Why Do We Write?

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 24^th 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

Happy ‘Hump Day’

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

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

Greetings and Happy Monday

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

Day 47

How has your life been affected?

What changes have you made to affect a positive effect on your life?

I joke about naturism but I did read a blog post about naturists getting together on zoom.  How would that work?  Why?  I thought the purpose of naturism was to be one with nature?  Is it something else?

Life goes on, my friends.  We do what we must to make ends meet.  Currently, I am pulling from savings to keep everyone happy, but that can only last so long.  Sadly there are many out there that cannot scrape together $500 if they needed to.

Today the blog is not about writing; it is about being human.  If you have followed me for any time at all, you know that I am a humanist.  I love people.  With luck, one-day people will be my bread and butter.  By that, I mean studying that which we do, all end up as fodder for my novels.    Some of this stuff seems unreal that it could be made up.

Months ago, when this all started, I wrote a blog about mental health.  I knew that this much of a change in people’s lives would bring out or manifest aberrations in their personalities.

Did you see the video of the two police harassing a mum who lived in a mobile home?  Two officers banged on her door and spoke to her in a very demeaning manner.  They, in fact, talked to her as if she were stupid.  The story made the rounds on the media, and they made sure to tout the fact that she lived in a mobile home.  Not everyone can live in a gated community with $24K freezers filled with $16 a pint ice cream.

Whatever your station in life, put yourself in the other person’s shoes.  They did not need to be terse with her.  Her child plays with one of the neighbor’s children and has done so for some time.  This child cut across one of the neighbor’s lawns, and they called the police.  For real?

I was out getting the mail the other day, and my neighbor was walking their dog.  I stopped as usual to visit, but on this day, she stays a good ten feet away from me.  Her dog didn’t hesitate to get her belly scratched or give me a doggy kiss.  Are we becoming a nation of paranoid people?

A comedian was making fun of Biden.  We all know he is a little on the creepy side when it comes to women and their hair.  They said this social distancing is going to kill him.

Ok, I am a hugger.  Not any of those half-ass hugs either.  Again if you read my novels, you know that I preach about being there for the hug.  I get it.  For my neighbor who has also been in her house for 46 days, to stay ten feet away from me, is alien.

I have noticed that many are talking about how China is going to repay the world for their deception.   The more we learn about the lab, the virus escaped from, the worse it gets.  While many leaders of countries might feel like letting it slide under the rug with a few good old boy deals in cigar smoke-filled rooms, occur I don’t think all countries will deal with Xi Jinping in that manner.  I saw a picture of Vladimir Putin talking about this virus.  Somehow I don’t think he will settle for some Chinese made crap in exchange for the damage to his economy, not to mention the death and destruction in Russia.

The problems with this virus are many.  We don’t know what we don’t know.  All of the research was destroyed.  In a face-saving move, the propaganda has been prolific, but, somehow I think the chickens will come home to roost.  The WHO will need to clean up its organization, and China will need to find some way to make things right with the world.  How?  That is the question.

Please keep in mind I do not blame the Chinese people.  I know many, and I am very appreciative of their culture.

As of right now, 212 countries and territories have reported a total of 3,402,018 confirmed cases of the virus.  There are over 239,622 deaths because of this. The numbers are the highest in the United States because the US is doing the most testing.  1,131,492 cases with 65,776 deaths and counting.

This event is historical, and many of us writers should be documenting it.  Before history is changed to fit some narrative, I would encourage writers to tell their stories.  Blog about it if nothing else.

Once you put it on the internet, it will be somewhere for all eternity.

Much like these blogs, I could delete them, but trust me.  Somewhere in some vault along with 33K emails, will be these words.

Will yours be among them?

I did spend some time working in the garden today.  It was a sunny day.  You would never guess where the sun kissed me…

Much love, Stay safe.  We will get through this.  -TW

 

Negative Character Arcs

Hello people, it is I, your humble author reaching out to you once again.  Many of you are writers or authors, and I want to pay it forward.  If you have followed me for any time at all, you know this about me already.

Character arcs are a considerable part of character development, which causes your readers to empathize with them.  Much like the big-eyed boy with the black rim glasses living under a staircase, we all loved him.  Why?  The author did a great job of growing him as well as the other characters around him.

One way we do this is with character arcs.  So, Negative arcs???

I get this question posed to me often.

If you first understand what a character arc is, you know that it is basically the growth or change a character makes during the story.

