I considered posting a picture of the banister, but you guys would give me tips. Not in the mood.

So, painting.

That’s all.

I was talking to Thomas Kendall (Yes, I know, I should give it up, it just makes me think and we all know where that leads) and he was on a lovely rang (just before he sent me the lovely rant that took up yesterday) and he blew up to the tune of “the problem is that the establishment– well, all of the establishment — got rid of our kind, if they could find us, and now they’re trying to replicate our creativity. And what we get is fifty seven genders and a dog named Binny, all of it so boring you fall asleep after the first two paragraphs.”

When I was done laughing, I joined the amen chorus, which is par for the course, but also part of a thesis I’ve expanded here in the past.

Look, creativity is weird.

No, I mean, really weird.

If you can create — really create, not just make the same thing but in black, or with more post-modernism, or more irony or whatever — and particularly if you have to create, you are by definition an Odd.

This never occurred to me, till I was in my teens, because of the family I came from. Part of the reason we might have been “poor as Job” (to quote my brother) but never noticed it, is that the family was creative. By which I don’t mean we were artistic. Oh, sure. The art was there, and some generations would go that way. My mom’s parents met on stage. My paternal grandmother’s father was a sculptor and also a singer (besides being a cattle drover in between. Don’t go there. Yes, Great grandfather was a proto-hipster.) And there painters, and poetry reappears again and again, like a recursive genetic illness. BUT–

But mom designed (and often made) clothes, and dad wrote (or declaimed off the cuff) poetry, and grandma made up stories to tell me, and both my grandfather’s were carpenters, but more importantly and above all else, we were good at “making.” Which meant if someone had an expensive whatchamacallit and we couldn’t afford it, and either wanted or needed it, we took scraps and bits, and a ten cent of nails, and we made it, by gum. Like mom seeing an expensive rack/shelf set to store fabric and thread, and making herself one from used cheese crates begged from the merchant across the street. Or the fact that my crafting as a kid often involved hand tinted paint, from discarded leftovers someone was throwing away. Or– You get the point. The family’s way of getting by was: get creative. Spending money only came if the creative didn’t work.

I was used to people extemporaneously creating whatever was needed, sometimes to imitate what we couldn’t afford, and sometimes dreamed up out of whole cloth. I THOUGHT all humans were that way.

Then when I was in middle school, we were given an assignment, to write a made-up legend. And all my classmates did was retell the last legend we’d read. AND THE TEACHER DIDN’T NOTICE. Worse, she looked at what I’d done, and accused me of plagiarism. Because it was so different from everything we’d studied and yet so well written/plausible, that she couldn’t believe I created it.

Took me some years to figure out that some people are not just stunningly non-creative. They don’t believe that anything new CAN be created.

Then there was the writing, where I had to reign in and bring it back to “what people expect” before I could sell. Not complaining about that. writing exists within certain boundaries.

Of course, when I did that, I felt like I was being stunningly uncreative, until a friend in the field told me I couldn’t write normal Urban Fantasy because I couldn’t create normal ANYTHING.

Took me even longer to figure out what she meant was that I was creative in a way she didn’t get. Which since this came from a creative professional was…. weird.

But most creative professionals aren’t that creative. Yes. Most of them are leftist too.

In fact, the fact leftists and “progressives” took over creative fields means that it’s almost impossible for really creative people to get in.

The idea that creative people are leftists, or primarily leftist is deranged. It’s born of the idea that leftism is somehow “rebellious.” Only of course, it’s not. Hasn’t been since FDR. In fact, that entire fable is one of those long-running-cons society has accepted.

Am I saying that politics flow from a certain political viewpoint?

Well, no. But I’m saying that creatives aren’t in general conventional anything.

Some of them are “leftist” in the sense they haven’t thought about it, and they get all their news from the MSM. Not in any other sense.

Those who parrot or ARDENTLY follow the ever changing party line can’t be creative. They can’t be creative because if they were they would occasionally accidentally create something that got them cancelled.

So, the creative fields, in the hand of the totalitarian group-thinkers, has slowly blackballed and pushed out any creatives.

Yes, there are exceptions. I might have found one of them in mystery. I’m listening, stunned they haven’t been blackballed. (They because it’s a team effort.) But they’re very rare.

Mostly, having run out all the Odds, and everyone consumed by the fires of creation, they’re left with people who have no idea what “creating” means, and dutifully invoke all the shiboleths of the sacred writ of Marx, then run it by the sensitivity reader. Yes, indeed. Fifty seven genders and a dog named Binny.

I mean, we’re talking about people who can make hot and heavy erotica BORING.

And now they’re in charge of everything else, including our economy and government.

This is bad. Of course it is. It’s very bad.

They don’t believe in creation, which is part of their devotion to redistribution.

But it is also an opportunity.

You see, they can’t create, they hate creation, but most of all, they don’t realize that people can create, or use things for …. um… off label uses, shall we say? And I’m not talking drugs.

We can. We Odds can’t avoid doing it. Kind of like my family when I was growing up, we create with careless largesse and without realizing it.

The hard thing is to stop us from creating.

…. they’ve tried. Oh, Lord they’ve tried.

Only it hasn’t worked. And we keep…. slipping through my fingers.

Therefore my friends, in this lethal pause between boxes? Let’s get creative.

Us, At the Gate a Guest Post by Thomas Kendall

           I was talking to Sarah yesterday and I had a revelation I think is worth sharing.

           Let’s begin at the beginning. About a month ago, Instapundit posted this.

           Now, I’ve been thinking of the rise and fall of civilizations lately. I can’t think why it’s been on my mind. It’s a tale as old as time—a civilization emerges, establishes a new worthwhile order, the good things brought forth by said order soften up the people maintaining it, the softening turns to decadence, and the decadence gives way to the barbarians, who clean the slate. Where would you say things are lately?

           Here’s a hint. A friend and I were discussing another observation that someone made in an article recently (I wish I could find the original. I’d give credit if I could find it). The basic idea is—

           In short—the federal government of the United States of America has become impotent at almost all good things.

            Expanded out—There is no start to its talents. It cannot maintain its borders. Since the “election” it doesn’t even try. No surprise there. It cannot maintain friendly relationships with allies—as our recent screwing of Britain on our way out of Afghanistan shows. The “leader” of the “free world” could not be bothered to pick up the phone for our closest ally. Speaking of Afghanistan, it can’t win a war. It can’t even lose gracefully. In fact it fucked up leaving so badly some people are entertaining that it intended to fuck it up, because how the fuck does somebody above the age of six not notice that pulling the military out first and the civilians out second is not even a remotely workable strategy? Resulting in leaving millions of dollars of equipment—and—excuse me, what? Millions of dollars of dollars in the desert? Fantastic.

