Wednesday, November 30, 2011


I've been rewatching The Man From U.N.C.L.E. Right now, I'm on the first season. I consider it the best for its more graphic, for the time and serious approach. Well it's as serious as series TV might have been then and as a fictional espionage program might have been for the time.

Fictional it was. But, like James Bond, which generated the spy craze of the 60s, there was some basis in truth.

Ian Fleming helped develop the show in early stages. He set up the initial framework and the character of Napoleon Solo came from him. Norman Felton, a noted producer, had consulted Fleming. Incidentally, April Dancer, the Girl From UNCLE, had started out as a suggestion from Fleming as a Monneypenny secretary to the organization chief.

Fleming had contractual conflicts with the Bond movie producers, so he had to drop out. Felton and Sam Rolfe, who worked on Have Gun Will Travel among others, pushed on. The framework was set. Now it was Hollywood's turn.

The innocent caught up in a world of espionage was a constant, even when the series digressed to the absurd in the third season. It was good to see it begin recovery to a darker more realistic fiction in the fourth. Too bad it was cancelled. Laugh In was hated by some for the longest time as it filled the air spot lol.

Among the other contributors was Alan Caillou. He was a writer, actor, soldier and agent who brought a certain professional expertise.

Though the orgs were fictitious, much of the procedure was common practice among operatives in the 60s. You can only take my word for this. Believe it or not. Tech was fictionalized but was forward thinking re comm and as for programming an agent for a specific role, that was common practice.

Understandably today there are those who are concerned about international police who are above the law. Certainly orgs have exceeded authority. I would remind you they are comparmentalized and watchers are watched.

Conjecture? Sure. I can't name names.

But UNCLE was fun and good guys beating bad guys is always a great story device.

Those who care about people fighting those who exploit and destroy.

Hmm. It DOES sound familiar doesn't it?

Tuesday, November 29, 2011


My laptop is a godsend. I marvel at its utility.

I can go so many places and even if there is no outlet, battery power is available and you can have as many batteries as you can handle!

It beats the bejeebers out of a typewriter! No more wadded paper. No more white out! Spellcheck helps me though (shameless brag) I've always been an excellent speller.

Though I do research beforehand for the books and scripts I'm writing, I have immediate access to the Internet for anything I need to search for or I can go to my files to tap into the well of info at hand.

I still make handwritten notes and scribble ideas etc. Thus there are sheaves of seemingly coded refs etc. that I can run through. It's seemingly coded because my handwriting has been likedned to a drunk chicken reeling across the paper -s-.

And the laptop beats the desktop for mobility and versatility. Gig space continues to increase. Since I don't play games (Talk to my son about that lol), there is more space for notes and plenty of minutiae.

I collect a myriad eclectic bunch of facts, refs and anything under the sun/electrons that strikes my fancy.

As for getting out the word re our Republic etc, it's a powerful tool. No wonder Freedom squelchers want to regulate ie control and censor all aspects of our lives, since puters have the ability to reach us like no other medium.

Yes, I still like to meet people and do things in the socalled real world. But we can facilitate those activities that saves time and surely streamlines.

Oh, yes. If the power goes out and batteries fail, I'm able to function. I don't sit and moan in a stupor hoping for restoration of power. I read, write and live. I could, gasp, live without it if I had to.

Til that day, I'll drag my laptop most places, except for date. I prefer to give a woman my full attention -s-.

Saturday, November 26, 2011

Workers Unite

Yes it's easy to take workers for granted, especially the blue collar kind.

Those who are here to serve can be faceless. As noted previously, many of us take such folks for granted. Maybe, to be nice, some just are in such a hurry that they really don't check out the qualities of people.

We should all appreciate those faceless workers who have built the roads, the building, all the things that make our lives easier.

Everyone has a role to play in this world. We can't do everything all by ourselves. And it's in our best interests to care for one another not only fairly but justly.

There is no way we can all be equal economically, but we can all participate in the kind of capitolism that benefits all.

Collectivists like to sew unrest and division as it suits them for their agenda for control. It's the same game as reace, religion etc. Being diverse to them means creating derision when difference is essential so we can be one.

Just some end of year thoughts to remind us to be appreciative and not to disparage others. I didn't say live with everyone. Thats collectivist claptrap too.

