about this virus.  Without the virus, removing Trump from office with the economy, job numbers, and so forth would be impossible.

Then we had the tech giants kill stories that differed from what the MSM pushed.  Billionaires, much like the Wizard in OZ, hid behind green ‘their money’ to pay protestors who, when asked, cannot tell you when the war of 1812 was, much less give you any reasonable guess as to the conflict. These protestors or ‘useful idiots’ akin to Hitler’s Brown shirts, act with impunity as someone has paid for their legal fees.

Hitler also had a ‘Defund the police campaign,’ so his Brown Shirts could rule the country at his behest.

In speaking with those ‘educated’ by our failed schools, we learned that they are equipped for asking if you want fries with that if this anarchist campaign fails.  How sad is that? 

The good news is burger joints won’t have to invest in millions of dollars of robots, as those who are burning the cities down can trade in their uniform for a brightly colored polyester shirt and maybe even a red button nose.

They will bitch because they are only making $15 an hour vs $50. I guess $50 an hour with a get out of jail free card to destroy the inner cities is good money if you can get it. 

Someone figured out that allowing stupid people to graduate would force the government to enable more H1-B employees into the country. We have raised a generation of idiots, useful idiots.  Idiots that will take $50 an hour to burn down cities in the name of hate.  Who pays these kids for their service?

Who spends millions of dollars to get DA’s elected that will not prosecute arsonists, looters, and rioters?

Isn’t it simply amazing that the virus is so smart that it only bothers people who attend church or Trump Rallies?  You can riot, loot, burn cars, businesses, and forests with no ill effects. Don’t go to church as the virus only lives there.

Oh, and don’t go to a gym whatever you do; those viruses wait for you in dark corners.  If you sweat, they come for you.

As the election draws near, we learn that Hunter Biden left a laptop loaded with incriminating evidence at a repair shop. He was too messed up to retrieve it. 

Is this a smear campaign by the right? 

Is Hunter that stupid?

Are any of the rumors true? 

How long does the FBI need to verify the veracity of what is alleged?

Think we might find out after the election?

How does Biden live like a king on a government servant salary?

Where does his money come from? 

What has he done for you in 47 years as a public servant?

One thing is evident to anyone with more than three neurons firing.  The media on both sides is using emotional triggers to get people out to the polls. 

I would proffer that none of us know the truth.

We only have the evidence of what has come to pass, and we have video of things each candidate has accomplished or said and not accomplished.

It is my firm belief that the Tech giants have too much control of the narrative.  I also believe that they are too smart to knowingly allow stories like the laptop to be banned from all of its platforms.  My gut instinct is they too have too many useful idiots working for them, who think with their hate.

Tech Giants like Facebook, Google, and Twitter, and yes, WordPress are either publishers or provide the service irrespective of content.  The tech monopolies are either responsible for all the bullshit disseminated throughout the world, or provide the service.   They cannot have it both ways. Unless they want to see their liability carve out eliminated, they best reign in their activists.

The media are either objective journalists or dime store rags to tell you when Big Foot will make another appearance. They either report the news or make it up, not both.  

While Nesse may need Biden’s PR firm so those rags can have something to write about after November 3rd, you should be suspicious of anything that is not factually backed up.

We, the people, should hold them accountable, and yes, that means defining what the media is and what it is responsible for.

Truthfully I long for the day when CNN once again becomes a trusted news source instead of a propaganda network for the demigods.  

Objectivity is dead in this country, and (a thinking person) should ask why? 

Who is paying who to keep silent on stories that are of importance to the world? 

Who is paying activists to search Facebook and Twitter, and other social media, on granular levels to kill stories or articles that they don’t like?

This activity is third world country stuff, and it needs to end.

Why can’t an R and a D sit or stand in one room and talk about the issues?

Because people like Rachel Maddow make it personal and emotional to trigger those who watch her.  If you are emotional, logic is gone. It is like bringing a knife to a gunfight.

Emotional people are loaded guns with a hair-trigger.  Go ahead, piss your wife off and then try to reason with her as she is tossing dishes at you. 

We have a nation of pissed off wives.  This is what the media has done to this country.  Those who have died because of hate are the result of the media yelling fire in an auditorium.  Yes, they are the spark, the inflammatory rhetoric which is patently false, to trigger people are the cause of the violence.

You my friends, are being played.  Who is paying them to play you, and why?

If your emotions are tweaked, you are being manipulated.  PR firms are paid well to figure out how to do this.

Save the Children!

You might not remember Sally Struthers in her Save the Children ads.  I do.  An incredibly small percentage of every dollar donated went to the starving children who lived in filth.  Starving children, much like the Red Cross disaster stuff, is big business and lucrative.

Now I am thinking about the freezing starving dogs with the haunting words of Angel by Sarah McLauchlan, wondering just how much of those dollars go to the cause.  Do you know…comment below.

PR firms and Ad Agencies are paid well to trigger you.  It is not hard. 

Politics is all about telling you what is wrong and who is to blame for it.  Truth is irrelevant. What can I sell?  If you invest ten minutes listening to me, and I can blame all the world’s woes on the other guy and make those woes personal to you, I have won.

The outcome of the election may not matter. 

Shocked?

The swamp, controlled by business moguls who own the swamp creatures, will keep whoever is in the White House in check.  Just because Trump donates his paycheck, signaling to the demigods he cannot be purchased, even he has his price, and they know it.  In the second term, I would watch to see what changes happen.

One candidate is a bargain compared to the other. One is an empty vessel with a running mate that would sleep with Satan himself for more power.  Too harsh?  No, look at her past.  She slept with a man twice her age for political favor.  Even he is telling the country not to vote for her.

She is a swamp creature and will fit in nicely with the other monsters.

The other is not a politician, and we can only look at the last four years.  No, you cannot look at news stories; you have to look at what he has done.

The moral of the story is, they are all still in the same pet store window.  Yes, this is my opinion.  That and a dollar might get you a cup of coffee.

I will be focusing on fiction and #NaNoWriMo soon.

Much Love -TW

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Hello!

Should we just take a cruise and live on the edge?

This is a short blog just to let you know I am thinking about you.

Not edited or pretty, just a nice thought. Today I woke up to the nauseating sound of the alarm clock. There is no real reason to have it on but since COVID and business dwindling my give a damn seems sluggish.

Earlier I wrote about each day of lockdown until we got over a month. People, it October 15th and now we are hearing about re-infections.

Here is what I know about vaccines. The idea of a vaccine is to turn your body into an antibody factory. That is correct. The dead virus is introduced into your body causing the factory to turn on and create antibodies that will attack the virus with that strain of RNA. Hmmm. If there are re-infections that would lead us to think one of two things.

A: There is something special about this virus that is more powerful than antibodies.

B: The virus has mutated just enough that your antibodies don’t match that strain of RNA so, your body once again has to come up with new Antibodies.

Did I say two, how about a third idea?

If you are wearing a mask and, you become infected, just maybe by breathing your own air, you are saturating your body with the virus. As it multiplies, you keep sucking it back in to your body and your system is overwhelmed.

Finally after the better part of a year they tell us it is airborne. The mask you wear looks like a screen door to the raw virus as it is .004 nm . Once married to your breath, moisture the mask will blunt it on exhale but it will not stop it completely.

If you can smell anything through your mask, it is ineffective at protecting you.

While I would love any honesty out any government, I feel there is much they are not telling us.

I spent years in the medical complexes working with doctors, scientist and so forth. I left that mess to work in forensic computing.

Now, I am writing to you and fellow writers, while opining on the state of affairs.

Much Love -TW

Featured

Conflict

What do you do when you are pushed from your comfort zone?

Yesterday I wrote a blog about the hook.  What brings your reader into your story?

Today, let’s discuss what keeps your reader engaged. 

Regarding the hook, you might have noticed that we talk about internal conflict; the same is true throughout your novel.

Last night we talked about an insecure girl.  Her body was growing as it was intended, but her fear kept her from doing what?  Living.  While many of her friends were wearing sweaters, makeup, and probably rolling the waistbands up on their skirts, our MC is afraid.

This is a classic coming of age story which line the shelves of so many book stores.  Why do you think young girls read these stories?

Exactly, they want to know how Sally or Jane overcame their anxiety and what they did to get the boy with the wavy brown hair to look at them.  Reading a book about forbidden love or young love is just you and the tactile feel of the pages as they slip through your fingers.

You older readers/writers, do you remember that fear, that anxiety you felt when you decided to sneak your makeup out of your room so you could apply it on the bus or perhaps in the bathroom with a dozen other girls?

For you guys reading this, Daddy’s don’t want their little girls to grow up too fast.  I cannot begin to tell you how many times the phrase ‘that stuff is for whores’ was bandied about.  It is about protecting your child and some immaturity on the part of the Dad. 

The odds are good. Dad remembered what he was like in school.

Fear is part of the story that makes us relate to your character.  They have a desire.  What is that desire?  What must they do to obtain their goal or fulfill their desire?

The internal conflict of buying the sweater and putting it on, fixing her face and hair, is where our protagonist from the hook, must go. 

Trust me, grasshopper, I could write an 80K novel just out of that process in about four weeks, and it would sell.  Why?  Why would it sell?

Fear is the one thing that we all can relate to; it is the common denominator.  If you say no, you are lying. Something scares you.

Part of growing up is embracing the fear and doing it anyway.  Now when I say this, I am not talking about something stupid.  I will give you some examples from my youth to the current day.

  1. The roller coaster.  Yes, I was deathly afraid of them; heights bother me.
  2. Speaking in public. 
  3. Debate
  4. Singing to an audience
  5. Reading out loud
  6. Publishing my first book.
  7. Rejection
  8. Flying an airplane
  9. Riding a horse

I could go on, but you get it.  These are all things that could be part of your plot, theme, or character arc.

I hope you got something out of this.  I look forward to hearing from you as you write your project.  Remember that NaNoWriMo is just around the corner.  50k words are nothing.  Embrace the fear and go forth!

Much Love -TW

Featured

The Hook

Did you ever wonder why authors let you read the first few pages of their book?

Did you ever want to sit down on a rainy day with a cup of hot tea, maybe some lemon and honey, and write?

I used to make up stories to entertain my friends, then when babysitting, it was for someone’s kids, then my own.  Rabbits were a favorite.  Writing for children is pretty simple.  Hook their emotions and tell the story in fifteen minutes.  That’s it.  Sure, you can toss in some visuals to aid in the storytelling process, but there is damned little to it.

If I want to tell you a story and I want you to read past the first few lines, what must I do?

I need you to give a damn.  Not about me; you already care for me in some way as you are reading this.  Possibly you have followed me enough that you realize if I am writing it, you might learn something.

Your mom didn’t raise a fool, did she?

Yes, I am about to cast a few pearls into the winds of time.

In 2018 I wrote this entire series about a crew of space-faring people who become lost in time, not space.  Improving my writing craft, I read some of my older work and had to ask myself, why didn’t someone tell me this?

During the first few lines, I need you to meet the MC, and I need to get you to care about them.

In a previous blog, I spoke about a novel where the author hooked me quickly.  Check out the blog on Where the Forest meets the Stars.  Even the title is riveting.

How do you write a hook that would make me care about your main character?

The hook is about Internal Conflict.  What are they afraid of, and what do they desire?

Example

Sally went to the high school football games with her friends.  They were much more outgoing than she was.  Braces, pimples, and two visits from the boob fairy had her dressing in baggy clothing.  While her friends secretly admired her figure, they would never tell her the truth. They craved the attention of the boys and were in no mood to compete with her.  Sally wore no makeup and was an introvert. The drab baggy clothing assigned her a threat level of three out of ten.  None of the boys would look at her, well not for very long.   

Dragged to the game by her one friend who cared about her well-being, she tried to get Sally to speak with boys. Even at the local A&W, Sally lets the other girls do the talking.  She was much more comfortable in her room with her books.

She liked Johnny’s chiseled chin and the few hairs that sprouted here and there.  His blue eyes caught hers, but she didn’t speak.  The awkward silence mixed with the butterflies in her stomach as their eyes were doing the talking. It was not until his attention was diverted did her stomach simmer down again.

“Why didn’t you say something,” Jenny asked?

Most YA is written in the first person for that reason.

We know just enough about the characters to relate.  We all remember our first social interactions, and some of you might understand why Sally was reticent about wearing a sweater that would take their attention away from the acne and braces.  Yes, some of us want to be liked for our minds.

What is her internal conflict?

Why doesn’t she wear a sweater like her friends?

Why doesn’t she put on makeup, even if she had to put it on during the bus ride to school?

While you could build your hook around an external plot-driven event, I would choose character-driven, and there are reasons for it.