           It makes self sabotaging and idiotic choices to stymie its own domestic oil industry, while accepting a pipeline not from Canada, but one that’s a joint Russian-German venture instead. Which means the problem, contrary to any environmentalist whining, isn’t the pipeline—it’s the pipeline with a friendly country. Big surprise— its only true interest in the environment lies in international agreements that hamstring us while doing nothing to China, the world’s largest polluter. It either can’t be trusted on energy production  and the environment, or is trying to get it wrong.

            It can’t manage its economy. What could have been a “V” shaped recovery has been turned into an “L” shaped one. What could be contributing? Paying people to do nothing? Rampant inflation? Meanwhile all the dumbasses running the country can think of is spending several billion more dollars that don’t exist. The country has infrastructure problems for a fact, but they’ll only acknowledge that to the extent of cynically plastering the word on an “infrastructure” bill which is in fact just a far Left wishlist that largely ignores actual infrastructure, in the hopes people will be dumb enough to support it because it has the right label.

           And on.

           And on.

            And on.

           What aptitudes does it have besides taking money, trampling civil liberties, and ignoring constitutional laws at gunpoint? News flash, dummies: We don’t need peaceful protestors incarcerated without a trial. We don’t need the weight of the federal government turned to the problem of violating states rights because Texas passed a law Biden doesn’t like. We need military egresses that look like they weren’t planned by Bozo the clown and an economic plan better than something China would design for us as an attempt to permanently sink the country. Is there anyone at all in DC who can provide that? If not, is there anything useful they can do? I’ll wait.

           And if you want to understand what decadence really means watch this. It’s been making the rounds for good reason. Behold, our advanced civilization!
           *shows a picture of a urinal*

           For this shit, shit that makes even most Americans roll their eyes, which nobody at all takes seriously except dipshit Leftists who have reached the form of retardation accessible only to those with PhDs—for this we have spent 20 years sending American farm kids to their death in the sandbox? Did anyone tell them that before they signed up? I wish I could go back in time and do it. These were the ideals we were supposed to be standing for this whole time? These were the things we were going to inculcate in orthodox muslims? While giving them semi-automatic rifles and training on how to use them? Are you fucking kidding me right now?

           This is what decadence looks like. When the government stops even attempting competence because nothing and nobody that currently exists can replace or displace them so who cares about results? When comfort and plenty have become so common, been taken for granted for so long, that the question of utility or even basic sanity isn’t even distantly considered. When it’s assumed that self-harming policies that will obviously damage the country won’t really matter because nobody has ever known a world without America and fundamentally has no idea how the present day came to be. When the country’s most educated start chasing bizarre and unimaginably stupid ideas on economics that boil down to “inflation won’t happen if you double the monetary supply by printing money, if only you just believe hard enough”. In fact, when education stops being a means to greater insight, more useful abilities, and a better life, and becomes a cult devoted to the kind of idiocy that can survive only with strenuous censorship, the tenets of the cult being treated by the indoctrinated as a collection of sacred mysteries and deeply-thought paradoxes— while to those not similarly trained it is self-obviously a collection of contradictory and self-serving lies.

           Verily, decadence is here. We can infer that what comes next is the barbarians. And we have options. Mexican illegals? A heady mixture of poverty-stricken Marxists who have never known a system that wasn’t corrupt, functionally lawless, and devoted to the tenets of voting oneself rich; and outright criminals with lives like “a demon’s resumé”? Perhaps radical Muslims? By sheer numbers worldwide they’re the most likely option. The Taliban just got a huge infusion of cash and a big boost in morale. In a few short days we’ll know whether they’ve arranged a thank you gift for Zho Bi-Xen and his kleptocrat marching band to commemorate his intended pull-out date. But even if, and God I hope, they have not, we can expect an uptick in terrorism and quite shortly. Or perhaps China? The Middle Kingdom would laugh at being called barbarians, but I call genocidal communists like I see them. Mao was morally three steps below a pig and Xi has enough power to aspire to greater depths. As is I wouldn’t dream of feeding a pig Mu Shu Xi due to the great risk of poisoning the pig.

            But there is a barbarian group not considered. Us.

           Hang on. Before you balk, listen. Look again at what these idiots are selling as the fruits of civilization. Defenses of pedophilia and urinals as art. And more, too—sterilization and disfigurement of teenagers in the form of sex changes. Black supremacy as a panacea to made up threats of white supremacy. Books nobody reads, movies nobody watches, paintings that exist only to launder money—even the ones not made by Hunter Biden.

           What good person would not be proud to be considered a barbarian by these miserable, over-decorated Faberge people? I’d be mortified if they agreed with me! So they think I’m a sexist or a racist or whatever. Fine. They do not use these words to mean the same things I mean, so it’s a pointless argument, and they are now officially beneath my explaining myself to them. When the people who are calling me names are so morally opaque that the Taliban can make devastating critiques of them just by referencing the foundational works of their own gender studies programs, I’m done caring about the names. Fine. I’m what you think is a racist. I’m what you think is a sexist. But you think a lot of very stupid things, and as the curtain continues to draw back on the carnival of madness that’s been behind the scenes the entire time it’s occurring to me that what you think and reality overlap so seldom that the only time not to ignore you is when I can ridicule you. If that is your civilization, someone hand me a pointy horned helmet.

           So you disagree with the conservative standpoint? Fascinating. From your track record that means it’s probably correct. Also we did the Pepsi challenge. We’ve tried turning the spigot of Leftist bullshit on, off, and recently on again. The results correlate closely with you being full of shit. So blow it out your ass.

           Yes, this is a moment of peril, but also opportunity. See in your country what every hostile group listed above sees in it—the makings of great civilization, along other, less stupid lines. All of it guarded by weak, fat, stupid people with no will and no self-belief. Take that mindset and go forth.

            Get involved in your local systems. There is an old prayer for God to make ones enemies ridiculous. Congratulations to whomever was still praying it. Your prayers have been answered. Will you tell me that you cannot defeat these people? People who lose casual debates to terrorists not on principle but on basic facts?

           Emulate those who are taking back their school boards. The educational system was the place where the corruption started, it’s fitting it’s the first place to start getting won back. It’s defended by fluffy fools whose highest moral value is their own paycheck and the accolades of equally soft idiots on Twitter. They’re rooting for COVID in the hopes they can maximize their time to not teach your kids while getting paid, and the worst part is that given what they were probably teaching your kids that would actually maybe be a win-win.
            You can’t reason with them so don’t bother. Recent events have made it clear you may as well try to talk sense into a three-day-old mackerel. Just confront them with their own stupidity so that people who see the inevitable video understand what this is about, and don’t feel that you are too good to shout them out of the room. You’re the barbarian, remember? Not like the nice civilized people with their gender-queer Tik-Tokers pushing vaccine propaganda. That means you’re excused from conversations with morons. Don’t bother trying to find common ground. Look at where they’re standing! Do you want to try to find the midpoint between that and reality? Silly. Pointless. Send them back to their walled online gardens to whine to their equally stupid friends about the barbarians.

