Monday, October 31, 2011


A view or contemplation of death.

This has nothing to do with William Cullen Bryant.

I'd say a worthy contemplation this spooky time of year (Though I write this later. I'm maintaining the original timeline.).

I'm not going to get into some deep discussion of life, death, life. I'll leave that to each person.

Beyond the now traditional onslaught of candy, there remains the roots of Halloween. Yes, there was Samhain (pronounced 'sowen') and the blood sacrifices associated with it. There were great bonfires set to keep the darkness back and celebrate the coming of dawn.

The beauty of words is you can use them in a wide variety of ways for a myriad expressions. It's a two edged sword. They can be used to manipulate or they can reach out to one's imagination. Bet the folks who happen by here know that.

So think about what scares you and let it go. Be observant though. But don't let it haunt you.

Have a blast with big words but be mindful of where and when. Teach. don't pontificate.

Like Halloween, time passes and dawn comes.

Life goes on.

The Hungry House

I could call this 'time and tide' lol. Actually priorities have taken my time from here, so I've been 'redistributing the wealth of time'(bad joke).

This time of year, I have put some short short stories here, mostly dealing with spooky stuff. This year is no exception.

However, my time is increasingly taken up with efforts to make a living from my writing.

As usual, consider this place a doorway to the places you see on the right. I have not surrendered anything except some time. In the long run it's a good investment.

I hope you all are doing what you can to promote Restoration of the Republic. I will never stop that, even with a major move to Hollywood -s-.

Now the story that was to be here has undergone several alterations for the sake of creativity.

It's developed into an outline for a script for a proposed anthology series I'm working to get launched eventually.

Takes time. It took John Wayne at least 14 years to get his version of The Alamo to the screen. Considering he was a major movie star, that's still quite an achievement. I like to think I understand that at least a little, though I am far from Duke's position -s-.

This story has to do with a 'haunted house' gone bad with real horrors emerging. It's got some chops and I might use it as a calling card to get the series underway.

The analogies and metaphors abound. Even the title I've currently chosen could be applied to Congress and state and local governments lol.

Getting rid of the real monsters remains my priority as I hope it is for any who venture here.

Hooray for Hollywood.

We all have our work cut out for us, no matter where we are.

Phantom Neighborhood

There are places that have being, yet do not seem to exist.

I have travelled far and near, experiencing light and dark, solid and unfirm, gone and extant. Yet, the place I happened upon one day still defies description.

It was sunny, just wispy clouds and the temperature was moderate. It was a mellow Spring day.

I was driving around hunting for yard sales. I'm a big advocate of them. You never know what treasures may lie underneath.

Sure enough, I noticed a poster with multicolored lettering:
'Neighborhood Yard Sale. All Weekend. A Little Bit of Everything, A Whole Lot for Little.'

I cruised onto the street and immediately noticed something. As mellow as the day was, it was as if I slipped into somewhere even more peaceful. I felt surrounded by arms that comforted.

There was a plethora of goods, everything from vintage clothes to books, pots and pans including dishware and some fascinating furniture pieces.

It was busy but not rushed as people perused the many articles. There seemed to be good natured haggling and spirited conversation.

I had my eye on a coffee table for my house, dark wood with a bottom shelf when I saw a station wagon pull up.

A young couple and their son, who looked to be about five, quietly walked up the steps to a small house just up a small hill. The boy carried a small box with a loose top. I overheard them chatting with the apparent homeowner.

'You must be Mr. and Mrs. Bennett. And this is Thomas', he smiled at the boy, who was a little self conscious and seemed preoccupied with the box he carried. 'I'm Max Parsley.' He nodded amiably at them.

'Sir here is the bird we found.' Thomas lifted the box for Max to take.

He gently held it and smiled as he looked in the top. 'This little fella seems mostly dazed. I'll take care of him, don't worry.'

Mr. Bennett said,'We think he got in a bird fight and got knocked out of his nest. Tommy was worried and we were told you helped injured animals.'

I wondered about that. Why not go to a vet who handled wild animals? Living in a city had made me regulation/license conscious.

'I see you noticed Max.'

I turned slightly and beheld a tall young woman. she had short dark brown hair and worecut off jeans with a cotton top just open at the front. She was squiring a large dog around, casually sauntering nearby. As I looked she stopped.

'Is he a vet?' I was curious and realized I might have appeared a little uptight. 'My Grandma used to heal the animals on her farm. Just wondered.'

She smiled taking me in, sizing me up with brown eyes that seemed to see through me.

'Oh, he teaches animal husbandry at the college. But his family has always tended animals' She whispered in mock conspiratorial tone,'He does this on the sly.' Her smile deepened and her dog merely shifted, waiting patiently.

