Making Good Changes

I turned fifty years old this year and suddenly I was put on AARP's mailing radar. They obviously have no idea of my political leanings, nor do they get my disdain for their organization or they may reconsider wasting money sending me literature. That notwithstanding, they see me as a future customer in the not-so-distant future and that is a little alarming.

Being on the backside of middle age also brings on certain ailments. All the damage I willingly imposed on my body in my youth has come back in crashing waves that promise to plague me for my remaining days on this earth. My knees (one operation), my shoulders (both operated on), my mid-back (beaten into submission years ago), my elbow (ruptured bursa), my fingers (all broken at some time in my life), each remind me of the damage inflicted upon them in a quest to sack a quarterback, squat or bench press a Volkswagon Beetle, or take throws while practicing judo.

The truth is, though, even with all the injuries sustained over the years--I got lazy, complacent, and soft. I stopped any meaningful exercise and used those injuries as an excuse. My waistline blossomed and the amount of material used to cover it expanded. I got sick of seeing pictures of myself; they were disgusting.

In December, Cathy and I decided it was time for each of us to embark on a lifestyle change. We now make healthy eating choices and I am back to exercising full force (that's the only way I know how to do things--do them yes, or do them no--no in between). Understand, I am no marathon runner. Even at my peak of physical fitness, running a couple miles was difficult for me, but I am now knocking out five miles and have lost almost thirty pounds. I have a long way to go to reach my final goal, but I'm doing something about it while I still can. Do my knees beg me to stop? Absolutely! Do my shoulders scream at me when I'm lifting weights? You better believe it. Do I sometimes think about stopping? No way. I'm not giving them the satisfaction of slowing me down.

Lastly, I am happy Cathy and I elected to make this change prior to January, as I despise New Year resolutions. We are both healthier, and I love working out again.

Fight on!

Bill Evers Is Heavy On My Mind

A couple months ago, I posted a video detailing how I lost a thumb drive with several manuscripts begun and tabled, then restarted at various intervals over the last couple of years. One project in particular was a non-fiction work featuring individual stories of struggles and triumphs; I hate that I lost that one most especially. Somewhere in the recesses of my mind, I hold out hope I'll find that little drive and rejuvenate those lost works. 

Included in that menagerie of works were a few Bill Evers manuscripts also at varying levels of non-completion. So embarrassed and disheartened had I become over losing the jump drive, I refused to sit and begin anew. Yes, I quit--I walked away. 

Bill Evers, however, was having none of my self-pity. He would appear to me in dreams, both sleeping and awake. One such story, tentatively title Infirmus, kept coming back to me. In a peculiar way, it was good that I lost the beginning of that work, some 12,000 words long, because the newest "version," the one Evers continues to push me to write is better. I write that, not in my opinion, but as someone who loves action/adventure/paranormal/conspiracy theory books. 

As with my previous novels, Of Blood and Stone and Occam's Razor, new(ish) technology is interwoven in the storyline. I am often reminded of a quote by the famous Kurt Vonnegut when he said, "I think that novels that leave out technology misrepresent life as badly as Victorians misrepresented life by leaving out sex."

I have been of a similar opinion as the meticulously verbose Mr. Vonnegut, although I could never possibly have articulated this thought in such a gloriously abbreviated way. In fact, I do believe that modern technology will eventually lend itself to a significant decline in morality, which will also lead humanity down a path of certain and inevitable destruction. It is, after all, the way of man; we build, we conquer, we destroy, and we are eventually destroyed.

That's a rosy picture I've painted, yes? In the meantime, prior to the end of our wonderful existence, we can immerse ourselves in books, or as my friend Gary often says, "suspend your disbelief." In actuality, much work written by those who engage in such fiction often find their imagination steeped in reality. Sometimes I wonder if remote viewing is a thing. Not sure what that is? Look it up--mind bending stuff (for real) that our government is also fascinated by.

I will keep folks up to date with the newest (renewed) work of fiction both here and on my Facebook author's page. Click HERE if you would like to follow; I would love to have you along for the ride.

Lastly, Faithful Reader, I hope you each have an excellent, healthy, fun-filled 2019 complete with books and things that help you grow in every facet of life!