Your audience will play into this, but first-person vs. third-person gets your audience closer to your characters.

Again, an internal conflict vs. external allows the audience or reader to know your character much sooner.

As my craft changes and improves, I will be sharing those lessons on this blog.  If you have not hit follow yet, my goodness, why not? 

There are ten novellas of the Hole In Time series.  Question… I wrote these as lunchtime reads.  Ten to fourteen thousand words is easy for those of us to eat and read at lunch.  Should I leave them as updated Novellas, or should I concatenate them into one tomb and re-publish it as a rather large book?

I hope you all are staying safe and using your time wisely.  Much Love -TW

Featured

The Business of Writing

Why cant I just write?

Oh Crap, tell me this isn’t a blog about business…please??

It’s true; we are writers, we want to write.  It is tough enough to conjugate words and have them make sense.  Writing is equivalent to weaving a ten thousand piece puzzle together when half of the pieces are blank.   The dog might have eaten some of the pieces, but yet we press on.

Do you want to make money with what you write?

If the answer is yes, then you must accept that writing is a business.  If it is, you need a business plan.

It is not enough to have ideas for stories.

From marketing to paying for your parts of the process you are not strong in, you must be willing to make sacrifices.

I am asked how much time should I spend marketing, and when should I start?

Do you know the answers?

In this very blog, I started a story about the Three Hundred.  Few of you took the time to read it, so guess what, it is a failure.  If I cannot entice someone to read a story for free, what hope do I have of getting someone to pay for it?

That is the first lesson; failure is part of the business plan.  Failure is a good thing as it gives us feedback.

I would tell you to keep tossing shit at the wall and see what sticks but, shit is probably not the best adjective I could find.

Cast your pearls out into the winds and see what seeds land on fertile ground and take root.

Either way, the lesson is, don’t stop.

If you have a passion for writing, write.  As for advice from me to you, write what you love or are passionate about.  If the Three Hundred stirs your juices (speaking to myself), write the damned story.

If this were to be a novel, when do you suppose I should begin to market it?

“The Three Hundred, a story of the last few humans to survive before mankind destroys the planet.”

Ok, I need to get this on social media and wet appetites.  Yes, when the title and the concept are in your mind, blog about it, tweet about it, and invite your readers to peek behind the scenes as the story develops.

With this action, you build a base of followers, who when the story hits the book stores will be the first to buy it.  They might also be the first to leave you reviews.  Reviews are a good thing.

Keep all your receipts because this is a business.  Trust me on this; when you make over $600 from Amazon, the government will be looking for their share.  They will know about it as you will be issued  a 1099.  Just claim it and move on. The federal prison on tax evasion is no place to write your next novel.

When the story takes form in the way of the first few pages, begin exciting your followers on Social media.

Dedicate time each day to marketing.

From Social media to web site design and content, it is all necessary.

One problem with social media is your eggs are in a basket that you don’t control.  The @twscott823 twitter account was suspended for no apparent reason.  I went to tweet about something, and it did not work.  I have many followers who were not easy to come by, and Twitter just suspended it because God only knows why.

Yes, I have appealed to the robot in charge.

Knowing that social media can be fickle and unpredictable, what can you do?

First, you must put your eggs into a basket that you control.  Web sites are a good one.

I am looking at paying for advertising on Amazon, which kills me.  I pay them to market my books that they keep a good chunk of—cost per click.  You could spend upwards of a $1 a click for a three dollar book that there is no guarantee that the “clicker” will purchase.

In business, we call this a loss.

I am currently exploring all the angles. What is the least expensive way to get my novels in the hands of those who would read them?  As I learn more, I will share it with you here.

#amwriting is not just a hashtag; it is who I am.

Much Love -TW

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A Book Review

Thanks for the read!

Book review of Where the Forest Meets the Stars

I don’t do this near enough.  Like Kennedy, I believe a rising tide lifts all ships.  As a writer, author, and business person, I also make time to read.  As a writer, you must.

As writers, we tend to fall in love with our characters.  When I open a book, if I am not intrigued by the character by the end of the first chapter, I am done.

I don’t want to quote her opening lines, but I will tell you the hook was brilliant.

Three characters, all broken, needing something.

I relate to her MC, as that is much like my life.

I relate to Ersa as I have said before, I was abused as a child.  Her pain and everything she was going through hit home with me.

I related to Gabriel as he, too, was abused and again messed up.

In fairness, I knew how it was going to end.  As a writer, I was able to guess where everything was going to happen and when.  Still, I did not want to put the book down.  Even though I knew where the trouble would start, I was part of her world.

Authors, this is what we strive for.  We want to bring our readers into our world with just enough information that they can paint the picture in their minds.

With everything going on today, I don’t watch TV, too damned depressing.  I know we are being lied to by just about every media outlet out there.  With an election, they can’t help themselves.  The commercials are awful.  There must be a better way. 

Much like Ersa, I leave this world through my books or the stories provided by other authors.

So Glendy, thanks for the four hours of mental vacation.  You had me crying, laughing, and even upset about a fictional dog. 

I look forward to whatever you turn out next, and I hope you do.  I need to see what an Indigo Bunting is.

Much love -TW

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Imagine

Imagine if you can….

From my era was John Lennon.  While I am not a pacifist, I do appreciate his wistful way of looking at things.

Everything he espoused is antithetical to the human condition. 

We find comfort in stuff.

Since we cannot count on each other, governments, or even Mother Nature, we must rely on ourselves.  Yes, you can throw God into the mix, but one has to wonder how many of those drug-addicted people living on the streets, defecating on the sidewalks also believe in God.

Some of my values in life came from black and white movies, where morality was still depicted.  Many came from books, the classics.

When the chips are down, the only person you can count on is that person looking back at you in the mirror.  We stopped teaching people that sad little fact.  This is why so many adults are still living in mommy’s basement or their 11′ X 11′ bedroom, escaping reality through video games.

Politicians promise these people the world for their one thing that matters, a vote.  Once they get it, like Stalin’s millions of citizens, he let starve; you too will end up on the sidewalk using discarded newspapers as insulation against the cold. And think; you voted for it.

It’s not your fault; you were not taught the simplest things about economics, nor were you educated on things like honor or country.  You were taught you disserve it because everyone gets a trophy.

My tax dollars were squandered on chair warmers, teaching you to the test.  The test was as useful as those promises from the rich and powerful, who live in ivory towers behind gated communities hiring out of work cops to guard them against you, the barbarians at the gate.

I think John sent many down the wrong path.

There is no world without war, as there is no world without greed. 

We must have a war so salespeople can sell weapons of war to different countries where those who want to live in peace, are convinced the only way to do so is to defeat the enemy.  While the weapons point in the direction of like-minded people on the other side of the DMZ, the leaders know the truth.

The enemy is thee.  The enemy is ignorance.  The enemy is putting faith into a system of pure corruption, which includes the media, who are bought and paid for by the folks who make war weapons.

There is a reason that all of the counties around DC are the richest in the country.  Politicians who we place faith in, go there with a salary of 120K a year and suddenly are multi-millionaires.

We don’t even think to question why someone would spend 19 million dollars of their own family fortune, to try to get elected to a job that pays $120K a year.  Man, are we stupid or what?

We ignore that fact; we don’t want to hear it.  Ignorance abounds as the schools that cost an arm, and a  leg to get through while promising riches beyond your wildest dreams.  They are peddlers of communism. They are Lennonites.

Imagine…

Imagine a world where they taught you the truth instead of peddling prevarications so the rich could get richer.

There is no secret, the wealthiest people in the world own the politicians, the lawmakers.  When Trump, who I know you despise, began donating every paycheck to charities, he sent a message to the corrupt.  The message is ‘You cannot buy me.’

Those in power hate this. Everyone has a price.

If you are a politician, you have a price, or you don’t get to be a politician.  They will destroy you if you try to disrupt a system that has worked since Mao Zedong murdered 45 million people. MAO’s Great Leap Forward was his Green New Deal.   Sounded good, until everyone starved to death.

John Lennon would have liked this president.  If he did not buy into the propaganda that the ‘fake news’ is peddling, and saw him for what he has done and not what they claim he is doing, he would have written a song about him.

No, Trump is not about socialism; it has never worked in all of history, as it is a flawed concept, you see …man is involved.

History and individual accountability are what the schools should be teaching.  Instead, they are preaching what kept people on the plantation for their entire lives. We will take care of you.

When a man was caught digging up a potato during MAO’s regime, they chopped his legs off, and then put a red hot brand on his back. Feeding yourself was not part of the Great Leap Forward.

Did you learn of this in college?  

Yes, imagine… The only way John’s imaginary world would come to fruition is if some stupid bastard actually pushes the button, believing that one could win a thermonuclear war.

After the blinding flash, there would be no greed, no hunger, or no religion too.  Just Imagine…

Just possibly, this Virus is a weapon from a new era.  Taking out over a million people so far, without one shot fired. Will it catch up to Stalin, Hitler, or perhaps MAO, the all time winner of mass murderers?  Will CNN ever fucking tell the truth?

Possibly someone will create a video game that involves loving each other instead of killing, robbing from, and or blowing up our’ enemy.’

Where have all the flowers gone?

The real enemy is willful ignorance, and part of that is erasing history.  Just possibly, the things that need to be burned down are not buildings where industry happens but those communes where ignorance pervades through pot smoke-filled halls. 

It is the home of haunting tunes from the sixties that still echo through the minds of addled pedagogues’ who cannot let go of flawed philosophies—cool man, totally tubular.

While expanding their minds through magic mushrooms or the harmless green herb sold to distract the youth from reality, we spiral into the abyss, waiting for another salesperson to lie to us.

When the students at Berkley were destroying their campus while throwing a temper tantrum when someone dared to espouse a differing opinion, just possibly, we should have let them.  

Imagine…

Take care my lovelies. 

I will be focusing on NANOWRIMO in a few weeks. My world will be among the stars, with the gods,  Pixies, and Fay, who still are among us. Angels and other mythical creatures will guide my Quill through the next concatenation of vowels and nouns with the indelible adjective here and there.

Much Love -TW

Featured

Medical vs. Dental Insurance

Should Dental insurance be better than it is? Hell Yes!

Instead of writing about writerly things, today I wanted to share an opinion with you.  Yes, I want to opine.

What many fail to recognize is dental care –the condition of your teeth- is directly related to your state of health.  If you have decay, the bacteria at work which are destroying your teeth; you also end up ingesting.  While a fair bit of that decay is most probably killed in that acid pit known as your stomach, much of it does not get destroyed.  The toxins created can infect your heart.

This same bacteria creates a toxic environment in your body, adversely affecting your health.  If you imagine your body with one of those video game health bars on top of it, yours is not at 100%.  The lower that health bar, the more effect that bacteria and other bacteria and viruses can degrade your health.

The lower that bar, the more susceptible you are to common ailments like the cold, the flue, yes, the dreaded virus from a country we will not mention and … cancers of different kinds.

Brushing your teeth is but one small piece of the puzzle.  Much like what you watch on TV, read or experience in life can degrade your mental health, everything you put into your mouth or even breathe in or inhale can have devastating effects on your health.

Insurance does not adequately cover dental health.  Yes, it will pay for a cleaning, and you should go twice a year and get your teeth cleaned. 

Insurance does not cover it because nobody makes a stink about it, as few genuinely understand the cause and effect, and dentistry in and of itself causes any sane person to cringe and not want to think about it.

The sound of dental suction is akin to nails on a chalkboard.

I know you hate the dentist.  I know a few who like them.  In my case, if you knew me in person, you would know that I have friends from all walks of life.  Dentists are among them. They are just people like you and I.  Frequently I will take my dentist to lunch.  Like you and I, they have other interests or hobbies, and that is how we relate.

Predatory lending has entered into this arena.

Imagine you go to your dentist.  You have put this visit off for just about any reason you can imagine.  You finally go as you are now in pain. ARGHH.

He or she does an examination, takes an x-ray, and the decay (cause of the pain) has reached what they call the dentine part of the tooth.  That is just past the enamel and into the part of the tooth with nerve endings.

The pinch of the needle is only the beginning part of the procedure.  While some dentists are better at this than others, it is not pleasant.

At this point, the hissing of suction is accompanied by the high pitched scream of the drill.  Bits of water and other vapors leave your mouth.  As the dentist sticks something in your mouth called an ‘explorer’ the fun begins

 They feel for that resistance of mushy parts of the tooth that the decay (bacteria) has been eating.

The options are narrowing as you are now confronted with what is known as a root canal, as the decay has reached into the nerve chamber.

If your dentist does root canals, he or she will probably ‘spray’ some more nerve-blocking agent as they have to drill into the nerve chamber, dig out the nerve, killing the tooth, and of course, removing the source of pain.

