1,000 Posts & A Rant

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Today’s post makes #1000 since I started this fiasco years ago. In that time, over 2,000,000 hits on the website. Most of them me and my mom.

I apologize for the light posting lately, but it’s with good reason: I’ve signed two contracts that tie up a lot of my time.

The first contract is to write a book for someone. There is a strong NDA (non-disclosure agreement) involved, so that’s about all I can say. Except I get paid. And have deadlines. I am having fun.

The second contract is to do some audio book work for Michael DiMercurio: Attack of the Seawolf. Michael is not just a great author, but he’s a friend who mentored me in writing Assault on Saint Agnes. I’m thrilled to be doing this work. It should be done in the next few weeks, and it will be a great audio book if I’m any judge. But it means getting up before 0400 every day to record and edit. This paragraph is being written at 0434 – a little break before I put up the microphone.

Thank you for your understanding. Yeah, all of that in addition to the usual whirlwind of nonsense I participate in, including writing the sequel to AOSA (Assault on Saint Agnes.)

To celebrate, I’ve made up a new list of things that annoy me.

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Let’s start with Mr. 173 pounds. Dude, it’s fantastic that your weight is so stable. Now put the freaking weights back to zero on the scale before you abandon the locker room with your towel on the floor. (Could someone explain how that scale works to this rocket scientist?)

Bozos with Yassir Arafat beards talking on their cellphones and cutting me off in the merge lane. Yes, you, you hipster nitwit. You almost killed us both. Grow a real beard, put down the phone, and… forget it. You’re mentioned again here and I hate to repeat myself.

The glowstick kids on the race course. There is a reason that the race asks you not to wear any lights: they spend days putting together 1,000 candles for the course. See, if you only have candlelight, you can enjoy the night sky and the amazing stars. But selfish jerks with tent-lighting glow sticks strapped to their legs rather defeat the whole point.

The person ahead of me in the line at the grocery store who decided they didn’t want the frozen dinners and just put them under the end of the conveyor belt. Listen, nuclear brain surgeon, that wastage ups my grocery costs as well.

The drone in sector 7G at the Ramsey County offices who had only one response when I inquired as to the status of a plot of land: There are back taxes on that lot. There are back taxes on that lot. There are… Really. Never would have guessed. I just wanted to know if the city, or the county, actually owned the property yet. But I’d wager that there are back taxes on that lot.

The two women who hopped up as we approached the bus stop and stood in the back door. And then didn’t open the door. They were getting ready for the next stop. So those of us getting off had to push past them. Thanks, Ladies!!!

The list will continue to grow. Updates later. Today was just a drive-by posting to prove I’m still alive.

Now, to record for a few hours before I go to work.

Be well.

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Assault on Saint Agnes is available here. Just click this link!

When you finish reading any book (especially mine) please review it at www.amazon.com, www.barnesandnoble.com, and www.goodreads.com. Your review increases the chances of someone looking for a new book greatly. Authors appreciate your review, even if it is just “I thought this was a good read and will give it to my dog to chew. I especially liked the ending, because it made me feel better when he killed all of the main characters. (no spoilers, please)” Those few words (more than 20, fewer than 1,000 is ideal), and a 1-5 rating, make or break how the search engines find us. Thanks in advance.

Six Wet Miles: A Goal Met.

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This past weekend I spent a few quality hours with 2,000 fellow maniacs in Ashland, Wisconsin at the Book Across The Bay. Perchance that is a less than accurate statement: the race starts in Ashland and goes to Washburn, Wi – across Lake Superior.

Yes, you did read that correctly. I did the race about 15 years ago and it was without a doubt the most exciting, beautiful, challenging event I’d ever done as an amateur athlete. It was close to zero that night, and we took off at sunset. That has not changed. Nor has the fact that the course is lit by candles – about 1,000 of them – across the lake. It still finishes in Washburn, and it’s still a challenge.

Nothing says “night race” like all dark clothing.

