Book Promo And Vignettes by Luke, Mary Catelli and ‘Nother Mike

Book promo

If you wish to send us books for next week’s promo, please email to bookpimping at outlook dot com. If you feel a need to re-promo the same book do so no more than once every six months (unless you’re me or my relative. Deal.) One book per author per week. Amazon links only. Oh, yeah, by clicking through and buying (anything, actually) through one of the links below, you will at no cost to you be giving a portion of your purchase to support ATH through our associates number. I ALSO WISH TO REMIND OUR READERS THAT IF THEY WANT TO TIP THE BLOGGER WITHOUT SPENDING EXTRA MONEY, CLICKING TO AMAZON THROUGH ONE OF THE BOOK LINKS ON THE RIGHT, WILL GIVE US SOME AMOUNT OF MONEY FOR PURCHASES MADE IN THE NEXT 24HOURS, OR UNTIL YOU CLICK ANOTHER ASSOCIATE’S LINK. PLEASE CONSIDER CLICKING THROUGH ONE OF THOSE LINKS BEFORE SEARCHING FOR THAT SHED, BIG SCREEN TV, GAMING COMPUTER OR CONSERVATORY YOU WISH TO BUY. That helps defray my time cost of about 2 hours a day on the blog, time probably better spent on fiction. ;)*

FROM PAM UPHOFF: Murder by the Light of the Fireworks (Fall of the Alliance Book 3)

A Novella length Mystery set in the Fall of the Alliance series.

As the Alliance weakens, life goes on as usual for an unimportant backwater world.

A New Year, ushered in with parties and fireworks . . . and the death of a young woman.
Detective Inspector Rodolph Smirnov finds himself in a tangle of families, feuds and friendships.

FROM NATHAN C. BRINDLE: Huntress on the Rocks

A young military intelligence agent. Hunting a murderous drug dealer across a floating city on a water world light-years from Earth – with only his name, and a vague description of what he might look like. Will she finally find her quarry and bring him to justice, or will cases of mistaken identity mean she’ll simply end up

A Huntress on the Rocks

(A Delaney Wolff Fox story)

FROM JIM BEARD: The Nine Nations Book One: The Sliding World

The End of the World is Nigh…

The denizens of the Nine Nations live their lives between a rock and a hard place, between impassable mountains and un-crossable deserts, and between the lifeless Greylands and the unavoidable Edge. In fact, mere existence across the land is always on the edge-until a series of seemingly natural disasters sends a signal that the end of the world may be even closer than anyone ever imagined.

Now, two men ride out from the ancient Nation of Complin, each with his own quest for answers and solutions to the impending doom of their land, and though they are accompanied by capable companions with missions of their own, they are all riding into a storm that will alter them beyond recognition. At the end of the world, transformation may be the only path to saving their souls.

Pulp writer Jim Beard makes his first foray into fantasy with book one of The Nine Nations Duology, a story that both welcomes lovers of epic fantasy tales, yet also challenges them with fresh, new concepts for the genre. The Sliding World invites you to peer into the abyss, let go of your fears, and take a leap of faith.

FROM KENT HOPPER: Fractured Planes

For seventy years, mankind cowered among the stars they once ruled.
No one knows how it happened, but space itself was shattered.
Horrors now stalk the Void, and the desperate remnants of humanity fight in the ashes of their once great Empire.
Or, at least, that’s what everyone keeps telling Steven. Steven is an Artificer, an engineer living comfortably in the military autocracy of Dweomerdeep. He learns the stories are more than real when he is kidnapped and forcibly enlisted in a dark-ops mission to retrieve a set of experimental electronics that have gone missing.
Events continue to spiral beyond his control as he is given a choice:
is this the right life for him?
And, even if it is, can he get out alive?

FROM CHRISTOPHER WOERNER: Life and Polonia

The life story of the greatest leader of a fictional country. Satire and humor.

B-side: Non-fiction I wrote during the seven weeks of writing the first draft of this novel. Whatever I thought about whatever was going on at the time.

FROM ANNA FERREIRA: Christmas at Blackheath

Agnes Rawlins would never dream of showing a melancholy face to her brother’s guests. She may be a spinster, and treated little better than any common housekeeper, but she is responsible for bringing Christmas cheer into the dark and rambling Blackheath Manor, and she does not shirk her duty, even when she has little reason to celebrate.

William Marlowe, Viscount Claridge, has reluctantly accepted an invitation to spend the Christmas season at Blackheath. It’s not his first choice- how anyone could wish to spend time in the gloomy manor house is beyond him- but when he meets the kind and gentle lady of the house, he finds that Christmas at Blackheath might not be so bad after all.

Vignettes by Luke, Mary Catelli and ‘Nother Mike.

So what’s a vignette? You might know them as flash fiction, or even just sketches. We will provide a prompt each Sunday that you can use directly (including it in your work) or just as an inspiration. You, in turn, will write about 50 words (yes, we are going for short shorts! Not even a Drabble 100 words, just half that!). Then post it! For an additional challenge, you can aim to make it exactly 50 words, if you like.

So what’s a vignette? You might know them as flash fiction, or even just sketches. We will provide a prompt each Sunday that you can use directly (including it in your work) or just as an inspiration. You, in turn, will write about 50 words (yes, we are going for short shorts! Not even a Drabble 100 words, just half that!). Then post it! For an additional challenge, you can aim to make it exactly 50 words, if you like.

If you have questions, feel free to ask.

Your writing prompt this week is: grouchy

The Lies of the Twentieth Century

Every society and system tells itself lies. Some of it is because it’s inherently impossible for humans to perceive truth. It probably would require us to think in twenty dimensions and smell colors, or something.

I mean, I’m probably not the only one who ten years later looks back on some situation and goes “Oh, dear Lord, so that’s why–“

Then there’s the lies you tell yourself. In my case there is this certainty that if I think hard enough I can overcome anything. Which means I keep coming up against my body’s hard and ever shifting limits. Right now it’s vision. Note to self: it’s really hard to do a thing properly, when you can’t see. Lots of things actually. You’d think I’d have figured out when I have to hold on to the railings and climb and descend stairs very slowly it’s my eyes. At least I’ve only fallen once. Last time this happened it took three falls on stairs, one of them severe for me to get the point. Besides, my body knows my eyes have ALWAYS been fine.

Then multiply that by x number of people, and pass it through administrative levels.

Societies tell themselves lies because individuals in the chain tell themselves lies that get passed on; they tell themselves lies because those lies are convenient; they tell themselves lies because they conform to an image of themselves.

Then add the coercive power of a government capable of collecting and evaluating information and punishing or rewarding based on that information, and the lies exponentially magnify, inflate, and do like the flat cats in The Rolling Stones, till the fill every available space including the air we breathe.

Sometimes collective lies, and the system they create grow from some new capability we’re super impressed with.

In the Elizabethan age they were super-impressed with clock work stuff. So the universe was supposed to be clock work. And I guess human beings were clock work too. And this genesis of the modern state killed as many people per-capita as Stalin would manage. (Given a much smaller starting population.) Or as an historian once put it “The Tudors killed vast multitudes of people, some too young to crawl to the executioners block.” (Fact check: slightly exaggerated but mostly true.))