Christmas and the Holidays

As many of you know, I'm a pretty cynical guy. For a lot of years, I didn't care about the Christmas holiday, and felt that it was over-commercialized (it is!), with little remaining of its true meaning. The speculated birthdate of Christ is on the 25th of December, and should be a time of thanks, reflection, and family gatherings. For so long, I neglected to enjoy any of those things, but as I've aged and come to grips with my own mortality, my thoughts have shifted.


What is even more enjoyable is my family's desire to not have "stuff." Yes, we still exchange gifts, but they have evolved over time to meaningful items that carry with them an emotional value, as opposed to a monetary value. I much prefer a nice photo of my children and their families over other things, or handmade hats and scarves knitted with loving hands, rather than store-bought things.


I value Christmas now because of what it represents, AND what it has evolved into with my family. Getting together and laughing, spending time with one another, eating, and simply carrying on are the greatest gifts in my life. These are the things I have come to value much more so than anything else.


Over the past few weeks, I have had some life changing events transpire. This is what we call life, and learning to roll with the punches is a part of maturity. Appreciating the punches and jabs life throws at you can also be something that we welcome; detesting life's curveballs only serves to push us further into the abyss. So, during this Christmas holiday season, I will be thankful for everything I have and everything I've received, even the not-so-good-stuff, because it all serves a purpose in this old world.


I hope and pray you all have a glorious Christmas season and 2019 brings you each happiness, and whatever you define as prosperity. Having a ton of money doesn't necessarily bring either one of those things, but maintaining a well-oiled sense of self and family will!


Be glorious to one another, hug and love your family (even the family you don't like), and enjoy this holy season.


Merry Christmas!

Time to Consider

I am at a crossroad insofar as my blog is concerned. I use it to convey thoughts, plans, happenings--it is a virtual stream of consciousness that I have enjoyed penning for a few years now. Unfortunately, social media has decided that the content isn't worthy of distribution, or perhaps my readership is such that they want "their cut." I suspect the latter, but that isn't the point of this entry.

Over the past several days, I have considered discontinuing my blog. Since it doesn't seem to be in the best financial interest of the Facebook or Google gods, perhaps it's time I move on to a different form of communication?

I realize this is the second time I've posted about the reverse engine going on with this blog. Understand, I have access to the analytics and can easily see how many page views it is getting, as well as countries it is read in, and upon what devices you are viewing it. No, I have no idea who is using an Android or an iPhone, but it does give me a quantitative number of devices by which the blog is read. It also details the number and type of operating system used to read it. Interesting, huh?

The most important stat of late, though, is the total page views globally. Previous entries have garnered thousands of views--then all of a sudden a hundred or less. I considered the content being produced for my readers, but I have been pretty consistent over the years of being inconsistent regarding topics. What, then, could it be?

Simple deduction tells me that the throttling of my blog (and similar experiences have been logged by many friends attempting to communicate to a broad group of individuals across the web) have coincided with Facebook's sudden financial plunge. Look, I'm a business guy and I understand revenue generation, but to do it on the very backs of those supporting your platform isn't the smartest business plan in the world if you ask me!

So, I am back to my earlier conundrum--do I continue this thing or not? Do you have thoughts on content that you would enjoy reading? I try to keep this relatively light, but would consider much headier topics if demand were high enough to warrant it.

I'm going to give it a few more days and think about it a bit more. The future of this blog is in the various social media outlet's hands. We'll see what they (and you) decide.

Throttling it Back!

I will continue writing about Facebook's practice of unsubstantiated and punitive punishment of anyone they feel threatens their profiteering platform. Facebook--a social media interface created by a pimple faced Harvard kid in order to rate how hot chicks were. Yeah, that's how it got started. Read about it here.

Once it went public, stock holders demanded more profit. Stakeholders, in conjunction with founder Mark Zuckerberg created ad spaces for prospective businesses to share advertisements with members. Their lust for Uncle Sam's fine green currency would never be sated, however. In fact, as artificial intelligence took on a more expanded role, Facebook went after small businesses and people like myself-bloggers who managed some modicum of success. What did they do? They throttled back readership/viewership.

No matter if I tag someone, Facebook will likely not allow you (the owner of your personal page) to post it there. If you are like me, I control who posts what on my page. When someone attempts to post something there, I decide if it gets published. Unfortunately, if you have a successful blog, even if you allow it to be posted, Facebook will likely not allow for it to be posted.

Nice, huh?

Make no mistake: if I chose to pay Facebook to publish my blog to a much larger audience, it would do so without thought (artificial or real).