There are plenty of people in all levels of society that I don't care to be around. Oh no!

Again, it's the content of character that counts. And caring doesn't mean giving up something. It demands we simply care enough to remember we are indeed all in this together.

More Than Ever

We need to break the chains which enslave us and renew the tie that binds.

This may be obvious, but it must be said. The bells should be rung loudly and regularly. Now that could lead to complacency just as much as silence. It's what you do after you ring.

Be tireless in explaining where we are and how we got here. Try not to get sidelined. Example: The Twin towers came down. The method is debated. The result has been a set of legislation, planned beforehand, that chips away at our Freedom. How it happened is secondary. Dealing with the result is important.

Tune into those who seem tireless in their exposure of tyranny. David Codrea and Mike Vanderboegh come immediately to mind. There are others. Check out their blogs. You can get to them by clicking to the right here. they will lead you to many more freedom minded people.

Talk person to person about our current state of affairs. I believe grassroots is the cure for what ails us. It will lead to bigger things.

The main thing is don't give up. There are many deterrents. Apathy is just one. Pressure, if we swat the bear's nose, will cause the enemy to swat back. Learn to group and regroup. Go where most and best needed.

As far as pressure goes, learn when to lean heavily and when to nudge. Instinct and common snese should guide you.

Take on issues commensurately with solutions. Don't be thin when there is a large canvas. Take care of one spot and share the load. And for that matter, add a double coat when needed or leave it alone -s-.

There is enough for everyone to do. Study on it but do something.

More than ever is not just a catch phrase. The problems we have will not just go away. So we must not go away.

Sparrow Song

Sparrows are always around. There is nothing seasonal about them. They adapt and flourish in spite of predation. Assertive little characters, sparrows evade and sing their plucky song to let us know they have withstood the hunt.

Supposedly, sparrows were present at Christ's crucifixion. They are a symbol of success after long efforts, triumph after longsuffering.

The socalled 'common people' are represented by the sparrow. Victory over oppression is another hallmark.

Who are the common people? Historically, they are the peasants, the workers, those who live under the supposed upperclass.

And before I'm misconstrued, there is no classless society. There are always deliniations, in spite of collectivist attempts.

The sparrow often goes undetected, hiding in plain sight. How many of us notice a maid, busdriver or clerk? Well some of us do -s-, but many take them and other service folk for granted.

Another more internal aspect comes to mind. The sparrow represents the nobility of said common man.

What does it mean to be noble? It's the question William Wallace asked Robert the Bruce in Braveheart. It's a very apt question.

It's not supposed high birth, nor is it wealth. It might be achievement, but it is mostly content of character. It is the core of what is best about humanity. It is found everywhere, no matter the station in life. We all play a part in life and at the very essence, is who we are.

The sparrow reminds me of this.

If your dignity and self worth are assailed and you just feel put down, stop it. Remember who you are. The taste of Freedom is both common and a gourmet treat -s-.

All these qualities should be remembered. They all play a part in the unfolding of events.

As the predators circle and weave around seeking to trap us, let us be like the sparrow, outmaneuvering them by many means.

Then we can sing our song of triumph.

Thursday, November 24, 2011

Alone By Choice

Some of us are alone by choice. It's not as bad as you might think. Then again, being alone and being lonely are different.

I've talked about this before, but as it's the 'most wonderful time of the year' (at least according to Andy Williams), and people gather, it's a good time to think about it.

The holidays can be a rough time for some. There are people who for many reasons, have no one. I urge everyone who can, and search yourself honestly, to find a little time to visit those with either no one or who for one reason or another are separated from family or friends.

There are some who actually, with no bitterness or separation, choose to be alone. They may have friends and family or simply, when the day is over, prefer to keep their own company.

I'm not like that. I like time alone though. Totally without even a dog alone. It's not quiet though. I almost always have music or watch old movies and tv shows even when I write/read for fun or profit.

I do have some family. I have friends online and off. Work associates are coming and going and soon with increased frequency. i love to just meet new folks and when travelling it's fun to sit in a bar or go to a convention or gunshow or other gathering and mingle.

It's quiet right now except for tv and my thoughts. Occasionally I'll turn everything off and let relative silence reign. But I'm happy right now the way things are.

I can seclude myself and write then go amongst others and act (that is coming soon -s-). I even like to make the acquaintance of members of the opposite sex!