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What has changed is the people. Not the organizers, but the participants. While I still shared a lot of good times with others in the race, there were about 6 people who don’t understand what rules like “No lights, except a dim light on your ankle” mean. Consequently, there were a handful of selfish oafs with blindingly bright glow-sticks on their legs. The worst part is that they were about at my pace – perhaps a little faster. So when I skipped the water stops, they fell behind. In about ten minutes they would once again pass me on the left and leave me night-blind for about ten more minutes. The best part of this race is that you are so far from any amount of city light that you can fully appreciate the night sky. That is ruined when special snowflakes feel that they must be able to find each other on the course.

Perhaps that’s part of the problem: I am by nature a solitary competitor. I am just fine with being one of 2,000 on the course. Knowing nobody, talking to nobody, just listening to my tunes or my heart pounding in my ears. The surging of others in the pack as they pass, or are passed, in the darkness is unique. No faces, just dark outlines. I like the night. I am comfortable in the night. I feel that I have been cheated by the glow-stick crowd.

Here’s a video of the night. I shot this with my Go-pro Hero Sessions on a chest mount:

Other than them, the race was fine with one little exception: the standing water along almost the entire ten kilometers of the course. Before you even hit the starting line, you questioned your sanity this year. The weather had hit 50+ degrees for two days, and while the ice underfoot was 20+ inches thick, the snow on top had all melted.

For those without a physics background, that means that not only do you have 2-5 inches of just-above-freezing water to slog through, but you also have bare ice below it. The ultimate combination of things to give you around 20,000 opportunities to fall and break something.

Unlike many, I opted to leave the snow shoes on: they have crampons built into the base. Consequently I didn’t worry about falling – as much. Even the crampons slipped more than a few times as I crossed the lake. The downside is that it was less fun than usual pulling the snow shoes through the standing water. If you need an analogy you can relate to, picture dragging your hand out the window as you drive along. That’s resistance to fluid (air) much like a snow shoe creates in standing water.

I don’t know if this qualifies as an extreme sport. But it sure felt like it when I dragged my exhausted thighs across the finish line. The video says I made it in 2:29 – but I had forgotten to factor in the wave starts. I was in wave 3, so my final time was 2:19. I beat my own goal by quite a bit.

The “highest elevation” moment is funny because that lake is dead flat – as are most frozen bodies of water. The ridge of snow was formed by pressure from the wind moving the ice toward shore. It’s only a couple of feet, but it struck me as very funny.

In the tent you will also see a sign on a pole showing the elevation over the course: it’s a flat line. That area is pretty hilly, and for the marathon (The Whistle Stop – another fine race I’ve done several times) it’s about an 500 foot course variation.

Would I do it again? Absolutely. But only if it’s snow on the course. Water? Never again. Total foot misery.

But, what a night.

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Assault on Saint Agnes is available here. Just click this link!

When you finish reading any book (especially mine) please review it at www.amazon.com, www.barnesandnoble.com, and www.goodreads.com. Your review increases the chances of someone looking for a new book greatly. Authors appreciate your review, even if it is just “I thought this was a good read and will give it to my dog to chew. I especially liked the ending, because it made me feel better when he killed all of the main characters. (no spoilers, please)” Those few words (more than 20, fewer than 1,000 is ideal), and a 1-5 rating, make or break how the search engines find us. Thanks in advance.

Really Sweet Stuff.

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I just finished the annual dance with the VA Medical Center in Minneapolis. While I’m still very angry about the national scandals involving the VA, and think a whole raft of national level administrators and staff need to be fired, I’m very happy with the treatment I have had in Minneapolis.

Please follow me on Twitter, and “Like” the Facebook author page. Don’t forget to subscribe (the box is on the right side of the page) to be eligible for free e-books and other benefits! Oh yeah – grab a copy of Assault on Saint Agnes if you’re of a mind.

Starting with the young volunteer at the blood draw clinic, it was all good. She had one of those smiles that melts the heart of even the worst curmudgeon. Standing at the check-in station, she was spending her Friday morning off from Saint Thomas University helping veterans with the computer scan. Each person got a kind word and a big smile.

