Get Those “Unfriend/Unfollow” Fingers Limbered Up!

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I have a confession to make: I make a lousy Christian author by many standards. At least, the standards of social media. I don’t love everyone. My books reflect that. (Just one published so far, but I promise to hate on new people in the new books. They’re written, but not yet available.)

Nope. Jesus said I had to love everyone, but I’m quite sure that He’ll take me to the woodshed when I get there (hopefully) and have to account. I have a short list of people I don’t love, including killers and rapists. And terrorists. A few others. For the most part, I’m good to go. But evidently I’m a lousy Christian, and probably a lousy author of Christian fiction, because I judge people and lifestyles.

Recently there has been a great deal of back and forth in social media among my fellow Christian authors about the new Disney version of Beauty and the Beast. No links, sorry. (You have to do some of the work!) I have been told, if I read the tea leaves properly, that I’m a hater and a jerk for thinking that I can skip the movie based on the revelation that it has a gay subplot.

I wasn’t going to see it anyway, but yeah, I’d probably skip it for the same reason that I rather regret seeing The Crying Game: I thought it sucked.

Yes, I wasn’t enamored of the plot, characters, social point, or the musical score. In addition, it wasn’t something that I’d go see now: I used to try and keep an open mind about such things, but no longer. I was told I needed to do so, or I was a bigot and a jerk. Seems I still am. Hollywood has fallen a long way since The Maltese Falcon, an elegant movie with a serious homosexual subplot. But it was subtle enough to be missed, and that made it a fabulous addition to an excellent film.

More importantly, I’d rather spend my money on Mexican bakery. Yes, that’s probably cultural piracy as well, but man, I love churros. And those red/white/green cookies that are supposed to be Mexican flags. Don’t even get me started on the cheese Danish that they make. And for what it costs to go to a movie I won’t enjoy, I can get a lot of bakery that I know I’ll love. Enough to share with my Asian/black/gay/nerdy/white/straight coworkers. See, I do love them. But I guess I don’t get any extra credit for trying to get along with the people I meet: it must be absolute. If Facebook is correct, that is.

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.

Since I’m coming out (so to speak) as a hater, I’d like to share some other hates with you. I think it’s best, at this point in our relationship, to get it all out on the table so that some of you don’t accidentally like anything I do without knowing what a rancid beast I actually am. I have found, by watching the antics of Hollyweird, that your work has no merit if you ever say a bad thing about Lady Gaga or something. I’m not sure – I get confused by the rules. But I’ll make it easy for you to keep track of my demise: here’s a link to my Facebook author page, and the number of followers is currently 627. If it drops, or increases, I’ll know my self worth. Again, strictly according to the standards of the entertainment industry.

Let’s start with a person! I think that Mary Walling Blackburn has quite possibly written the worst children’s book of all time: it glorifies the wonders of abortion. Again, no link. But the very twisted, sad, depressing tale of her ugly world is called “Sister Apple, Sister Pig”. If you ever want to know the kind of twisted person I’m going to take to task, she’s the poster child.

Yes, I did read the book. I’ve seen things in my life, and been privy to secrets that would curl your hair. They’d make you suffer from Post Traumatic Stress. (I was already unhinged, so it didn’t seem to have that impact on me.) This book gave me a bigger case of the creeps than most of that other stuff.

You see, I don’t need to do, or experience, or tolerate certain things to know that I find them morally wrong. Not just “shady” or “dim” but wrong. A word we don’t use often enough in 2017.

So, here are a list of things I think are wrong, people I don’t approve of in any way. Unfriend/unfollow me as you see fit.

Sex with children. No matter how many of you enlightened idiots say it’s just part of the spectrum of sexuality, there is no justification for having sex with minor children if you are an adult. Not just drawing the line at four, or twelve, but let’s go with eighteen. Let’s cut out the gray. It’s wrong. It damages kids. It wrecks their lives. It hurts them. It destroys their own sexuality.

Cannibalism. Never acceptable. Not even if your some smart-aleck CNN reporter who thinks he’s the stuff. Besides, it isn’t Halal.

Sex with animals. Goats, dogs, gerbils – all of it is off limits. Unless they can type out their own consent form and prove they are eighteen.

Rape.

Murder.

Human trafficking. Slavery. Call it what you will. I don’t care if it’s workers in a Chinese restaurant, five year old slaves in Haiti, or blonde girls from Minnesota lured into prostitution at age fourteen. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.

Drug dealing. Either on the street, or corporate opioid slingers, who have hooked a huge swath of America on prescription pills.