Alone by choice is obviously relative.

People will generally let you know if they want to mix and to what level.

I remember once having dinner at a downtown hotel restaurant. There are folks who travel and are caught somewhere on a holiday. It was as though people were in there own little cubicles and as a people watcher I noted the shyness of some. That day I quietly ate just thinking about where I was in life. So I didn't mingle. Most people eating usually do so alone and want to be left aslone. Then if they feel sociable, they head to the conviviality of a bar. There probably a number who were reviewing something in their lives, personal or business.

Instinct ususally tells you when to approach others.

Give others the benefit of your company when needed.

Otherwise, there is no sin in those lone times.

Wednesday, November 23, 2011

Candle In The Window

I've always liked the simple things.

Knock yourself out if you want to decorate out the wahzoo. But, for me, I prefer just a few things.

A tree maybe for Christmas. A wreath on the door, which could vary with the season. One of the most soulful expressions for me is a single candle in the window.

It's an old gesture for those away. Lit in the hope of return, it was meant as a welcome home for someone finally returning. This is the meaning near and dear to my heart.

It is a sign of hope, warmth, love. Good things to remember not just at this time of year, but always.

May a way home and love on every level find their ways into our hearts.

Tuesday, November 22, 2011

Red Redder Reddest

It could be any color. I picked red because I am part Indian.

So, what's in a color? What does it mean to be red?

Nothing. It's a color. People banty such things about too much. It objectifies and compartmentalizes folks.

That makes it easier to push collectivist objectives. The right hand doesn't know what the left is doing as it were -s-. And oh how it greases the skids for conflict. Keep em at each other's throats. Damn whites, reds, blacks etc. You know how they are and so it goes. People get into a rut of ignorance, even in these supposedly enlightened times.

I really don't want to reiterate about the first Thanksgiving etc. American history gets pulled out at holidays and authors shape it whatever way they will. People tend to idealize in either a positive or negative light. They ignore, forget or have never learned facts.

Now, I predicate facts with the fact (ahem) that history is made of day to day events that are affected/effected by people.

As far as race goes, it's an excuse to control.

My hope for this time, for all time, is for people to be themselves. I would like to see folks get along or leave each other alone.

When left to their own devices, I see human beings doing just that, being.

So be proud of your heritage and live in the now.

Hate what drives us apart.

Wednesday, November 16, 2011

Things Seen

Like a supporating sore, incidents have arisen exposing child rape. I don't mince words. Molestation is just too weak a term. It borders rationalization. Not quite the level that the rapists themselves engage in, but it's lying to self and others nonetheless.

There is a particular incident where apparently an assistant coach saw a coach raping a boy in the school showers. If this is so, why didn't the assistant do something?

Could he have interceded and literally stopped the monster? Could he at least have called the cops? He went to the school 'authorities'.

What went through this moke's head? I'd say mind but it's obvious thought eluded him.

The coach was a powerful figure. He generated a lot of money and prestige for the university. That must have occurred to the assistant. Wouldn't want to jeopardize the golden goose. Surely reporting him would elicit a suitable reprimand. Not punishment of course.

Rocking the boat would cause irreparable damage not only to the pocketbook, but the image of the school.

Image is more important than truth. Btw, that seems to be a Hollywood axiom. silly, huh? People sell a load of goods and are afraid the public would find reality so jarring, they would not buy the product anymore. Maybe.

The public seems to turn its head or wink at some pretty outlandish things. It boils down to avoiding the truth since it might hurt. Why?

Perhaps people are afraid that such evils as child rape exist. They don't want to be reminded of terrible things. It couldn't happen to them could it? Just that way of nonthinking can cause it to happen.

Maybe they are afraid of themselves.

Who wants to open a can of worms? They might have to admit there are such evils, that such problems exist. Sweeping it under the rug however, just makes a lumpy mess.

And in this case, the children suffer.

At no time was the welfare of that boy considered. It's often the case with such 'delicate' issues. Innocence is destroyed. The bottom line is preserved.

Facing a problem head on has escaped our way of life.

I can tell you if that creep did that to this boy, he'd done it to others, and would again and again. Even if it were the first time he crossed the line into evil, it would have guaranteed repetitive behavior. Like an all consuming flame, power over the child would demand repeat acts.