           Can we take it back from the ground up? I don’t know. But hey, it’s got to be worth a shot. Join the fun! Find some friends and locate a low-hanging political event to raid. When was the last time you went to a town hall for your town? Isn’t just a part of you curious to know whether your local county commissioner starts by declaring her pronouns? Wouldn’t it be wonderful to see someone like that made very uncomfortable? You can make that happen. You can probably do it within the next month. Bring a few friends! Or a few dozen. Some of the people reading this probably were afraid to do that kind of thing for fear of losing their job. The Biden economy might have freed up some of your time. What have you got to lose now? More importantly, the way things are going, are you going to lose it anyway if things continue as they are? Think on it.

           And consider this—the odds are in our favor, in that we’re well positioned. All the other barbarian groups have to come over here. We just have to drive down the block. The engine of our government is undoubtedly and unquestionably corrupt. But it’s also begging to be rendered irrelevant. There are more of us than them, and more than that, there are more of us than they can imagine.

           You can certainly be assured that they will not win. That’s not at issue. Their entire goal is to lose. If you ever doubted, you’ve had the better part of a year of their stupidity to reflect on. You can quit wondering. They will lose. They want to lose. The only question is who they lose to. They want to lose to China, but I think losing to the radical Islamic world is their consolation prize.
           Let’s spoil their day. Let’s make them lose to America.

*Now read it again, while listening to this, for mood music: We ARE Odds, we ARE not gas-lit, we are the barbarians. And yes, to these pampered jades (not of Asia though paid by it) being rendered irrelevant and ridiculous is worse than being physically killed, so let’s shoot for that. And if you think the “metaphorical” battle needs less courage? You have no idea. Let’s go. Yeah, this might all tip in the kaki earlier than not, but until then, let’s fight by other means. Put your helmet on, and the wings too if you wish. (Hey, we’re odds and they’re cool. Our fabulous detachment will appreciate them.) Let’s go. – SAH*

I don’t believe in woo woo stuff. Woo woo stuff tends to follow me around like a cat you fed once, and who keeps returning.

Given that and despite the fact that none of the Odds are “very good x” where x means religion, because our minds and emotions tend to work at right angles to normal humans, and heaven only knows (literally) how our minds work, I choose to stick to the religion I was (mainly) raised in.

It’s sort of like when you venture out on a foggy night, across a shallow brook, you stick to the stepping stones someone put there centuries ago. They might not be the only way. They might not be the best way. They are there, however, and they’ll allow you to deal with the uncertainty and the fog semi-dry shod. Even if you’re not going to drown if you just go whichever way — maybe. What if you get tripped up and fall and hit your head? — you’ll likely cross more or less dry and functional and with fewer chances of incidents.

Here is where my atheist and “only physical reality exists” readers are shaking their heads and deciding I lost my mind.

Yeah. Okay. Look, I am convinced there’s about 1/3 of humanity who are “blind” to whatever it is the rest of us perceive, but trust me, there is something there, just like I can assure blind people that there are colors.

For one, think about it: primitive people’s living extremely close to the bone believed in this stuff. In situations in which you shed everything that didn’t work. So, it works. At least most of the time.

What works? Well, any number of things, really: foreknowledge, telepathy, coincidences that can’t be coincidences, all the way up to and including seeing and talking to “entities.” (I wouldn’t recommend. Contains live bobcat. Not that I’ve done it, but I’ve read things. If you’re inclined to play in those waters, go and read “Hungry Ghosts.”)

The problem is that while on balance the woo woo works, it is …. slippery. And …. inconsistent.

The US as well as Russia had programs studying this stuff. The Russians supposedly were far more advanced, because of course they were. I mean, they could just make up stuff wholesale. And yes, sure, I have heard the US used the program — called Stargate, weirdly — to hide the fact they had spies in the USSR. Waggles hand. Well, that’s what they say now, because that stuff went out of fashion with stunning rapidity.

It kind of tends to, because it’s inconsistent, slippery, and…. well… mostly filled with lies. Like, whatever entities are in charge of this stuff? They’re tricksters… Kind of like our mainstream news, who I sometimes think are following this kind of thing, somehow. Well, maybe not somehow. A lot of Marxism seems to be in tune with the type of thing these entities (?) say.

Again, read Hungry Ghosts for that sense of “there is something there, and it’s malicious.” Read it with the light on, and maybe sleep with the light on while reading it, okay?

So, why am I talking about this?

Mostly because, as I’m cleaning and painting and refinishing I’m tired and therefore in a highly susceptible state. No, not to woo woo. To things my mind interprets as “suggestions.”

Someone mentioned John Keel in the comments, and I remembered that when I was in between houses, after #1 son was born, I went through his ouvre and also that of Jean Vallee (sp?) and came to the conclusion that UFOs (at least most of them. I’m not excluding real aliens. Not in 2021) and fairies and spirit guides and the like were all the same entities and they didn’t mean us well.

Wondering if I had come to that conclusion on air, and realizing (the now late) John Keel’s books were on prime, I read through two. At night. Before going to bed.

He himself came to the same conclusions, actually.

But while he lumped religious experiences in with the “paranormal” wilderness, he at the same time believed that some of these were “good” and “guiding us to a superior consciousness.”

Since most of the things he was convinced this superior consciousness was guiding people towards was the mistakes of the age: free love (couldn’t they settle for reasonably priced), anti-capitalism, and all the insanity that USSR agit prop planted among us, I don’t think he was right. (Yes, I do hope he found his way to the right place after death anyway.)

Anyway…. One of the things he did was collect a lot of incidents that are absolutely unexplained and possibly unexplainable. (Not all of them. My dad has opinions about the Marie Celeste, for instance. wind him up and watch him go.)

So…. something is out there. Something exists that is not really clear to our senses. And mostly, it doesn’t mean us well.

Not here, I’m not speaking of Himself.

Yes, there are ways to tell if something is coming from Himself or these…. “Tricksters” to put it no lower.

For one, and this leaked out in Keel’s perspective, the tricksters tend to put humanity down. Like at one time he says that after we die, our personalities, memories and history would obviously dissipate, because anyway “what would humans have in that sense that’s worth preserving.”

It can get worse than that, but in general the tricksters really really really hate humans and strive to make us feel bad and worthless.

Himself…. not so much. Sure, you might be corrected, but He seems to find worth even in the most severely flawed of us. (Like any good author.)

Anyway, mostly I advise not believing in these things even if they exist.

It’s part of the reason that I prefer science fiction to fantasy. If you think the “miracles” obey laws of science we just never figured out, it’s safer than if you think you can alter reality with a few words. Because the people and things invested in the later aren’t… right.

Oh, and part of the problem with staying away from this altogether is that it seems to partake of a nature with “gateway writing” which has effects. As in, if you have 3 “gateway” writers working in the same house, the house will be haunted. No, I don’t know why. And it’s a little scary. (Of course, if an unsolved murder happened in the house… well.) Even 2 gateway writers, at times, my having heard anedacta.

