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. A COMMISSION IS EARNED FROM EACH PURCHASE.*Note that I haven’t read most of these books (my reading is eclectic and “craving led”,) and apply the usual cautions to buying. I reserve the right not to run any submission, if cover, blurb or anything else made me decide not to, at my sole discretion.– SAH

FROM LILANIA BEGLEY: Farmwife: A Sweet Western Romance

The big day is looming on the horizon. After everything Dev and Irina have been through, this should be the happiest day of their lives so far. Can they overcome the clouds of the past together? Is there hope for a happy ending in their farmhouse with found family around them?

FROM ALMA T. C. BOYKIN: Wolves of the Woods: The Elect Book the Third

The Elect want nothing more than to live and let live. An all-too-familiar danger arrives instead, along with a stranger.

The Elect, the werewolf survivors and pack of Lord Gregor, slowly adapt to a world that passed them by. Gregor hires a museum designer, Joakim Davis, to help with a regional museum that might, perhaps, make life easier for the Elect and please the locals. But Davis has two secrets of his own.

Mara and Gregor remain cursed to take wolf form. As they hunt, they make two discoveries, one intriguing and one very troubling indeed. The blight they thought banished has returned.

When Gregor and his lady depart for Krakow, it remains for the other Elect, aided perhaps by this secretive stranger from America, to deal with the new evil that trespasses on their territory. Can they withstand this new threat, or will they succumb to the curse as they each did before?

FROM CELIA HAYES: Lone Star Blood: Another Volume of the Entertaining and Mostly If Not Always True Adventures of Texas Ranger Jim Reade and his Blood-Brother Delaware Scout Toby Shaw.

The Continuing adventures of Texas Ranger Jim Reade and his blood-brother Toby Shaw in the days of the Republic of Texas! A pair of eccentric English explorers ask for a guide into a dangerous country, seeking not a fortune … but something more! There is the mystery of a haunted house on Galveston Island to unravel, and the safety of a beneficiary to an unusual will — and more! The old wild west rides again in this continuing set of adventures from the pen of historical novelist Celia Hayes!

https://amzn.to/3vfk7mqFROM BLAKE SMITH: The Hartington Inheritance

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 MICHAEL A. HOOTEN: Till the Conflict Is Over

Peter Wright not only survived the most deadly space battle in US Navy history, he also managed to defeat the enemy as well. He’s hailed as a hero, and everyone wants to know his story, but all he wants is to avoid everything that reminds him of that day. Instead he endures interviews, cotillions, and the ever-surprising demands of being a celebrity. And also anxiety attacks, suvivor’s guilt, and funerals. Through it all, he wishes he could just be a normal sailor again.

Be careful what you wish for.

FROM RACONTEUR PRESS, WITH STORIES BY CEDAR SANDERSON, BECKY JONES AND LEE ALLRED: Moggies in Space: A Galaxy Fur. Fur Away

Here is yet another collection of tales about space floofs of the feline flavor. This compendium sports cosmic kitties doing more of what cats do, and entertaining us in the bundle: saving ships, crews, sometimes living together with dogs, and featuring at least one pesky litter that’s into everything and smarter than the grownups. Yeah. Total anarchy.

FROM SPENCER HART: Death on the Moon (Bert Henderson Adventures Book 1)

Pulp-Noir meets Sci-Fi. A short story adventure. The Year is 1949, in a timeline not quite our own.

Bert Henderson, ex-GI and ace troubleshooter for the Phillips Atomics Corporation, is sent to Roosevelt Base to solve the first murder on the Moon. But will the daughter of a top scientist distract him from his mission?

Can he untangle the web of deceit before he becomes just another victim of Death on the Moon?

FROM LEIGH KIMMEL: One Last Homecoming

Sherry had planned a quick trip to her home town for her forty-year class reunion, to see the current classes’ Homecoming game. Instead, she arrives to find the high school just as she remembers it, complete with long-demolished buildings and long-retired teachers. It’s Homecoming, all right — her senior year.

For someone with happy memories, revisiting one’s younger days might be pleasant nostalgia. Sherry dreads the thought of being stranded in the past, forced to reassume the old roles after decades of independence.

How can she return to her own time when she has no idea how she got here? Worse, a hostile entity is making its presence known — and it may not want to let her go back. And the Homecoming game isn’t the one she remembers from four decades ago.

