Met an Awesome Author in San Francisco

A Toast for Margaret Gates

The Blind Date

   Maggie's scream for help barely escaped her mouth when Barrett's fist, flying across the front seat of his new '61 Chevy Impala, hit her hard in the face.

   "Shut up bitch," he shouted at her as he steered the car farther up the dirt road, heading deeper into the woods. He had told her he would take her home after she had fought off his sexual advances but now she knew he had tricked her.

   Terrified of him now, Maggie opened the car door and jumped out of the moving vehicle, landing in a pile of gravel. Legs and arms scraped and bloody, she desperately tried to scramble to her feet but her high heels kept slipping in the loose gravel.

   The sound of the car door slamming got her attention as she struggled to stand up. She could hear the crunch of Barrett's shoes on the gravel and knew he was coming for her. Maggie could taste the fear she felt as she tried to get her feet to move but she was frozen in place. She stood there in terror as this man, this blind date from hell, advanced on her.

   "Don't try to run you crazy bitch because when I catch you, you die," Barrett shouted. Maggie was paralyzed with fear as she watched him come closer and knew she would be no match for him even if she could run.

   A movement behind him caught Maggie's eye and she saw his precious new car begin to roll down the hill where he left it when he came after her. He had forgotten to put it in park in his rage and hurry to get to her.

   The crunch of tires on gravel caused Barrett to turn to see what she was seeing as she stood transfixed to the spot.

   Barrett's scream as his car hit him full force jolted Maggie out of her trance, enabling her to jump aside and watch the car roll over him and come to a stop where she had been standing. She could see Barrett's lifeless eyes staring up at her as she sank to her knees and began to shake uncontrollably.

   Barrett's scream echoed in Maggie's head as she trudged down the narrow dirt road to what she hoped would be the highway.

Award Winning Author is Heard on Minneapolis/St Paul's Fox 9!

Loved the opportunity to showcase my Brand of the Truth!

Listen to The Youngsters

Guns don't kill People, but they make Killers using Guns a lot more Lethal. Very heartened by young people and how they are calling-out all those who love their precious instruments of violence.

Award Winner

Very honored! Many thanks to the great folks of San Francisco!

Parade of Dolts

Ever notice the Crowd of Clowns behind the Cop (usually with a lot of stars on the ol' collar) who is actually doing the talkin'? Is the look under the cowboy hat conveying an expression of shear stupidity or am I missing something here? How about the other uniform on stage? Is he thinking . . . 'oh boy-oh boy I'm on stage with The Big Cheese so someday maybe I'll be The-you know-Big Cheese? Then we have the lady. After Big Cheese is done yapping is she going to call the kids to let 'em know she's muscled her way onto CNN? One things for certain Human Clowns are a lot funnier than Clown Fish. 

Bomber Kinda Apprehended

Guess he died. Anyways we just considered this issue yesterday. Now I'm thinkin' this 24 yr old was captured do to surveillance video from a Fed Ex facility. Looking at the totality of the circumstances . . . one has to consider that perhaps a white, 24 yr old, ex-military personality type is responsible. And to think, some of us thought this stuff is only perpetrated by guys in the Middle East.

Death be Not Proud

Bob Vilt wrote 'You Much Crazy'. Brutally honest peek at his experiences in Viet Nam. He sleeps with God now.

Say What? Bomber running around Austin! I'm from Austin!

Well . . . as some of ya know by now, my latest story focuses on a domestic bomber. The Passionate Jihadist was written long before the individual from Austin,  got rollin'. I know some of you figure Police Chief Brian Manley sounds kinda silly by implying the bomber should turn himself in and sit down and be understood by the police. The Chief is playing the game correctly. He isn't as dumb as he may sound to some. He is acting under the auspices of the FBI who want to somehow come up with a clue or two. You know the whole Profiler deal. Another thing . . .  let's not make the Bomber seem more scary and intelligent than he is. We live in The Information Age. Checkout chapter 4 from this book. There ya go.

My Books and Reality

Television cops are make-believe. People seem to form their perceptions of the world they live in around TV. It must be shocking for them, when something happens that their friends from TV would never do. Stuff like beating on a 12 year old. After 29 years of law enforcement I figured I'd pull back the curtain and let folks see it for what it is.

“I was shocked because I knew he was a detective and I thought that they were held to higher standards that there was no way that that would happen, especially to a 12 year old girl,” the restaurant’s manager, Will Atkins, told CBS Austin. “Nobody has any idea, there was no reasoning, no logical explanation.”

Healthcare vs Bombs-Away

Received this Message. Thought provoking to say the least. Thanks for your thoughts Matt.

AMERICA  =  The  4th.  REICH

                   Wrote  author  MARRS  in  1999

3/17/18

AMERICA  IS  LIKE .. HITLER's  WAR  MONGER  GERMANY ..

ie.