Because the problem is, of course, that humans aren’t clock work.

However larger state apparatuses (apparatenuse? Apparati? Apparapopotamus?) require you to think they are if not clockwork, at least widgets. Units of production and consumption infinitely changeable and inter-changeable. In fact, while that is true if you pull out to extreme abstraction (Abstraction on the level of “there’s only two plots”) it bears no relation to reality. And even on extreme abstraction it throws curve balls.

For instance, you can go “Well, if 100k people live here they’ll need roads this size.” But then throw in two years of lockdowns, and telecommuting, and apparently? people’s counterintuitive need to still get out of the house no matter what, and suddenly what you have is 24/7 traffic congestion. No, I still don’t understand that, and I doubt it could be predicted.

Anyway, in the 20th century — exploding in the middle of — we’d developed bureaucracy and record keeping to the point that people started imagining the state was omnipotent and government knew best.

And because the same people who controlled the government had influence over the media, either direct or indirect, (Trust me, FDR could be very direct) the lie grew legs and went galumphing around in everyone’s brain.

When I was a kid there was the same feeling about government that there is about the Catholic church in some conspiracy books: It’s immense, and it knows everything about everyone. And we don’t have — insert magical tech — only because it’s hiding it, and doesn’t want us to have it.

In fact, the idea of government was very much like a god, in the sense that Roman gods were gods. We didn’t think it was good, but we gave it all sorts of very strange powers.

And when we in other countries stopped believing that about our own country, we still believed it about the US government, the CIA, the FBI, etc. etc.

I remember sitting with my host brother in the family room late one night (I was 18 and he was 16) discussing the kind of philosophical stuff kids that age discuss and one of us (It’s been so long I don’t remember which) finally going “And at any minute, the CIA will knock on the door and ask why we’re talking about this?” (I don’t remember what this was. Could be aliens really existing or the famous one gallon per hundred miles carburetor.)

Of course, none of that is real. In fact, the more we’re finding out — now information isn’t restricted to the media — about how our information systems and government really work, it’s more like a Laurel and Hardy comedy, if Laurel and Hardy were vicious and hated the country they are supposed to serve.

But in our heads the myth of the great government that knows everything still bangs on. It probably has existed since before we were humans and some band somewhere had a great (compared to others) leader, and then after he died, they kept talking about him, and how great he was. Probably where Greek and Roman style gods evolved from.

In fact, at the very back there’s probably the idea of the parents, like we experienced when we were infants. “WOW, they know when I need food and when I’m wet and–”

This leads a lot of people who have realized our government sucks and wants us dead to idolize communism. Partly because of communist PR and the idea that somehow automagically it knows what everyone wants (This comes from not thinking in detail. HOW would they know? Even we don’t know what we want half the time.)

I was reading a book written in the seventies, recently, and the author who grew up in some Western country talked about this vitamin/mineral/whatever pill that his mom was taking, which would increase human life by another half, and in fact the Soviet Union was making all their citizens take it.

I almost walled the book, which was on some technical thing and had nothing to do with supplements, because…. seriously?

First, the USSR came up with this discovery? Given that they could be super-ruthless about human experimentation, I could see them figuring out some stuff through horrible methods, but how would they have tried it out and known how much it extended life, since at the time the USSR hadn’t been extant the span of an entire human life in normal circumstances.

Second, supposing some scientist had figured this and the USSR shot him in the back of the head and stole it: HOW would they make enough for their whole population? They never managed it with anything else, up to and including food.

Third, supposing this amazing supplement existed, why would you have to MAKE people take it? If there were a pill proven to give me another fifty years of healthy life to live and write in, I’d take it. Wouldn’t you? I don’t want to live forever, but living a bit longer and having more time to work wouldn’t hurt. (And this makes me wonder if that’s why the left is so puzzled about people refusing the vaccines, because they also haven’t thought about the details. Like you know “Completely new method that never worked before” and “bodies that aren’t widgets.”)

However, an otherwise smart and educated man believed that nonsense.

This basic trust in government knowing what is best for each person and also needing to use force to make people do this one great thing that will save us all.

The problem with that, as we’re seeing, is that the more you put power in the hands of an individual (the end state of hyper-powerful bureaucracy) the more you’re prey to that person’s delusions. Like millions of people died or lived in fear because Fauci thought AIDS was airborne, and could be mitigated with masks, and– It’s fairly obvious Fauci got bit by an airborne virus somewhere in infancy, and so has this one solution to any problem that comes along. And since he’s given unchecked power, we all have to live in his hell.

Fortunately the myth of the all-powerful government seems to be getting chipped away, if not utterly crumbling yet. (It needs to crumble, honestly.) Of course the idea of the perfect chieftain will remain to pollute society and how we think. (If nothing else, the idea of a transcendent G-d allows us to overcome all of those, because every human is flawed. Which is why the most successful societies in history in terms of feeding everyone have that, and things go sour fast in “Atheistic societies.”)

It won’t crumble fast enough, and it’s going to be tricky navigating around so it doesn’t fall into something worse.

But the lie of the 20th century was exceptionally lethal, and it’s good to see it lose power.

And it’s good to be aware of it, and chip away at it in our own heads as well. Government isn’t magical. Communism isn’t magical.

There’s no magic at all, except us poor individual slobs doing the best we can.

As often as we fall short, it’s not as bad as when governments fall short by the numbers, collectively and with force.

And that must be our consolation and our hope.

You Know It’s going To Be ONe of thoSE Days

When you wake up int he morning and the eye of sauron isn’t moving.

Wait, I’m not telling it right. This is the eye of sauron:

Okay, Dan calls them death stars, but since there are two and in this house they reside in a bathroom closet, a friend nicknamed them the eyes of Sauron.

Anyway, the left one wasn’t moving. which meant I’d forgotten to empty the poop drawer, which must be done once a week. (I think it had been almost two.)

The problem of getting the cats used to a self-cleaning box (I had to, because I tend to forget things when writing) is that you can’t let it get dirty or they get bad.

So I emptied the drawer — they have two, but they use the left one almost exclusively — then the other drawer, then stumbled downstairs to put the bag in the trash…. which was not in the garage.

Which is when I remembered that today is trash day and that since it was full, Dan had put it on the curb last night.

Picture me in my pink fuzzy bunny slippers, and the nightgown (I could have come back for the robe, but didn’t feel like it at that point) which is perfectly modest, but IS a nightgown, stumbling around the curving driveway to the trash, grumbling and cussing in seven languages. To make things worse it was Quite brisk this morning.

I knew right then and there how the day was going to be. and I was craving doughnuts and feeling a wee-bit insane.

BUT–

Yeah, that’s exactly the way the day has been. This is the first time I’ve been near the keyboard all day.

It’s mostly good things, in terms of getting the final things done in this house so we can unpack. (The other one is still in limbo, as we’ll HAVE to have things done, but how and when we don’t know.) but I’ve been been running ahead of the crisis all day.

I didn’t forget you, though. And now I got to sit down, this is your update.

Real post tomorrow.