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: DULL

The Brain Coffee by King Harv’s Imperial Coffees

The True Tale of King Harv’s Imperial Coffee’s Horrible Experiments with Rapid Caffeine Intake – Part 1

Chapter 1 – The Brain Probe

I still remember my 5th shot of espresso, waiting impatiently for the caffeine to do its thing. Time ticked by so slowly.  Too slowly!  “Use your mind, Man!”, I said to myself.  There must be a quicker way!  Didn’t those folks in North Texas come up with some ingenious ways of staying awake a few decades ago?  Sadly I did not have access to any cattle, so I would have to come up with my own system.

It was clear from the start that I would need direct access to my brain.  And so it began with a Black and Decker drill and a 1/2” steel bit.  How to bypass the initial pain of penetration was a concern.  Alcohol and drugs were not possible, as I had to operate the drill while looking in the mirror.  My remedy was to acclimate myself to the procedure.  For 27 consecutive days I would, with ever increasing force, hit myself in the target spot with a Phillips screw driver, gradually getting used to the pain.  By the time I used the drill, it would seem mild compared to what I had already gone through.

And so it was.  Really, there were only about 4 seconds of intense pain as the bit burst through my skull, then into the non-sensitized neural tissue.  I had hoped, and apparently was correct, that I had picked a “safe” area where losing a quarter inch deep chunk of brain tissue would not be overly harmful.  

Once done, I had a delightful 1/2” hole directly into my brain in which to experiment.  I used a black rubber plug purchased at the local hardware store to fill the hole when not in use.  Oh, I know, you are concerned about infection.  Well, that is where alcohol did indeed come in handy.  I would each day remove the plug, fill the hole with a mixture of gin and vodka, and then reinstall the plug. Shaking my head vigorously afterwords seemed like a good idea, so I did that as well.

Ok, so now I had brain access.  As a self made working man, I did not have expensive surgical probes available, so I purchased a box of stainless steel 9” nails, the thinnest I could find, washed them in hand soap, and proceeded to slowly insert one into the open plug.  Through the gin/vodka slurry, past the rough edges of drilled out skull, and finally directly into my brain itself.

It a fiasco!  Apparently I must have tapped into the “nausea” part of the brain, as I almost instantly had to disgorge my stomach’s contents, which I did, directly into the mirror in front of me.  I used a hand towel to try to clean the mirror, which only succeeded in spreading around the disgusting residue.  Why oh why did I have Mexican food the night before? Well, no one said it would be easy.  I pulled out the probe, poured in a shot of the alcohol mixture, and put the plug back in. I would have to start again tomorrow. 

Tomorrow came and went, and I did not proceed.  Why you ask? Were you conceding defeat?  Of course not!  But the experience did made me think perhaps I should go about this in a smarter fashion.  And so the breakthrough came.  A probe made not of metal, but of myself.  Bone!  I needed bone!  My own bone!  It would be the answer.  Once inserted, the bone’s own marrow, a virtual stem cell factory, would encourage brain cells to grow in and around it, happily multiplying the way those little darlings like to do.  But where to get this bone?  Well, dear friend, you might have noticed, had we shaken hands via the left arm instead of the right, that I am a man of 9 fingers.  

Chapter 2 – Are You Out of your Mind?

My God, it hurt!  My left index finger apparently had its own religious views on the subject of amputation.  It strongly let me know of its disapproval by violently spouting out arterial blood and making these horrid cracking sounds as I pressed down harder and harder with my vintage PVC pipe trimmer.  What was I thinking?

One could, arguably, say I was not thinking at all.  But that would be untrue.  I’ll tell you about that night.   I was slowly savoring my usual evening meal of eel, lutefisk, and blue cheese lasagna while downing countless shots ‘Earl’s Famous’ Durian Fruit Brandy.   Out of character, I had the radio on. The shortwave radio.  The one tuned to the British Halley VI Research station in Antarctica’s nightly broadcast.  The one with the drunk radio operator.  The one ranting about PVC pipes and their resemblance to deep sea vent worms.  And how, if you have PVC pipes of smaller widths, you can spray paint them red and slide them in and out of white outer pipes, making them look even more like those angelic vent worms.  Well, someone was most certainly having a long winter! Still, how intriguing. I could do that!  I could…  No I could not.  I had my own dreams to pursue, and tonight was amputation night.  While I could not dance the night away with PVC sea worms, I could, at the least, use the tool that would have created them.  My trusty PVC pipe trimmer.