Your protagonist will probably believe some lie that possibly they learned sometime in their youth.  They have lived a lie, and somewhere in your story, their ‘truth’ is challenged.

A common lie is, they are not worthy of love.  Many go through their whole life because of their upbringing, believing that.  A little secret here, I was one of them.  Shhh, that is our secret, and a lie that I had to overcome.   Those horribly abused children you read about…That was me, and I would have loved the staircase vs. what I went through.

Anyway…

During the plot, they go through twists and turns and discover that their ‘truth’ is indeed false.  This can create a crisis for them, which is fun to write.  This would probably happen during the climax where they ‘shift’ their thinking.  Letting go of the lie and accepting the truth as their new mantra.  Because the lie and reality are probably apparent to your reader, they can empathize with your character, which will engender support for your writing style.

Yeah You!

What about a negative character arc?

There is the same lie, but the truth remains elusive and, the character now embraces their lie even more and spirals downward into less than proper behavior.  Breaking Bad is a perfect example of a negative character arc.

Had I not learned the truth, I dare say that drugs and alcohol might have been my undoing.  That would have been a negative arc.  Death can be part of a character’s negative arc.

In my novel, Presidential Assassins, Kelly’s arc is compelling.  Before going into the military, her stepfather met an untimely demise, after attempting to rape her.  While it appeared as an accident, this action put her on the radar of a group that works outside or above the law.

After her mother re-married…Kelly became a military brat, enlisting as soon as she could to get away from her parents.

She was a pilot in the air force, shot down and tortured by the enemy.  Kelly, unknown to her captures, is a real badass.  She learned as a military brat, at an early age that she had to be tough. When she saved a school friend from being raped by a gang of older boys, she came close to killing them.  Her friend brought her father back to the scene in the nick of time.  He stopped her from breaking their necks.  She had them all down, and now she was going to end their reign of terror, one at a time.

Realizing that he now had a debt to repay, he hatches a plan.  Taking the gangly redhead under his wing, teaching her his ways would benefit her.  As a master of martial arts, he teaches her discipline, among other things.  While some of her talents come from her heritage as a red-headed green-eyed Irish woman, the lethal talents were taught to her by this man.  She became a master.

Fast forward past the war and her time in the exchange program on an aircraft carrier, she finds a job as a reporter.

After an explosion in California, Kelly is sent to research who was responsible.  During her flight, the plane she is on is hijacked.  Guess who kills the hijackers and flies a shot up 737 back into Scottsdale during a storm.

This novel is so full of action you will not be able to put it down.

Kelly has what we call a ‘flat character arc,’ or possibly a slightly positive arc as she does adapt and change to the situations.  I say that because, in reality, she arcs positive, negative, and then just kind of flat because she is who she is.  She is dynamite with a temper to match.

I don’t care what your gender happens to be; you will fall in love with her.

There is a secret organization that controls world leaders, and she is recruited….That is about as much as I can tell you without spoiling it.

A flat character arc is one where the character does not change who they are.  Some examples of that would be Indiana Jones or James Bond. To a large extent, it is Kelly McGuire.

I will put a link to the book here, Presidential Assassins.

If you honor me by reading it, please let me know what you think of it.  This is an adult read. There are sexual situations, some violence, and people Die!

My friends, I hope that you are all safe, and staying inside, away from those who this virus could be fatal.  With 7.4 Billion people affected, and the world’s economy headed for the toilette, we will be talking about this in the history books for some time.

Much Love…Stay Safe…-TW

The Last Strad, a Tease.

 

It’s very late or very early, depending upon your perspective of things.  Insomnia is either my friend or my enemy, much like time itself.

Little Cat feet came to mind as I made my way from the bed to the window where everything glows from the ambient light, scattered by the small droplets of water.

It is not unlike me at 3 am to put the kettle on, and sit outside, and watch as the world sleeps.

My mind reels with the events of the previous day and this time l reflect on the last week.  I am troubled by the loss of life, and how much consternation that must cause to the survivors of those family members.  Italy is in my mind; my heritage in part is from a little town very close to where the famous violin maker created his works of art.

She came to the states when she was 16.  Through digging in Ancestry, we know the name of the ship that carried her to our shores.  My Italian blood runs deep, as does my English blood.

Care to guess what she brought with her?  Somewhere in a climate control vault lives a 1721 original Stradivarius.  The chain of custody was from her (his mother) to my grandfather, to my mother, to me.