No, I have absolutely no idea what to do with that point of data, except I try not to write evil.

The other part of this was that after I put the last Keel book down, I started thinking: the left currently wants to humiliate and destroy and hurt humanity. And they despise humans as humans. Um…..

Anyway: if you have to go walking across that river, stick to the stepping stones. (Why the churches being shut down for a year and a half, effectively, probably are going to come back to bite us, honestly.) But if you can stick to the foggy shore, and ignore the voices that come from the fog. Particularly the ones who pretend to be enlightened and your friends, but obviously don’t like you much.

So, first, this post has more kitties, courtesy of Amie Gibbons.

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 BLAKE SMITH: The Hartington Inheritance (The Hartington Series Book 1)

Almira Hartington was heir to the largest fortune in the galaxy, amassed by her father during his time as a director of the Andromeda Company. But when Sir Josiah commits suicide, Almira discovers that she and her siblings are penniless. All three of them must learn to work if they wish to eat, and are quickly scattered to the far reaches of the universe. Almira stubbornly remains on-planet, determined to remain respectable despite the sneers of her former friends.

Sir Percy Wallingham pities the new Lady Hartington. But the lady’s family will take care of her, surely? It’s only after he encounters Almira in her new circumstances that he realizes the extent of her troubles and is determined to help her if he can. He doesn’t know that a scandal is brewing around Sir Josiah’s death and Almira’s exile from society. But it could cost him his life, and the lady he has come to love.

FROM SCOTT SLACK: Closing Time, Last Call.

When Corporal Frandsen’s marine battalion was tasked with retaking a space station from enemy forces, he expected a hard fight. What he got was a fight for his life with a time-limit that could kill his entire battalion. What is an enemy willing to risk to win a battle at any cost? Everything.

A short story of The Ares March.

FROM PAM UPHOFF: Code Name Igor

Lord Axel Ivan Vinogradov Is a Mentalist with the Fast Reaction Teams that protect the small population of the Sanctioned Research World of Siberia Max from acquisitive Cross dimensional Worlds.

As the Three Part Alliance crumbles, Axel–code name Igor–finds himself overstretched between his duty, and his family. Especially after he is accused of murdering his corrupt and very much not-loved uncle.

FROM LIANE ZANE: The Flower & The Blackbird: Book Two in the Elioud Legacy Series

As the conflict between primeval supernatural enemies heats up, her choice will tip the balance.

Six months ago Anastasia Fiore, an intelligence officer in Italy’s foreign security service, led an even more secret life on the side. She ran off-the-books missions with her friends Olivia and Beta, American and Czech foreign intelligence officers. The three women shared the same goal: take down predators.

And then Stasia’s life got way more interesting.

After a complicated, surreal mission that went sideways, Stasia learned that she has angel blood, making her an Elioud. She’s seen what Elioud warriors are called to do, and she’s not interested. Stasia can handle herself with a traditional surujin, a British WWII combat knife, or a 9mm handgun. But she prefers crafting a cover identity so compelling she can charm what she needs from her target instead. In fact, she’s so skilled that the Carabinieri’s Art Squad requests her help tracking down a stolen Rembrandt painting.

That’s what she was doing when Miró Kos, a Croatian Elioud she’s already chained, slashed, and drugged, showed up. He was there tracking the buyer, and whether Stasia likes it or not, she’s now inside another surreal mission. One that will make her question what her Elioud blood means. And what the quiet, intense warrior means to her. For his part, Miró cannot let another woman come before his duty. Or near his heart.

As Stasia sets out to recover the Rembrandt, she and Miró discover that there is more than a stolen painting at stake. And more than one Dark Irim stalking Stasia.

FROM L. S. KING: Sword’s Edge (Sword’s Edge Chronicles Book 1)

Ripped from her home…
…recruited as a spy.

Can Tam successfully pose as a servant and discover which of the lords is a traitor? If she fails, not only will her family die, but their world will be thrown into chaos.

Tragedy strikes—

Amidst grief, she must undertake a dangerous rescue mission, aided by a mysterious alien relic. Can this young lass succeed or will the assassins at her heels cost her all?

You’ll love this Epic Fantasy, because it’s science fiction with a twist.

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.

We recommend that if you have an original vignette, you post that as a new reply. If you are commenting on someone’s vignette, then post that as a reply to the vignette. Comments — this is writing practice, so comments should be aimed at helping someone be a better writer, not at crushing them. And since these are likely to be drafts, don’t jump up and down too hard on typos and grammar.

If you have questions, feel free to ask.

Your writing prompt this week is: NECK

*I don’t know about you, but I find it hard to resist these King Harv enormously fun posts. In fact, as we enter the hopefully final week of getting this house ready to sell, and moving our stuff, I have asked friends to design a little logo that will be on the side bar of this blog in future times… because it’s true I mean, I am still hoping to have Bowl of Red, the fourth Shifter out in October, as well as the reissues of Darkships. Oh, an The Long Purr Goodbye, which is the first of the uplifted cat books (Don’t panic. That will be followed by the second of Deep Pink: Deep Water. Because the “short novel” series will all alternate. Yes, Rhodes #2 probably in December.)

In fact under my own dictum for promoting those who support us, I’m talking to King Harv about possibilities of mutual promotion. A friend has suggested a King Harv Coffee Writing Contest (coffee being the prize, of course) and perhaps in future King Harv Coffee anthologies, in which the stories mention or revolve around or take place in their extensive coffee plantations in every known universe and some unknown ones. Anyway… I’ll get out of the way of the caffeinated tale. And go paint cabinets. Oh, joy! – SAH*

Camel Spider Coffee- a guest post by King Harv’s Imperial Coffees

Camel Spider Coffee

The True Tale of King Harv’s Most Unusual Coffee

Everybody loves Camel Spiders.  At least that’s what I read at the university. So with no consideration at all for my personal safety I flew deep into the unforgiving desert, looking to meet these delightful creatures.

Now we all buy those plush Camel Spider toys for our children. And who doesn’t hang those comforting black velvet paintings in our tea rooms? Outside of the desert however, it is little known that Camel Spiders absolutely adore coffee, which they sadly have to steal from anywhere they can.  Few are the natives who don’t have a story to tell of dark noises in the night, burlap bags being torn open, webs spraying about, and then the pitter patter of 8 legs dragging something heavy out the door.  Editors Note: They usually only use 6 legs for walking, but coffee is heavy…

My job as principal coffee explorer for King Harv’s Imperial Coffees was to get to the bottom of all this.  Were the spiders consuming the coffee?  Drinking it?  Changing it?  To track them down, I first headed to see the village elder, a Mister Jirezinko, and asked for his assistance.  Jerizenko eyed me closely, never blinking, with one bloodshot eye as black as the soul of a used car warranty salesman. The other eye was not an eye at all.  It was the largest single coffee bean I’d ever seen, and from the looks of it it had been roasted recently.  A clue indeed!