Chapter – 3 Preservation and Preparation 

That all happened three days ago, as  you well know.  My rebellious index finger spent that time in a luxury resort of sorts for lonely body parts, otherwise known as a half empty pickle jar.  From all appearances, it seemed to have done the job, as Mr. “Get that thing off of me!” Finger looked none the worse for wear.  The pickles still tasted the same as well.  Meanwhile, I had a bit of a problem with my black rubber brain plug.  Maybe more than a little problem.  It had become loose.  Quite embarrassing at the All You Can Eat Chinese Buffet, I can tell you that!  I was bending down to reach for that last piece of Szechuan Short Ribs  when the plug popped out and landed in the formerly popular General Tao’s Chicken tray.  Even worse, the alcohol lymph fluid literally gushed onto the Egg Foo Young platter. 

The elderly woman to the right of me seemed to be turning green in the face, until she converted copious amounts of of what was once very content domestic stomach acid into its riotous, sebaceous cousin known to gentlemen worldwide as involuntary regurgitate.  The lady had been planted in front of the Scallops in Lemon Garlic Sauce for most of the evening, which subsequently became her own personal ‘ground zero’ .  Hence the poor deceased mollusks were to soil my acquaintance for the second time that evening. 

At this point Mr Chang, the once gracious and welcoming restaurant owner was to all intents and purposes auditioning for the one man play, ‘I Aneurysm’.   It did raise the thought that perhaps I should be moving on, and after a few pieces of sheet cake that would have caused a chemist to blush, I did indeed take my leave.

Chapter 4 – Bumbling Luck

It’s 5:15 am, and snow is blowing all around. Time to take a chance.  Time to be on my ‘A’ game.  Time to act with abandon and wild instinct! I reached back and pulled on the brain plug.  Nothing  happened.  It was stuck!  I tried again, and again failed.  I knew what it had to be, the enemy of all Brain explorers had come to pay a visit.  Mr. Vacuum is here.  Cockiness preceded him.  And total shock, shame, and weakness would soon become him, as I pulled out Swiss army knife and began to scrape.  What an unpleasant sound!  Finally, with a small burp of gas, the brain plug was free.  I rinsed it a few times, left it on the kitchen counter, and exhaled slowly. 

The two ounce shot of espresso was ready.  The funnel was in place.  It was time to pour the espresso.  DIRECTLY into meet my Brain!  END OF PART 1

UPDATE: just for this post , on a whim King Harv Imperial Coffees created a special blend just for the Brain story.  Here’s a link…

https://www.kingharvscoffee.com/product/TheBrainCoffee/262

And it’s on sale for only $19.95 for a pound, with free shipping.  Good lord! (And good coffee!)

Authors Note

This is the first of an expected 4,268 part series.  And as an completely unbiased aside, I highly recommend King Harv’s Imperial Coffees, www.kingharv.com, for all your coffee needs. (This is endorsed. Not the 4,268 part series — I’d need a bigger blog! — but if you look to the right side of this blog there is a link to King Harv’s coffees. I don’t get a cut of sales. Full disclosure forces me to say I DO sometimes get coffee, but that’s it. Anyway, it’s great coffee. Over time my preference has moved from Saturn to Two Cats and I can’t tell you why. Oh, yeah, I believe they’re also having a sale.)

One of the criticisms against Trump — and frankly anyone who is effective at speaking out against the current mess — is that he’s “uncouth” and “loud” and “vulgar” and generally a troublemaker.

I’m not saying he’s not a troublemaker, just asking who would have left his stable and safe position to get in this fight for the country if he weren’t. Just a thought. Also he’s a New Yorker.

But every congressman and woman who speaks out against the left gets tagged with the same. As do mere bloggers and writers. (I’m only “peculiar” because of my lady like qualiies. Grandma would be proud.) And even “just people.” I’ll remind you they destroyed the life of Joe the Plumber for having the nerve to talk back on camera. And apparently they’re hounding down FDNY firemen who didn’t applaud the mayor of NYC NY Attorney General Leticia James. [Distracted at the wrong time. Sorry]

So it’s not Trump. It’s all of us. “So rude.” “So uncouth.” “So loud.” “Insane.” “Conspiracy theory.”

Meanwhile Stacy (Tank) Abrahams spent years screeching in everyone’s face that she wuz robbed and that was cool, because she was just an empowered girl boss, right?