The tech who drew my blood was a fellow dog lover, and we had a great conversation while she hit my very difficult veins. No pain, no extra bleeding – the touch of an angel. In and out in just under 8 minutes.

Primary care? Another kind lady in a red vest helping people check in and get to the assembly area to wait. About 15 minutes later I was ushered in for the vitals and an interview. Ten minutes later it was the Primary Care Provider. While I was with her my phone started ringing. Turned it off so as not to be rude. Good examination,

Exam done, I now had four hours to kill until my audiology appointment. Good time to check the voice mail left while I was in my exam.

The voice mail was from the next appointment. Great. They’re going to cancel me and I took the day off to get this done.

Nope. “Could you come earlier? We noticed you’re already here and we have an earlier opening.”

I hotfooted it down to the clinic in question, and the woman behind the desk said my name before I could give it. “You must be Santa Joe! I’ll make you a deal – I’ll skip my lunch if you want, and we can do your exam in 15 minutes. Sound better than waiting until this afternoon?”

I knew then that I had been slipped a hypnotic when the blood draw was done. I had previously spent endless hours in that clinic over the years. But, since I could not find a camera crew, and I didn’t feel dizzy, I assumed it was a blessing.

One hour later I was done. That’s the good news. Well, part two of the good news. Best news was that all my blood work was within standards for the first time in over a decade. The other part of the good news is that I’m getting some very spiffy Blue Tooth compatible hearing aids.

The bad news? My hearing is much worse than during the last exam. I said that I figured as much since there were letters I could no longer distinguish between, such as “S” and “F”. This is a problem, because in my day job I have to be on the phone all day with my field force. Guess which two letters are the only variables in the code sequences we use? Yes, those two.

At this point the audiology team both lit up like candles. They popped a graphic on the screen and showed me the hearing loss in both ears. Plotted outside the hearing range of both my ears were three letters – two of them mentioned above.

But the nifty new hearing aids will incorporate with my telephone at work once I get the paperwork filled out. I will be far more able to do my job, and function in most environments, once I can hear well again.

On my way to the ramp, I ran across a man in a wheel chair who had trouble navigating. He’d broken some toes and couldn’t walk, but wasn’t used to the wheel chair yet. I wheeled him to where he was going. You see, that’s what veterans do for each other.

The moral of the story? I’d had a blessed day. Treated well, able to help others, and found to be in better shape than a year ago. I had been graced with blessings from the moment I hit the ramp, and was able to bestow one myself as I left.

A really sweet day. Hope this one is the same for you.

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Assault on Saint Agnes is available here. Just click this link!

When you finish reading any book (especially mine) please review it at www.amazon.com, www.barnesandnoble.com, and www.goodreads.com. Your review increases the chances of someone looking for a new book greatly. Authors appreciate your review, even if it is just “I thought this was a good read and will give it to my dog to chew. I especially liked the ending, because it made me feel better when he killed all of the main characters. (no spoilers, please)” Those few words (more than 20, fewer than 1,000 is ideal), and a 1-5 rating, make or break how the search engines find us. Thanks in advance.

Is There Anything More Useless Than The Next-day Review Of The Big Game?

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I’d posit that perhaps, just maybe, there are more useless things than revisiting a sporting event that’s concluded the day before: but you have to work really hard to top that action.

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One example would be “How will this win impact the quarterback? Doesn’t matter who it is: they’ll be given accolades and more endorsement money unless they screw up. They may retire. They may play another year. They may win another Big Game. They may be killed in a freak shower incident. Doesn’t matter: none of us can predict the future in that way.

Discussing the multiple bad things that have happened to you in your life, none of which was the result of your actions. Again,time travel hasn’t matured, so “what-iffing” the tragic collision you were in as a teenager, the death of your spouse due to an aneurysm, the accidental escape of a beloved pet bird, and a lightning strike while sitting in a house are all equally useless.

I’d like to add that bemoaning the spelling error on your resume that slipped past proof reading in 1993 is on the same list. Did it cost you a job? You’ll likely never know.