The Lost

Have I mentioned recently how much and with what kind of purple passion I hate the stupid aphorism that “Hard times make tough men; tough men make good times” etc, ad vomitous nauseum?

Oh, sure, it’s consoling, isn’t it? You look at the current generation and you go “oh, well, now they’ll have hard times and my grandkids will be tough men, with hair on your chest.”

Atchually, there’s a good chance your grandkids (or great grandkids depending on your age) and mine too will be none existent. And there’s a reason for that. And no, it’s not because they “had it too easy.”

Look, for the last 500 years or so, absent wars and other external f*ck ups mostly of a governmental choice, it’s been an ideal fail mode for parents to go “Those darn kids just had it too easy” no matter in which way young disappoint the old.

Heck, go far enough and Romans are going on about the decadence being caused by youth having it too easy, not like their noble ancestors subsisting in caves on acorns.

It was tommy rot then and it is tommy rot now. What caused the Roman decadence was not prosperity but a combination of loss of purpose and a bizarre addiction to slavery and welfare.

As the stupid mouse habitat experiment actually showed (and the debunkings seem to have disappeared from within “easy search” online) is that loss of social role causes all the problems we associate with oh, overpopulation, moral decadence, too much abundance, or whatever it is you feel like railing against today. (I feel like railing against stupid, facile sayings the right embraces because they give the moralists warm fuzzies.)

Let’s begin by saying I agree with Heinlein, that you can ruin your kids by making their life too easy. I tried really hard not to. I think I succeeded, in so far as necessity is the mother of invention, and the boys invented all sorts of things, because I wouldn’t buy them. (Mostly because I was subsisting from writing, and not that well off.) I might have fallen in the other failure mode of this, insofar as older son told me he has to talk himself out of stupid projects because “I can make expensive thing so much more cheaply. Only I don’t have the time.” Which, btw, gentle readers is my failure mode, since my parents raised me on spit and scrapings which is all they could afford.

But there are many, many failure modes of child raising. There are many many success modes, since the intersection of kid and parent is always unique.

Let’s also agree that “suffering” by itself does bog standard nothing. Unless you think that Japan came out of WWII saner, and more able to compete. (Hint, it didn’t.) Or that all the republics that suffered horrible deprivation under communists are now healthy and filled with self actualized citizens (hint, they aren’t. Poland is a little less f*cked up than the rest.)

So this whole bullshit of hard times? Yeah, hard times will create mostly wimps who lean on government for support. And if you think I’m wrong explain why FDR engineered the great depression, leading to the LARGEST expansion of government ever.

Which brings us to what our kids are suffering from, why they’re growing up really slowly (even mine track about 10 years younger than I was at their age) and why all of us know any numbers of failures to launch: I’ll give you another Heinlein example: if you take a puppy and beat him randomly, for no clear purpose.

Okay, you’re saying most people don’t beat their kids. No. I know. But you know what, there are worse things than physical beatings.

As someone who grew up with both, I’d rather have the quick swat on the behind (or even the extensive spanking) than the slow burn recrimination over days. Particularly if it was — as it so often was — for either an accident (Dropping and breaking something happened with amazing regularity, a combination of clumsiness and undiagnosed astigmatism) or for something I didn’t know was wrong/hadn’t understood was not supposed to be done, like you know, never having been given the rules of common social intercourse, and then being punished because I don’t know them.

Now let me shed some light on how the current generation was raised: Oh, not by their parents. In fact, a vast number of the current generation had only “Quality time” with their parents, which might amount to a few hours a week. And in those hours eating and homework had to be accomplished.

Look, I raised kids between 20 and 30 years ago. I’m sure it’s worse now.

Messages the school gave my kids:

-Humans are ruining the Earth and will destroy it if it goes on.

-You’re in 9th grade now, you should sign this pledge that you’ll never have kids, because we’re overpopulated.

-Because every industry is polluting, you should not expect to have as good a life as your parents or grandparents. Dream small.

-You’re the brightest, best, smartest, and we expect you to change the world just by existing.

-The best way of changing the world is realizing how privileged you are and working for the underprivileged.

-Everyone who has more than they strictly need, has stolen it.

-The other sex that you’re naturally attracted to hates you and wants to destroy you/exploit you.

-The US was only ever rich because it was stolen from Amerindians/result of slavery.

-We’re all going to die in 12, 10 whatever number of years.

-If you’re hit you shouldn’t fight back, because that’s worse.

Should I go on?

My kids were exposed to a steady diet of this effluvium. They were SLIGHTLY luckier than their classmates because I was at home screaming “That’s all bullsh*t.” But even half the other kids that had parents at home, the parents agreed with the school.

Put on top of that that these kids were expected to be responsible and capable BEYOND THEIR NERVOUS SYSTEM. Particularly boys. If you have a boy, and he starts failing in middle school? They expect the kid to be able to plan his life ahead for weeks, and remember to give in homework/do things without being reminded.

Boys are NOT mature enough to do that. Some girls are. Their nervous systems develop faster.

But here’s the thing, the schools do this under the impression that they are “being tough.”

In fact, it’s a lazy teacher thing. They don’t want to remember to remind the kids. So the kids have to be hyper-organized because their teachers aren’t.

And since what they’re being asked to do is in most cases quite literally impossible at that age, they have to ask parents for help. This bakes in the idea that they are uniquely flawed. Because the teachers are asking people to do this, other people do it, but the parents have to help them. So, they’re broken, right. (BTW this is not just with scheduling. We refused to do the homework for our kids, and were known to descend on teachers with developmental psychology texts. Doesn’t mean our kids didn’t internalize the message.)

Do this at the same time you cast doubt on and remove the traditional frameworks that give meaning to life: religion, patriotism, family. Make people feel guilty and stupid if they adhere to it.

What you have are puppies who have been beaten every five minutes for no sane reason, and told and shown over and over that they’re defective. Oh, and those who have any success are evil and exploiters, and probably robbed all they have.

Sure, they’re going to get right out there and go into the world with sword drawn to conquer. Oh, wait, conquering is wrong. And going to space is wrong. And doing anything new is probably a form of privilege.

The surprising thing is not that a vast majority of kids spend their lives finding new ways to declare victimhood. The surprising thing is that some of them are fairly normal and functional, even if even those are too depressed and scared to do much.

Only the psychopaths thrive. Oh, and the Amish, because they don’t attend public schools. And some of the homeschooled kids, of course, though the messages are pervasive in the culture, and reach even them.

So, making their life touch will do absolutely nothing, except cause kids to crawl into a hole and die.

Most of that generation is lost, and it was made so on purpose, by people who taught them poisonous, horrible ideas and made them feel stupid and inept. Because they could.

Standing in front of them screaming “What you need is some hard times” should get you shivved. It won’t because they already feel too guilty for breathing.

They might call you fascist or something, because that’s the only way they were taught to escape mroe pain and punishment: to join with the mob and pile on.

But that’s it.

What can be done? Well, we can get rid of brandon and create a vibrant economy that actually pulls them in and knocks the nonsense out of them by giving them opportunities for success. I have a private belief this is why Trump had to be got rid of. Because he was doing that.

We can give them a framework for success: Why do you think the left hates Peterson? He does that.