Or take Hillary “How I really won” Clinton who was never even looked at sideways.

And don’t get me started on AOC. Who straight up offered to fight someone “outside” but you know, nothing wrong. Etc. etc.

Oh, and Elon. Elon Musk went from “So smart, so cool” to the devil himself when he took over twitter and broke their censorship toy. At once. On a dime. And no one seems to be aware of that switch or how lightening fast it was. And how suddenly “he is the devil” was everywhere.

So what is going on here? Double standards, of course but why are most people — including people hurt by it — not even aware of the double standards?

Well… Because they’re not. They’re the standards society has imposed over the last 100 or so years. We’re only aware of their being “double standards” because the information regime of the last 100 years has broken wide. It hasn’t stopped having influence. it’s just split wide.

It’s important to remember that, because a lot of people are really panicking because they think all of it: double standards, cancelling, etc. are new. Instead of being, you know, only visible now.

The problem is not what’s happening now. It’s what happened for the hundred years when the left had control of the highly centralized, tight focus, lockstep information regime.

Because the regime included art, news, political discourse, entertainment, everything, the result is that they got to portrait left-opinions and positions as sane, normal and main stream. And anything that opposed them, no matter how sensible, as unhinged, out there and insane.

No? Think of the token right-wing voices in every single sitcom or TV serial. Not that there seem to be any now, which is by itself a measure of how scared they are, but they used to be in there, in every other show. And they were not right wing, not sane, and usually attached to the most repulsive characters imaginable. (When they made the mistake of not doing that, such as with Family Ties, the character inspired an entire generation.)

Think of what they said about Rush Limbaugh, the things they tried to get to stick to him, let alone a lot of the more minor pundits and voices of earlier times.

In my opinion this is responsible for the turn-coat syndrome, in which someone prominent turns to the left suddenly and stays there. You can only take so much pressure without cracking. (Don’t worry too much about me. If I seem to crack that way, I’m probably buried in the basement and it’s someone else doing this. I cracked in other ways long before I came out of the political closet. This is actually less pressure.) But you know the people from the early oughts who did that. I don’t need to name them. (And don’t need that on me.)

The pressure was always there, but it was mostly unspoken. Because if you were on the right and they knew it, they could take your profession away on some excuse, and no one would ever know how or why. And if they investigated they’d find the kind of “oh, him” that hinted you were guilt of unspeakable crimes and vices.

Now it’s broken wide, so we see the screaming and the attempts at cancelling (Some aren’t even sticking anymore) in the full light of day. And the left is terrified. The hint of how terrified they are is that there are no longer sin-eating-right-wing characters in TV shows and movies.

Oh, I suppose there are some in movies. they more or less immediately get jumped on as “that’s not the right.” And “Are you nuts.”

But even people on the right — at least to an extent — are still falling for the “so uncouth” “making people upset” “trouble maker.” (FYI in Florida DeSantis is called all of that, also. And always was.)

So… Here’s the thing: The discourse and the level of polite discourse in our back brains was set for our entire lives up to about six years ago. It was set at the level and keys and triggers of the left, because they had control of everything. So they set the “You can’t say that in public. People will think you’re nuts” that’s at the back of every one of our brains.

They set the stereotype that when you hear certain things, these are coming from a “bad person” — this was set by those caricatures of right wing characters — and its’ some kind of con or straight up evil.

You have to re-examine anyone that you’re flinching from in that light. No one is saying you SHOULD like them. I’ve said before and will say again, I don’t think I’d have married Donald Trump, if offered, despite all the money. But I don’t want to marry him, or date him. And frankly, I’ve hired people I outright disliked for jobs, provided I didn’t have to see them every day, and I could trust them to do the job I wanted. (Within limits. The job I want is what Milei is doing in Argentina, and I doubt even Trump will do that here.) Heck, I don’t even want to have a drink with Trump. (Though if a miracle happens and he beats the fraud, if I had money I’d pay money to be his White House Press Secretary. What? Oh, dear, it would be the most fun I’ve ever had out of bed. Including sudden “lapses” into “Portuguese” (but really village gutter language.) I’m a brat. Okay?)

But “so uncouth” is bullshit. Straight up? More or less uncouth than Obama giving people the “scratch my face” middle finger like a middle schooler? More or less uncouth than Clinton having women brought to his hotel room? More or less uncouth than Hillary shrilling at the universe? Than Michelle Obama scowling through the flag ceremonies? And that’s without even touching Brandon and his crazy remote control older, who would be spat at in a homeless camp for their behavior. (Or beaten up. Possibly with a live duck.)