One of the tuning pegs has disintegrated.  I was looking into purchasing to luthier tools, to repair it when I noticed the label.  Could it be a copy?  Who knows, even the experts are not sure.  Owners of Strads do not want it to be one, as that would lessen the value of theirs.

Still, it would be nice to have it repaired.  Can you imagine learning to play on a Strad?  Yes, I play musical instruments, and I think I would pick it up reasonably quickly but not to the level of those on stage.  Muscle memory is required, much like most musical instruments and typing for that matter.

I think about what her journey must have been like.  A square mast sailing vessel that depended upon the winds to move it along.  Long before the Titanic set forth on its one way trip to Davy Jones Locker, there were the real sailors.  No, I was not dissing those that work on ships today.  Think about what that would have been like being tossed about by the wind and waves.  Those old ships creaked and groaned and leaked.

The ships not only brought people and things, but they brought rats and disease.  History is rife with stories of such things that we in modern times are all too willing ‘forget.’

I stepped outside as the steam from my tea made little wispy curls those water droplets joined the trillions of others before me.  Iridescent colors only faintly color the otherwise gray surroundings flashing lights catch my attention.

What will this day bring?

How many more have stopped breathing?

When will it become too much for the healthcare system to handle people who are in need?

How long did it take Italy to get to the point of administering last rights, instead of putting people on the life-saving devices that are in short supply?  Today we were ordered to ‘shelter in place.’

What does that mean exactly?

I was forced to run a ‘mercy mission’ today, well Sunday, as there are people I know that needed TP and food.  Taking from my supply will extend their need to get out to ‘shop.’

A week without eating out has been rougher than I thought.  With the options dwindling, the desire for fast food has crept into my brain.  Now it is I who must find the mystical TP.  Not today or tomorrow but soon.

Monday, I will take the time to get my characters busy again.  So many of them are nestled in the pages of over 30 of my novels on Amazon and Smash words and, of course, many other places.

It is time to set them free and stop bemoaning my predicament.  This is just a speedbump on the journey of life.  Tap the breaks and move on.  It is bigger than I am.

As for the Strad, I am going to write a novel called ‘The Last Strad.’

I go and visit it on occasion.  It seems to be haunted.  It is almost as if I can hear it playing some melody from long ago.

 

Much Love -TW

Who are you? Who do you want to be?

I am often amazed at the conversations I hear at writer’s conventions and other gatherings.
Some are so philosophical, and others are somewhat whimsical. Before I get into what I have in mind, I was thinking, I  would love to take a cruise with a group of writers. Most of us are so introverted it would be a safe bet that you would not have trouble finding a seat at the shows.

Can you imagine 3000 writers all texting each other, instead of talking?
Ok, not my reason for this blog.

I love a healthy debate. Often on this very blog, I put out controversial issues and invite discussion, conversation or at least a comment. Guys, I do this for you.

I should be working on one of my many works in progress.
When I am not creating, I am editing and if not that I am marketing.

That is the life of a writer. Now, I take that a step further, I live my life. While I will not jump out of a perfectly good airplane, I will undoubtedly fly one.

While I might not jump off a cliff with a bungee cord attached to my ankles, I will traverse the cliff in Peru to see Machu Picchu. Peru is lovely this time of year.
When I was young, I took jobs where I traveled a good bit. I learned that when you boil it down, Maslow knew a thing or two.

Years ago, I hit that part of ‘self-actualization.’

In many of my novels, I address it as part of a plot, but I call it Enlightenment.
I maintain that many of those around us are asleep. By that, I mean they are going through life on autopilot. Much like birds build a nest, copulate, lay eggs, bring food back to the chicks and they somehow leave the nest, knowing how to fly, and repeat the process.
We call it nature because we don’t understand it. I think it is something more. I believe in genetic programming. Why do you suppose we are inherently repulsed by creepy crawly things? Spiders and snakes, for instance, are phobias of many.

How is it that birds know to do what they do?

Yes, this is a cliché, but Bees, the same thing applies.

Maslow states that it is not until the first layers of our needs are met, can we get to, self-actualization.

As a writer and humanist, I happen to love philosophy. Some of the Sufi philosophy gets my attention much like Socrates and Plato do as well. I don’t know about you but, I love ‘thinkers.’

You might love those with lots of muscles and brawn or possibly curvy women with booty but, I appreciate someone who thinks. I find that attractive, sexy, and satisfying.