The simple filling just jumped up in price over a thousand dollars, only to treat that little bit of decay.  But wait, there is more.

Now that the tooth is dead, they must put a crown on it as the dead tooth will quickly degrade and will break with pressure from you masticating (chewing) your food.

If you are lucky, they will do what is known as a core build-up while you are numb.  By this time, you have already been standing on your head for two hours.  Your jaw is sore, and any limits of patience have been breached long ago.

Numb, equipped with a temporary crown, you head up to the front desk.  From the pain in your head, you now get a kick in the pants.

Insurance pays different levels on different procedures.  With a max of $2K a year, you have already maxed it out on one tooth.  But wait…

Your part is $600 for your visit today.  Mine was $1,468 yesterday of what was supposed to be a replacement of fillings that leaked.  That is another story.

Where do you come up with $600?  Like most, you pull out that plastic card.

Here is where predatory lending comes in to play.

If your dentist is honest, they will tell you what your options are, one of them is to pull the tooth.

Removing the tooth is the worst decision you can make if they can save it, but many people cannot scrape together $500 if they had to. This is the sad fact of the world we live in. 

While the elites are poking their fingers in the air, you know the ones who live in gated communities. Those are the same with $24K subzero freezers; eating 16 dollars a pint ice cream, have no conception of how ‘normal’ people must live.  These are the people who fly private jets from San Fransisco to DC on your tax dollars.  These are the same people who claim they care about you by telling you how you should think and vote. 

These are the same folks who hire private security firms to guard their ivory towers but feel that not only should you not have a way to protect yourself, but you don’t need cops either.  Pffft!

They are the real predators, who allow credit card people like the above mentioned to screw you and I. Why?  Those predators buy them.  How else do you think a public servant goes to DC an average person and ends up a multi-millionaire? 

We, the smelly Wallmart shoppers, are forced to buy inferior things made in China, or some country that we could not find on a map, are not the kinds of folks who wouldn’t dream of buying $16 a pint designer ice cream.

Now you are forced to make a decision.  Pull the tooth, or fix it. 

There is an option that you see advertised all over the dental offices.

Care Credit.  Zero percent for 6 months!

This last tooth that turned into a root canal cost over $6K when all was said and done.   I won’t even go into the pain aspect of this procedure.  There were multiple visits, and because of Corona, it took months to get in, get scheduled, and finally get it finished.

This particular tooth turned into a root canal as the previous crown ‘leaked.’  That means that everything that went into my mouth, some minuscule part made it under the crown, allowing decay to form.

 Insurance pays damned little of a crown as they figure it is for vanity and not health reasons.

Your teeth are there so you can adequately get your nutrition into small enough bits so your stomach can do its part. 

Teeth are not just for a pretty smile; they have a purpose.

Back to predatory credit cards.  Zero-interest for six months and 26.9% for every nickel not paid back in six months.

While charging the dentist 3% of the sale, they wait patiently for you, the borrower, to default on your part.

This is the type of credit most people who do not have decent credit scores get, and that is how they get away with the high percentage rate.  The other option is 14% from the get-go, which is still damned high.

The dentist most probably bake the 3% into what they charge you, so you are paying the extra charges too.

Money at this stage of the game is cheap.  If you look at your savings account, you will see you are getting less than 1%.  In my case, I am earning .05% on savings accounts.

If you are forced to using savings vs. charging, use your savings.  If you can pay it back in Six months, use that option and make sure you pay it off.

So darlings, here are you marching orders ….

First, take care of your teeth.  Visit your dentist every six months, and get them cleaned.  I don’t care how much you hate them.  Put on your big girl panties, or big boy underwear, and go do it.  Feel the fear and do it anyway.

Here is a trick that they don’t tell you.  I recently discovered this. Get a mouth wash that has peroxide in it.  Why?

There are two types of bacteria, one that messes up your gums and the other that eats your teeth.  I don’t care how good you brush; you will not remove all the bacteria.  Peroxide based mouth wash will foam and have you looking like a rabid animal.  That is fine, do it.  Please keep it in your mouth for at least a minute and then brush as usual.

Don’t swallow it.

Secondly, keep floss handy. After you eat something, floss.

As the last bit of dental hygiene, do this…  Keep gum on your person, not just any gum but gum with xylitol, sorbitol…(sugar-free)..  If you like soft drinks, monster drinks, and so on, guess what, the bacteria that destroys your teeth love that stuff too.

Drink water instead or at the very least after you enjoy that carbonated battery acid then, chew some gum.  (I’m not too fond of gum.)  I have lots of it around and carry it with me.  Know what I hate more than gum, yep, dental pain. 

Lastly, use a straw.  When you drink Coke or other acidic drinks, you bathe your teeth in that stuff.  A straw will put most of it past your front teeth and allow you that same satisfying belch after the fact.

Wait TW, think of the turtles! 

Hey, don’t throw your shit in the ocean. 

Have you seen the tons of plastic refuse floating in the ocean? Who does that? What subhuman ass hat does that? I am more worried about those types of things than I am climate change.

If you chew gum, don’t be that asshole that spits it on the ground.  Keep a tissue handy and deposit it in the trash.

What else can you do?

Firstly you can re-press this post so others might see it. Do someone else a solid, and help them out.

Secondly, you could contact your congressperson and tell them that insurance should cover dental issues for more than it currently does.  No, that does not include a pretty ‘grill.’  If you have money for that, don’t talk to me about not having money for cavities.

If you are confronted with using the Care Credit card, realize that if you cannot pay it back in six months, choose the other option and know that 14% is still expensive money.

Dentists can typically tell from the x-ray what the treatment plan will involve.  Crowns are not a lifetime fix.  They guarantee them for five years, and…here is the kicker, that warranty is usually tied to your continued visits, including dental cleaning.

Know that an implant is about $6K each.  Implants probably last a lifetime, but I am not sure about that.

The best course of action is to take care of what you were born with.

I hope that you find some part of this epistle helpful.

Much Love -TW

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Away…a Critique of the Show.

Is there life on MARS?

Away

Netflix released a new show that is billed as a Sci-Fi.

Spoiler Alert…I talk about events that happen in this show and offer advice for a season 2.  Binge watch it like I did before you read this unless you are not going to, then enjoy it.

I usually don’t watch TV, much less binge watch a program.  As a writer, I have a few things to say about this program.

I want to start with a shout out to Talitha Bateman.  Your acting is what made me continue to watch the show.  When I write an emotional scene, often, I will include the ‘strings of snot,’ as we have all been there. Those are as important as tears.  They make it real.  Not only were you visually believable, but for 19 years old, I look forward to seeing what else you show up in.  Don’t lose your soul while you live in the lights.

Some of your acting was a little over the top.  In the scenes in the hospital, when it is mentioned that you are too comfortable, that scene was unbelievable and jarred me out of the story.

Whoever told you to eat with your mouth open is wrong.  It is a total distraction, stop it. If you do that in your real life, go to charm school.  As an actress, you can ill afford bad habits.

Hillary Swank…I was lukewarm about her performance.  There were times she sold me, and times she fell flat.  I think NASA training would have had her emotions totally in check.  The model of Patrick Stewart on Next Generation.  If you need a female model, pick Janeway from Voyager.  Shit happens. As a leader, you have to deal with it.  Emotions are not part of the package in that role.

If you were to indeed fall apart on the moon before leaving on a three-year mission, any competent ‘GROUND’ would have scrubbed the mission.  In my opinion, this show made women look weak, and I know plenty who could be a Katherine Janeway.

Josh Charles… I had totally empathy for him as a character.  He needs to make better progress with his health in Season II. 

His daughter and his wife are the focal points at this juncture. His brokenness is established and turning in to a distraction.

Felicia Patti was adorable, and her part was believable.  I would love to see her more active in Season 2 if there is indeed a season 2.  I would look for other roles quickly, so you are not typecast in that role when your name is mentioned. 

Monique Gabriela Again loved her acting.  While supporting cast, she sold me.   

I have nothing negative to say regarding the other actors.  The ones I mentioned carried the show.

There might be too many characters or POV’s to deal with, which are a distraction. I felt like we were doing a lot of head-hopping.

There were way too many flashbacks ‘information dumps’ slowing the pacing of this show to a crawl.  NASA would never miss something like RAM’s health issues, which made the attempted airlock and subsequent corona viruses PPE hot zone Epstein Barr BS hit too close to home, not allowing us to have that fantasy we all try to have when watching a show or reading a book.

Mark Ivanir was fun, but, again…the daughter drama was just over the top and took away from the story.  From ‘she is not qualified to, I am blind is a stretch.’  The puppet show was amusing, and the character of Misha was likable. I would rather see more of his culture than all of this lost my wife and now I am too broken to be anything but a lowly cosmonaut See, that doesn’t work even in writing.

I have severe issues with him cheating on the eye exam.  The concept of space blindness coming on that quickly seems very contrived. I would think their strict training would have him fess up that he was having issues.  The thousands of bolts and parts made this scene too long and unbelievable.

Drilling a hole through the side of the ship was unbelievable.  Knowing that was a possibility they could have had something to put over the hole with them and ready just in case. If NASA engineers told them where to drill, how could they not hit the water?  Sorry, that is poor writing and lack of technical expertise on the writer’s part.  As soon as the drill punctured the metal, they would have heard the hiss. 

The message of Climate Change was there, but not to the point where it took away from the show itself.  The concept of all of the countries working together was good until you had the Chinese pulling strings for propaganda. 

Who would agree to that?  Why would they agree to that?  It makes zero sense.

If the purpose of a mission to Mars is to bring the world together in a Cumbia moment, just possibly, we should have developed a relationship with the entire crew that they had when they landed before they took off.  Yes, that removes some conflict, but…the conflict on the ship takes away from the believability of the show.

Instead of drilling a hole, have a micrometeorite punch a hole.

Have them fly through a dense area of them damaging things like the solar panels, limiting the power they can use.

The tension on earth, behind the scenes is one thing. Tension and BS with the crew, not so sure NASA would send up a team that might stab each other in the back if given the opportunity.

Everything that went wrong was predictable, and as a writer, I was looking for it.  The only twist, the only thing that I did not expect was the Midnight Mass.  That was refreshing and made me like Isaac.  Whoever came up with that idea.  Good Job!

As a writer, I know what I would do to make a season 2 but, it would change the film from a soap opera into science fiction.

We are Not Alone

When they get to the Pegasus, show evidence that someone or something got to it before them and took most of what they need to survive, leaving, of course, the parts necessary to convert urine into water.  Give them just enough to survive while they wait for the second supply ship.

During this time, they must figure out who or what else is living on MARS.

They must wait for the secondary supply ship because if they leave right now, they will die on the return trip.

This lack of supplies forces them to deal with the natives, and they don’t have guns.  They will have to invent a weapon to protect the ship from the Martian marauders who are looking for more food.

Flesh out the relationship between Emma and Ram while working the same magic on earth between Josh and Monique.

I love the idea of him as broken and her with a special needs daughter that needs a sister, friend, and father figure.  Emma and the crew thought they were going to die and had a fling, making it impossible for them to get back together when they return to earth.  Yes, it is a trope but, you already have us going down this road.  We already want them to hook up.  Emma needs to change the way she feels about Josh. 

His daughter and her boyfriend can further the conflict by having her get on the bike and race for a prize.  This forces her dad to deal with her as an adult and not a child.  Monique assist him with this process and he is amenable because of some strange messages from Emma regarding Ram.  She talks about him in just about every email.

Possibly some bacteria gets into their food or water, which messes with their brains…a little.  I was thinking the water in the skin of the ship came from the moon…How about a moon virus, or bacteria, from that water which they drank?

Think about it, life on the moon too…

Remember, this is science fiction. All of these complicated subplots need to be sprinkled and not flooded on the screen. Focus on the Martians and protecting the ship while you sprinkle.  Maybe they have to track the Martians down to retrieve something they need to make the ship work.  Force them in the lion’s den.

Bring in more science and some tense moments with the Martians, whatever they are.  I would make them underground creatures that only come out at night…  They might look like giant spiders … Spiders that think and act as a collective. Maybe and have a taste for human blood.  There was plasma on the supply ship, and now they are vampires…LOL

Seriously, they could be creatures that act as a collective like honeybees or ants.

Ok, that is my two cents worth.

If you have watched it I would love your take.

Much Love -TW

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What day is it?

Is this just another day with a Y at the end?

Do you find yourself asking this?

As we come up to another holiday weekend one wonders what is going to be different?

Maybe we don’t spend so much time in front of the computer?

Can we close the lid on the laptop and then what? Read another book or perhaps find some other mindless show on a streaming service?