Elder Jirezinko led me to the house of a Spanish explorer named Habanero, who had last seen the camel spiders.  Habanero had marked out the trail where the spiders had last traveled with their loot. And for a small fee, he agreed to lead me on a treacherous voyage into the unknown realm of the camel spiders.

5 Days and 5 nights we trudged through the sands.  5 Days and 5 nights without food and water.  Habanero refused to bring both. It was fortunate that I had a few large Charleston Grey watermelons in my backpack, or things might have gotten grim. On the sixth day, amazingly, my cell phone rang.  I picked it up immediately, pressed answer, and started to hear the long drawn out sales pitch that my 20 year old car warranty was about to expire, and I really should take them up on their offer.  I quickly hung up and put it out of my mind.  I would contemplate the warranty on a different day.

The seventh day was when I saw it.  A distant oasis, protected by a wall of cemented predigested coffee beans.  Just the tops of some trees were visible.  And the noise of thousands of camel spiders.

I reached into my backpack, past the melted dark chocolate Kit Kat bars, beyond the stack of automobile warranty books, and there, just to the right of the last watermelon, was my portable espresso maker.  So I began making espresso using some wonderful Malaysian Liberica beans from King Harv’s Imperial Coffees, www.kingharv.com, one of many many great and exotic coffees from King Harv’s with always free shipping. Such a selection!  But I digress…

The aroma of the espresso was incredible, and as I predicted, slowly, cautiously, the leader of the camel spiders crawled out of a hidden break in the wall, and clicked its chelicerae in a welcoming pattern.  I motioned Habanero to proceed, but he refused. No matter.  This was my investigation. A private investigation. I would go alone.

I walked slowly and carefully towards the wall of chewed coffee beans, and saw the slanted entrance that the spider had used to lure me in.  Once inside the walls, I beheld a sight never seen by a non-solifugae, the secret Camel Spider Coffee Plantation!  They had not been stealing coffee to eat or drink after all, but to build these walls to hide and protect their sacred coffee plants. Thousands of eyes stared at me, seeming to bore into my soul.  An annoying clicking sound was heard in the back, but it was quickly subdued by the other spiders.  I turned towards the aging arachnid leader, where I saw she had scratched out some words in the sand, and gestured me to read them.  “Hi Bill”  it said.  Flattered, I corrected her that my name is David, and after the equivalent of an arachnid muttering fit and a look of exasperation, she rewrote the message, this time correctly.

She then quickly wrote a longer, more detailed message.  “All these coffee trees are yours, except for your mocha.  Attempt no harvesting there.”

This sounded more than fair to me, and a deal was made.  In exchange for harvesting rights, King Harv’s Imperial Coffees granted the arachnids perpetual rights to our roaster coffee bean chaff and residue, which they considered a delicacy. Hot dang they were happy.  I was even invited to do the Spider Coffee dance with a few of the females, but remembering Adam West, I politely held off.

And now my tale has been told, and you too know the origin of the incredibly unique Camel Spider coffee from King Harv’s.  High in caffeine, earthy in taste, with notes of tobacco in the finish, you’d definitely walk a mile for a Camel Spider Coffee.

King Harv’s Imperial Coffees

www.kingharv.com

Creepy Con and Herd Mentality a guest post by Amie Gibbons

Hey y’all. This isn’t really a legal post, so I don’t think I need to do my usual disclaimer, but I’m throwing out some theories here, so don’t take those as legal advice 😊

I went to Creepy Con in Knoxville last weekend, and it turned into a complete shit show. Now, there are parts of this story I don’t want to tell, because I let myself be bullied and I’m humiliated, especially since I consider myself a strong person most of the time, but I think it’s important for people to know how easily it can happen, because then maybe you’ll be prepared and better able to fight back.

It sounded like a great Con to promote my Scorpions series at, because that’s a paranormal thriller/horror series, and Creepy Con’s a horror con. When I applied as a vendor and paid for it near the beginning of July, I asked about the mask thing because they said on their site from the con in 2020 that masks were required. The vendor director, Jennifer, said that was a rule from last year, they’d revise the site for this year, and not to worry about it. So I bought a table.

A few weeks ago, Jennifer emailed all the vendors, stating the city of Knoxville imposed mask requirements inside their city buildings, and that the venue was a city building. So, of course I emailed, asking if there were still medical exemptions, or if I needed to cancel. She said nope, they would allow medical exemptions and not to worry about it. To send anyone who hassled me about it to her since I had a medical exemption.

Day before the con, another hiccup (I know, at this point, I should’ve just called it and stayed with the decision not to go). Amazon was supposed to deliver my author copies of my new books by Friday, but they said they were barely leaving and wouldn’t be in until Sunday. I was upset and gave up, just said I wasn’t going, I’ll do it next year, because there’s not much point without the new paperbacks for the Scorpions series. (I’d had the covers redone for the series so it matched the supernatural thriller/horror genre more, and those weren’t in yet.)

Friday morning, Amazon updated to say the books would be delivered Saturday morning. Okay, not ideal, but workable. I checked with Jennifer again about the masks, was asked if I could try a face shield because Knoxville was really cracking down. I said if I tried and it didn’t work for me, would I be okay without using it, or should I not come? She said if I tried and it didn’t work, I’d be fine.

I left BF at home for the night so he could get the books on Saturday and come out for the afternoon, and I figured I’d just sell the old cover ones for 1 and 2, and the 3^rd ones had already come in, so I could sell the new one too.

At the con, I didn’t wear a mask. People helped me set up. It was great. Con opened to public at 6 pm. First staff person, the shrieking harpy who was the Mask Nazi of our story (I wish I could remember her name because I want to track her down and scream at her to get back for her screaming at me, but I’ll just call her Karen) to bug me about a mask, I said, “Talk to Jennifer. She said she’d bring me a face shield I can try because I have asthma and can’t wear a mask.”

“Oh, you’re that one.”

Red flag. I was that one. When someone says that about you, you are already other in their heads. I was the 1 person who wasn’t falling into line and wasn’t worried about fitting in or following the crowd, so I had just signaled to Karen that I wasn’t one of them. I wasn’t part of the herd.

This is where all the theories of society, tribalism, and otherness come into play. We’ve all probably gotten a good idea of that over the past year and a half, if we didn’t just by watching politics since 2012. I’m guessing most of the people reading this blog are on a certain side, and are others in comparison to media. We’re used to being the other side, the thems, to most people in news, movies, TV, books, and so on. A lot of us indie authors are indie (well, because the contracts trad pub moved to are borderline abusive, but that’s for another post where I get into legal shit) but also because we’d never get through the gatekeepers without virtue signaling, if we’d even be considered, since we’re not the “nongendered, bisexual, mix of a bunch of ancestors with whatever color of skin is cool now” authors that they want now.