Now, this: I have spent money with them when I advertise my books. But my blog is free to anyone interested in reading it. I merely share my thoughts about whatever I feel like discussing, but no matter to the democrat-socialists on the left coast. If they don't like my content, or if I'm not paying them, YOU are penalized!

I've always enjoyed the interaction with everyone on my friend's list during the past ten years I've spent on the book of faces, but I must tell you, should this continue, I may just delete my page. It's frustrating to try to express myself, only to watch my readership go from thousands globally to less than two hundred nationally.

Disgusting behavior by you, Zuckerberg--even by your own "community standards."

The Rally--Please Read

I get it--we are a politically polarized nation. We are democrat and republican flavored ice cream with sprinkles of fence riders (did I say that? I meant independents). Sometimes I wonder just how far apart we truly are in our beliefs, but so long as we allow the media, and social media, to pave the proverbial narrative, we'll continue to barb, jab, punch, and call each other names.

Regardless of how you feel about any candidate, getting involved in the political process is exhilarating and informative. Make no mistake, my political motivation is of the extreme conservative nature. I like to think of myself as a Constitutionalist--and sometimes that it makes my life difficult when people say and do things I disagree with, but fall within those God-given rights penned by our Founding Fathers. I do not think, no, I know, The Constitution is a "living document" as liberals espouse; it is as it is written--the basis of our system of law and order.

Sunday, November 4th, 2018, I bore witness to the right to peacefully assemble. That's the First Amendment if you're keeping score. Tens of thousands of like-minded individuals held closely to that right and came together from near and far to hear the forty-fifth President of the United States speak. Forget the hyperbole, the political inferences, or even the fact that we are all about to head to the polls to exercise our right to vote and elect our public officials. What I would like for you all to understand is how this event transpired as I saw it, and to share in some of my experiences.

Renowned Atlanta radio talk show host (and personal friend), Shelley Wynter put together for his listeners an opportunity to ride together to Macon, Georgia to see and hear President Trump. For those unaware of Shelley, allow me the opportunity to introduce him: Shelley is a New York City born and bred conservative. He admits to being sucked in by the former President, who he voted for, but now clearly sees the nation as it should be. Shelley isn't politically correct and is heavily involved in educating the metropolitan area, and most importantly misguided black Americans, who may still be living, as he puts it, "on the plantation." This political speak for being lied to and still beholden to a political faction who uses people for its own power and political gain.

So, we met and bussed to Macon, Georgia. Fifteen of us to be exact. Of the fifteen, three were former New Yorkers, and two were black. We also had with us a Hispanic couple. You cannot imagine my exuberance!

We made the two hour trip and got in line around 11:00 AM. The event began at 4:00 PM, but already the vendors and visitors were lined up and ready! Once the gates opened at 1:00 PM, thousands of people of all races and nationalities began drifting inside. Let me restate that: people of all races and nationalities began drifting inside.

The short walk to the hangar found us between the Presidential podium and the backstage of fake news media. Har har har!

The good news was we arrived early enough to find a spot approximately thirty feet from the President gubernatorial candidate Kemp. Thousands upon thousands of people continued to funnel in until a spectacula

r portion of the tarmac was covered. The bad news? We could not leave to use the restroom for fear of losing our spots. Ah well, you win some, you lose some!

Music played, politicians spoke, and people cheered and cajoled on cue. We laughed and had a great time listening to President Trump, and aside from the multitude of races present, I would like to share something even more exciting: the place was covered with Millennials and Generation Z'ers! Not only were they paying attention, they were engaged.

I want to stop here to make a point: what we witnessed with President Trump's election was nothing short of miraculous and revolutionary. In my opinion, he is the greatest President of my lifetime, and I am a Ronald Regan fanatic. He says what he means, and he means what he says. And the greatest part of this refreshing leader? People from all walks of life are waking up and listening!

Get out and vote, America!

Tough Mudding

On the 20th of October, 2018, I checked another goal of mine off the list: a half-Mudder, or a five mile jaunt through excessively muddy hills, valleys, and wooded trails. This wasn't your typical Tough Mudder event where pools are dug to create obstacles, or walls are built in an effort to facilitate teamwork and camaraderie; on the contrary, God helped muddy the land further by having it rain the night before and the day of the event.