'Well healing can take many forms. Far be it from me to put down such efforts.' I smiled back and before I said another word, she resumed her walk. The dog was huge, part Shepherd maybe and a real Heinz 57.

Big as the dog was, she had control and he didn't pull. They seemed in synch.

As she glided off, she anticipated me. 'He's part wolf. His name is Hrolf. I'm Ylva. We'll meet again'

She glided off, that bemused look as she seemed to circle me with her eyes.

Before I could answer, she was gone.

I shook my head and bought the coffee table. I loaded it into my truck and drove off.

As I did, once again I felt as if I was leaving a dreamscape. The area around almost spun as I got onto one of the main streets.

I tried to find the place again. I could not.

It left me to wonder what this girl meant about meeting again.

When the time came, I figured I'd find out.

Avenue And Alley

There is light and dark. They are constantly juxtaposed. And sometimes they coalesce.

The Avenue is almost always busy. Day and night, the traffic horde, which was never meant for this old, narrow street, flows like an artery pumping life through downtown. Good for business, it's a wonder there are not more crunches and fender benders, as parked angled cars line both sides of the thoroughfare.

The alley behind it parallels the whole length. It's quite wide, to allow delivery trucks easy access. Supply and demand. One side keeps the other side going.

I was out enjoying one of my rare nights on the town. It was just getting cooled down at the beginning of Autumn. The bars were crowded and the Avenue hummed with the sound of people seeking entertainment, relaxation and/or escape.

On impulse, I ducked into one of the wide alley entrances. I hoped to avoid the increasing din.

It was as though I stepped into another world. Sure, I heard the bustling crowd. But sounds faded as I progressed into the alley. The lights set above the buildings shone brightly enough, however they also cast shadows, hugging the storebacks and pooling at their bases. It felt encompassing and as I ventured further into the alley, the light seemed to dim.

During the day, trucks came and unloaded supplies then left. At night it was surprisingly empty. The alley was for deliveries only.

Oddly, I was the only person traversing the alley. Not one soul showed up from the Avenue. I heard no reverberating sound on the brick and cobblestone ground.

The feeling grew in me that I was encased as if I was on some kind of trail, witnessing whatever came my way.

I looked in a dim window and saw a woman. She was dressed in the style common in the last part of the nineteenth century. Her appearance was fleeting, wispy like an old photograph fading. She didn't notice me as she sat slowly eating and talking, much like the folks that very night.

I pressed on and a shadow stirred to my right and appeared to break away like a cloud from the penumbra cast by the building. It hovered, never entering the light, a shape vaguely like the figure of a person. My impression was that whatever was there would not or could not enter the better lit alleyway itself. I felt fear.

I was not afraid. But I sure had it impressed on me that I was surrounded with a reluctance a binding perhaps that kept something trapped in that alley.

I hurried to the next street access and reentered the pace of the evening.

This was the reverse of what I had just experienced. It was cool, free and full of the hopes fears and potential that marks all humanity.

As the Avenue was the artery carrying fresh life, the alley was a vein, bringing life back into circulation.

Something lingered in that alley, neither moving forward nor replenishing. Silly as it may seem, it was like a spiritual 'plaque' that built in resistance to life going on.

I hoped, prayed whatever was there would one day leave.

Saturday, October 22, 2011


It's an object that reflects light or sound that preserves much of its quality prior to contact with the mirror. They can vary as to wavelengths and what gets filtered.

Mirrors are used by most people. The reasons and degrees fluctuate as do the results.

Some give a relative dead on image. Others distort such as convex, like a fisheye, makes an image more distant and usually have a warning that objects are closer than they appear. They do give a wider field of vision. Concave are inward and give different images depending on distance.

Shape size etc can give nuances as to effect. Reflection is not just reflection.

But, mostly, I think it's attitude that affects mirrors, at least as far as people looking at themselves and others.

In Hollywood, mirrors are handy tools of the trade. Makeup and lighting combine with reflection to create effect, whatever the goal may be. It can minimize the bumps and pores even before airbrushing.

There are those obsessed with image. But we never exactly see ourselves as others do.

It is said mirrors show the truth. Others claim it's merely literal reflection, just an image that never reveals anything completely.

Perhaps it depends on the eye of the beholder. People see what they want to see.

So truth can be had. But it takes time and circumstances to see.

You may have to look twice.

There are other types of mirrors. They reflect sound and matter.

But that is another matter altogether.

Mirrors as clues might sum it up. Give yourself a chance to see.

Wednesday, October 19, 2011


Moving away from the law or its long arm or being an outlaw hasn't changed in ways.

I rewatched Robin Hood a little while back. That's the one with Russell Crowe.