Yes, this is basically a rant, and tangents happen, it’s just how my brain works. Then I go chase it down and yank it back like the bunch of cats hopping around my office right now. (By the way, BF and I got 2 new kittens! We introduced them slowly so Merlin didn’t freak out, but now he’s just cranky because 2 mini mes are following him around, and getting attention from the humans. Pics below.) 😊

Back to the con. Jennifer brought me the face shield to try, stressing that the city made this rule, not them. I asked if I tried it and couldn’t do it, would it be okay if I didn’t wear one. She said yes, as long as I gave it a try. I pressed some more, asking if I’d be kicked out if I didn’t. She said no. So I tried the face shield. It squeezed my head, and I took it off.

I held the shield over my face whenever I was talking to a customer. Karen came back after I sat down, and scolded me like I was a child that I had to have the mask on when talking to customers. I said I had a medical exemption and had tried a mask and a face shield, and couldn’t, but was holding the face shield in front of my face when talking to people.

She got huffy, scolded me some more about how I was supposed to have it on all the time either way (funny since she’d just said I needed it when talking to customers) and went away when I held it up in front of my face like I was going to put it back around my head. I also had another staff guy come by and nicely remind me that I was supposed to have a mask on. I said medical exemption, and he left me alone.

Then Jennifer came up to me, saying I’d agreed to try the face shield, and we’d talked about this in emails. I said, we did, and she’d said I’d have to try, but it wouldn’t be a problem if I couldn’t use it after trying it. She gave me a look like she was furious and wanted to kick me out, or shove a mask down my throat, and said through clenched teeth that I had to have something up when talking to customers, that the city made these rules, not the Con. I said I was putting up the face shield to talk to people and she was like fine.

By this point, between the face shield starting a headache by putting pressure on my head (after only a few minutes, I’m not kidding) and people bugging me about the mask, my head really hurt and my anxiety was sky high. Turns out, even if you normally don’t give a shit about what others think and don’t even notice half the time that you’re being “the weird one,” you’ll feel the pressure to conform when people keep popping up out of nowhere to berate you about it. It got exhausting trying to defend myself against something I shouldn’t have had to in the first place, because I did my due diligence beforehand to make sure it wouldn’t be a problem.

This is where the wolves pushing the sheep are beating us. They turned the mask thing into a ‘You must do this or you kill people’ thing (don’t get me started on that bullshit), those in power who want to keep it shove that fear down people’s throats 24/7, and those people react to the fear. One reaction to fear is circling the wagons, which with this kind of manipulative fear turns into herd mentality. The sheep have to do something to protect from scary thing, but also have to make others do that, because if they don’t, the others not following will get the sheep into trouble/get them killed. Even if a rational person could look at the masks and figure out the masks aren’t doing anything to stop a virus, or that the scary virus isn’t more deadly than a flu.

I’ve had mild OCD all my life, so I get the response to the fear. It’s what I call magic thinking. You’re terrified of A, and have to control it so it doesn’t get you/the bad thing won’t happen. You are told (by others in this case, usually by your own brain when it’s OCD) that doing B will protect you from A, no questions asked. So you feel the compulsion to do B, because of the fear of A. Even when B would have to be a magic spell to actually protect you from A, you still do it, because of the fear. My example is when I was a kid, I felt I had to repeat a mantra every night 6 times before I went to sleep, because that would protect me overnight. It took me months to wean myself off of it by slowly scaling back how much I said each night.

That’s the mask thing. It’s basically an OCD response. But it’s created and implanted from the outside, instead of coming from your own brain. It’s anxiety over the fear of something that you can’t control, and the feeling you get when you are told you can control it if only you do this, and make others do it.

Back to the Con story. After getting out of there, I went to my friends (Brena Bock and Helen Werns, who are wonderful people that saved at least part of the weekend) where I was staying for the weekend, we hung, and I got to relax.

Saturday morning, went back to the con, had my silky scarf around me, and I pulled it up in front of my face as needed, like to talk to people, or just held up the face shield in front of me when I was talking to people. Made some more sales and handed out QR cards. I sat down and back away from my table between people wandering by. I was sitting there, head hurting again but not terrible, and BF was on his way with the books that came in, so things were looking up, like this wouldn’t be a waste. I was on edge because of the night before, and had to use my inhaler because stress can trigger asthma issues. (It also makes my body temp drop and I was chilly, hence the scarf over my arms.)

Karen popped up out of nowhere and full on harpy shrieked at me to put on my mask. That I had to have one on at all times. It shocked me, my anxiety immediately spiked to the ‘can’t handle this area,’ and my headache went from ‘ehhh, it’s there,’ to killing me, and my body temp dropped. I was in pain and freezing in a few seconds.

I said I was putting up the shield to talk to customers and I was back away from them when sitting. She shrieked again that I had to wear it at all times. And if I didn’t, then how was she supposed to make that vendor and that vendor wear theirs.

Ah ha. This is where they show the real power of the fear. The sheep are terrified if 1 doesn’t conform that others will follow, because they know they can’t control that many at once. And if that happened, then bad thing A would happen and/or they’d get in trouble with the wolf, who was the one really imposing the rules anyway. (Nice way a lot of places are coping out, by the way. It would’ve made more sense if they’d said in the, I think 4 times I asked about the mask thing if it was required, that it was required and I should just roll over my table to next year; AND if every customer was required to wear a mask because of the wolf’s rules, which they weren’t. I’d say about 10% of customers weren’t wearing masks.)

This is why you have to stand up, and, get others to. Because they can’t control us all. But I was on my own, and beaten down. I didn’t stand up. I was on empty. In that moment, I gave up.

It felt like an attack, and I wasn’t prepared to fight back. That’s the best excuse I have, because I should have. I should have screamed back at her. Fuck that, I should’ve punched her for screaming at me like that. Okay, fine, really I should have just lawyered her, argued her into submission because what are lawyers good at if not beating down the enemy with one argument after another. That’s what I should have done. I don’t take being screamed at very well. My system goes nuts. And I hate myself for not fighting back in that moment. I was so humiliated and upset. But, like an abused spouse, I pulled the scarf up just to get her to go away.

I went outside because my head was killing me and I was freezing. I called BF because I was upset and didn’t know what to do. I wanted to make money because after ordering paperbacks, the new covers, and my laptop crashing last month, plus the cost of the con, I needed to make it worth it, and sell. I was determined to stick it out and make it work after all that’d happened. And BF was on the way with the books, about 3 hours out, so I’d have the new covers soon. I called and told him what was going on. The more I talked about it, the more upset I got. And he was upset he wasn’t there with me to be backup.

The stupid thing is, if BF had come with me and just not stayed to get the books, he would’ve been there to fight with me, especially when I was getting worn down, but then I wouldn’t have had the books to sell, which was the point of going. But I didn’t even need the new covers books because I was so beat down, I ended up leaving. Yeah, the whole thing was stupid.

When I went back in, I didn’t put back on my mask. Told myself next staff member to bug me about it was gonna get it. I was going to tell them I had a medical exemption and to back the fuck off or kick me out.