Tell them, show them, counter the gospel of despair they were brought up in. We know people abandon nihilist beliefs given a chance, but you have to give them a chance.

Because condemning them and calling them terrible failures isn’t working. And we can’t afford the now going on 2 generations that we’re losing to…. nothing.

Sure, they have material comfort we didn’t have, and more opportunities for distraction than we had (which is good and bad) but take those away without giving them some mental and emotional thing to lean on, and all you have is suicide.

Give them a lifeline. Give them something to believe in. Give them something to fight for.

Go snatch brands from the fire, before it’s too late.

Karen And Brandon Got Married

Karen and Brandon got married…. and changed their names by deed poll.

This morning, I picked up the book I’ve been reading and read the first line, about the main character hiring a lawyer named Brandon. And giggled.

At which point it occurred to me what the last two years have done to two — before this — perfectly respectable names: Karen and Brandon.

Now, Karen was starting to be a little old-fashioned. part of the reason for the image of “Karen” is that this is a thirty or forty something woman who is sure that things should be played by the rules that she believes in. I’m very glad this wasn’t applied to my generation, because otherwise it would all be Heather or Dawn. (Amanda seems to be more cross generational. I know a dozen of them, but they extend from their sixties to their twenties, so–)

However Brandon so far as I know is still immensely popular, having been popular since the eighties when a lot of “sound like last names” became suddenly “refined” and “desirable” for kids’ names.

(The even less sane trend of adding “son” to the end of names to make them sound like last names was a ten (?) years ago thing. All those Petersons and Jacksons probably wonder what was wrong with their parents’ heads. Well, I did. And neither of my sons appreciated it when people added son to the end of their names to show willing or something.)

Now if we start discussing crazy names people give to kids we’ll be here all day. Younger son went to school with someone named Aaereek, pronounced Erik. And in fact the “let’s spell it weirdly to show our creativity” was in full bloom when I had my kids.

I don’t know if I’ve mentioned it, but when first son was born, I was invited — of all things — to a focus group on names. They paid $50 and at the time we were unemployed, had a new baby born by — very expensive — emergency caesarean and I’d have done far less savory things for money. We needed groceries.

So I went to the focus group. And every one of those persons had given the kid an “original” (read bizarrely spelled) name to show their “creativity” and “originality.” (Why they couldn’t simply show it by painting the nursery an unusual color, I don’t know.) So it came to me, and they asked what I’d named my son, and I said “Robert Anson.” And they asked how I spelled it, and I explained. There was utter silence in the room, and then someone said “Was he named after his grandfather?” I opened my mouth to explain, closed it, then said “Yeah, let’s go with that.” Because, really, I didn’t think I could explain.

But Brandon…. Relatively sane middle of the road name to give your kids two or three years ago. And Karen well, imagine it’s a family name and you’re naming her after mom or grandma….

Little Karen will be made fun of in kindergarten and told to “shut up Karen.” (The only thing that will make it worse is if she has the kind of parents who, against all reason, insist on strapping a mask on her.) And Brandon is going to be greeted with “Let’s go” and giggles.

Well, all I can say is it might pass.

I mean before our son could even walk, our fun name for him was “Bobbit.” And then…. Lorena…. well. It’s not as immediate a laugh thing, now. But people still remember it. Fortunately we stopped calling him that immediately.

In the same way right after second son had been born, there was a notorious killer by his name. Fortunately by the time he hit school no one remembered, but all the same. (And he goes by his middle name, anyway.)

You can’t tell, of course. You can’t tell what’s going to become of the name you gave your kids.

I will only say that Karen and Brandon are the two fastest tarnishings of names I’ve ever seen.

But they’re not in bad company. I’d say they should talk to all the girls named Gay, but of course, most of them are over ninety.

All you can do, really, is either give the kids an uber-popular name and hope they hide in the dense pack; give them a solidly traditional name — as I did my kids. Mostly — because if it hasn’t acquired a bad meaning, it probably won’t (Though Gay, you know?) and give them a middle name or two, to let them use if the first name becomes to weird.

When the use of a name, in a book, makes you giggle, it might be too late to rehabilitate it.

And for those on our side, take heart. Both of those names were thoroughly tarnished by us. By the real resistance. And it’s everywhere.

(Though the left’s attempt to make “Karen” someone who DOESN’T want to submit to their crazy diktats was, admittedly, adorable. It was also crazy. They can’t meme, and they also can’t understand things that go memetic.)

In cultural terms, this means we’re winning. There’s more of us than of them. In the cultural war, we’re engaged in mopping up the stragglers.

In their high command, completely isolated from reality, Brandon is shouting orders to ghost artillery.

A Modicum Of Decency In Grave Robbing

Dumas supposedly said that you shouldn’t rape history unless you mean to conceive a bastard.

I suppose us writers, who periodically (and with gusto) go digging through the past for characters and settings and spoils, must live by that idea that in this case at least the end justifies the means. Yes, we will take horrendous liberties with people, long dead, who if they perceived our outrages might not even understand what the heck we were up to. And we will take liberties with minor events and happenings because it makes a better story.

In other words, we have shovels, we have ink, and we’re not afraid to use both.

For instance, it is said of the Portuguese king Pedro I that when he became king, he had his dead mistress (Some ten years dead) dug up, and married her remains, and then forced the whole court to kiss her hand.

This seems to be under the equivalent of what would today be in the Enquirer, as what actually happened is that he revealed they had been secretly married after his first wife’s death, legitimized their sons, and then proceeded to have her remains moved to a joint royal tomb, in a fine church, where he eventually joined her. The procession for her reburial was said to be very proper and solemn in fact.

But of course I’ve stolen the first lurid version for a zombie story. Because the second wouldn’t be nearly as good.

And yes, I’ve had Shakespeare be a robot, an alien, and a bewildered schoolmaster in the thrall of elves.

Which is no more than he deserved for having done what he did to Richard III, which, even if Richard were guilty (and he almost for sure wasn’t, at least of 90% of the things attributed to him) would have been an injustice.

Yes, I know. Shakespeare — probably — did it under duress, but so did I, as I like to eat and babies needed shoes.

But there must be a modicum of decency and some respect for the past in grave robbing, okay?

When I mentioned I’d read Josephine Tey’s Daughter of Time (Never figured out where the heck that title came from, btw) I also mentioned I’m somewhat uncomfortable with what I’ll call Richard III fandom, due to the left’s insane interest in rehabilitating every historical monster. I should have added that in many ways I doubt that Richard III was a monster, mostly due to knowing as much as I do about Henry VII.

I also neglected to say I understand the fascination with Richard III. In fact, the last time I came into that orbit, I spent far more time than I’d wish studying the case, and reading learned opinions on it. For and against.

But at that time, eventually I found a subgenre that can only be called “Author self-insert Richard III erotica.”

I will confess I skimmed like ten of these books by different authors. Skimmed, because frankly the emotion was akin to watching a train wreck, or watching someone take off their skin and dance in their bones.

I was in fact staring, mouth agape, going “I can’t believe people are writing this.”

The backlash of the sick fascination was to run away from the whole intellectual pursuit of who done it in horror.