My answer? To hell with money and prestige. Face the monsters. Stop the threat.

Oh dear. How dare I suggest such action?

Truly for the kids. Not that bs liberal salve that if it saves just one child, it should be done. That's only a ploy to steal Freedom.

If blowing the whistle, not for a time out, but to call the game, harms money and prestige, maybe we should look at values and priorities.

If it stops a life of fear and repression, it's worth more than every penny.

As we enter into that time of year for giving and thanks, look where you are. What are you doing to help?

A healthy Republic is only as sound as the people. Start with yourself and reach out. Not a panic of finger pointing. But to bring justice to those who matter more than money.

For if the children are not given protection and health, then so goes the Republic thence the world into a darkness from which we may never recover.

Friday, November 11, 2011


I was channel hopping on Veteran's Day and happened on The Longest Day.

Near the beginning, a pastiche of historical pieces meant to build to the D-Day invasion, there is a scene in a French village church.

The priest is preaching about long suffering, not giving up, that deliverance was coming. The double meaning is obvious.

And similarly, things today are the same. The shroud of tyranny has slowly drawn itself over the bright land of Freedom. Death is nigh.

But Halloween is over. All Saints Day rose and set. Time marches on.

Then will deliverance come? Is it at hand as it was 6/6/44?

If it is, it will be the same in that nothing just goes poof and it's there or poof, it's gone. It all takes time And more.

It takes effort.

What's ahead is a long road of deliverance. All the ups and downs will accompany it.

Blood, sweat and tears, the pain and horror of removing what has taken Freedom's place is at hand.

My only point is know words and what they mean, what is behind them.

Deliverance is a beautiful word.

It will be a beautiful result.

After the pain comes healing. After the darkness comes the dawn.

Tuesday, November 1, 2011

Sunrise Kiss

I usually take a walk or hike every day.

It's a great time for me to get some air, stretch my legs for heart and lung and to think.

One night, I ventured out just to be alone and plan my next career move, as well as ruminate about my day.

The parkway was quiet, as it usually became round midnite. Most of the houses were dark, with people apparently nestled, resting for the next day. The air was still, full of Autumn promise, as I contemplated the future.

There was no traffic and the only time the parkway bustled was morning and evening rush hour.

Pretty routine, until she cruised up.

I noticed her slowing out of the corner of my eye, but kept straight ahead. I didn't like to make people nervous in these paranoid days. Sad, I thought, far from the days when even at night strangers would nod and say hello.

'Excuse me, sir', her voice rang like a bell in the middle of the night.

I slowed my pace and turned my head. I was met with a vision. A young woman was leaning out with an inquiring look.

She was simply beautiful. Her hair was retro, a finger wave ala late 20s early 30s. Teardrop earrings and a diamond string necklace highlighted a heart shaped face that glowed.

'Can I do something for you, Miss?' I had almost stopped as she wheeled ever so slowly, pacing me.

'Well, I uh I wondered if,' she broke to a standstill and looked down. Then she looked at me appealingly. 'I'm sorry, I just need someone to talk to.' Her eyes were bright brown and there was a hint of pleading behind the perky smile.

'Well, it's not usually a good idea to just stop strangers.' I smiled and introduced myself.

She nodded and said,'I'm Jean Stone. You, um, have time to talk?'

I had stopped and faced her, keeping my distance. 'Well, sure. I'm just taking a walk. It's part of my daily routine. What's the matter?' I was intrigued and this was unusual to say the least.

'I'm trying to figure things out. It seems no one wants to listen. Could we drive around a while', she seemed embarrassed still and continued,'I know this is odd, but you seemed ok. I just need a little of your time.' She smiled and gestured to the passenger side of her retro car. It looked like an Auburn Speedster, black with white trim.

I mulled the situation and shrugged. 'Ok. I'm told I'm a good listener.' I got in and felt the comfortable leather seat almost mold to me.

'We can just cruise a bit. I've always loved driving around sightseeing and people watching.'

She drove off slowly and the 4.6L 'straight eight' hummed.

'Nice wheels Jean. She's a smooth ride', I noted as the familiar terrain of the parkway drifted by.

Her worried expression lightened and her wide smile deepened. It was a gift from my Dad. Yes, it's nice but he always thought things were important.'