While some find an oasis in their back yard many don.t have such a place. I cant help but wonder what the long term social effects, of this lost year will manifest as.

Employers are learning that employees can telecommute.

If employees are under house arrest ‘so to speak’ they tend to put in longer hours just because.

Now that the world is paranoid about a virus so small it takes an electron microscope to see it, how do we use that to ‘our’ advantage?

You had best know that people in power are looking into this. Every new technology is first looked at in the way of, how can I weaponize it. the same is true of events such as this pandemic.

I firmly believe that the media is using fear of the unknown to socially modify the fabric of society around the globe, but to what end?

The other day I was writing a letter to a freind and I used the term ‘China Virus.’

My grammar checker berated me for using such a hateful caustic bigoted term.

WTF?

The thing came from China. There is no argument about it. Those are the facts.

Who programmed or modified the code to look for such terminology?

I have many friends from China, I don’t hate the Chinese people.

I want to know who in their right mind thinks it wise to make a bad virus worse?

Did you know they have genetically modified mosquitoes? It is true, they have modified the mosquito to render the female sterile.

On the surface this sounds like a good idea but, what else have they done we don’t know about?

In Japan they are working with the embryo of Sheep human hybrids.

That sounds like a BAAAAAAD idea.

You know that somewhere in some back room there is a hybrid talking sheep.

What might this day with a Y at the end bring in the future?

Was this virus designed to kill off the old and sickly?

Was the HIV virus created to remove gay people from the earth in some post Hitler Genocide attempt?

Was Ebola constructed to do away with over population of people who are starving?

What else in cooking in petri dishes around the world in nondescript buildings ?

No, I don’t trust any government. Power corrupts. I am also a science fiction writer among other things, so my cynicism allows me to construct wild fantasies that today are just not that wild.

Stay Safe, Stay healthy and Enjoy the weekend!

Much Love -TW

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Groundhog Day

Are people really that stupid? Yes Virginia, some are.

The ignorance out there abounds to levels that never cease to amaze me.  I needed to run a few errands.  Truthfully I needed to get out of the house. 

Either people are scared as in petrified or just plain stupid.  I am in my car, windows up, at a red light.  The person next to me honks her horn and then points to the mask on her face. 

She then points her crooked finger at me and then her face.

What do you do with that?

I thought about rolling my window down and give the appearance of a sneeze, but that lunatic might have produced a gun.  Her windows were up too.

I wear a mask when it is appropriate, but I find myself not going out as often as I would.  During this entire pandemic, I have only purchased gasoline once, and that was just to put some fresh gas in the tank as gas can get stale.

What are you doing this weekend?

For me, it is almost just another day with a Y at the end.

When Bill Murry played a role in Groundhog Day, little did we all know we would get to do it for real.  For some of you who have the rioters and looters burning your town down in those peaceful protests, you might want to consider carefully the people who let that happen.  No, it wasn’t the current president.  Local law is not controlled at the federal level.  That is your mayor or Governor, not Trump.

As for me, I have several projects I am working on to stay busy.  I was looking at the 1933 film King Kong.  If you follow me at all, you know that I love to paint old movie stars. 

I am focusing on Fay Wray this month.  She was known as the Queen of Scream.  If I paint her, should I also paint Kong?  Just a thought.

Stay tuned for details as I put brush to canvass.

Much Love -TW

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What are the odds?

Will it work?

As a forensic technologist, I get some strange requests.  Not long ago, a guy sends me some zip disks that he needed the files on them.  I happen to have one that would read them, put them on a flash drive, and he was a happy camper.

Now there is probably a story I could write about what I found on his zip disks but damned if client information is protected.  They could have been the directions to where Hoffa if buried or perhaps who shot Kennedy.

We will never know as the information goes with me to the grave, or in my case, forgetfulness.

This beast came in today.

Many of you are reading this have no idea what this is, but I had one in its heyday!  Crossing my fingers, I plugged it into my variable power supply. I wanted to bring the voltage up on the caps slowly.

The magic smoke came out of at least one resistor before I ever got past to 60 volts.

The cost well outweighs the effort necessary to bring this dinosaur back to life.  I could, but why?

The odds are high; the hard drive is seized.  Most probably, I would be replacing multiple capacitors in the power supplies of not only the PC but the monitor.

Finding parts for this beast would be more of a challenge than fixing it.

I know of a museum that collects things like this.  I think the next time I travel that way, I will take it with me.

Fun fact, this device, or one like it, was used as a protocol analyzer.  Back in the day, I carried one like this all over the country.  That thing would let you see the datagram from the preamble on.  When I first saw it, the fellow operating it told it to me like this. (this is what whetted my appetite in forensics btw.)

The topology or network architecture of the day was token-ring. 

This machine still has a token-ring card in it.  Token-ring was named after its architecture.  One token or ‘train car’ goes around the track… The track is the series of wires, MAU’s and devices.  Once a data packet ‘token’ was sent out, the token would go to every active device and ask ‘is this for you?’

Terribly inefficient and expensive. Each NIC (network interface card) carried a license from IBM, which was not cheap.

This device could tell me not only who the conductor was but the color of his or her underpants—metaphorically speaking.  Without details of the OSI model and technical stuff that would cause you to leave, this was the bomb.

As I lifted it on the bench a little while ago, all those memories of carrying it through the airports came back.  This was known at the Compaq luggable, and we called it the singer sewing machine because of the size and shape.

From the Osborn to the Kaypro and then this, we were moving on up.

Truthfully I hoped I would see a C:\   I wanted to type DIR and see what would happen or was it DIR *.* ??

That trip down memory lane stopped with the smoke, but I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did. Writers, there are stories in that box.  What secrets does it hold?  What is on that hard drive?  Who owned it?

Yes, I have to get back to my story on The Three Hundred, but work comes before play, and I needed to get in touch with you.

Have a story to share…Use the comments. 

Much Love -TW

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Saturday WVD 234

WVD. Wuhan Virus Day. How many days have you been living with the threat of this virus?

Never in my wildest imagination did I envision having my life disrupted for this long.

“Give it two weeks of lock down to flatten the curve.”

For those of you who drive, think of that morbid sense of curiosity when you pass an accident where the cars or perhaps other form of transportation is a tangled mess of metal.

Without thinking your foot comes off the accelerator even though you have been complaining about everyone in front of you slowing to look.

That is how I feel seeking your response to this next question.

What are you being told about the virus?

Our media has blamed it all on Trump. It is as if he was in his basement with his 1950 chemistry set from ACME playing evil genius. Mixing a little of this chemical with some of that until things began to bubble. When a vapor spilled out of the vile everything it touched wrinkled as if the atoms themselves were being ripped apart. The covalent bonds somehow warped around his sinister action.

It is of course an election year. There are some who don’t want so see him get another four years.

Where did the virus come from?

How did it get in to your part of the world?

How are you doing with it?

In yesterdays blog I spoke about looking at this time as a way to lift each other up. There is huge wisdom in helping each other in times of crises. I believe this is the quintessential definition of ‘crises.’

I think the reason the virus is so problematic is there is no end in sight. In this country the media has used the virus as a cudgel to batter the president. Dividing our country along ideological lines is straight out of Joseph Goebbles play book when he was the propaganda minister for Hitler.

One of the largest issues I see is few have any idea who Joseph was or what he did.

The novel I am writing on this blog The Three Hundred take place right after everything goes to hell in a hand basket.

Check it out, the first ten thousand words are there for you to read and comment on.

Much Love -TW

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Where are they are Mars?

Are you all reading the first two acts of The Three Hundred ?

With story structure, we have many different things to consider.  In a short story, you have limited words to work with, which translates to limited plot devices, characters as well as the structure itself.  If we write a novel of 60 to 100 thousand words, then what?

More characters, more twists, and turns, and the structure changes.

The Three Hundred currently is 10K words and, there are more in the pipeline.    Sitting on Mars, we have a small crew investigating the infamous face on Mars.

What is it?

Back in the dark ages…1976, Viking 1 snapped a picture of a fantastic sight.  There on the surface in an area of Mars known as Cydonia was proof positive that there was life on Mars! 

Maybe not.

Taking a picture of a rock formation that appeared to have two eyes, nose and mouth, NASA released the image to the public to drum up interests in NASA and Mars.  It worked.  It worked a little too well as the rags that live on the shelves by the checkouts in stores, showed the face and tantalizing teases.

Writers like yours truly, use it as fodder for stories, and why not?

If you were standing on mars close to the two-mile-long structure, dare I say it, you would not recognize it as anything other than rocks.

For the purpose of this story, there is a rectangular opening. What are the odds of a perfectly rectangular opening on and edifice that looks like a large human face?

If and when we ever do get to Mars, I am confident that someone will snap a picture of it from ground level. Until then we can enjoy The Three hundred and other sci-fi fantasies

One of the craziest scams I saw recently was someone selling an acre of Mars for $12.  Much like the star registry, someone came up with selling land on another planet.

Can you just imagine some rich Texas oil tycoon buys Mars in total, finds a way to go there to discover that life is on Mars, and they are all larger than life spiders?

I am giving away a much better product, a fantasy of Mars, and all you have to do is to hit that follow button and read on when the next act drops.

I hope you have a wonderful weekend.

As always, I welcome your feedback, comments, and a friendly Hello.  We are all in this COVID Pandemic together. Why not find something bad like this virus to bring us together as a people, instead of divide us like so many in the media want to do?

Much Love -TW

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The Business of Writing

Is writing a story enough?

I spend more time on the mechanics of writing than I do the business.

“TW, I just want to write a book and let someone else do the business part, I am a ‘creative.'”

Can anyone of you tell me what is wrong with that statement?  I bet many of you can, especially if you have followed me for any length of time.

Children tell stories.  Have you ever listened to your kids having a sleepover under the guise of making toll house cookies? (Come on, we all want to know who are kids’ friends are.) I digress, storytelling is a small part of the equation.

Stories revolve around ideas.  We all have ideas; when we can put them on paper in a way where others want to read them is where the rubber meets the road.

  1. Writing the story
  2. Editing the story
  3. Creating the tagline and logline
  4. Selling the story

If those four parts are not daunting enough, there are dozens of other steps you must take.  The business of writing is not for the faint of heart.

The four generalized bullet points are the tip of the iceberg. Let’s say your strengths are story structure.  Maybe you and Robert McKee were roommates in college. One of the things I see writers do is offer up their unique talent as a service to other writers.

If they are Save the Cat, Blake Snyder Credible, that service will not be cheap.  If they are not, you might be wasting your money.  Be advised this ‘business’ is rife with predators.

One of the aphorisms I live by is, ‘don’t quit your day job.’

I own a company that has little to do with writing.  If it involved writing I would not have the passion for it that I do.  Writing would be a job and not a hobby.

The trick will be if I reach my destination, how will I keep the passion as it will turn into a job.

Where do you draw the line between the business of writing and keeping it as a hobby?

My background is probably not one that you would find familiar in a crowd of people.

Currently, I am a forensic data miner.  Those idiots that send out phishing scams and attempt to extort money from people, I go after them.  Since my own site has been attacked, I chuckle when they try it; and then I begin to do my thing.  Those people need to be held accountable.

So why write?

The business of writing is another puzzle.

What started as storytelling, was just the outside layer of the onion.

Like Metadata often leads me to my quarry, peeling the onion back, we find yet another layer.   Sometimes it is like those Babushka dolls, instead of representing fertility it is more like the next waypoint toward my goal or destination.

If you start out with a ‘story,’ and your end goal is re-occurring revenue from a best-seller, you had best have a damned good GPS.  The road is fraught with peril, thieves, misfortune and challenges.   I have taken it on as I take on everything in life, as a puzzle.

Many, including me, have tried to shortcut the path by doing that which has already been done.  When 50 shades hit the stores I ignored it.  Not my cup of tea.  I did the same with Vampire stories.  As ELJames and Stephenie Meyer were making the big bucks, I could no longer afford to ignore them.

Writing similar stories of the erotic variety, while fun to write, ‘tell a story,’ they were no longer unique.

So, here is the advice part of this blog post.

Write that which you are passionate about. Don’t try and write the next Harry Potter, it has been done to death.  Once you write your story, get into a writing group where they critique each other’s work.  Make the story the best it can be and then you self-publish it. 

Yes, save yourself the months of trying to capture an agent’s attention with your first story.  Self-publish it and learn the rest of the business.

Mark Corker of Smashwords tells new authors that most will make about $10 the first year.  Ouch!  There is a harsh reality.  I can craft a book a month; most people take years.  While my stories sell, they do not sell with the alacrity that I would like them to have.

Having written over 24 million words in different novels, I have learned a few things.