Because you see, that’s not decency in grave robbing.

Look, I’m not going to say I might not have done the same, when I was very young. I was a weird, geeky young woman, and I fell in love with literary characters, long-dead people and people from my own imaginings. And there is a very strong need to “Comfort” someone who suffered and was greatly maligned. And teens have no sense of proper decorum.

All I can say is if those writing Richard III erotic (or worse, perhaps, no, trust me, self-insert romantic) fanfic are teens, they are extremely accomplished.

So what is indecent about it? Well, this person existed. And he had a certain dignity and power and honor. In ways in fact that we can’t quite understand. Besides, for sure, being very religious and devout in ways we don’t understand.

Making his imagined self behave as a sappy 21st century male is– wrong. Very very wrong.

For one it violates the ‘research’ directive in a way even “the Duchesss took the gig to go grocery shopping” doesn’t.

Look, I grew up in another culture. It was a modern day culture, just …. different. And yet, the way men there treated (and to an extent treat) women was and is so different from modern America that if you were writing a cross cultural romance with respect, you’d at least have to wave at it, and explain why the male hero had become more American in his attitudes.

I don’t care how enlightened a medieval man might have been. He would not have treated a modern woman in a way that would have pleased her. Just no. The realities of the time, and the need for brawn in every day life put more worth on male strength than we can even imagine. And gave them license for more than we’d even understand.

Now you can wave at that and make him “learn better” or just be HIGHLY unusual, but honestly? If going between times, it’s easier to do if you have a wholly imaginary character, and also somehow more “decent.”

I know. You’re staring at me, and wondering what the difference would possibly be. But for me the difference is between using plastic bones as decorations, and actually going and robbing a grave for your Halloween skeleton.

It is losing awareness that people in the past were equally human, and had thoughts and needs and desires, same as we have. And that their culture was vastly different.

And we lose sight of that at our own peril, because it encourages us to live in a sort of idiotic presentism, where we assume that the past was always the same as now, only somehow better.

I am the first to endorse the half-amusing fact that Americans don’t really get — at any level — distinctions of rank, for instance, and for the most part it doesn’t at all bother me. For instance, I’m giggling through a pride and prejudice fanfic where, due to weird set of circumstances the Bennet girls become the wards of Lady Catherine, who asks them to call her Aunt Cat.

But at the same time, it’s important to realize that — outside obvious fanfic — people in the past lived and died for and by the dignity of their rank. And that the real person at the back of the story would have found it worse than death to be …. oh, called Ricky by some random woman on the street, or treated like a helpless toddler. (For one, what the heck. This is a man who was used to medieval warfare from his late teens. And good at it. Not some guy who is going to blanch at the sight of blood.)

As I was writing this, a more obvious bit of nonsense came up in a discord group I belong to. It appears there’s much preening and calling anyone who opposes this “racist” at having cast a black actress as Anne Boleyn. (Frankly, after Anne of a 1000 days, they should have shut down the genre.) Because the only reason you can object to casting people who lived and have portraits of themselves everywhere as a completely different race is because of course, you’re a racist.

It couldn’t be because (now as ever, btw) any number of people get their information about the past from biopics and stories (Which is why Richard III has the reputation he does, because Shakespeare) and therefore any number of guppy-mouthed kids will assume Anne Boleyn was black. I look forward to thesis about how her beheading was racial. And I’m only half joking.

Because of the nonsense movies that have made Mary Queen of Scotts, for instance, Black or Asian, I’ve heard young people tell me that there were always black people in England.

And while they’re not wrong: there were always a half dozen or so in any given medieval country, more often than not exhibited as curiosities, that is not what they mean.

What they mean is that they think the population was about 50/50 (As they believe it is now) and that therefore the portraits, etc. have been “whitewashed” and are evidence of racism.

In fact, I believe that’s 90% of the reason they want statues removed/erased.

It is also why they believe insanity like “white people enslaved black people because racism.” Um…. no. People enslaved each other back and forth. I am in possession of several ballads about presumably my ancestors on both sides of the conflict, of Christians and Moors merrily enslaving each other back and forth across the ever shifting frontier in the peninsula. Most white people of the time hadn’t seen enough black people to be racist against them. They simply inserted themselves as buyers in the network of slave-selling going on across Africa.

So it wasn’t some race war ending in slavery, which these bizarre a-historic movies would make you believe. And no, the kids aren’t being taught better in school. (No one is.)

So, in principle I’m very much against this bizarre and stupid miscasting of people who actually existed. You want to cast black people in fun roles in the past? You can either do it explicitly as in Hamilton, or perhaps write medieval fantasies in which this happens.

But stop raping the past without conceiving bastards anyone wants to look at in the full light of day, and who rampage abroad corrupting people’s ideas of what came before and who they are.

Besides, as a friend put it about this:

There are two rational responses here: 1.) Stick with the historical and fictional characters actual and traditional races. It’s the way it happened/was written. No problem. 2.) Realize that any adaptation is an interpretation and go for the best actors no matter what the race is. Black people can we Abraham Lincoln and white people can play MLK.
Of course we live in the dumbest timeline so we can have neither and a dumb identity war ratchet that won’t be happy until the only characters that will be allowed to be white are Hitler and Satan.

He is absolutely right. The problem is that it never goes the other way. You’ll never see a white person playing MLK or a black person playing Hitler. which tells you there is a particular insanity behind this that is not simply “We’re casting the best actor” but a sort of deranged racial war about as sane and making as much sense as the deranged lusting after the shade of poor Richard the third.

Another friend said:

I’m (impatiently) waiting for Black Stalin.

But he knows he’d die of waiting.

Again, there is, I’m sure, some grandiose posturing and feeling very special from giving black people their due, like there is posturing and feeling very caring from not only rehabilitating Richard III but having him transported to modern times and given all the comforts of a modern life, and an accommodating author/mistress.

Neither of them are right. Richard III is a person who actually lived. And if he was innocent and a decent human being, he would expect to be enjoying the reward of a life well lived, in perpetual light and the company of his creator. You’re allowed to not believe in the after life, but he did. And I hope he found the after life he deserved.

In the same way, people of African ascent have as complicated a history as any other race. Possibly more. Sure, they’ve been enslaved. They’ve also enslaved — among others white people — and many of their sub-groups (which btw, never considered themselves part of a unified anything, much less a race. Not historically) have glorious and dignified histories.

The clash of cultures between Europe and Africa has much to teach us, some of which applies to the current time, because it applies to the perils of a tribal mind set when exposed to a more universal culture with fast communications.

And those of them who have immigrated (or whose descendants are part of western countries because their ancestors immigrated or were dragged there kicking and screaming) have their own history, their own glories and their own triumphs.

It is utterly demeaning — not to say racist. Though, you know, it is racist — to think that the most important thing you can do for black people is allow them/push them to play the part of dead European noblemen. Because THAT at last will confer dignity and pride.

Instead, of you know, either allowing the best actor to play whatever, or leaving historical people to be played by people who SOMEWHAT look like their portraits.

I mean, I would object to Johnny Depp playing Shaka Zulu. And I object to a black woman playing Anne Boleyn. Because both are crazy cakes.