People often confuse our sex organs with what is below our waist. Your sex organ or the part of you that is attractive is between your ears. No, you will never see a valentine with a blob of gray matter on it saying ‘hey baby.’
I would chuckle but, that is just me.

Many of my novels I weave some of this into them to hopefully leave this world a little brighter, happier place than what I found it. I want to leave something behind that others can learn from without writing stuffy textbooks that will be replaced when some government or group with an agenda tosses them into a book-burning pile.
If you want to know the state of our society, watch what is trending on Twitter. It should scare the piss out of anyone with a brain.
Let me know what you think.
Much love -TW

Bloggers or Boogers?

“What If?”

This is a short blog post on just something I noticed. It is the ‘What if’ that I told you was coming.

Over the years, I have developed a nice following of people such as ‘yourself’ who read what I write, some of you comment and most of you hit like.  When I take the time to go and look at your blogs I find that we are more alike then we are different.

Let me say that again, we have more in common than we do that divides us.

Years and years ago, my uncle piqued my interest in Amateur Radio.  I was five at the time when someone he was talking to was told that I was there visiting with him.  When they mentioned my name telling me hello from ‘New York.’ I was amazed.

I was five.  I had no clue where New York was.  All I knew that it was not anywhere close to Minnesota, where he was at the time.

I remember with crystal clarity the scent of freshly cut hay.  His radio tower was in a field.  The afternoon sun was sinking, and the shadows from the trees to the west crossed the field like vast swathes of darkness over an otherwise golden vista.  As soon as the shadows hit you, the air-cooled off several degrees.  For a child of five from Texas, it was magical.

We listened to many different people that afternoon when we picked up some fellow from Australia.  His accent was so awesome I knew I had to get into this.  I was five.  I know I am repeating it because it is crucial to the story.

At eight, I had taught myself basic electronic theory and by thirteen had my first FCC issued license.  In those days we used tubes and the test was not multiple guess.  You had to know Morse code and oh, by the way, many built their own equipment.

The transmitter I built from old TV parts scavenged from garage sales and a borrowed crystal from a local radio club.  Yes, I got shocked a few times but I am here to talk about it. Hobbies like this are not just for boys.

Also, in those days, there were countries we could not legally talk to its citizens, if we were in some war the Feds could tell you not to use your transmitter.  Our speech was restricted to technical things about the hobby and weather.  ( I think it still is, however, I hear politics all the time.) We could not discuss politics or other things that might tip the enemy off…

The enemy…think about that.

I got into radio to meet you, or people like you, who were like-minded.  I did.  I talked to the kings of countries, which are no longer countries. I have spoken with people from all walks of life from surgeons to bricklayers.

Here on this blog, I speak with many who have a love of writing or reading and telling a story.

Many of you who follow me, are from countries that I would love to visit, Russia being one, Ukraine is another. India is another, which I would love to visit one day.  I cannot mention all of the countries that people live in who read this blog, or write to me, rest assured those communications are probably monitored by all kinds of secret spies looking for Boris Badenov or Natasha.  You will not find Moose and Squirrel on this blog.

If you read my sci-fi books you will find the technical details for building a ‘matter anti-matter bomb.’  You will also learn how to time travel and get from one galaxy to another in months.  Under Roswell holds all the secrets to some of the most powerful weapons of the century.  BWAHAHA!  God, I hope some government buys it just to find out that the computer of the ship is into controlling humans for its own deviant enjoyment.

If you want to learn how to cure cancer, I have that for you too in Saga of the Starduster.  I also tell you the fate of the Earth with the knuckle draggers in charge.  Want to see into the future if we don’t change our ways?  Read my number one bestseller.  Oh, and you also find that you are running around the galaxy in a ship full of nude aliens.

My point and the ‘what if’ is this.  Those of us on this blog, if we could all be in one room together; what do you want to bet we would all get along famously?  I don’t care what country you are in or where you grew up.  I don’t care what race you are or gender.  You might even identify as a gender not created yet, but, I would bet money we would all get along.

It is the ‘megalomaniacs’ of the world that stuff it up.  They stuff it up so they can control the herds.  As long as you perceive the other guy as bad, that is all they need.

Those craving power by controlling the masses with lies, and whatever other leverage they have, are the ones who screw up society as a whole.  The media is their accomplice and you have to wonder what hold they have over them to lie to the world.  Someone tells them what to say, and they all repeat it like reading some damned script.  They even use the same words.

What if…an alien race came and monitored our radio and video.

What would they think?

Do you suppose they would want to be ‘friends’ with us and share technology?