Your first novel will probably suck; just like a vampire, it will suck big time.  Let your sales be your guide.

Feedback from people who spent $3 on your book is invaluable if they are convincing and objective.

Once you face the harsh realities of this world, figure out where your strengths and weaknesses are.

My strengths are I have many ideas, and I write very fast.  I love to solve puzzles, and am self-disciplined when it comes to sitting at the keyboard.

The puzzle aspect of this ‘business’ is I don’t have thin skin, and if someone tells me that something sucks, I can take the criticism and consider where the sucky part came from and fix it.

Currently, I am giving away a novel five thousand words at a time.   If you follow me, you know it is science fiction.  Why?

FEEDBACK!

Once the novel is finished and I have received feedback, I will re-write it and self-publish on Smashwords and Amazon.  Now, many I know would not do that.  They think that one novel will be their life’s work.

Friends, you cannot be a one-trick pony in this business.  I can write five thousand words with a glass of Merlot.

Short stories are a different story structure but an excellent way to improve your writing skills.

Currently, I am re-writing one of my novels‘ Voices from the Past.’

Not only can the story use some help but, the cover, like most of my covers, need help.  There is a science to cover design I recently just learned.  I am an artist so I designed them artistically.  Lots of Expletives later I now have to go back and redo just about every stinking cover.

While my GPS missed a waypoint, I will continue, and I hope that you do as well.

Use this time of few distractions to work on that which you love.  Turn off the news, limit Netflix, and find time with you and your keyboard.

I spend very little time on social media as it is pissing my life down the toilette, just like the noise from the mainstream media trashing the president or his opponent.  Follow the facts, not the noise. Turn off the sound and don’t let 2020 be a wasted year.

If writing is a passion, then dammit do it!

Seize the day!

Much love -TW

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Happy ‘Hump Day’

What does Hump day say to you?

As a writer of naughtiness on occasion, I have mixed feelings about the words ‘hump day.’

In the spirit of total transparency, I have issues with the appropriation of many words and colloquiums. 

I rather like the term gay as happy.  Now, if you were to say ‘I feel so gay,’  people would look at you strangely and might say, good for you for coming out.  

Imagine you are at a social event, and you are feeling rather ‘gay.’  You see your man friend drinking a girly drink with that skewer of pineapple and maraschino cherry.  Not wanting your friends to think him effeminate, you go and steal it playfully.  You then look at him with a cat-like grin, tell him ‘ha, I got your cherry.’

How might that conversation go?

While hump day is the reaching of the precipice of the week, and then the egress down the other side, how many of us think something very different?  That is one reason I think Wednesday night church service is a bad idea.  At the end of hump day, I don’t want to be thinking about Jesus on the cross.

***

If you are a regular, you no doubt have read the second act of The Three Hundred.

I was reading it over last night and found more typos than I usually allow but, I left them for this reason.

When you write something, don’t be so hard on yourself.  My mistakes occur because I think much faster than I can get the ideas down on paper.  In one sentence, there is ‘door something and door’ again. One tip I usually use is to read it aloud.  Printing is also an excellent way to catch errors.

I will go back and correct it soon.

I started ACT III, and I hit a stumbling block.

Here is a question for you who follow me.  Should I have them find living Martians or …should I have them find evidence of Martians?

I told you when I started, I was offering you the chance to have input, there It is.

Say something in the comments below.

Until then, my lovelies, stay safe, sane, and remember it is Hump day.  Make sure your loved ones know you are thinking of them.

Much Love -TW

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Stopping to get water from the Martian ice, they did not expect to find this.

The Three Hundred ACT II

© TWScott 2020

Family

Dave headed back down the hall, passing different people who all seemed to be on a mission.  Nobody stopped to acknowledge him, which seemed rather strange.  The lights were out in his quarters, and there was a lump under the bedding.  Sam turned over with the sounds of him undressing.

“You did come back.”

The warmth under the covers was comforting while snuggling up to her.  Hours passed before there was a buzz at the door.

“Damnit!”

Tossing his robe on, he opened the door to find a young lady standing there.  Her English was broken but understandable.  “Bill, he ah sent me down here to remind you of your address to the crew.”

“What address is she talking about?” Sam asked, looking at the short blond-headed woman.

“It is right here on the schedule, 1400, address to the crew.  You are the captain, ya?”

David looked at her nodding his head.  The door shut with her still standing in the room.  “Where are your clothes?”

David looked at Sam and then back at this person.  “Excuse me, who are you?”

“Oh, begging pardon, I am Helga.  I am your assistant, butler, and go-to person.  I am also your …other.”

David was not sure what she meant, but he assumed it was a language thing.

“Oh, well I need to shower and dress, I will be along in about twenty minutes.”  The blue eyes pierced his soul as she did not waver or turn to leave.  Her short curly hair reminded him of a poodle his mother once had.

Helga left the bedroom as her short skirt left little to the imagination. She headed into the bathroom, turning on the shower, she returned.  “The water is perfect if you don’t mind.” She said, reaching for his robe.

Before he could object, she had his robe in hand while turning to reach for a hanger.  Spinning around, she looked at him, “Go; time is …fleeting.”

Sam thought it funny until Helga pulled the sheets off the bed.  “You too, miss, go help him get clean.”

Helga was unmindful to the nudity, which took Samantha aback.  Heading into the bathroom, David was somewhat surprised to see her joining him. “Do we have a keeper,” she asked?

Shaking his head, he passed her the soap.  David stepped out of the shower, and before he knew it, Helga was there with a warm towel.  That part of the treatment he liked.  Sam stepped out of the shower to see her drying him off and became jealous.  She wanted to say something when part of her ‘programming’ kicked in.  The feeling left as soon as it came up.  Helga turned to see her dripping water on the floor.  Pulling out a warm towel, she wrapped it around her before taking another to dry her hair.

“Sir…you need to hurry..” she said as she dried Samantha while setting her in a chair by the mirror.

David turned around, leaving the two heading for the closet. 

Helga watched to see that he was close to dressed before taking a brush to his hair. “Go, we will catch up with you.”

David hit the door, taking one last look at the two.  Samantha did not mind the pampering or her familiarity with either of them.

“What did you mean by, other?”

Helga looked at her in the mirror. She was rolling her hair on the brush while drying it.  She then took the time to explain it to her in detail.

The door to the main auditorium opened where David was on stage.

“Bill, why didn’t I know about this?”

“As our team makes it through the education process, they suddenly have a purpose.  Helga, who I believe you have met, is assigned to you and Sam.”

“Assigned?”

“The Ularins have different ways of structuring families, people, and social situations.  You might have noticed that we have a high ratio of women to men on this tub.”

“I hadn’t noticed, why is that?”

“I don’t want to spook you, but if the human race is to survive, we need babies.  Why do you think this ship is so large and there are so few of us?”

“Are you fu…kidding me?”

“Nope, the aftereffects of that virus have not been negated.  Samantha and others are going to be working on that.  Helga, well, she is to make sure you or Sam are not lonely or become depressed.”

David shook his head, thinking he was in some dream that he could not share with anyone.  “Tell me this, was this their choice?”

“Over thirty percent of these girls came from the red light district in different countries.  They are working girls.  Since they are healthy and have an aptitude for certain things, the Ularins grabbed them.  Yes, they are thrilled to be here, and for your edification, they were given the choice of who they wanted to serve.  There was contention for you and Sam, so they might be some sharing.”

“Oh my goodness, what will Sam think of this?”

“You, me, and everyone here has had a little tweaking of our brains; her programming will come to terms with it rather quickly, as will yours.”

“Programming, have we gone from slaves of the politicians and damned billionaires to slaves of the Ularins?”

“No, think of this as the ARC and David, we will probably never see the Ularins again.  This is our shot.”

“What is your role?”

“I am thankful that you and I were friends, I might have still been in the Congo when things happened.  Like always, you and I complement each other.  I have been given a little more of the game plan because I am detail-oriented.”

David shook his head, thinking about what Sam was surely thinking.

The background sounds in the room dropped down to dull roar as Sam and Helga walked on the stage.

Sam stood beside him, wrapping her arm around his.  David glanced at her, and she just smiled. Helga took her place directly behind the two.  She was, among other things, their manager.

Bill tapped the microphone causing the room to become still.  Sam looked at David and then said. “I will start this.”

David’s nostrils flared as he watched her step forward.

By now, you all know as much as any of us.  The world we grew up on will be uninhabitable for at least ten years.  The release of nuclear bombs has triggered multiple volcanic eruptions, including the supervolcano under Yellowstone.  As you can see on the monitor, the Earth is shrouded in clouds and particulate matter, which will block the sun from reaching the ground.  If we are right, the Earth will enter an ice age after the firestorms from all of the explosions.

After the particulate matter settles, there is the radiation that was released.  If anything survives at all, it might be sea life.

As you all have experienced by now, our history sucks.  Incredibly, this race of beings sought to save any of us from ourselves.  Those of us on this ship represent .0000009 percent of the Earth’s population, rounded up.   David and I just discovered a few moments ago that our lives would never be as they were.  Our customs and mores must be malleable.  From what I am told, there have been no serious objections.  Visit me if you have any issues, and I will see if I can fix them.

We have three months’ worth of supplies before this ship coast in the vacuum of space until we all either starve, run out of oxygen, or, we all pitch in using whatever talents we have and make this work.

It appears that I am to be a doctor.  If any of you were trained in medical procedures, I would like you to meet with me in room 259, after our captain dismisses us.

David approached the podium.  “Nice speech.”

“I wanted you to have some time to clear your head and get some thoughts together, did it work?”

He smiled and chuckled as he made his way to the podium.  Passing by the short blond in the blue ruffled dress, he glanced at her again, smiled, and turned his attention to the crowd.

I don’t think I can stress the importance of this mission any more succinctly than Sam just did.  I would like to add that we are all one rather large family.  Each of us has a job, at least one task to perform.  I would like to meet with you in the conference center if your education includes anything related to space, physics, Astro-physics, or particle physics.

“Bill, do you want to say anything?”

Yes, thanks.  While the two groups of people that David and Sam want to speak with head that way now, the rest of you stay here, I want to meet you and get an idea of what you all do.

Several people headed off following Sam.  David wondered why so many but let it go—leading many to the conference center, around fifty people more women than men followed him.

Bill stayed there with around two hundred people.

“You may have noticed we are chugging along right now because we don’t know where to go.  In this room there are pieces of the puzzle we must learn.  Once we all meet, I hope we can give David, the captain, some input as to a plan.  Any questions?” Bill asked

“Ya, I am to take care of the water.  There is lots of it on comets, asteroids, and the poles of Mars.  I would suggest we head to the red planet first.”

“Are we low on water?”

“Nine, but that large glass top up there is for farming and recreation.  Many of us are farmers, and we need to get things planted if we intend to have fruits and vegetables.”

“How many farmers here?”  

Over a hundred people raised their hands.

“Would you folks go up to the garden area, inventory what we have and what we need.  Peter, I have you down as our water person, are there others?”

Over two dozen raised their hands.  Bill learned they were trained on different systems on the ship

Red Mud

Bill met with the engineers that made the ship work. When he talked with David, they developed a plan.

They were learning that the ship was capable of faster than light travel.  That was an exciting proposition.  How much faster was the question?  The question about why a star system 300 light-years away puzzled them.

David returned to his room to find Sam and Helga sitting on the couch, talking.  “Ladies, I have been distracted by this most of the day.  How is this supposed to work?”

“We were debating those very questions.  It would seem that many of the couples and men on this ship are having similar conversations.  Helga has offered it up this way.  We have a spare room which I know you were thinking was your office.  We can make it a bedroom for her.”

Helga looked at the two of them.  That is not what she wanted.  She was looking for acceptance.

“That is not what you had in mind, is it?”

“No, I will if that is what you want, but I would rather be part of your unit.”

“Unit?”

“She means a family unit. She would be one of us.  You commented on the size of this bed, now we know why.”

“Sammy, what do you think about all this?”

“David, she not only pleases you, but she pleases me.  We please each other.”

“Bill was telling me about this, and I just about choked on my coffee.”

“You don’t want that?” Sam asked.

“I didn’t say that.  I have loved you since we were kids, and I don’t know how this all works.”

“Well, if we will permit it, that shower is more than large enough for three of us.  Not only can she dry you off, but she can scrub you too, and you can scrub her and so on.”

“When I was in college, a group of us got drunk on cheap wine.  When the bottle was empty, we all ended up in one large pile of flesh on the bed.  Sam, do you remember that?”