This lasted about 10 minutes. Every time someone walked by wearing a staff shirt, my adrenaline spiked, the headache got worse, I was shaky, and having a hard time breathing. I couldn’t take being on edge and ready for a showdown like that for long.

So I wrote a note on my table explaining I was leaving because they lied to me about the masks, and I couldn’t wear one, but to please check me out online. And I left bookmarks and QR code cards there.

While I was packing up, 2 staff guys came over, said the note was unfair, and could they work with me. I told them everything that went down with Jennifer, how I was lied to, and the shrieking harpy that screamed at me, and that my head was killing me, so I had to leave then either way, and if they weren’t going to drop the mask thing, I couldn’t come back. They said the city was making them, it was the city’s rule, and they couldn’t do anything about it. I maintained the note was fair then because Jennifer lied to me. She could have told me when I asked right before the con that it would be a problem, and I would’ve said roll me over to next year, and left then. They were very nice (but still took my sign) and helped me pack and haul stuff to my car.

I drove back to my friends’ house, and nursed a headache for about 5 hours until it calmed down. They we hung out, BF was there by then, and we had a great time. On Sunday we did photoshoots for our paper books to do an online paperback sale because now I have a lot of paper copies and noooooo money. Yeah, I didn’t plan this well/was counting on at least a few hundred from the con. Never think you’ll make money at a con. Even without mask bullshit, you don’t know what’ll happen, no matter how many people who like what you make are there.

After that shit show known as Creepy Con, I still have a ton of paperbacks that aren’t going anywhere because all the other cons near here I was looking into are doing mask mandates now (at least they told the truth before I bought a table).

So, I’m having a “Creepy Con Lied, but my Zombie Tree Versions are Live, Paperback Sale,” AKA “Labor Day Sale,” for a week! 😊

Books are $10 each. The Supernatural Streets Anthology is $12. And the Evie Jones Compilation is $8.

Bullet bookmarks are $4 each, 3 for $10, OR, you get one free for every 3 books you buy.

Book sale: Buy 2 get 1 half off, buy 5 get 1 free, buy all 12 for the price of 10, which knocks it down to $100 total since you get the extra bonus of chopping down the cost of the Anthology. (Plus shipping and handling.)

Click here to order!

The SDF Series: Paranormal Mystery Romances: Ariana’s like Buffy with a badge.

Ariana’s a cute, spunky FBI agent who only has the job because she’s psychic, and she’s desperate to prove to her coworkers and herself that she’s more than just a pretty face on a too young psychic when a serial killer strikes.

The Elemental Demons Series: Psychic Thrillers: If you loved ‘The Conjuring’ this is a must-read series. Fans are saying these ain’t your daddy’s psychic thrillers.

Sarah is shattered after the man she loved dumped her, throwing away their life plans, and ran back home after college. But the refuge of home isn’t when strange things start happening. She’s not religious, but there are more things in Hell and Earth than are dreamt of in her philosophy. She’s going to have to face her fears and find her strength again before one of those dark things she doesn’t believe in uses her broken soul against her, and all of humankind.

The Gods Defense, The Magical Adventures of Evie Jones, and Supernatural Streets, can be checked out through the links on them so you can see if they’re your thing too.

AND Brena Bock joined my paperback sale (after being voluntold 😊 )

Brena is in 3 anthologies, and has them up to be signed and shipped at sale prices the next week too!

Supernatural Streets and The Hearts’ Enchantment anthologies for $12 each, and the award winning Space Force anthology for $10. OR all 3 for $30! (Plus shipping and handling.)

Email Brena at Brena.Bock @ yahoo dot com to order your signed anthologies directly!

And, because I promised, kittens!!!

We got Elijah and Klaus last week, got Merlin acclimated to them, and now we have 3 monsters running around. 1 of which is really missing being an only child because his little brothers already love to follow him around and want to do everything he’s doing.

To contribute to my feed the kitties fund, go order your signed copies of my books, and your really cool author shot, author made bullet bookmarks. 😉

*Apologies to Amie, because I think I’m missing two kitty pics, but WordPress is being a pain and I’m tired of fighting it. Also, that kitty looking into the camera looks so much like Greebo as a baby that it hurts… SAH*

I don’t want to cast aspersions. After all, this is the only universe I’ve ever lived in. But this is the stupidest plot ever. And it’s becoming absolutely clear.

Look, it’s not that The Author hasn’t used idiot devices before. In fact lots of the major bestsellers do. Take Gavrilo Princip. He only managed to commit his fell deed and plunge Europe into the long war of the 20th century because the archduke’s driver got lost.

That’s not a plausible coincidence, though of course we’re advised that the coincidences can happen if they make things worse. And boy, howdy, did they make things worse.

This one is a plot in the fullest sense of the word.

I mean, the country has been taken over by conspirators who plotted with the aid, material and otherwise of China, to take over and “defeat” the US without physical war, which they’d lose.

And dear Lord, it’s stupid. In fact, it’s mentally deffective.

Though it works quite well from the point of view of narcissists trying to keep themselves safe and living high off the hog, and horse-laughing ‘apres moi le deluge.’

It works very badly for everyone else, though, including the whole human race.

This whole Afghanistan mess reeks of Chinese touches. Such as abandoning trained dogs, and making our troops clean the latrines in the airport. Not to mention turning away American citizens and leaving them stranded on foreign and hostile soil.

Our government is in effect treating us as though we were the defeated, who have to be humiliated and felt to know their humiliation so they don’t rise again.

Zhou Bai-den, vice roi to Winnie the Xi is in fact treating the US as a conquered power, because they believe we are. Having taken the institutions they now believe they own us body and soul. I don’t believe that is true, partly because I don’t believe Himself writes dystopian fiction, partly because I know the people of America have started ignoring orders en masse. Like the orders to re-mask. I believe that’s a leading indicator of our resistance to this entire insanity. (You don’t see that anywhere else. Or not yet.)

Of course Xi either hasn’t been told of that, or doesn’t believe it. And why should he? His contacts are with compliant leftists, and after all, our news makes us all sound like zombie slaves.

But our leftists should be getting the cold grue. If they’re not they’re dumber than even I think they are.

So, where does the stupid plot come in?

Well, see, it’s a Chinese plot. They’re a smart, capable people afflicted throughout history with the most bizarrely stupid forms of government. and they have a long history. History like that is like an iceberg, doing its own thing moved by really deep currents we don’t see.

China planned all this to get access to the rare Earths in Afghanistan. And to make America cower and fear them. The first worked, of course. And honestly — eyes Afghanistan, which is the land in which the evil fairytales and Greek legends still happen every day — those two cultures deserve each other. I want them both to lose, and then maybe te people oppressed by the fricking stupid cultures can finally be free and prosperous.