Timeless are treachery and deceit, the meaningless promises of kings, politicians and other 'leaders'. Whether by 'divine right' or appointed, they let you down. And yes, the elected doofuses these days many times think they have some privileged presence.

Let's don't forget Ayn Rand's comment that laws are passed to the extent that we all eventually become criminals. It has happened and is increasing.

Wow, Captain Obvious speaks again. So much written and bandied about why should I even write this stuff? Because I can -s-.

We should all be able to do so. It is our right to express ourselves and criticize the gov etc.

Of course, we may stand the chance of getting the attention of said officials. If we irritate them enough they may label us persona non grata. Outlaw status may follow.

Worth it? Ask Robin Hood. Or query anyone today who is looked at askew because they point out the flaws of said leaders and gov.

According to the legend, they organized and fought a winning campaign against John and his minions.

Sound familiar? Just sayin....

Sunday, October 16, 2011

Re Law Abiding Citizen

I may be repeating myself but I'm mindful lately of the encroachment of the state and our response to it.

Law Abiding Citizen is a disturbing flick that deals with not just encroachment, but the murky rules and world of 'law' and the courts.

A man's wife and young daughter are beaten raped and murdered, while he is bound and beaten.

The culprits are caught and tried. In spite of the husband's wishes, a deal is made that turns 'evidence' allowing the real perp to go and the accomplice to be put on death row.

The husband enacts, as it turns out, a carefully planned mission of not just revenge, but a scathing indictment of the criminal justice system.

He kills both perps, in unusual ways but goes on to punish the system by executing or murdering (depending on the view), the judge, and several lawyers.

Now, the husband happens to be a black bag scenario artist for apparently the CIA. You might suspend disbelief for the sake of the story. A lot of questions otherwise would arise.

There are btw, people like this. All I care to sasy -s-.

With his abilities and ten years of planning he is ahead of the game.

The movie plays him as a guy royally screwed by the system. Then he becomes an avenging angel. But it shifts so that he seems to be warped and murderous.

Still, the question remains what to do with a system, a Republic that has receded into an increasing police state?

Will there be people as skilled waging a black ops war during a civil war?

War is hell.

Let's hope justice wins and the Republic is restored.

The question remains yet again. Is all fair in love and war?

Thursday, October 13, 2011

Fear 2011

October is in many ways, my favorite month. My birthday on the sixth, the transitional weather especially when it's moderate and Halloween are three selling points for me.

Yep it's that month of spooks and scares aplenty. I may just stick a couple of short short stories here, though time is getting sparser and my writing is Hollyweird bound.

Fear rises in the changing wind.

What do you fear? There can be so many things.

Some people fear cops. And many cops fear guns.

That phobia has been done to death, pardon the sardonic pun.

Every day, you can see evidence that there are 'only ones' who are untrustworthy and dangerous. The Canton Ohio case is classic. This badged moke threatened to kill a permit holder. There is dispute about the case of course. The deparment is trying to cover its ass. But this cop has done this before. So he gets leave and or desk work with pay while the permit holder gets arrested as a public threat because he decides to sue for the improper conduct. They are still playing legal footsie with it.

Often permit holders are arrested and charged as a knee jerk reaction to cover the ass of cowards and bullies who have no business 'policing'. In Ohio the failure to inform scam is common.

Is it fear? Yes.

It is either fear of armed citizens (Civilian is a misleading word as the cops are merely civilians charged with a particular job to keep peace and more now to enforce laws of the state.) or more often, the fear of their bullying going public.

Well let's out em and show WE are not afraid of them.

Take care doing so as they may be trigger happy loons, unlike most who carry.

Check out the for Canton PD Notification Arrest and Officer Conduct. It's tragically graphic.

Take care all, for fear may give way to selfdefense and civil war.

Sunday, October 9, 2011

A Century

If my Dad had lived, he would be 100 years old today.

I suppose that's not significant to anyone but me, but it is a focal point for reflection.

A century has passed since the birth of my Dad. A lot has happened to us individually and as a country and for that matter the world.

Depends on your view, but a lot can occur in a hundred years. I believe a lot can come down in even lesser time.

Plans are made, ops carried out. They can be very long range. They can have detours but lead back to a focus. These are made for weal or woe.

Naturally, weal and woe can mean something different depending on where you are at. In other words, a collectivist and a Restorationist have opposing stands, thus disappointment to one is frequently success to the other. Perhaps in miniscule ways and bit by bit.

And over a century a canvas or mosaic is laid out.

I'm here because of my Father biologically and also, to a degree, mentally and spiritually.

I am me because of many things. My Dad was the start as was his Dad and forebears, also mine.