Helga was listening to them.  She realized that they were talking themselves into the relationship.  As they spoke, she began to undress.  The conversation stopped as both of them were now watching this blond vixen.  Not only had she been in the red light district, but she had worked on stage.  All of those talents were in use by the time she landed on the bed with them.  Kissing Samantha first, and then David, the pile of flesh was repeated without the Ripple.

Similar scenes played out throughout the ship. The Ularins had picked the ratio of more women than men for a reason.  They needed to get past their first taboo and start the process of creating their replacements. 

As shifts went on and others came off, the demeanor of the crew was much better every hour they were together. 

Setting a course for the red planet, Bill and David watched the screen as Mars became larger than life.

“I used to see this through my telescope, never in my life did I think I would be this close.”

“So we just stick a straw into the snow and suck up water,” David asked?

“No, there are smaller ships in the launch bay that have water tanks on board.  We thought we would keep this water separate from our potable water, just in case.”

“In case?”

“The planet is dead.  Anything that was once alive is dead because there is no atmosphere or magnetic shield to protect it from cosmic radiation.”

“Bill, if this is so, why not just add to our water?”

“Theoretically, it should be dead.  We still don’t want to take any chances.”

Bill headed off to speak with the team that was going to acquire the water.  Running biological scans of the water was part of the plan.

They were staring at the planet below them. David could see where water had once been.  Mars was once alive; he knew it.  Orbiting over the South Pole, the team left the ship heading to the surface.  David thought about taking one of the trips to the surface when Helga stopped him.

He and Sam had been talking when she came out of the bathroom, dripping wet. “You are not going down there.” She said.  Sam got up getting a towel to cover her, and return the favor.

“I am the captain, why can’t I go?”

“You are the captain, which is why you can’t go.  Let the women do this.”

“You mean the crew is all women?”

“Yes, we are expendable.”

“Nobody is expendable!”

Sam interjected, “she is right, there are more of us than men.  We need to be pragmatic about this and David; you are not leaving this ship until we reach wherever we are going.”

“Who is the captain?”

Helga pushed him back on the bed, landing on top of him.  “You are when we let you.”  Stopping his talking any further by kissing him, Sam watched and was suddenly very aroused by her actions.  Her milk-white skin was almost too perfect.

***

With all the crew back on board, they had acquired tens of thousands of gallons of water from mars.  Detecting Nothing in it that was harmful, they begin to farm.

The area topside was under a glass dome made in such a way that the lower the light available, the more it would reflect light to the surface.  It was a special glass that was tougher than steel, impervious to meteorites, and very transparent.

David went up to look at the farm.  Rows of different plants were growing.  Many of the farmers took turns caring for the plants.  They were forced to play the role of the honey bee, which would require the hundred or so farmers to manage it.

The warmth under the dome caused many to wear little, while playing farmer.  David and Sam went to walk through a part of the farm set up as a garden.  They noticed many topless ladies and a few men who were also just wearing pants.

“Do we have a ship of nudists?”

“If they are happy, do you care?”

“No, are they playing in the water over there?”

A girl went running by as another was chasing her with the hose. “I think so.”

“This is still Martian water, right?”

“There is Nothing in it.  We have tested it; I think some these guys have drunk from that hose.”

David shook his head.  “My gut tells me that it is a bad idea.  Doctor, I want you to check anyone who has drunk this water.”

“David, you are a little paranoid.”

The light from above cast just enough of a shadow to give him contrast of the soil.

“Sammy, that dirt has a red ting to it, why?”

The smile left her face as she looked down to see what he was talking about. “Shit!”

David yelled at all who could hear until he got their attention.

“The doctors are going to be checking each of you.  It would seem that the Martian water does have something going on with it.”

Soil samples were quickly analyzed to find that something was growing beside their plants.  A bacteria of an unknown kind was in the water and now contaminated their entire farm. 

When people began to have strange growths on their skin, the entire medical staff went into action.

Martians

“How many are infected, Skipper?”

“Bill, dammit, I knew better.  I knew it was a bad idea, and now we have alien fungus or something infecting the entire farm and all of the farmers.”

“Are they quarantined?”

“I have them restricted to the section of the ship closest to the farm.”

“We can’t set it on fire, what do we do?”

“Nothing yet, I have them tending to the plants as if there were Nothing wrong.  The fungus on the farmers is Nothing more than a minor irritant at this point.  The botanist is looking in on the farm.  The scientists are examining the water.  We need to know what we are dealing with before we react.”

“What about the people who drank the water?”

“Don’t know.  Sam thinks their stomach acid might save them.  She has applied a weak version hydrochloric acid to some fungus on one of the farmers, and it seems to have killed it.”

“We should have radiated that water before we brought it on board.”

“If we survive this, we will have other challenges.”

The medical crew applied fungicide to the growths on the farmers.  After a few days, the fungi seemed to vanish.  The botanist kept up with the farm and noticed the plants were growing much better than before.  Examining the root system under a microscope, they were surprised to see fungi that appeared to be very much like mycorrhizal fungi.

“Wait, you are telling me this is similar to what we had on earth?”

“Other than the part where it is growing on the dirt, pretty much.  It seems to have made the dirt work better, allowing a better root system for the plants.”

“Sam, what do you think?”

“I think we should sterilize that water and not worry about the plants.  It appears that the farmers were infected by playing in the water.”

Bill listened in on the conversation while thinking about what could have happened.  They could ill afford any more screw-ups.

Orbiting the planet, one of the science officers had been scanning the surface.  Finding a structure under the surface, she alerted the crew.

“What kind of structure?”

“There is a subterranean structure close to this thing that looks like a face.”

“Do you realize how many people have postulated about what this is?”

“Skipper, we have a chance to see what it is.  What do you think?”

“Everything we do risk the success of our mission.  Still, if there is a structure and that thing is not an aberration of wind-blown stone, it would be kind of cool to know for sure.  How is our fuel holding out?”

“We have well over 90 percent of it left.  This thing must get two million miles to the gallon.” Bill joked.

“Why don’t you handle the team for the surface? I need to work with the scientist to see if we can locate a source of fuel.”

“Skipper, should I go with them?”

“Do you want to?”

Bill smiled for the first time since this adventure started.  “Tell the Amazons that I said it was ok.”

He laughed as he left the board room.  David knew that they could die at any moment.  They were babes in the woods.  Mars was in their back yard. This adventure was probably a once in a lifetime chance to learn about the planet.

David met with the scientist as they pontificated about dark matter.  The ‘teacher’ had told them much, but it did not allude to where they might find it.  He sat in the board room as several of them other prattled on about different theories.

Flipping through photographs of different images captured by stellar photography, he could not help but stare at the Andromeda galaxy.

One picture after another caused David’s attention to fade.  A scientist realized that David was not paying attention to them.

“Are we boring you,” One of them asked?

“Pete, tell me, what holds these galaxies together like this?”

“What do you mean?”

“Why are the arms twisted like that all on one plane?”

“We think gravity from a black hole, why?”

David talked to them for several minutes about black holes and such when it hit him.  “What if dark matter is holding things together?”

“Between the arms?”

“Yes, what if a black hole is nothing more than an abundance of dark matter?”

“We think a black hole is a tear in space.”

“How would that create gravity?”

“We can solve this question quickly enough; there is an instrument on this ship that detects black holes.”

David looked at him.  “Do you suppose that could be like a GPS for the gas station?”

“Maybe, it is a hell of a risk.”

“What about a small black hole, don’t they have those?”

“If you are right, we have several tanks full of the stuff of black holes.”

“When Bill and the team get back, locate a small black hole, and let’s see what happens.  Also, while we are waiting, why not see if there is other equipment on board for, I don’t know, collecting things like black hole material.”

The team left the board room to explore the ship, while Bill and his team were making their way to the surface.

***

Turbulence buffeted the ship as it made its way through the thin Martian atmosphere.  Dust devils the size of mountains on Earth tracked the grounds under them.  Vectoring around one of the more giant vortices, Bill set down close to the monolithic edifice.  Once they were all in atmospherically controlled outfits, they became the first humans to step on Mars.

There were no cameras, no fancy words that would go down in the history books.  He did not even have a flag to hammer into the soil.

Those gathering the water never left the ship.  Had Dave been more protective, this visit might not have happened.

Pointing to what looked like a rectangular opening to something, the four-headed in that direction. 

They had never been off on another planet before.  The ‘teacher’ had briefed them on proper procedures for off-world travel.  Still, even with the education, they did not anticipate the lightness in their steps or the fact that they could see the wind moving sand and dust around, if they opened their visor, they would die instantly.

As civilian citizens learning about barometric pressure meant little to them.  Bill knew that there was so low pressure, it would be as if they were in a vacuum.

Standing at the base of the monolith, it was clear this was made by some form of intelligence.

“I guess this answers the question about life on Mars.”

Turning on lights on their suits, they entered the room.  Equipment, as they had never imagined, lined the walls inside.  The floor was covered with piles of red dirt that had blown in from eons of the door open door.

Recording what they were looking at, the team examined the intricacy of the gauges, knobs, and so forth. 

“I wonder how old this stuff is?”  A team member asked.

“It looks dead as a doornail, but just the same don’t touch anything,” Bill said.

“Look, there is a door over there.  If my scans are correct, that leads to a hidden chamber.”

“By the size of the doors, whoever was here must have been about ten feet tall.”

Bill walked over to the door in the back of the room.  Buttons by the door were the only way he could see of entering or opening the door.  Touching a button, the lights came on in the room.

Their heart rate jumped as they heard the door behind them closing.

“Shit!” Bill said.

“Hang on Bill, this is probably a way to keep the air pressure from the outside, effecting that beyond that door.”

They heard sounds of wind whistling.  Soon there were vortices of sorts blowing dust and sand about at first clouding the air around them.  Bill noticed the air clearing as a filtration system had activated cleaning all the sand and dirt from the room.  Looking at a gauge on his suit, he saw the pressure was adjusting closer to what they were accustomed to on Earth.

One of the team members pulled out an instrument monitoring the actual air in the room. 

“What is it doing, Dana?”

“Oxygen content is rising.  If it were to continue, this would be breathable.”

“What about pathogens?”

“Sir, this planet is sterilized dead.  That fungus we picked up is only there because there is water.  Anyway, I am finding Nothing organic.”

“Something is producing oxygen.”

“Not just that, sir,” Jane said.

“What.”

“Detecting trace amounts of humidity, something is allowing water to survive here.”

Calling the ship, there was no answer.

The equipment around them began glowing.  Panels lite up as monitors sprang to life.

“If a little green man pops out that door….”

“We have no weapons, so let’s hope if they do, they are friendly,” Bill said.

***

“David, I am not getting any signal from the biometrics of the team.”

Speaking to his science officer, David asked. “Do you have any readings on where they are?”

“There ship is close to that monolith.  They reported there was an opening, and they were going to investigate.”

“Keep trying to raise them.”

David went off to find Sam.  Heading to the galley he found many but not her.  His quarters were next on his list.  Opening the door, he saw her, with Helga.

They were engaged in pillow talk when he entered the room.  Glancing at him, the soulful look from Sam was met with the analytical mind of Helga.

“You’re not expected for another three hours,” Helga stated.

“These are my quarters, that is my bed, and that is my…Samantha.”

Sam jumped out of bed, grabbing a robe. “What is going on with you?”

Looking down at the floor, he shook his head.  “Some things are going on, and I wanted to talk them over with you.”

Pulling him to the bed, Helga scooted over so he could sit.

“David, Helga is our…too.  We can label her if you like, but she loves you as much as she loves me.”

“You’re right, Helga, this is still new to me.”

Helga looked at him, crawling up beside him.  Placing her warm body next to his, her face was now within inches of his. “I understand more than you know.” Kissing him, he forgot why he came looking in the first place.  His mind was soon drifting to these two had to offer before Sam stopped them.

“I sense there is more on your mind than an afternoon …nap..”

Sitting back up, Helga was once again planted at his left side.  His arm around her waist was more than a distraction.  Her warmth and supple skin made it hard for him to concentrate.

Standing, she sat next to Sam while he looked at them.

“Bill and his crew our out of contact with us.  Biometrics is reporting a loss of signal with their suits.   I am worried, and I wanted your opinion.”

“David, I would love to walk on Mars.  Why don’t we see if we can land the ship close to them so we can send out search parties?”

“This ship is the size of a small city.  It makes an aircraft carrier seem like a yacht.  You want me to land it on the planet?”

“It was on the moon; it was under our ocean for a time, let’s see if there is enough flat surface around there where we can put down.”

“When was it under our ocean?”

“The Ularins were examining our sea life.  I got a full lesson from one of my medical courses.”

“You have been rather subdued Helga, what do you think?”

“My mind was thinking of other things, and you interrupted that.  What I know about this ship, it will take hours to get it ready to land.  Why not tell the crew to get it ready, and then you take a nap before we have dinner.”