So every time you flinch, examine your back brain for the “but you can’t say that,” that cues all the uncouth, crazy and conspiracy theorist feelings. (Besides I think the difference between conspiracy theory and reality is now …. two days?)

You have to, because your social pack instincts were trained by the left.

Also, the sky isn’t falling. What is falling is the information regime set up by the left. They have reason to panic, you don’t.

Just be aware that to an extent their government and organization regime too. NOT what was laid out in the constitution, but the massive bureaucracy and the insane web of power that comes from DC and covers the entire country.

And part of the problem of its falling apart is that it’s just not working, or how it works is bizarre, irrational, and might feel personal, but is not. It’s just the chaos of “it can’t work anymore.” Our insurance problems are apparently mirrored in all our friends’ problems, and it’s the result of their trying to reach for fully socialized medicine with Obama care.

They had plenty of control before, just not full control, and being idiots they didn’t realize the whole thing was already coming apart at the seams, so they pressed for full control…. and —

It doesn’t work. Everyone else seems to be going through this crazy thing where necessary, absolutely vital meds are just being denied, or the insurance pays $10 off the top and leaves you with $900 to pay or something. This is of course the result of sex changes, abortions and contraception being 100% free and treated as vital, while everything else gets pushed out of the way.

Not because the things they prioritize are bad (well, you know my opinions) but because they’re stupid and irrational and held as sacrosanct above everything else. When it was COVID and everything else was “optional” it caused the same kind of mayhem.

When you’re spending a fortune on tiddly wink betting, you don’t have money for food. So insurance, trying to save itself, is denying vital care. The fact the idiots in power want — or pretend they want. It’s difficult to tell because like cats, they say “I meant that” anyway — us all dead is a bonus. The companies are just coming apart at the seams and not just through shortages and supply issues.

And it’s like this for everything, and yes, some of it feels like a targeted attack, and some might try to be, but mostly isn’t. Mostly it’s the Wilson-FDR creation falling apart. And it can’t go back together because it never worked.

They could just pretend it worked by their control of information. Oh, that’s why they want censorship, yes.

But it’s not working, any of it, and anything that they try to do to shore it up makes it fall apart more.

I stand by my image that they’re trying to build the Berlin wall after it’s been pulled down, and while people are driving out through gaping holes in it.

All the king’s horses and all the king’s men can’t put the Marxist wall up again.

Which is glorious. And also yeah, terrifying, as things fall apart and we don’t yet have replacements ready.

But that’s the way things work. Unless you’re invaded by an invader with a plan (you wouldn’t like those.) the new structure is never ready to go.

In fact having a structure all ready to fall in place should be a danger sign. A big, flashing one.

Is it going to hurt? Hell yes. Are we going to spend some time when mere daily survival will be difficult? Hell yes. Is it possible that by fraud they’ll hold on to the apparent levers of power and make the transition a million times more difficult? Hell yes?

I know you get tired of me saying, but not only do we win and they lose in the end, but it’s already happening.

It’s just that in the middle things will get really really awful and in big turmoil.

Remember every birth means pain and blood. This is not a death. It’s the rebirth of the republic.

Yes, it hurts. Do your best and push hard.

Be uncouth. It’s not “the way”, it’s the only way.

In most fantasy it’s relatively easy to know who the ruler should be:

He’s the one who pulls the sword from the stone. He’s the one whom the gods have decreed in prophecy will come. He has the magical birthmark, the ability to do things no other man can do. He is wedded to the land and knows her every need.

It’s a nice thought. I mean, if you could have it be true. It will all work out because it’s magically pre-ordained.

In fantasy it works precisely because we all wish it were like that, that clear cut.

But our newest generations — oh, forty and under — have been raised more in fiction than in reality, and our fiction has indulged entirely too much in this sort of nonsense. So has our news “government by the best people” “top men in charge of everything.”

I remember the media’s breathless, fly-swallowing open mouths describing Clinton’s administration of “wonks” and the pronouncements from the pulpit of the left’s expert “pundits.”