The second… They don’t realize mostly they’re making us really, really mad. We’re not Chinese. We won’t take our symbolic humiliation as the truth forever. But they don’t get that. They don’t get that this country is stuffed with the rebellious dregs that other places couldn’t hold. Oh, not all. In breeding there’s regression to mean, but I suspect most of us.

The other thing they don’t realize, and what makes THEIR plot particularly stupid is that they think of themselves as the only real people. It’s not even racism, so much as this neolithic tribal thing where “We are human, those over aren’t.”

This means they think of themselves as the hub and spoke of the universe. And they don’t understand that in doing all this shit, they’re going to wreck the American economy, or at least put us through turmoil for a while. And if America isn’t buying, all their rare Earths mastery is useless, because they never bothered having a consumer economy.

In fact, if America falls, China will fall also as will most of the world because we’re the largest consumer. We’re also, technically, the largest inovator. We drive the future. Without us, the future falls.

And that’s the stupid plot. When your bad guy’s entire plot consists of chopping down his own tower.

On the other hand, the Author knows what He’s doing. The plot works and is necessary for those who created it. Xi, because of his prejudices, and because of his despair to stay on top, had to bring us down. He could not allow things to go on. So, for him, this is a necessary plot. He has to do it, though it’s stupid.

And our idiots, including I’d bet you military brass and secret agencies, have been getting paid by China (in fiat currency, which the chinese claim is worth x and everyone believes. Dear LORD.)

And they can’t have that coming out, so they are willing to commit treason to keep themselves safe and prosperous at the expense of their country.

This too is an idiot plot. Because they can’t believe they’ll get away with it. Well, maybe for the rest of Biden’s life, but the others? Yeah, no. Do they think — supposing their plot worked and they destroyed us — they’ll have an honored place in China? If so, we need their craniums scanned for evidence of a BRAIN. I don’t know much Chinese history (Well, there’s o much of it) but I know enough to tell you they should hope the furious Americans get to them FIRST before that “honorable retirement.”

But they feel compelled to do it, and imagine that they’ll always be protected.

In a world of fiat currencies and make-believe knowledge (since the sixties, all humanities learning has been bullshit (except languages. Those are just badly taught, so that you’re better off teaching yourself.) when this crashes, and I estimate less than a year till we do something like a crash with what amount of violence I can’t tell you, but my sense of the future is fire and blood, we’re all going to be adrift. My family can’t be the only one going “how will we survive this?”

The one thing I can tell you is that we will. We’ll figure it out. We have to. Because if the US doesn’t survive humanity is lost. We have to survive and then light that torch of freedom and walk ahead showing them the way.

Of course, all I have is this blunt pencil and a bunch of stories. But I’ll get them to you in any way I can, and maybe that will be enough to live.

Be not afraid. We can figure it out. We’re the odds, who save the flock when things go inky. Or if you prefer: when the going gets weird, the weird go pro.

Start thinking ahead to the measure of the possible. when things are unstable, that’s sometimes days ahead. Lay in what you can. Plan what you can. Acquire all the abilities you can.

And remember you’re Americans. In the world, Americans are weirdors, anyway.

We were made for this sh*t.

Sursum corda. Plan, provision, look out for yours.

And keep your weapons and clothing where you can find them in the dark.

Government for the people by the people will not perish from this Earth. The plot will get difficult, but it will come about.

And a great denouement waits us.

Go work.

I’ve been away from the net.

The quick summary: the new house (well, it’s my age, but it’s new to us) had some issues that home inspection failed to reveal. Or IOW we came in and turned a tap on and acquired a pet wall geyser.

We’re still mostly in Colorado, but had to be here for the plumbers, today. (Note this is not our first rodeo, and the seller bought us a home warranty at our request.)

So Friday and Saturday we were loading a second truck while I nailed down painting in the Colorado house (done) and then yesterday we spent 12 hours on the road. (LONG story.) Most of it without net access.

Today, first time I connected to the internet in the new house, I found out that L. Neil Smith had died.

This is not how I wanted to start the week… Or– Well, I knew he was having health issues, but I assumed he was as immortal as the Republic. (Yeah, I know, I know….)

I can’t remember when I met Neil. I’ve been cudgeling my noggin, and I just can’t remember. I know it was sometime before I won the Prometheus for Darkship Thieves.

But in my mind, it’s as if I’d always known him. (Probably because I’d read him before we met, and we emailed back and forth before we met in person.)

We didn’t agree on everything (I don’t agree on everything with myself, frankly. There are issues on which I have at least four opinions.)

I know we were exchanging emails encouraging the other on by … 2010?

The one thing we both agreed on is that we had each other’s back. That we agreed on, always. And after that we agreed pretty consistently on individual Liberty. There was a fight for individual liberty going on, and we were comrades at arms, even if mostly we fought with words.

I think everyone here knows that my decision to vote for Trump in 2016 was the joint work of L. Neil Smith and Jerry Pournelle in the week leading up to the election. For one thing if those two could agree that hard on something, and work that hard to change my mind, I had to examine their arguments and consider them.

Jerry, alas, left us shortly after.

And this year, since November, L. Neil Smith and his optimism “well, then we’ll work for Liberty harder” were one of my touch points to remain sane.

I won’t insult his disbelief by positing an afterlife for him. (Yeah, maybe he’s already found out differently, and if so, G-d is probably being asked some pointed questions… And is probably highly amused.)

But if he has one, I hope it’s something like the last time we met in person: when he received the Prometheus for lifetime work. Afterwards we were “kidnapped” for a party thrown by his fans, in which he got to speak at length and receive admiration for his work. And where the rest of us could bask in not feeling out of place for once and being able to bandy intellectual arguments without crying or denounciations.

I know this isn’t particularly coherent.

All I can say is I feel as though the guy next to me in the trenches had just been shot.

I’m going to miss his encouragement and his optimism, but most of all I’m going to miss him.

Rest in peace, old friend. Even indefatigable warriors get their rest in time.

Those of us who remain must fight on. But you won’t be forgotten.

Er… posting will be more erratic than normal through the 15th. We’re packing/driving between houses and trying to get floors done (though we hired painters. At husband’s insistence. Something about not letting me work myself into the ground.)

One disastrous side effect of this is that Dan and I will rarely be in the same house at the same time, and I can’t sleep without him, which means my ADD is through the roof. I’m continuously losing and forgetting things. Yesterday for instance, I plain FORGOT to post.

But more distracting is that internet access in Colorado is bizarre and nettus interruptus, which might or might not (but feels like) be enemy action.

So during the periods in CO I might not post at all, and while traveling it’s not likely.

I will try to post two or three times a week at a minimum, but bear with me please.

By the 15th I should be on full time except for unpacking and setting up rooms in the house, and redoing the room that will be my office. (it has plastic paneling on the walls, a popcorn ceiling, and a weird light fixture.)

But I’ll have a makeshift office in our bedroom, or at least a chair to sit on, as opposed to right now, when I’m working from my bed, either end of this, because it’s the bed or the floor.

I might be too old for this nonsense.