But on top of that making the cross-race-casting go only one way only reinforces the idea that the highest honor you can give black authors is playing white people.

Which is so many levels of insulting, I can’t begin to describe it.

When it comes to robbing graves a certain decency is needed. Sure, you can anatomize the cadaver, but make sure you treat it with some respect and learn something.

Do not give Julius Caesar’s bones to the dog for a toy.

Book Promo And Vignettes by Luke, Mary Catelli and ‘Nother Mike

Book Promo

If you wish to send us books for next week’s promo, please email to bookpimping at outlook dot com. If you feel a need to re-promo the same book do so no more than once every six months (unless you’re me or my relative. Deal.) One book per author per week. Amazon links only. Oh, yeah, by clicking through and buying (anything, actually) through one of the links below, you will at no cost to you be giving a portion of your purchase to support ATH through our associates number. I ALSO WISH TO REMIND OUR READERS THAT IF THEY WANT TO TIP THE BLOGGER WITHOUT SPENDING EXTRA MONEY, CLICKING TO AMAZON THROUGH ONE OF THE BOOK LINKS ON THE RIGHT, WILL GIVE US SOME AMOUNT OF MONEY FOR PURCHASES MADE IN THE NEXT 24HOURS, OR UNTIL YOU CLICK ANOTHER ASSOCIATE’S LINK. PLEASE CONSIDER CLICKING THROUGH ONE OF THOSE LINKS BEFORE SEARCHING FOR THAT SHED, BIG SCREEN TV, GAMING COMPUTER OR CONSERVATORY YOU WISH TO BUY. That helps defray my time cost of about 2 hours a day on the blog, time probably better spent on fiction. ;)*

*Sorry, I’ve been meaning to keep a free and a discount promo running on my books up till the end of the year, but I let it lapse, so nothing is on sale this week, except the barbarellas (which they hadn’t told me about- sigh.) So, on Tuesday both the Goldport set first novels of series go on sale. And one of the collections is free. If I forget to link, remind me? – SAH*

FROM SARAH A. HOYT: Barbarella #1

The Siren of Space returns for a series of all-new adventures by a dynamic new creative team! Multi-award winning author SARAH HOYT and rising star artist MADIBEK MUSABEKOV are at the controls as Barbarella leaves space dock on a new mission fraught with unseen layers of danger, duplicity and perhaps a dose of romance! Camelot is home to the rich and powerful class seeking escape from an increasingly crowded and decaying galactic empire. Desperate clandestine transmissions from an enslaved underclass bring Barbarella to investigate, uncovering secrets that lead to more secrets—and the distinct possibility that someone knew she was coming. High concept sci-fi meets the greatest aspects of the human soul in a series that will reveal wonders that both terrify and delight, plus covers by fan-favorites LUCIO PARILLO, DERRICK CHEW, BRIAN BOLLAND and more!

AND #2, #3 AND #4

FROM C.V. WALTER: The Alien’s Christmas Baby

They were expecting a Silent Night….
As the world waits for news of the first Human-Orvax baby, Kaelin and Dorcas prepare the ship for the upcoming holiday.
So. Many. Pictures.
What will the world see? Will it be a Merry Christmas for the happy couples on the Forward Hope?

SO A MESSAGE AND A GIFT FROM C. V. WALTER:

In an effort to thank this wonderful community of people for their support and spread a little joy this Christmas, I have a giveaway for some people who were interested in The Alien’s Accidental Bride but prefer the audiobook…and might be a little tight this year.

FROM BEN MASON: The Fight Before Christmas.

Nicholas is about to give presents to children all over the world. But first he’s going to have to battle the forces of Hell! When a portal to Hell opens up Saint Nicholas is going to have to fight off the forces of Hell to make sure Christmas happens. But will the devout Christian bishop be willing to accept the help of pagan elves and faeries to make it happen? Or is Christmas doomed to damnation? Find out in this metaphysical tale of prayer and battle axes!

FROM ELLIE FERGUSON: Danger Foretold.

Mossy Creek, TX is not your normal town. For more than a century, it’s been a haven to Others, people with special “talents”. Magic and shapeshifting are normal there. Others and Normals co-exist as friends, neighbors, lovers and family. But all that is in danger of being destroyed as an untold evil comes to town, determined to destroy not only those sworn to protect the town and all who live there but the very town itself.
Mossy Creek’s wayward children have returned, one by one, to town. Annie Grissom Caldwell, Quinn O’Donnell, and Meg Sheridan are back and determined to do all they can to stand between their town and the oncoming danger. Dr. Jax Powell, the Rogue, leads them and, in her role as one of the town’s Guardians, will do whatever it takes to keep everyone safe. But another of their group, Maddy Reyes, may very well hold the key to victory.
Do they dare?

EDITED BY JASON D. FLEMING; WRITTEN BY FRANCIS STEVENS: Citadel of Fear.

t in the Mexican desert, two adventurers stumble into the mysterious lost civilization of Tlapallan, populated by people of the night who still worship the ancient Aztec gods — and know that those gods are alive and active — and angry!
This edition of Francis Stevens’s 1918 horror novel the complete novel including all thirty-three chapters, unlike most other ebook editions.
This iktaPOP Media edition includes an introduction that gives genre and historical context to the novel.

FROM BECKY R. JONES: Academic Magic

Zoe O’Brien has found her dream job at a small liberal arts college teaching the history of Medieval witchcraft and magic. Academic life is exactly what she expected it to be…until the squirrels stop by to talk with her and her department chair and best friend turn out to be mages.
Zoe discovers a world of magic and power she never knew existed. She and other faculty mages race to stop a coven from raising a demon on the winter solstice while simultaneously grading piles of final exams and reading the tortured prose of undergraduate term papers. Can Zoe master her new-found powers in time?

EDITED BY CEDAR SANDERSON: Can’t Go Home Again

Men and women who lay their life on the line never escape unscathed, and when the time comes to return home, they find a wall between them, and loved ones. These tales follow those who gather the hope to begin healing, and tearing down the walls that have sprung up between them, and their loved ones. No one ever said it would be easy…

FROM CELIA HAYES: My Dear Cousin: A Novel In Letters

When Peggy Becker married Englishman Tommy Morehouse in San Antonio in the spring of 1938, her cousin and best friend Venetia “Vennie” Stoneman was her bridesmaid. After the wedding, Peg and Tommy traveled across the Pacific to Malaya, where Tommy managed his family’s rubber plantation. There they expected to raise a family and live a comfortable and rewarding life among the British expatriates in the tropics, while Vennie returned to Galveston to continue training as a nurse.
The start of the Second World War changed those comfortable, settled lives: Tommy Morehouse became a prisoner of war, Peg barely escaped the fall of Singapore with her small son, and Vennie Stoneman was a nurse in the US Army Nurse Corps, tending to battlefield casualties in North Africa, Italy, and France. In Australia, Peg waits out the war, wondering if her husband will survive brutal captivity by the Japanese, and Vennie risks her own life as an air evacuation nurse. Throughout all, the two women write to each other, of their lives, loves, of Vennie’s patients and comrades, and Peg’s children and the woes of running a wartime household among rationing and shortages of shoes for her children.