Likewise, I am the start for my kids etc.

The next century already unfurls for weal or woe.

Happy birthday Dad.

Court Dogs

These are literally dogs brought into a courtroom to calm a witness or plaintiff when giving testimony.

In a particular instance, a defense lawyer claimed the dog prejudiced a jury, unduly causing his client's prosecution. The lengths child rapists and their cohorts go to in order to shift blame is untenable. The simple fact is that courtroom dogs work.

In another instance, a child was frozen in fear by the presence of his rapist's family. The boy played with the dog and had the courage to tell the judge that he was afraid of them. They were removed.

Dogs have been used for a while to deal with folks who have particular stress such as post operation or Alzheimer's as well as rape.

They are trained similarly to guide dogs for specific behavior and respond to a patient/plaintiff.

Of course, we are all entitled to proper defense, no matter how egregious the crime nor how obviously guilty someone is. Otherwise, abuse of the court/justice system takes place.

That seems almost a joke considering how raped the system has become.

Justice for all protects fairness. It is a matter of fully informing juries and judges being held accountable to the people that will start to tip the scales back where they belong.

But court dogs are better than teddy bears. They are flesh and blood examples of compassion and I hope will be used even more.

Thursday, October 6, 2011

Hap Hap Happy

Another birthday, another year.

It can be looked at several ways.

I'm one year closer to death. Morbid? Factual?

Doesn't bother me. I will live til I die.

Am I wiser? Yes and no.

What have I done? Little bit of everything? Not enough of something?

It'll all come out in the wash.

I am, at this point personally happy.

Don't get me wrong. I'm not at all at peace, particularly where the Republic is concerned.

But I'm at a place in my life where some positive things are happening. I am not satisfied though.

Satisfaction should be at best fleeting. There is always room for improvement, refinement. Be happy with what you have, but strive for more.

And mindful of the spooky aspects of my birth month, here is my word for you all.

Whatever you are doing, wherever you are, don't be afraid.

It's time to venture forth. Do what you can and don't let that be a cop out.

Let it be what it is.

Tuesday, October 4, 2011

The Next Three Days

How far would you go to help someone you love?

The Next Three Days deals with this and the legal what ifs concerning prosecution of an innocent person, the attempts to free her and the resulting desperate flight when the system fails.

The prosecuted woman had an altercation at work with her boss. Later the boss is mugged and killed. A series of coincidences follow and she is sent to prison based on circumstantial evidence. A button had popped off the muggers jacket, but it was never found. It's all very vague and leads the husband to put a plan together to free his wife.

A great deal of the flick shows how the husband goes about this. He consults a man who escaped from prison seven times. Theman advises him that the easiest part of an escape plan is the actual escape. Keeping free was the difficult part.

The husband plans and fails several times til he concocts a successful plan.

The plan entails false papers, a large amount of cash and a destination that would be more off the grid than many.

Some of it reminds me of Matt Bracken's details particularly in Enemies Foreign and Domestic. Of course, there are hairsbreath escapes and a certain amount of luck.

One of the detectives, after the husband, wife and their son successfully escapes, follows forensic instinct and returns to the scene of the original crime/murder.

He determines the path the torn button took and searches a storm drain. Not finding it, he leaves near the end of the picture. It's revealed that the button is on a ledge, buried in debris.

Interesting how circumstantial evidence is used to convict. Mind you, it's not the manufactured crap and unconstitutional rape happening with the F troopers and gods in black robes who mock true justice and have sent innocent people to prison in pursuit of a tyrannical agenda.

Once again, it points out there is truth and then there is legal truth. This is so for all the injustice dished out in courts.

As for what the husband does to free his wife, my original question remains.

How far would you go to help someone you love?

Sunday, October 2, 2011

Mike Vanderboegh

I start off the month with a word about this great man.

David Codrea has mentioned this before as have several others.

Mike could use some financial help. His expenditures are draining and his work for Freedom is tireless, putting him not only at risk of the thugs from the state, but his health has suffered.

Yet, he does not stop. He increases his output.

Along with David, he has brought the detestible ATF criminals to light with their embarrassing Gunwalker etc scheme. It has backfied largely from the efforts initially of Mssrs. Vanderboegh and Codrea along with brave whistleblowers inside the gov machine.

What extent are any of us willing to go to in order to Restore the Republic? How far will we go to expose the rot within?

Please, contact Mike and help him out whatever way you can, with whatever you can give.

If you honestly have no extra funds, spread the word and also make yourself a promise you will give when you can.

Go to Sipsey Street, the gateway you can see to the right here.

Let your conscience be your guide. Because we who care about Freedom have consciences.

And the time comes when saying must become doing.