I think they would come closer to exterminating us and taking the raw materials for their own use.

I don’t think the world as a whole is immature and backward but, I do think there are some knuckle draggers who make the human-race look like an ant colony might to aliens. Pests.

For the record alien dudes, if that is your plan, I promise you there are people on this planet that are not mere troglodytes for the ‘elite.’  Some of us actually think.   Start with the followers of this blog.

That is my ‘what if’ that I promised you earlier.

#bloggersunite

In the blogosphere and seemingly on other social media we are relatively free to say what we want.  I wish all countries had this freedom.  I think you would be pleasantly surprised that once we dispelled the lies that we grew up with, that the people of the world could unite in ways that would astound you.

I know we are being lied to because I have ways to communicate with people in other countries.  The trick is how do we get the truth out to the masses?  How do we get our respective governments working for the people again, and not their own effing bank accounts?

The answer is we take the power away from the government, and give it back to the people.  That sounds easy but just wait until you try.

Much love people and thanks for the follows.

Comments are always welcome as long as they are civil.

TW

Orwell or Conspiracy?

As a writer of all things fiction, I cannot help but notice the news articles slowly creeping out from different agencies.

Today we learned that the FCC had been investigating wireless carriers for selling data acquired from its users to third parties.  The data just happened to be your location.  Where you went and when you went.

Google was already busted for this.  Even with the phone in airplane mode, it still captured your every movement. Also, if you climbed stairs or your elevation from getting into and out of a car.

Smart speakers, TV’s and anything connected to the internet could indeed be a spy for the Chinese.

Alexa, Apple, and Google smart devices could very easily be listening to your every word.  Even that smart remote could be collecting data for someone.

Information is power.  Who benefits most from knowledge?  That depends on the information gathered.  It is not surprising to me as a writer that I find advertisements for things I just happen to be talking with someone about on the phone. Coincidence?

I had installed security cameras in my home as I travel.  One day I happen to notice the camera was not focused on what it was supposed to be but rather a door to the bathroom that I very often leave open.  I have since changed companies and cameras.

The American government has grounded Chinese drones used in different services.  Wonder why?

While all of this might make excellent fodder for novels like my novel Presidential Assassins the truth of it is, we are probably being spied on.

Do you have a right to privacy?

The laptops, desktops all in one computer’s phones and Alexa units with a screen, have built-in cameras and microphones.  Is your image on some server somewhere?

Unless you want to live like Fred Flintstone, using pre-historic birds to deliver your mail, just possibly we need to give up on privacy.

From the porn scanners at the airports to the cameras on every light pole that you see, someone somewhere is watching.  With all of these smart devices, someone or something is listening as well.

Your purse or wallet is littered with RFID tracking devices built into your credit cards.  As you pass by specific scanners, it would not surprise me in the least for them to be collecting data on which cards you have with you.

Toll tags not only make an easy way for you to pay for roads that your tax dollars might have contributed to, but they also give us that traffic data on the map which can be used for good or for evil.

Who controls the puppet masters?

Those government agencies that are responsible for oversight of entities like this seem just as flawed as the DMV totally bereft of any loyalty of who they work for and who pays them.

As the progressive left lobbies for free this and that I cringe thinking about what it would be like for those that run the post office and the DMV to be in charge of my health, my security, and so on.  We saw it with Veterans hospital and that was just the tip of the iceberg.

As the allure of free everything, causes you to think that maybe an old white guy who lies for a living has all the answers, think again.  The art of winning the political game is to lie to the masses in an obscure convincing way while blaming the other side for your poor decisions.

History is rife with examples.  Millions upon millions die when people like that get into power.

Vote for you who like, just remember, you can vote your way into socialism but, you will need to fight your way out. That will be with real bullets, not sticks and stones.  If you are disarmed, prepare to have numbers tattooed on your arms and learn to eat insects for food.

Giving up rights for promised security is foolish, and the stuff of novels much like mine.  Read history before that too is expunged from the records of life.  Unless you know what has been, you will repeat it.

Megalomaniacs live in DC and in other ivory towers around the globe.  That ass wipes that know better than you have armed guards. They will toss you and yours to the dregs of humanity as those are their useful idiots.

My novel Presidential Assassins is worth the read.

Check it out and leave me feedback.  As always, I love to hear from you.

Cheers from the wintry south!  Tomorrow night 28, the next day, ‘summer.’  Stay tuned!

Much Love -TW