*)  $  $  BILLIONs -  $  $  Trillions  TO  KILL  PEOPLE .. BUT ..

*)  NOTHING  To  Help  America's  Citizens , etc ..

CAPITALISM - FASCISM  $  Is  EVIL  said  POPE  FRANCIS .

At  Least  Norway , Canada ,  Denmark , Sweden , Iceland ,

Britain ,  France ,  N.  Zealand , CUBA , + , +  SPEND ..

*)  BILLIONs  To  HELP  PEOPLE  .. AND   spend

*)  " nothing "  To  KILL  People .. unlike  America   !  !      M.C.S.

Ethel Rohan & 'The Passionate Jihadist'

Ethel Rohan selects 'The Passionate Jihadist' for an award from The National League of American Pen Women. She's Irish born and today is St Patrick's Day! Many thanks!

Liar, Liar, Pants on Fire!

Well, did ya see NBC subpoenaed surveillance video which continues to shower the truth all over Scot Peterson? Guess we were a little ahead of our selves yesterday. Why do we have to subpoena the truth?

Today's award goes . . . drum beat please . . . to . . . President Trump, though I have my doubts. I mean we expect lies from our elected leaders. Right? I mean, you show me a politician and I'll show you a liar. They even lie when they aren't suppose to. Habits are hard to break. You know, like in courtrooms. Then they end up getting charged with perjury.

“I wasn't a fan of Iraq. I didn't want to go into Iraq.” (He was for an invasion before he was against it.)

Liar, Liar, Pants on Fire!

From Officer of The Year to Resigning. Then Scot Peterson claims he thought it was fire-crackers. So why maintain a position of cover, Scot, for four minutes? Actions speak louder than words. Then another one of them dang tapes of the incident emerges. Is there such a thing as White Lyin'? If there is I ain't buyin' it here. Only kinda lyin' on display here seems to be the face-saving kinda thing.

Clint said it best. "A man has to know his limitations."

Love Them Student Demonstrators

Check-out today's addition to 'In a Wheelchair' underneath this post. Very heartfelt read and I thank the writer for sharing it. Kids are taking on the Adults/NRA/Gun Lovers/Paid for Politicians and call me proud of them. What else is happening? Flap has disappeared. 'Short Story In Our Making' ain't going to be complete until he rolls up his sleeves and makes additions. What else? An Iraqi Refugee comes to the U.S. to pursue the American Dream. Having kids and saving for a house. He is unarmed and is shot to death by four Americans. Suppose we build a wall and nobody attempts to get over it?

Kids are sick of being Massacred!

Trump vs Rex & Where is Flap?

Isn't trump at all concerned about the Russian Collusion deal if he dumps Rex Tillerson? Rex mentions that Russia should be held accountable if it is proven they poisoned the dissident in England and bang . . . he's gone.

Why hasn't Flap made additions to the developing story on this blog? I mean, he's a talented author who residents in the shadow of cactus. If ya bump into him running around Arizona let him know we are waiting.

Albert Wong

So the shooters adoptive family placed him in a Foster Home because they both worked full-time. Okay, then he's dumped from the program because . . . ? . . . Sounds like Liability vs Learning Experience in this land crawling with lawyers. And the masses are left to wonder. Ever get sick of this? I do.

In a Wheelchair Now

Man, my thinkin' was we could build a story on-line. Then all of a sudden I have several complete short stories sent in. Unless you indicate you want a name on your story, I'll leave it out. All about respect. First story, 'In a Wheelchair Now' is three pages long. I'll add several paragraphs a day. Enjoy! I took the liberty to correct problems when posting.

Can’t figure it out and I never will. Dad died just after I came along. Lookin’ back now it’s plenty easy to see it for what it was. I didn’t have shit and it didn’t look like anything was going to be in much of a hurry to land in my airport. Didn’t know at first just how screwed I was. Others had plenty but I was told not to worry. I didn’t need any of it. I walked or rode my tapped together cycle to school. Never had a car. All I had was a job. Started with dish washing before my promotion to Short Order Cook (without a raise). The place I worked was having money problems so I’d have to forget a raise till things changed. I did and the place stayed around. Even now it’s still going.

            False advertising was one of my first crimes now that I think about it. Got plenty of complements on the ‘beer’ battered fish though. Paying customers loved the stuff. Water for the batter and beer for me. Worked like a charm. I’d feed the dinner rush and down the beer during clean-up leaving me with a nice buzz for the trip down the tracks to my place on the westside. School wasn’t looking to offer me much by way of opportunities. I even knew that much. Councilor told me I best come up with a skill like carpentry or welding. He also explained young men like me do good with that sort of thing. College and them kind of opportunities were for the kind of kids who drove to school in cars and not on taped together cycles.

