Juan . . . consider your story told.

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 One Virus One Gift. This ones for you Juan.

So a Murderer visited a Two Year Girl the other day in Rochester

This same thing happened several years ago in Montana and I reached out to the individual accused of the crime. The Hell-bent-for-Revenge Crowd took offense to my actions. Read the comments on Amazon regarding 'Brand of Justice'. So the story remains the same. RIP little ones. You were to young to land in a grave.

 

I'm Thinkin'

 our constitutional rights have killed more than the total number who died fighting for them.

Hard One to Write but Understanding is The First Step

 

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Everybody loves a Rebel but no glasses? Really?

 

Business side of Anything is What it Is

My agent is finalizing arrangements to get The Passionate Jihadist published. It is a story regarding growing up in a war zone. Met many folks during this process and its been quiet an experience.

Oh How the Times have Changed

Ever notice how 'Innocent Until Proven Guilty in a Court of Law' vanished? I guess it disappeared because seeing is believing. Boy are we ever in for a Rude Awakening. 

As Expected The Unexpected Happened

Humanity never fails to surprise . . . does it? 

Once Upon A Time

 no one cared about politics.

Ever Wonder . . .

 why a potential buyers definition of a little TLC is different than a real-estate agents?

The Way I See It . . .

Lucas Davenport and Virgil Flowers are a done deal. Society has turned full face on kick-ass police officers. No worries, ya can pick up a copy of my police stories by clicking on one of the covers on this page. Enjoy!

The Way I See It . . .

is that the Coronavirus's first victim was Empathy.

Golden State Killer

Joseph DeAngelo came to be known as 'The Golden State Killer' when he was off-duty. So much for them psych evaluations being 100% accurate.

Mount Rushmore Next?

I see Theodore Roosevelt is being evicted from The American Museum of Natural History. Thomas Jefferson and George Washington were big-time slave holders and Honest Abe didn't act fast enough to end slavery. Perhaps the faces on the mountain could be re-carved. I suppose Harriet Tubman would be a good start. Jackie Robinson. I was just at his memorial. He'd be a good addition. Jessie Owens beat down the Nazi Party. George Washington Carver was brilliant and a must for the South Dakota landscape.  

A Real Hero

https://tinyurl.com/MyWheelchairHero

Just think . . .

if you never had your hair cut it would grow to over 20 feet by the time of your 75 birthday.

Fighting Tyson

Easy to get knocked out but you ever wonder how hard it'd be picking up your teeth with them bulky gloves on?

Back in The Day

Kleenex were first manufactured as gas mask filters in WW1. One has to wonder what is to be learned this go round.

This One is for those Who Suffer

The Bee Killer

Different day—Same oven. Scorching heat, Kabul style. The sun, a blood splat, rose. Soldiers repositioned in disappearing shadows. Night-vision goggles had transformed them into patriotic vampires in the service of Uncle Sam. The enemy couldn’t shoot what they couldn’t see. Great plan until the ride no-showed. Three of the soldiers wore scars from Muslim bullets. Seven had pulled messed up bodies to choppers. Nick and Butternut were newbies. They still thought death came for others. Drill Sergeant told ‘em to use their training to stay alive. It was the unexpected stuff scared Nick the most. He worked himself up from a crouch and unzipped. Everyone heard him splashing the dust into a mud-puddle.

O’Connor thought, Wet pants and livin’ beat dry pants and dyin’.

“Jeez … can’t believe I hada take a leak.”

“Don’t worry about it; first time oudda the wire. Piss in the moonlight; shoot in the sunlight. You gotta get your blood type marked on your boots. Then let’s make sure you got a dog tag around the neck and one on the boot. Little things keep your ass unrefrigerated.”

O’Connor liked the kid. He was older than O’Connor but he’d be a kid—Nicky-New-Guy—until he was baptized with bad intentions. War gore splattered on the ol’ face usually did the trick: urban renewal for the soul. No room for kindness.

The pick-up point was half a block north. Plan called for a ride back to chow and shut-eye. If no ride showed before the darkness vanished, it could get bad. He glanced at the other eleven infidels muttering—“fuck”.

Sarge was thinking. Mission had required one bomb-maker to be put out of business, and Military Intelligence fingered the Islamic rat and the hole he called home. Things had gotten nasty when they kicked a door and found no rodent, just women undressed enough to really piss-off the homeowner. The soldiers had bolted for their ride with the gentleman shaking his fist at them; Muslims killed male eyes peeking at their women. O’Connor squeezed his ankle. He figured a medic could take his pulse through his boot. Kabul doors usually gave before bone; but not this time.

“Yo Connor. My man. That some kick. You A-okay in my book dog.”

Tee Pee stared through O’Connor.  Shee’it … that low life A-rab didn’t know shit from Allah for a sec,” Tee Pee chuckled. “All I’m a-sayin’ is ya did good.”

O’Connor put weight on his foot. Pain put the brakes on talking. “Damn ride would be nice. This leg killin’ me.”

“Ah hell … you see that Mu-se-lum? He hada look o’ pure surprise under that beard. Yessirree.” Tee Pee started singing, “Been in the desert ona camel got no name, it felt good to be—” A voice groaned for Tee Pee to shut it.

Pain pulled O’Connor’s mouth into a tight line. “Jesus … we should write them words down. Sing your way onto American Idol. You gonna remember me, pal … when you’re one of those people?”

“Beggin’ your pardon, Connor. I ain’t never forgettin’ yo’ white ass. I’m a feelin’ it in my bones though. Damn too quiet for my taste. Natives fixin’ to make things interestin’.” He looked at the windows. “You kick the doh good though … You know how it is … can’t give the infidels wood. Hell, I’m not so sure I could get mine up with a crane. This place just takes it out of ya. Now they riled some to the point I could hear a spider choken’ ona sand flea a mile ‘way. Ain’t supposed to be this quiet atall—”