Samantha smiled, tossing the robe on the chair, sitting back down with Helga.

“Yes, why don’t you do that?”

Helga was worse than being drunk.  Every time he was around her, it was as if he turned into a college kid who just got the keys to his parent’s car.

He smiled at the two of them.  “I will be back in a jiff, keep your motors running.”

Featured

Truth

There is no your truth, or my truth, there is only ‘The Truth.’

Reading your blogs, many of you are philosophers. You folks are having thoughts on current events that provide for a healthy debate. 

Could Bloggers be replacements for journalists?

Looking at a story through the lens of the media, often the story is colored with opinion, not fact.  The media creates stories based on belief and a smattering of the facts on both sides of the aisle.  They have an agenda.

Ms. Harris was interviewed on late-night TV by a comedian who called her out on the primary debate. Leading up to and during the debate, she called Joe racists, and accused him of pedophilia, and said that the woman accusing him of sexual misconduct was credible, and she believed her.

During the interview, he asked her how she could be the running mate of a man that was that flawed.

Laughing hysterically, she responded, ‘that was a debate.’

In her mind, the truth has no place in politics.  The media fawned over her performance, calling her a rising star. 

You say whatever you think your audience wants to hear.  You do whatever it takes to win.  I find that disturbing on so many levels.

What I believe and have seen a history of, politicians will say or do whatever it takes to sway public opinion.  The problem is this. 

We have the 1rst amendment.   The press are to keep the rich and powerful in check.  China, for instance, if their journalist wrote an unflattering story of Xi Jinping, they would disappear forever.  In the US, that is not supposed to be the way it is.

For those of you who think that all of the people who had dirt on the Clintons, died of suicide, you probably also think Epstein hung himself.   

Her answer sets a dangerous precedence.  She is not even trying to hide the fact that she is a pathological liar.  

Since we know this about her, we have no clue what she really stands for. 

***

I have some good news.

The second ACT of The Three hundred is in editing.    Stay tuned to see what happens as our intrepid survivors of the earth are now out in space, on a ship the size of a small city.

ACT III started about 3 this morning.  Was there life on Mars?

Hit that follow button if you haven’t already.

Stay safe, calm and cool.  We will get through it, and come out the other side a lot wiser and stronger.

Cheers -TW

Featured

Greetings and Happy Monday

Writing is Cathartic, have you tried it?

I know many of you are like me.  The days are blending, and your routine is looking rather bleak. Following events from around the globe, you can see that we are not alone.

The aphorism ‘Keep calm and carry on’ is probably sage advice.  You and I have something in common that might keep our sanity intact longer than most.  We write.

Writing is cathartic.  When people grieve, they tend to hold it all in and go through all the stages of grief.

For those of you who have never heard of the stages of grief they are:

  1. Denial
  2. Anger
  3. Bargaining
  4. Depression
  5. Acceptance

You might be telling yourself, nobody I know has died, TW what is this talk about grief and grieving?

The world as you and I knew it changed around March.  For many, it was before March.  Many of us saw our freedoms, livelihood and yes friends and family disappear.  I think part of the issues with the riots are; some people are in the ANGER stage.  The problem is, they are being lied to by the media. Misleading the public is what they do best.  Their motive is their bank account.  Leaving earth-shattering stories on the cutting room floor, to paint certain politicians as abhorrent is their daily tasks.

The past several months I have lost two close friends that I could not even attend their funerals. 

We have all lost our freedoms, and now we see what tyrannical governments look like.  Some of you, in other countries, already know this.    Of course, the media is blaming everything on the president as this is an election year. 

I am working on the rest of the second act of The Three Hundred.

When not dealing with customers, I write.

I also have been reading some of your blogs.  These weeks shout out goes to https://dirtyscifibuddha.com/

Does the donate button work?

If you have not checked out that site, I will encourage you to follow the link.

Stay safe, stay sane, and if you want to know how to do the primal scream, well, I have no idea.  Someone posted a video of a woodchuck standing by the Grand Canyon screaming, but I am confident it was all photoshop and PC magic.

We will get through this and be stronger for it.  Be wary if the media start selling you a song and dance about migrating bats from China carrying COVID 19.  Some politicians will sell their souls for a Klondike Bar.

China knows they screwed up, and most probably will be making deals with heads of state to let this die on the vine. As long as their bank account reflects your pain and misery, ie Hunter Biden walking away with a Billion from China for access to the VP, no telling who is going to get rich for your suffering.

I have already seen stories about bats.  Just wait.  Propaganda from outfits like Yahoo, Time, and even Amazon’s Alexa flashing up little stories to breed an ounce of doubt.

All I am saying is don’t buy the bullshit. 

Much Love -TW

Featured

Three Hundred Update

Now we learn that the face on Mars is not just our mind playing tricks.

This is a quick note to let you know that act II is well under way. At present, a small contingent of the ship has left for the surface of Mars.

While getting water from the polar caps, they found that upon closer inspection the FACE on Mars appears to have subterranean structures.

They have been stuck there for two days while I dream up what they will find.

Is this important to the story? Yes

Is it critical, not sure.

What will they find? You will have to follow me and wait like the rest of us to discover the true story on the face on MARS.

I hope you all had a perfectly splendid weekend and that your Monday is not too objectionable.

Much Love -TW

Featured

The Three Hundred

David never suspected that the Ularins targeted him to save the human race.

Blinding White Light

The white orb in the distance is all that was left of home.  Once a thriving population of over three billion people, it was a cold dead rock.  The beacon alerting wayfaring travelers to steer clear of this world was set on automatic. 

Powered by the radiation emitted from the globe, the message would repeat until such a time there was insufficient radiation to fuel it. The message created in all known languages warned of the extreme radiation hazard.

“We set the last of the beacons, what now?”

“We have enough supplies for three months give or take. Did the Ularins leave us anything in the database regarding habitable planets?”

“They wiped all of the information except one-star system.”

“Where is it?”

“300 light-years in that direction,” Bill said, pointing to a small blue dot.

“The binary sun?”

“It is nothing like we are used to.  Two blue stars locked into a death spiral.  Why that star system and not one like ours is anyone’s guess.”

“That is in the handle of the big dipper, isn’t it?”

“Yep.”

“We are looking at an image three hundred years old, for all we know it has collided and is already a supernova.”

“They selected us and brought us to this ship; they must have had a plan,” Bill said.

“They gave us a puzzle and a fighting chance.  We have two hundred and ninety-eight other souls on board; let’s hope one of them has some ideas.”

Bill turned to leave as David sat there looking at the planet, which was no longer blue.  Passing outside the orbit of the moon, the earth appeared much like Venus.  A white dot against the ebony backdrop of nothingness.

The old base on the moon was now vacant, as the last of the Ularins headed out on their next mission.

***

Years before, David had been an advocate for humanitarian groups to eradicate the diseases where the plague had popped up.  There were hot spots created by mass migrations of people who had no food.  Much like the locust that gave them a reason to migrate, they traveled in packs overwhelming ‘civilized society.’ Destroying infrastructure, taking what they wanted before burning it to the ground, they murdered the people who were there before them..

His part of the military focused on finding those responsible and stopping them by any means possible.  Finding the blackened remains of towns, David threw up the first time he saw what was left behind.

Pregnant women had been tortured, their breasts cut off, and babies cut from them only to be eaten.

Young women were taken and raped, men were killed, and children either became slaves or were eaten.  Finding children and babies on spits over what was an open fire shocked them profoundly.  David and his group were disgusted by these animals.  They sought to wipe them from the face of the earth. Society had been pushed to the brink. Those that were pushed, de-evolved into the savages they came from eons ago.  His anger was causing him to de-evolve too.

Lawlessness broke out in every country, and the government ceased to be effective.  Killing its own people by the tens of thousands only sparked outrage by civilized society.  A civil war between the people and the government pitted father against son.

David left the military when his tour was up.  He did not like where it was headed. The fabric of the military broke down when they were forced to use missiles, tanks, and other weapons of war in the suburbs where they grew up.

Turning their weapons on their respective governments, society stopped.

A virus created to eliminate the old and sickly was set loose on humanity. The elite held the formula for the vaccine and kept it a secret.  The virus would remove millions without one bullet fired.  The single strand of RNA, like most unstable viruses, evolved.  The vaccine designed to protect the elite failed.

This virus was a genetic doomsday device.  Created to be thousands of times more infectious than its closest related cousin, it was unstoppable. 

Turning the body’s defenses against itself, those who caught it died a most horrific death.  Much like fish removed from the water and left on the beach to gasp for breath, this was the fate of billions of people, young and old alike.

The earth was languishing in pestilence. Millions were dying every day.  Large fires to eliminate the bodies that were once a weekly occurrence, turned daily.  Massive fires never ceased to reduce the bodies and try to control the plague. Some countries hauled the remains up to active volcanoes, where the earth could devour its own.

The odor of burning human remains only magnified the stench of rotting flesh.  No pocket full of posies would fix this.

What were once a proud people, were now piles of porcelain teeth, titanium knees, and hips, with the occasional golden nugget that was once the pride of someone’s mouth.

The Ularins had been watching from the moon.  Listening to our broadcasts, they had seen it all before.  An intergalactic police force, they waited patiently to see if the humans would evolve.

With the death of so many, so too was the end of any infrastructure to supply food.  Those that would survive would need to be the ‘master race.’

Pulling pages from Joseph Goebbels’s life, the media became the propaganda machine controlling the people through fear, emotional triggers, and hunger. There were still megalomaniacs in the world who believed that some form of equilibrium would occur, and they could swoop in and offer them a solution.

The virus had other ideas.  Science had reached its zenith and fell short of its ability to sustain itself. Those who worked to cure the effects of the illness succumbed to it.

The media let the phrase slip out, ‘A man who does not benefit the world by his life does so by his death.’

Re-writing ancient text to include this aphorism into dogma, had a minimal effect.  Many who had never cracked the sacred book before, had little idea what was original and what had been added as a control mechanism.  History had been erased by those who felt they knew better.

Those that read the text and committed suicide to aid the rest were too few to be of any use. 

Extolling the virtues of abortions through the media, were also too little too late.

Little did those who tried to limit man’s population know that they would need babies.  While supply and demand for resources should equal out, the virus had other plans.

Gang warfare became a nightly occurrence as city after city was torched by the ‘have nots.’ Politicians hoping to capitalize on their votes, lost control and soon became victims of the mob.

As resources became harder to come by, the average age of those that needed to die went down from 70, to 60, and then to 50.

The virus was tweaked again and released on to the world stage.  Younger megalomaniacs took over the development of the virus, the war efforts, and the propaganda.

Children were slaves and forced to work in the fields.  If they wanted to live, they worked from sun up to sundown.

The media dutifully told the world what was wrong, and whose fault it was. Of course, what they were preaching was whatever the elites told them to say.  Government controlled fact-checkers quickly debunked clandestine videos of the truth.

Slavery by non-disabled people was praised as patriotic, even when it meant bringing most of the food to the ivory towers of the gods.

The Ularins paid attention from their base 250,000 miles above the earth. Scouting missions were a constant as even certain media would release reports of UFOs by independent journalists.  The mainstream media used those reports as distractions. 

***

David had worked hard teaching people how to farm.  People who had grown up in front of computer screens were thrust back into an agrarian culture.  He had grown up in Iowa and knew all about Farming.

With the death of the internet, social media lost its control over the masses.  Radio and TV were next to come under assault from the lack of power.

When Samantha, his old neighbor, heard what David was up to, she contacted him via radio, using solar panels and batteries for power.  Traveling home, the two were once again on the same farm. 

He listened from the porch as he heard her inside with pots and pans on the top of the old potbelly stove.  The aroma of cornbread and roasted chicken filled the air.  Sitting on the porch of his parent’s house, the stars were more vivid than he had ever seen them.  Samantha was inside, trying to keep from burning their dinner.

Once the government fell, those who still had weapons put an end to the roving gangs.  It was not only the criminals that did not turn in their guns; it was also the farmers, the people who did not live in the city, and those who knew history.

What the virus did not kill, they did.  It was kill, or be killed. Those that knew how to survive bit their lips and defended what was theirs. 

With no lawyers, judges, or politicians left, the society which survived the plague, and the riots were polite.  It was not uncommon to ride into town and see people with stretched out necks, swinging in the breezes. The law of the six-gun returned overnight. The gang bangers did not know how to react when people fought back. 

The silent majority was silent no more. 

Coyotes from the river sent out their lonely calls. David made sure his livestock was safely in the barn.  Not unlike the roving gangs, the varmints were hungry too and were much more cunning.  David had set traps, as coyotes are nothing more than dogs that are not tame.  Dog meat is edible.