Vignettes by Luke, Mary Catelli and ‘Nother Mike.

So what’s a vignette? You might know them as flash fiction, or even just sketches. We will provide a prompt each Sunday that you can use directly (including it in your work) or just as an inspiration. You, in turn, will write about 50 words (yes, we are going for short shorts! Not even a Drabble 100 words, just half that!). Then post it! For an additional challenge, you can aim to make it exactly 50 words, if you like.

So what’s a vignette? You might know them as flash fiction, or even just sketches. We will provide a prompt each Sunday that you can use directly (including it in your work) or just as an inspiration. You, in turn, will write about 50 words (yes, we are going for short shorts! Not even a Drabble 100 words, just half that!). Then post it! For an additional challenge, you can aim to make it exactly 50 words, if you like.

If you have questions, feel free to ask.

Your writing prompt this week is: stale

Sailing Past the Script

*I’ve been painting myself to death, mostly because I can’t be having with not having a place to eat. It’s not amusing, in the sense that it ate up all my day till now, but on the good side the dining room only needs a final coat. Which might wait till tomorrow, since I’ve found doing painting with bad light is not a good idea.

There might be another death march with paint involved this week, as we’ll probably have the kitchen re-floored next weekend, so it would be a good idea to paint before, nicht wahr? (Mostly because it’s like a dark, dark olive, in a kitchen that has only one small window.)

Remaining today is recovering my office chair because after a certain girl cat’s attempts to bathe it in eau de chat, I simply don’t trust it, and writing from my bed is getting old. Other things need done, but they will take like an hour or two out of my days and not impinge on my writing. Among other things, I’m sacrilegiously painting furniture white (one of them real wood. BUT NOT I hasten to add the delicate real 18th century china cabinet. I wouldn’t do that.) I’m also building what my son insists on calling a coffee station, but I call a shrine to coffee, to free some counter space by housing my coffee maker and toaster and also display my extraordinary collection of mugs acquired by various means. That is on the back burner till the other two pieces (being painted) free space in the shed. Again, those are a matter of “do something, then wait till it dries” which allows me to write.- SAH*

Anyway, I was thinking while painting of the whole matter of scripts in people’s heads. Specifically in the heads of who report the news.

Heinlein once said that any event he was present at and then read about in the news the report bore no resemblance to what happened. I must say I have the same experience, from events involving shooting and explosions, to stupid little reports over a school project. And I know that several of my friends in other parts of the world have experienced similar distortions.

What all the reports do have, though, is fitting into a “narrative.” Or perhaps a pre-written script in the reporter’s head.

Someone called this not a conspiracy but a prospiracy. People collaborate in obfuscating the truth, because they have been pre-programmed to believe/see a certain way.

Those of us cursed with a tendency to see, even when we don’t wish to, are forever wondering “But didn’t they see?” — however the answer is apparently not. Or at least anyone who has interviewed witnesses to an event says it’s perfectly possible for people not to see what’s before their eyes.

One of my first experiences with this was the broken down circus that came to the village one summer. You guys have to understand the village was small — and poor — so I have no idea how we rated a circus. But it was not a first rate circus. In fact, I doubt it was a second or third rate circus. They had no animals, for instance, other than two rather unremarkable horses, and a moth-eaten monkey. I want to say there were also people in lion costumes, but I think my mind is adding that afterwards.

I was about three. We went tot he circus, partly under the principle of “let’s take the kid out for a treat.” (At this time in my life, watching the farmer’s oxen walk in a circle to draw water for the crops from his well was a treat. Myself and the village boys would gather and sit on the wall and watch with fascination. Yeah, life was that boring.)

Anyway, amid the circus performers was a magician. I actually have no idea how good he was. I have a vague memory of doves pulled from a top hat.

The only other trick I remember…. well. You see, I was a three year old. And when we first sat down — really early, but it was okay, because we had peanuts — I was watching the performers set up for the show. There was a lot of clutter in the middle of the ring, that they were disposing of. One of the things was this ODD little table, with a thin support, and a little metal top. And I was a kid and curious. So I kept my eye on that table, to see how it would be used.

And then when the magician’s assistant lay down on it, and was wheeled around, the whole crowd cheered, and I thought that was weird.

Afterwards, my family was talking about how the magician’s assistant had floated in air, and I kept telling them no, she lay down on the little table. They refused to believe me. They really really couldn’t.

To this day I think it was because they hadn’t noticed the table. And the whole show and display…. well, it had led them to see a woman floating in air. But that’s not what I’d seen.

I suspect the majority of the reporters talking about the insurrection of January 6th are like that. Sure, they might have noticed that none of the “rioters” or whatever actually caused any damage. And they probably can sniff the problems with Ashli Babbit’s death, and for that matter what’s coming out about Roseanne Boyland makes one’s blood boil. They have to know. But they can’t know, because that would break the script in their heads. And they can’t break the script, because it’s become confused with who they are. Just like the adults in that circus could not believe that the kid could have seen something they hadn’t noticed, because that would make them stupid. And the reporters are so invested in the whole arrow of history thing and “being on the side of good” that they can’t admit they’re aiding and abetting a coup d’etat that has killed unarmed citizens who were merely protesting what they viewed as a crooked election.

In fact, most of us who were paying attention know the election was crooked (not the first one. Probably not the 10th one) and realize that unarmed people walking between ropes into the capitol were not in fact an insurrection against “our democracy” (Which at any rate is not what we have.)

Most of them probably realize the same at the very back of their minds. But that just means they must yell louder how dangerous the “insurrectionists” are.

This all amounts to lies and more lies piled on yet more lies. Till the stink of the whole midden of them reaches the heavens and knocks on the doors of the angels screaming for vengeance.

The good side, the thing to take courage from, is that we know that they are lies. And that more people every day are seeing these are arrant lies.

Will it be in enough time to free the prisoners from what amounts to an American Gulag? I don’t know. I do know they will be vindicated by history. And though that’s cold comfort, I also know they’re people like us, who view dying for freedom as a not bad way to go. We all must go once. And at the same time my heart bleeds for them, I realize they are doing what they must do as sons and daughters of liberty.

And liberty will win. Or at least free men will. But liberty — or truth, or anything worth having — is never free. And in the end there’s only a coin men pay with. It’s the only thing of true worth we have to give.

The script in their heads will not be broken. Or if it is, it wont’ be to the last possible moment.

And meanwhile Lady Liberty is on her back, floating on seeming air. Till the support breaks and she wakes, holding aloft a lamp.

What the lamp reveals will shock a lot of people out of the script. Those it doesn’t might be unredeemable. Not because they’re bad in themselves, but because they can’t free themselves from the lie.

Meanwhile? Prepare. Both physically and mentally. Both with material goods and with skills.

We are about to land in terra incognita. This is exactly like the seventies, except it isn’t. There’s never been this kind of crazy recession with a labor shortage, to my knowledge. That there is a labor shortage despite wide open borders is another level of insanity. And that the same old discredited magicians are up front, promising to pull yet more doves from trillions of dollars we don’t have adds up to insanity. The same old solution to a problem no one understands or is even willing to mention will do nothing, except push us further into terra incognita.