What kinds of thought are not useless and boring? How about a review of what you might improve to better the future?

Plan that next novel. Think about the need to exercise more, and start putting down the foundation for taking it to action. Stop wasting your time reading the blog of some moron and start your own blog. (You, of course, will be called a moron as well.) Be more kind to others. Spend time in prayer and reflection. Shut your mouth and listen. Turn off the television. The list is endless.

But by the simple act of making that list, and doing something concrete to enact it, you are improving yourself. You can validate your plans down the road by looking at the word count on your book. The number of miles you’ve walked. The number of homeless you’ve fed. The number on the scale after you’ve quit eating 8 donuts every day.

We humans don’t do well with such things. We talk about them, but rarely move forward.

The question for you is this: will you spend the next week ruminating about “the big game” or will you take that time to list out your objectives for 2017 (and beyond) and make a start on achieving them?

I’d love to talk more about it, but I have an audition for an audio book, a sequel to write, a paid writing project that requires research, a need to pack my backpack for the walk to work tomorrow morning, a dog that needs grooming, and a load of laundry waiting for my attention. It’s all on my list.

Have an excellent day. I truly appreciate your stopping by to read this blog.

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Assault on Saint Agnes is available here. Just click this link!

When you finish reading any book (especially mine) please review it at www.amazon.com, www.barnesandnoble.com, and www.goodreads.com. Your review increases the chances of someone looking for a new book greatly. Authors appreciate your review, even if it is just “I thought this was a good read and will give it to my dog to chew. I especially liked the ending, because it made me feel better when he killed all of the main characters. (no spoilers, please)” Those few words (more than 20, fewer than 1,000 is ideal), and a 1-5 rating, make or break how the search engines find us. Thanks in advance.

I Just Realized: It’s Not Left Or Right That’s The Problem – It’s Elitists.

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Let me clear the air by first admitting that I’m way smarter than most other people and I’m not shy about it.

Not the kind of thing people usually say, much less believe of themselves – unless they’re honest.

I will never be the best employee at any place I work. Nor will I be the smartest. Walking down the street, I pass people who are smarter than I am on a regular basis. I’m not even as smart as some of the homeless guys I know. I haven’t written the best book you’ll ever read. (I like Shibumi way more than my own stuff.)

But I know that I’m still smarter than the average person. And, I wrote a book. I’ve also held jobs ranging from dishwasher to author, with stops along the way to be a Cryptologic Technician, computer specialist, forklift driver, temporary secretary, etc. God blessed me with a pretty substantial brain. I may not be the best in everything, but I do know a moderate amount about a really wide range of topics. I enjoy hanging out with others who have that gift as well. They don’t need to have any more than a grade-school education, maybe even not that much. Heck, some of them are illiterate. But all of them are curious people who listen and think. Those are my true friends.

Please follow me on Twitter, and “Like” the Facebook author page. Don’t forget to subscribe (the box is on the right side of the page) to be eligible for free e-books and other benefits! Oh yeah – grab a copy of Assault on Saint Agnes if you’re of a mind.

But none of them are truly elites. I know some really wealthy people as well as the poor. I know some people are ranked up there in the world of competitive chess. I also know more than my fair share of authors. But none of them has ever acted like an elite.

Elites, in my definition, are those smarmy animals that look down their nose at us commoners because we didn’t attend an Ivy League school, didn’t belong to the right clubs, or suckle at the public teat as a politician for the majority of their lives. They view people like Donald Trump, Joseph Courtemanche, and most of you, as clods who wouldn’t make it in their rarefied atmosphere. There are elites who have no claim to it, but they act as though we are without merit because we don’t subscribe to their political philosophy. We’re too stupid to comprehend it (in their opinion). Besides, The Donald and I merely have some minor degree from a school like a state university, or Wharton. What kinds of swine never go on to study at a higher level?