Drunk drivers. Yes, I have driven drunk a whole bunch of times. But not in over 35 years. I saw what it did to a family I knew well. I was in my early 20’s. Quit doing it that night. Never done it since. Damned near got hit by one on Thursday. (At 7:15 in the morning. Those “W” plates in Minnesota tag you as a repeat offender for drunk driving. He missed me by inches. He was going really fast and I was on foot. In the crosswalk. At a stop sign.)

Animal abusers.

Social Justice Warriors. (This is the one that will lose me followers.) If you demand the right to define my beliefs, what I can say, and whom I can associate with, you’re no better than Adolph Hitler. He did that you know. If you tell me I must tolerate your spitting in my face, deriding my political views with violence, destroying my ability to earn a living with a smear campaign, or banning me from laughing at jokes and having friends who are complete jerks, then you are on the list. Persuade me, don’t demand of me.

People who eat artificial onion flavored rings you can buy in a vending machine.

I think that’s enough for right now. I’ll probably add some later, but that should do to get the counter falling on the page.

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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.

The Times Have Changed. Please Pay Attention If You Value Your Freedoms.

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This past weekend I attended a rally for President Trump at the state capitol grounds. I went as an observer. Yes, I support the president, but I also wanted to observe and report.

Well, here’s the report:

Suspected white supremacists spotted: 1.
Alt-right guys: 1 (pretty sure he was a troll for the left, he had a sign that offended everyone.)
Anti-Semites located: none.
Pro-Israel flags and signs: dozens.
Black guys: 1.
Guys from Mainland China: 2.
Assorted people of varying shades of white and brown: most.
American Flags: dozens and dozens.
People with home-made signs: hundreds.
Polite people: about 500.
Anarchist/leftist disruption teams who visited violence and hate: about 50.
Witches: 4. But good costumes!

They’d be horrified if they knew most of the people there agreed with the signs they held.

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Here’s the typical person who came to rally for President trump:

There were no flags carried by the disruption teams from the left.


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They brought a flag, or a sign. They were there because they agree with the duly elected leader of this nation.

But there was another group mixed in among the rally. There if you have a sharp eye. They were the sheepdogs.

These were the people who came to defend the little old ladies, and men, from the anarchists. The sheepdogs had martial arts gloves, steel toed boots, bandannas of their own, and weapons. Some of them were turned into signs. some were in holsters. Some were up a sleeve. Some wore mouth guards and crotch cups to protect themselves. All were committed to keeping the rally goers safe.

And the anarchists found this out the hard way. (By the way, for anarchists, they march in formation better than most sailors I ever knew. In step. At a chosen moment. Seems far more than random to me.)

When the anarchists pulled out the teargas, the sheepdogs pulled them out of the crowd and held them on the floor. When the anarchists pulled out the tasers, instead of backing off the sheepdogs surged forward to challenge them. And it was beautiful.

For a long time in this country, the people on the conservative side of things have avoided confrontation. Saturday, March 4th, that came to an end. The rally was ready. There would be a price to be paid by anyone who attacked them.

That makes me a bit sad: that we have to arm ourselves to enjoy our free speech rights. NOT. For heaven’s sake, people, the first amendment has always been backed by the second amendment. The left thinks that they can disrupt a rally and call it free speech. They clearly don’t understand what that actually means. It’s not accomplished by drowning out the speakers, throwing fireworks indoors (Tim Kaine’s adult son, “Woody” was the one. Yeah, that Kaine – the guy who ran for vice president with shrillary.)

But armed and ready the right is. That’s bad. It is unstable. It has the potential to explode. But the left has pushed so hard, and so viciously to destroy our right to speak that it’s become a must.

So, to the anarchists, I would suggest you look at who has the guns, military training (I’m not counting your two weeks in Hibbing with “Tweezer” and “Gorp” showing you how to use bucket drums and bear spray), and the ability to take it to the next level. If you want a starting place, look at the electoral map that shows what color each county went, and what color the surrounding counties went. The red ones? Most of the country. Fear those people if you attack them. They fight back. They know how to fight back. And they play for keeps.

This is not a call to civil war. Instead, it is a warning that unless the left dials it back it is inevitable.

People who voted either way in November are not evil. But if you continue to paint everyone who voted for Trump as Nazi stooges, you might just get said stooges to deal with the next time you attack their rally.

Everyone needs to calm down. Talk, not scream. Listen. And, no hitting. That’s how we’ve made it the last few centuries.

I’d like to think it continues long into the future. But if civil war kicks off, it will stun the left with the ferocity of the cause of freedom.

Me? I’d rather talk. I’m not so sure about the other side of the aisle.

(Oh, and an addendum: The feckless dimwits in our local prosecutors offices have so far declined to file charges against the anarchists for assault, arson, battery, etc. If you want to make things worse, keep the police away, and then don’t prosecute the people presented to you for charges. Promise you, someone will take it into their own hands.)
 

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.

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.