While David was looking up that stars, he had little clue that someone was looking down at him.

***

The roving gangs that were still alive brought their unique diseases with them.  Setting up radio links, the farmers knew their movements.  Assaulting them on their own grounds, there were more piles of bodies that needed to be discarded.

You either provided for the common good, or you died.  Goebbels would be proud.

The population of the planet went from billions to millions to thousands.  The remoteness of the clans halted the spread of the virus.  If they controlled the gangs, the virus would stay at bay.

The rich and powerful became the hunted. People learned the truth about the media, the lies, and what governments had done to them.  Those who were filthy rich became worm food.  Even on their private islands, they were sought out and destroyed for their treachery.  The list of billionaires who played god became the worlds most wanted.  There was not a safe place for them to hide. They had betrayed everyone, even their servants.

Part of the original design of the virus was to sterilize women.  Anti-abortion groups made it too hard to get the population under control.  The designers of the virus had the virus attack the endocrine system, among other things causing the hormones that generally control the fertility process, to stop working. 

New births plummeted before the virus mutated, eventually taking out those who were vaccinated against it.

Distancing on a massive scale would stop the spread but ensure that if they ever traveled too far from their clan, there was mutually assured destruction. Each group had their unique genetic version of the virus.  Their herd immunity only protected them.  They thought that was their answer until the biting insects infected the animals that occupied the skies, and even the livestock.

Another reason for the extreme distance requirement is the virus was airborne.  In order not to panic the masses, the governments of the world did not share that information, using draconian methods to control the spread instead.  If the virus spread, they blamed the population and not the fact that it was airborne.  They missed the mosquito as a carrier. Nobody suspected it until a researcher discovered it while researching other pathogens that seem to be mutating and traveling.

Since it could only be seen under an electron microscope, the researcher that discovered it disappeared before she had time to announce her findings, so the gods thought.

A release from a hand written note made it an underground radio station that informed the public much to the chagrin of the government.  To control the masses they needed to control the flow of information.

This bit of data turned citizen against citizen, which was another distraction from the truth.  There were reasons that the gods did not wear PPE.  They knew it was worthless.

Sterilized and separated, radio from a primitive time allowed some to communicate.  Creating energy from wind, solar, and biofuel, gave some lights, but few knew how to utilize feces as a form of fuel. Even fewer knew how to farm.  These electrical devices had a finite life span. There were no more factories.  If they could not make it, grow it, or steal it, they did not have it.

The gradual demise of the animal called man was in the works.  Those who stayed in the city did not last long.  That is where the gangs stayed until all of the resources had been depleted.  Rats soon were the only living creatures that inhabited the skyscrapers, where the gods used to live.  They carried their own version of destruction.  The bubonic plague followed the rats into the streets, alleys, and gutters where the dead and dying laid, waiting to become food for the vermin.

The gods were massacred by the very people they sought to control.  When the lights went out, and money was no longer useful, their own guards turned on them.  Some gods were tossed off the roof of the 32nd floor for an audience who craved blood.  Anger filled their hearts. After there was no more gods to destroy, they turned on each other.  The streets ran red, attracting more rats to the feeding frenzy.

History was replete with this very behavior, but of course, the history books had been destroyed. They had been labeled as racist, homophobic, and sexist. The gods knew that an ignorant society was much easier to control than one who was educated.  They had learned this from the days before the civil war when it was illegal to teach a slave to read.  The politicians who promoted that law remembered it, and used it without mercy.

A select few gods had their fingers on the buttons of a nuclear arsenal.  If they were going to go, they were taking the rest with them. 

***

With the ability to adapt, very much like a chameleon, the Ularins found the cure for the virus. Inoculated themselves before embarking on their missions, they cured and disinfected all those subjects that were under consideration before abducting them.  From their ship in orbit, the Ularins watched as once brightly lit areas of the globe went dark, they knew the end was near.  From their base on the moon, the noise of the once-bustling world diminished.  That noise is what drew them to this part of the galaxy.  As the radio emissions slowly faded, TV signals were broadcast at diminished power levels, with far fewer signals detected.

Artificial satellites went silent, piquing the curiosity of the Ularins.  Some of the satellites lost their geosynchronous orbit, raining down on the planet below in a spectacle of fireballs.  With the chaos on the streets, nobody even noticed when the international space station lost altitude, breaching the earth’s atmosphere at over 17,000 miles an hour.  Had people been alive on board, they might have been able to warn the people below that there was incoming.  Sadly the occupants had perished from starvation, as there was nobody to send supplies to them.

The fireball lit up the night sky over Siberia before exploding with the force of an atomic blast.  A few in the northern parts of Alaska felt the shockwave but had no idea what caused it.

Sporadic low power communications interested the Ularins, who soon had targets of places to visit.

The time to harvest was near. Their job was clear, find the best and the brightest of the population, and remove them before the extinction event.   They had already found the first two, they needed three hundred total.

Stars

David sat in the control center as people from different countries were educated on the ship’s systems.  The Ularins had developed a virtual teaching tool, much like some of the video games that were produced.  Unlike the video games which used the body’s senses, this tool went right into the neural pathways of the brain, creating synapses and neural pathways as needed.

The humans were unaware that their animalistic instincts for fight or flight were being modified.  Those lower lizard brain functions were responsible for the carnage of that world throughout its troubled history.

Downloading every bit of the earth’s history, the humans were also taught it in painstaking detail. 

The Ularins allowed them to see, feel, smell, and taste the entire history of their world.  From Hitler to the Rape of NanJing, they experienced all of it.  When Vlad the Impaler was part of the lesson, many were shocked beyond belief.  This was the price these three hundred people must pay for their salvation. This was their lineage, their history.  The evil people that they hailed from were responsible for the horrific deaths of millions, and these three hundred saw it all.  The end of the lesson was the creation of the virus and the evil atrocities that greedy people perform for power.

The failure of the education system was directly to blame for the massacres throughout human history.  While the definition of insanity was doing the same thing repeatedly expecting a different result, if they didn’t know history, they could not begin to comprehend why ideologies like socialism would never work. 

David was still ruminating over some history. The PTSD caused by the lesson was healed before the lesson terminated.  The memories would never leave.

Samantha could tell he was deep in thought.    Being healed did not stop one from thinking about what they learned. This method of teaching allowed one to experience all of it with all of your senses.  There was not shutting your eyes or plugging your ears.  The three hundred were to complete their education before being allowed to pilot an intergalactic spaceship.

They realized how evil the gods were.  Their right to vote was never so important to them after they learned why.  They and people like them put some of those gods in their ivory towers.

The importance of their vote never occurred to many, as they were all lost in their little worlds.  That was not their fault.

They were damned sure going to know how this happened. The Ularins would make sure they understood why their race was now on the verge of extinction. They would know why their world was at the beginning of a nuclear winter.

Samantha appeared, breaking David’s trance.

“Are you coming to bed?”

“I don’t know, look where we are.”

“Dave, ever since they took us off the farm, you have had little sleep. You need to rest to stay healthy.”

Dave allowed her to take his hand, leading him off the central control room floor.  Bill took over as she led him away, down the main corridor toward their quarters.

Sitting on the bed, he watched as the moon was much closer. “Look, you can see where their base was.”

Sam looked at the crater, and what was left of the edifice, they lived in.  Removing her clothes, she cleared her throat.  Dave turned around to see that sleep was not forefront in her mind.

Hours later, he awoke with her in his arm.  They were past the moon, headed out of the solar system, or so he thought.

“Can’t sleep?”

Dave looked over at her brushing her auburn hair from her face.  “I slept.”

“Three hours is not much sleep.”

“Why did they pick us?”

“Are we going to have that conversation again?”

“Sam, they put us in charge of three hundred lives.  These are all that is left of the race known as humans.  Surely there are better-qualified people on board to lead us.”

“I think your humility has something to do with why we are in charge.  Are you worried about the supplies and how we are going to survive?”

“That is part of it, we are out here in space, passing by the moon with only this small minuscule part of billions of stars mapped out for us.  Why there?  We are leaving our home in the dust as it were.”

David knew he could go where he wanted, but for some reason, the Ularins had only mapped out this particular region of space.  They did not tell them why.  It was like breadcrumbs in space, leading them to a binary star system. 

The crew was going through the education campaign that was more like indoctrination. The computer downloaded their memories and then added to them.  These would be the brightest and best of the human race.

David and Sam had gone through it first before the others were aboard.  The image of the white flashes from the planet below them still played in his mind.  Someone, several others had thought there could be a winner with nukes.  David did not know that the minuteman defense system was set to automatic.  When an incoming target was confirmed, the system responded in kind.

“I think we can go back and learn more if we need more information.” She said.

“How do you know that?”

“Dave, they made me a kind of doctor.  As we proceed, I have to go back and learn more.  That thing creates these pathways between the hemispheres of our brains. The more pathways the more we can learn.”

“I don’t want another history lesson.”

“We come from pretty shitty people.  They wanted us to know that.  We are capable of great things too, we have to choose.  We can dream wonderful things or we can dream evil things.  Now that we understand the evil, I don’t think anyone who goes through that would pick it.”

“I hope not, I would hate to have a psychopath on board.”

“They will not allow a mentally disturbed person to inhabit this ship.”

“What does that mean?”

“If they are defective we will jettison their body in to space. That teacher is also judge and jury.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“You do now, hope the Ularins picked wisely.”

The beeping sound from the door buzzer brought him back to the present.  Pulling the sheet up over Sam, he dawned a robe and went to the door.

“Bill wants to see you; he thinks he has an idea.”

“Give me ten minutes; I will meet him in the conference center.”

Sam turned over to see him tossing the robe on a chair.  “No time for an encore performance?”

The chuckle caught her by surprise.  “I don’t remember you ever being this amorous on the farm.”

“We were not safe on the farm.  I had to cook as a cavewoman might cook.  No, I was not in the mood.”

“We are in space, we have a limited amount of supplies, and I am still waiting on the crew to be educated before I can plan anything.”

“Do you want to kill my mood?”

Turning to face the bed, he laughed, “no, I have a lot on my mind.”

“I know, once you are on task I don’t stand a chance.”

Jumping back on the bed landing on top of her, they were now facing each other. “I have loved you since we were kids.  We may not have haylofts or swimming holes, but we have a huge ship that even with the others on board, it is like we are the only ones here.”

Brushing his blond hair back away from his eyes, she kissed him again.  “There is an area on the ship that is made for Farming.  I would bet the Ularins got the seeds for such things.”

“Farming takes water. I need to go see Bill; when I am finished I will come back here.”

“Promise?”

Kissing her, he headed to the bathroom to dress and leave before he was distracted once again.

Bill was looking at some charts he pulled up when Dave walked in.

Handing him coffee Dave was wide eyed.  “Where did you get this?”

“One of our crew is now a chef.  She always liked cooking but after her ‘education’ she learned how to use the equipment in the kitchen.  Programming it for humans, out comes coffee.”

“Does this solve our supply problem?”

“Yes and no.  This device uses the same energy that our engines use.  We have to find dark matter, and we have less than three months to do it.”

“Perfect, we have to locate and figure out how to get a theoretical compound within three months, or we all die.  Do I understand that correctly?”

“It is not theoretical; we have storage tanks full of it.  We need to learn how to handle it and more about it so we can speculate about where it might be.”

“That wasn’t in my education, was it in yours?”

“No, presumably, someone on this ship will be a physicist.”

“I hope they turn up fast, the sooner I know where to head, the quicker we can get that part of the puzzle behind us.”

“Our tanks are full, think about that skipper.”

“Shit, that means we make regular trips to the gas station.”

“Bingo, I am betting this stuff is more abundant than we think.”

***

Ok, ladies and gentlemen.  This is where you come in. 

Years ago, I was working on writing more judiciously.  When twitter was more restrictive than it is now, I wrote several chapters of The Saga of the Starduster in tweets.  Stream of consciousness. 

This story you just read is, act one, of a stream of conscious session with the keyboard.

This blog is un-edited and a rough draft.

 If you want an act two, tell me.

If you have an idea for act two, let’s hear it.

What I would like from you is this, do whatever it is you do to reblog or copy or share or what have you.

Since the COVID virus, sales of my novels have cratered.  Now I realize that people are hurting, and that is one reason I am going to create this story on my blog for my followers.

If you can do anything to drive traffic this way, I would appreciate it greatly.  I can even make that little heart sign with my own two little hands.

As a business owner, I am not eligible for unemployment insurance.  I have been frugal with my money, and book sales have assisted in the past.  Too many more months of this, and I don’t know where we will be.  Maybe the Ularins will come to get us.  J

Much love -TW