2nd Installmenst

The pursuit of the three R’s never struck me as sensible. Nothing but bullshit to me. I saw it for the lie it was. Besides, only one of the skills started with an ‘R’. Reading, Writing and Arithmetic. The other lie involved the American Dream what-ever-that was. We were always told it was something about opportunity and the ability to pursue that dream. All you had to do was work. The harder you worked the more opportunities you had. Why, if you worked hard enough you could even be President. Really. Anyone can come up with a notion, work their ass off and presto, they are what they set out to be. I believed it hook line and sinker until I ran smack dab into the barrier called money. It was about this time I owned up to another little problem. All I wanted was to be out of range of my ma’s voice and to sleep in if I got the notion to do it. Them two didn’t go hand in hand. If I slept in the voice always got louder. It got so loud one day I ended up doing something about it.

           I took a left when I usually walked straight to the diner. I’d give you the name but it would keep things simpler if that wasn’t the case. Besides, readers will decide if this is the real deal or just more bullshit in their sorry lives. My formal education got going that day. I sat in a chair bolt upright as if that was a requirement. Only had one real job interview in my life and that one was in the bar of the diner. The recruiting officer was all military, spit and polish as they say. He was offering me honor and a uniform and the adoring look from perfect strangers. Best part of the spiel was I was going to get paid. I would have real insurance, money for a school I wanted to go to and girls. Soldier boy didn’t go and tell me that last part leaving the figuring to me. I signed on the dotted line not knowing what price I was going to pay or how much I was worth.

3rd Installment

I didn’t figure it out in basic. Came up with friends and it didn’t matter what cloths I wore because we all wore the same thing. I even lied some to be more than the fry cook I left behind. Not much though. We all got through basic and dreaming about I and I. That is intercourse and intoxication for those who don’t know.

The truth didn’t really start sinking in until it was too late. The roof was doing its own version of sweating after baking in the sun all day. The sun was downing behind the sand and nothing was really on the move. Nothing like bombs or a shot happening. We are laid up there not talking much. I’m spotting and he is scoping some with his big ass scope on the trusty M24. Just hearing it snap a shell home is reassuring. It will do the job and keep us safe. I don’t really think about back home and what I escaped much. Guess you could say I was safe from the diner bigtime. I was going to learn really fast just how wrong I was for thinking the safe word. Actually that is what the military had purchased from me. My safety.

4th Installment

The heat wasn’t giving up fast enough for Eye. That’s the name we gave him. When he showed-up he was Mike and before he left he was Eye. I didn’t have a whole lot figured out for when I got back state side. I figured it was how it was. Something would happen and I would be doing something with myself whether I liked it or not. Eye tell me that not good at all. You don’t come up with something to go home for you might end up staying put in the military. That kind of shit could get you killed. It was why he became a sniper in the first place. Give him a better shot at not getting shot. He always laughed when he said that. Yes sir he told me. Figure it out.

The roof stayed plenty hot even after it got around to getting dark. No breeze. Nothing but more sweat. We would be on the move before long. Looking. Always looking but none of us could ever figure out the why of the deal. We never found nothing worth finding. Not when I was around anyways. What’s worth finding that’s worth a life anyways? I don’t know what it was. Sweat probably though a helmet could mess with you seeing things. You would be sweeping slowly from left to right and your helmet would slip down on your face enough to bug you some. I watched him take his off and wipe his forehead with a sleeve some. He had already wiped his face with that sleeve and it was wet even though stuff dried plenty fast in this place. I remember the dog bark from what sounded like coming from a mile away or something. Otherwise dark and getting darker and silence. We weren’t talking because we had already talked enough about everything and nothing. It was just the way it was. I probably would not have liked Eye much if I had to hang out with him anywhere else on the planet earth. He was always talking about what a shot he was. Constantly but I get it now. That kind of talk makes you feel safe in a bad place.

'The Passionate Jihadist' is his story . . .

Khudal Nazar's father is executed in a field. Sad but true. Now this 14 year old is the head of his household. Truth is stranger than fiction and sometimes fiction gets it right. This could be Yushua's story from 'The Passionate Jihadist'. When is the madness going to end?

Short Story in Our Making

On the flight from Seattle to San Fran a gal mentioned it would be interesting to put together a short story where readers have input. Lets see what happens. I'll start . . . Everyone has input.

In the beginning God created man. It wasn't long before one of the men invented an assault rifle. Then paradise became a noisier proposition.Then one day in Paradise, the man looked around and saw that everyone was sad, or mad, or scared. "What has happened to my perfect life? I had so much, and now so little." He had to find the answer.

Realistic Fiction ya Think?

Could be Yushua's Mother in 'The Passionate Jihadist'.