'Well, some people substitute expression with such stuff. They may not know how to give love so they substitute such objects. Me I always say it's the thought that counts.' I smiled good naturedly and hoped it would lighten her mood. Behind the glowing looks was the phantom of gloom.

It worked. She brightened and said,'I think he loved me in his own way. I just wish he'd really shown it.' She gloomed again.

'I've got a bunch of family and associates who think you can buy love. It always rubs me the wrong way.' I paused and her hands gripped the wheel. 'May I tell you that your outfitis lovely.' I smiled my best disarming smile

She smiled and said,'Yes you may. I always liked dress up. Parties were always fun.' She bubbled a little.

'Very retro. Your hair goes with the silver dress.' A lot of youger women were into retro 30s party gear or boho chic for casual. That last was a nod to the girls of the 60s/70s and that was a nod to American Indian dress.

'I don't pay attention. I wear what I like.' She tilted her head back and I noticed a dimpled chin.

'You wear it well Jean. Um, I didn't want you to get the wrong idea. This is kinda different. I tend to tell people what I think.' I meant nothing untoward. My word was my bond and my way.

Jean smiled again and replied,'I know. Thanks for your honesty. It's rare at least for me. So many men have said how beautiful I was, just to get their way with me or try to get my Dad's money. Comes with the territory.' She concentrated on her driving but glanced at me now and then.

'I'm going to tell you, I like women. I enjoy relationships. But, lying just to get in someone's pants always well ticked me off.' Something about her kept me from being too vulgar. This whole evening seemed back in time.

'I've always had my own mind when it came to men. But love, my life, my life has greatly lacked it.' A tear rolled down her cheek. 'Would you come have a drink with me? I trust you. Is there any reason I shouldn't?'

'I looked at her squarely. 'No Jean. I like you and would love to have a drink. alas, I was just out for a walk. No money and well look at me. Shorts, t-shirt and flip flops. I'm a little underdressed.'

'Hey, i invited you. Drinks are on me. My place anyway. It's near downtown. Somehow, I don't want crowds tonight.' She smiled a very deep smile, the corners creased.

'You should smile more. It suits you Jean.'

We drove to an old home, near Downtown. It was three story and was one of the original houses built in the city. this meant one of the prominent families nust have owned it. Guess Jean was seriously into retro.

The interior was the same. It was fully restored to how it must have been in the 1930s. Crystal chandeleers, wine colored carpet up the winding stairs, even a checked foyer. The furniture was well cared for antiques.

'I'm impressed. I love old things too. Well done Jean.'

She strolled to a drink tray in the sitting room.

'Cognac ok?' She made to pour from a crystal carafe.


She did so and we retired to a large wine toned sofa.

'I just don't have long. I,', she looked down then up with crystal clear brown eyes,'I wonder if you'd love me.'

I was a trifle taken aback, but managed composure.

'Well Jean, we've just met. You are beautiful, wonderful company. Love takes time.' I wondered what was going to happen. I found myself hoping their was time.

'I'm just about out of time. I believe you would love me. You aren't like the others. The gigolos, the college fops, the socalled men Daddy arranged too. You are nothing like them.' she leaned forward and kissed me.

It was like a spark igniting a possible future, a promise of more. I kissed Jean more deeply.

In each other's arms, I felt something good awaken.

So did she. Jean beamed and said,'Oh how I wish, I wish we could. I love you. crazy as it sounds. Please believe me.'

'Jean I don't doubt you. But it would take time. Please. I'm willing to see if you are. I can see love sure as dawn is coming.'

She started slightly and kissed me once more. Her lips were so smooth and she tasted of cognac and something, perhaps a bit of sweet spice.

'Oh yes please, I accept your promise.'

As she spoke, the sun beamed its dull gold onto her sweet face. At the same time see seemed to slowly disappear, her smile blending in the sparkle, and as the sun increased, Jean was gone.

Astonished, I sat up still feeling her warm lips.

I slowly woke, Jean's lips still touching me, caressing my spirit.

Was it real? Somewhere.

Was she loved? I think so.

It wasn't til much later I read of a young woman's ghost. She had died alone, her Auburn a twisted wreck, never knowing love. It was said her spirit wandered, driving and searching for the love that had escaped her in life.

Rest in peace and love Jean.