Here's a breakdown of the day's events and how I perceived them as I ran and trudged through mud and muck:


At the start line:


We stood as a singular group staring straight up a hill, which was the exact course we were to take. Maybe I should have down more up-hill/down-hill road work, I think to myself. The hill looked daunting and I immediately began questioning my cardiovascular conditioning. After topping the hill, I was correct in doing so. My lungs were promptly afire!


The one mile mark:


This wasn't too bad, at least after that first uphill jaunt we took at the start line. There's a chubby girl outpacing me, and I can't have chubby girls getting to the finish line before I do. Time to pick it up a bit!


Once I passed the one mile mark, I was feeling pretty good. My knees were in decent shape, I wasn't sweating profusely, but the rain was falling again like it did the night before. I passed the chubby girl up and smiled to myself. The guy running to my right gave me a I ain't getting passed by a chubby guy look. Damn him!


The two mile mark:


After the first mile, the trail took us into the woods, up and down small hills. The scenery was nice, but the trail was beaten to a mushy pit of mud and gunk, mixed with a large portion of sweat and despair. I slipped two or three times, almost falling, but managed to keep my footing through a very difficult part of the course.


This sucks!


I ran from the woods onto firmer ground and saw the two mile marker. Another smile crept across my face.


No Man's Land:


Just past the two mile marker, a large, muddy hill loomed in front of us. Behind me I heard screaming and calls for a medic. Someone fell and broke a leg. I hope it wasn't the chubby girl I passed earlier, elsewise I would feel horrible.


I begin the slow trek up the muddy hill. The footing is treacherous and slow. I watch as two or three people fall and tumble down the side of the steep clay terrain, while making a mental note to be careful.


At long last, I reached the precipice (if you can call it that) and began the arduous decent back to lower ground and firmer footing. The trail zig-zagged down the hill. I felt my right foot slip and widened my legs to create a stronger base. In an instant, both feet flew from under me and my left hand shot out in a senseless attempt to break my fall. I slammed to the ground, simultaneously driving my left hand and butt into the merciless ground. The pain was instantaneous. At different times in my life, I've had each shoulder operated on--the pain shooting through my rebuilt left shoulder is amazingly sickening. My stomach lurches, but worse yet, is the feeling that I ripped two inches of my anus into the next century.


Even though my shoulder was sending waves of agony to my brain, all I could think about was getting hauled out on a stretcher and having a couple honeymoon stitches literally placed in No Man's Land. Never mind dealing with the gloriously hilarious "friends" I have who follow me on social media; the thought of work-place retribution on Monday when my peers learned of my dilemma was enough to get me back on my feet and jogging again, despite my injuries.


Where is Mile Three?:


Either I passed it and didn't see it, or it was MIA. Either way, my aching shoulder and delicate starfish had me running like a cast member from The Walking Dead. I noticed other participants getting out of my way; it was probably the look of agony on my face, or quite possibly a fear of me biting them and turning them into an injured Tough Mudder zombie.


Mile Four:


After wading through some more sloppy mud, and belly crawling under another obstacle, I see the four mile marker. My aching anus wants nothing more than a cushioned donut to sit on, and my teeth get closer to my shoulder to begin the self-starter surgery process. I wanted to chew my own arm off, but the mile marker assured me I was close to the end.


My knees were now screaming at me, and I questioned what I was thinking by even showing up to this event. Dozens of young adults ran past me, some shooting sideways glances in wonder that the old injured guy was still in the game. If any of them had bumped into my shoulder or buttocks, I would have stomped them into one of the mud pits lining the running trail.


The End of the Line:


The last obstacle was called Electric Shock Therapy, or some such nonsense. A guy with a microphone was shaming people to run through it, and I figured what the hell, I'm already injured, so a little electric shock won't hurt. Right?


I enter the make shift structure with wires hanging from the overhead beams. The first one I encounter touches my head. I feel the rip in my anus seize up and my right knee buckled. Down into the mud-slop I fell. Shaking the cobwebs from my brain, I stand up and catch another ten volts in my (thankfully) right shoulder. I stumble once more into the pit of despair wanting nothing more than to punch every living soul in my sight.


At last I emerge from the house of pain and cross the finish line. I'm hurt, I'm aching, my heart is pounding, but by God I finished.


I can't wait until next year!


P.S. My shoulder still hurts, but my anus was just in shock and, you'll be happy to know, uninjured.