Normally you would just ignore jackasses of this sort. I do for the most part. On occasion I’ll open up a can of vintage sarcasm and sophistication on them. They aren’t expecting it from a peasant like me. It’s fun to watch the stunned response. On one notable occasion of late, I tried to point out to an attorney that the contract she was screaming about didn’t actually say what she thought. This set off a long, tedious tantrum on her part. Strangely, it was all in my favor. It came down to the tense of a word. It was not in the future tense. Consequently, it applied to that specific clause only at the time the contract was executed. I’m sure she’s still typing away on Facebook about the rube from Minnesota. But if it goes to court, I’ll smile the whole day long when the verdict comes out.

That’s why the fools in the Congress are all pouts and miffed that people just like them aren’t being nominated to the cabinet, to ambassadorships, to the Supreme Court, or to positions of power in the new government. You see, this guy in charge isn’t overly impressed by that sort of thing. He doesn’t accord them the level of deference they feel they deserve. He’s an outsider who’s never been in government before. And that annoys the Patricians on both the left and the right. It really grasses the elite press – how dare some blogger from Des Moines get a Skype slot at the White House Press Briefing!

We, the people, aren’t smart enough to do this without the guidance of our betters. We will mess things up. Why, there could be a revolution if Trump isn’t careful!

Yes. There very well could be a revolution. But not the kind the elites are rooting for. This one started in November when the unwashed mob of tanker truck drivers, authors, mothers, bus drivers, college professors, lawyers, doctors, preachers, and other members of the common class stood in a voting booth and pulled a lever.

The revolution will increase in vigor with every road blocked, every punch thrown at a helpless victim by a mob of anarchists, with each business boycotted by the left, and with every politician telling us that we are not good enough to be in charge of our own destiny.

It will start slowly. A good example is the push-back on Facebook against abusive memes from the left and fake news. More and more people who politely ignored it for the last 10 years are pushing back. Not just removing friends, but letting them have it with good arguments and facts.

It will progress. When the mob sweeps into a business to hurt people, and break things, no longer will people stand idly by and watch. They will fight back. That does not bode well for the left and the elitists: they didn’t go to basic training. They don’t have guns in their homes. They don’t know how to get by without skilled workmen (most of whom are red-staters at heart) to do their plumbing or electrical. We do those things in our jobs. Our fathers, and mothers, taught us how to do them. We don’t need the elites, but they surely need us.

That, in conclusion, is why the elitists need to dial it down about three notches. Political violence is not the answer. For we will meet it tenfold if you threaten our families and our businesses. We will not be screamed at, abused, and trampled to avoid further conflict. That time is over. It is now time for the nonsense to stop. It is time to back up and start talking to each other civilly.

Because if it isn’t civil, based on what I’ve seen thus far, it won’t do anything less than energize the 2020 election of President trump for his second term. And it could do far more. I like this country to be a reasonable place. I pray for it.

So, before you block that sidewalk, throw that rock, smash that window, remember we’re around somewhere nearby. We aren’t good enough for your standards to be of much concern, but I’d like to quote a couple of lines from Toby Keith:”I aint as good as I once was, I got a few years on me now. But there was a time, back in my prime, when I could really lay it down. I aint’ as good as I once was, but I’m as good once as I ever was.”

Remember: you can only push a man so far. Right now, a lot of Americans are done being told they’re racist, homophobic, immigrant haters. Some of us are gay immigrants with dark skin. Don’t underestimate the depth of Trump’s resolve. Or ours.

Let’s keep it civil. And talk to each other. For the alternative is a very dark place none of us really want to go.

Don’t let the elites drive us off the cliff.
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Assault on Saint Agnes is available here. Just click this link!

When you finish reading any book (especially mine) please review it at www.amazon.com, www.barnesandnoble.com, and www.goodreads.com. Your review increases the chances of someone looking for a new book greatly. Authors appreciate your review, even if it is just “I thought this was a good read and will give it to my dog to chew. I especially liked the ending, because it made me feel better when he killed all of the main characters. (no spoilers, please)” Those few words (more than 20, fewer than 1,000 is ideal), and a 1-5 rating, make or break how the search engines find us. Thanks in advance.