Between changing techonologies, distributed information and a crazy world situation, where a lot of things are coming to a head at once — and worsened by the covidiocy — I can’t tell you how bad it will get, for how long, or what the safe areas (both physical or of work) will be.

What I can tell you is this: It’s going to be unexpected. It’s going to be scary. It has the potentials to kill billions of people worldwide and completely change the lives of those who remain.

How bad it gets, and what the change is is to an extent in our hands. We have to work as hard we can to minimize damage not of our making. And to make sure what comes after is worthy of us, worthy of the land of the free.

Go forth and do what you can. Because we are on unpredictable ground, led by clowns running a script in their heads that has no connection to reality.

Only you can save the world. Or at least your little piece of it.

Go and do so.

Head Script

Quite the funniest — to us — and most enraging — to them — thing we’ve come up with to represent the left is the NPC meme. It is funny — to us — and hurts — them — because it’s true.

Now, if you’re going to say something about how it’s true for us too, first of all what are you doing reading According to Hoyt? Surely you’d have rage quit months ago? And second, yeah, no. Not the same way.

Yeah, sure. Okay, ever human does things on automatic. The most obvious are things that are trained young and we do a lot of, mostly physical/mechanical actions.

I’m sure most of us don’t remember when it was difficult to walk, unless we were in some accident and had to re-learn walking as adults. I sort of dimly remember it, because I learned to walk very late (close to 3. No, don’t ask. I learned to talk closer to 1. Priorities, and also, being weird, I guess). But now a days we just think “I’ll go across the room” and walk there, and don’t think “gee, I might fall” unless we’re very old or very ill.

And of course we do other things. Like drive. Or cook. Most of it is on automatic, because we do it so often.

Yes, there are also automatic responses. Sometimes we’re caught by them because we expect a question and answer without thinking. Something like:

Son: Which car should I take.

Me — expecting — where are your keys?
: They’re on the hook, in the laundry room.

Son: WHAT?

All of us have been caught out by that, no thought involved.

Things that shouldn’t be on automatic

Me: Why do you expect that communism will work here, when all it’s done in other countries is kill over 100 million human beings.

NPC: Fascist!

And yet, 90% of the time that’s exactly what happens when we engage in argument with the left. It ranges from us giving facts, and statistics to support our position and being told to stop watching Fox news. (I can honestly say I never have? Except for brief snippets online? Because when we last had a TV the only news station was CNN.) This is said despite the fact that Fox News has ratcheted left enough it often sings in the lefty choir. It’s NPC response.

Or you point out that quotas, by demonstrable fact do nothing for minorities and cleave our society in two, and get called racist.

Or you point out that the election in 2020 was definitely crooked (and the others before it, in marked degree) and get told you worship Trump. (Well, no. But he’s a convenient ramrod up the behind of the establishment, I’ll admit.)

Carefully thought out responses get turned off with a one-liner designed to make you shut up and not think. (Where the meme “Shut up, they explained.” came to be.)

Do we do that also? Well, not often, though after five or six of these exchanges we sometimes do, just for funsies. The difference being we know we’re doing it, and we do it because we’ve had just about enough and have given up on real dialogue.

There are reasons for this, and it’s not because we’re more or less human or smart than they are.

The main reason is that the left has been trained/indoctrinated to their responses, starting in school. When your kids’ teacher says “the important thing is teaching them how to think” get the kid — if needed tuck kid under arm — and run, don’t walk (if needed physically) away from that school, because what they’re saying is “we’re indoctrinating your kid.”

At the school level, particularly in elementary there is no “teaching how to think.” There is “giving them the tools to succeed in society.” And while at high school level you might have one or two classes where “teaching how to think” is a thing — say a class I had on analyzing advertising” — that would be a poor expression for what they’re doing. It would be more accurate to say “we’re teaching them to examine facts, weigh them and draw conclusions.” Or “We’re teaching them how to study historical records” or even “We’re giving them the tools to understand statistics.” Or “We’re teaching the scientific method.”

What you shouldn’t be doing is “teaching them how to think.” This was used when I was in school and by middle school I knew exactly what it meant. There were approved thoughts and disapproved thoughts, and disapproved thoughts would get you thrown in the outer darkness, where there was wailing and F grades.

How much or how little you could support that thought was immaterial. It was more if it was approved or disapproved.

By the time my kids were in school 30 some years later, that had been pumped up to 11. Your thoughts would be exactly as dictated, or the establishment would know why.

NPCs aren’t born, they are made. They learned through a million interactions that if they step out of line they WILL be shunned. Or canceled. Or worse.

And they’re GOOD boys and girls, so they learned not to think, but to immediately respond in an approved manner.

We? Well, we’re goats. Some of us went along to get along for a time, and then something went TWANG and we broke. And we just couldn’t do that any more. Not. One. Step. Further.

And because the school, the media, the establishment of various kinds was all on the side of “All the crap we learned in school” we had to figure it out for ourselves. Why we couldn’t do it anymore; what it meant; what our real philosophy was.

That kind of contrariness takes effort. The, for lack of a better term, red pill — the break in the program — is usually something we know that just can’t be reconciled to what we’re being told to believe. Something we saw. Something we know. Something we were at. And from that the rift with the establishment widens. Oh, and some of us are more prone to it than others. I have a natural suspicion of any “too smooth” tale, or painting or whatever. Or as my mom said “Can’t see a freshly painted wall with scratching to see what’s underneath.” Yep. That’s me.

Staying contrary is hard too, when all forces (particularly since the mass everything of the late 19th and early 20th century because the norm) of society push you to sing in the choir with the others. A lot of people briefly pop out of the programming, then go back to it, because it’s scary out here.

However, the programing has been infected by those who straight up hate us. And I don’t mean just America or Western civilization. They hate humans, with a deep, visceral hatred.

To follow the NPC programming is death.

Our survival as a species depends on breaking out of the program. And helping others do so.

Support those who emerge from the programming that they might not fall into temptation.

And check your thinking. Always check your thinking. I still find embedded bits of Marxism, when thinking about some historic period. I stop suddenly and go “No, that doesn’t make any sense. No people weren’t worse off after WWI. I read contemporary accounts about how people were leaving the rural estates to live better in the cities. Not because they had to, but because they lived better in the cities.” Or a dozen other things.

Make sure you’re thinking. Not just following programming. Inverse program is still program. “The left believes this so the inverse must be true” is easy. It’s also wrong at least 50% of the time, and often more. It’s not that simple. It never was. And you have to think.

Fortunately before humans were taught “how to think” they came equipped with perfectly good brains, because if they weren’t, your great great greatx300 grandfather would have been stomped on by a mammoth before reproducing. So, use your logic skills to weigh facts and figures, and figure it out. You can. Everyone can. And if you were taught not to do it, hoist the middle fingers to the teachers. They did you no service.

Don’t be an NPC. They took an arrow to the knee brain, and can no longer think and have become enemies of everything human. Until they break programming all we can do is keep trying.

Think, build, survive.

In the end we win, they lose. We just have to get there.