We (to the right of Lenin) in the counterculture immediately took the terms and ran with them and we have that nonsense to thank for names like Instapundit and Vodkapundit. (My poor mostly apolitical husband was so tired of hearing me say “I read on instapundit” that when I said “Vodkapundit said–” he answered with a laugh and “Stop making pundits up.” Later, of course, we became friends with Mr. and Mrs. Vodkapundit and miss them terribly.) But those of you old enough probably remember as I do “Wonk” and “pundit” being pronounced as if they were “master” and “Lord.” (Curiously no one uses wonk anymore. It truly was a horribly ugly word and everyone that used it as a license to put boot on American necks was equally ugly.)

But the kids don’t know that. They only retain a vague idea government should be by the “best” people and the most “expert.” Add to that their disillusionment with what has been done to our country these last 16 years or so (with a brief interregnum) and the fact they have no idea how the system is supposed to work, or only a fractured idea because they tried to learn, but it’s hard, and even online there are incomplete and contradictory bits and…

Yeah. I’ve been seeing a plague of monarchists and worse absolute monarchists among the young everywhere.

And they get very upset and disappointed when it’s pointed out that they have the wrong end of the wrong weasel tail.

In their heads, because of poorly absorbed history, they’re convinced that monarchism is the opposite of communism. And they’ve learned communism is bad. But this thing called capitalism that is talked about is mostly crony capitalism, and therefore equally bad.

So the way to do it all right is to have people who are born and educated to their roles, and are therefore the bestest people for the role.

They’re not wrong about something: feudalism as it was in the past was, in its platonic, ideal form (which is not the form it assumed) better than the feudalism we get when communism achieves its final form. (Looks at North Korea, and Cuba and yeah Venezula significantly. Or Russia which is sort of post communist, kind of, but really? Putin is still the product of communism and hankering for that sort of feudalism.)

You see, the people were raised to be servants of the role and to work at it honestly. In an intensely religious society where people believed they should fulfill their role or they’d answer for it to an eternal judge, it kind of worked. Sometimes. There were always people who didn’t believe, and you know, power is a sweet, sweet drug.

And yeah, the rulers who actually believed in doing the best for their countries were admirable. Heck, some of the rulers who only believed in making their country rich so they would be so were pretty good.

Both technically better than communists, where the “ideal” they serve fast devolves to “because I say so” so that Cuba, an island nation, has its starved people forbidden from taking seafood from the sea. For…. reasons.

But the difference is not as big as you’d think. There were plenty of feudal Lords who used their position to do whatever pleased them, sometimes at great cost in treasure and blood to their people.

Because it’s absolute power, and what are you going to do to them? Fight them?

The number of unreported peasant revolts under feudalism is immense, and very few of them were successful.

Once the boot is on the neck and the assumption of authority being by birth, it’s hard to dislodge.

And there’s no guarantee that birth will confer authority on the competent, let alone the moral.

So–

It is necessary once more to say this: Our system of government has revolutionized everything in the world.

We have fed the world, we have industrialized the world, we’ve taught the world to reach for the stars.

Yes, we’ve also done a lot less admirable things.

Because our system of government is corruptible and influentiable by people who seize it. And it is the worst. Except for all other systems.

Sure, I believe in foreordained kings.

The king of America is the people. Each and every one of them.

And yeah, there are usurpers who’ve seized our throne. They’re terrified of us even though we’ve been sleeping. You can tell from the way they sneer at populism and scream at nationalism.

Because the king and the nation are one.

And the people are the king.

And we’re waking.

Sorry I didn’t do a post today. I’d completely forgotten we had a doctor’s appointment. To make matters worse, we’re still locked in battle with the insurance, which seems to think Dan’s diabetes should go untreated because any meds that treat it are not covered. And we don’t have a second mortgage’s worth of money to hand.

That’s life. We’re doing battle. This was the inevitable result of Obama Care’s regulating insurance. Every year it goes up and it covers less.

This too shall pass one way or another. Right now I have a righteous mad, and I’m going to have some tea, then write fiction to calm myself.

I would very much like the government out of our healthcare yesterday, please and thank you. But it’s going to get worse before it gets better.

So, tea and fiction.

If America had a symbol, it would be bigger than.

Matthew Bowman (probably in one of those flashes of insight one has when baby is making one sleep-deprived) said on Facebook, that the rest of the world just sees Americans as extreme. Americans is where big things happen. Good or bad? Yes. but big. Much bigger than in the rest of the world. And it got my mind ticking.

He’s right. And wrong. I mean, it’s how the rest of the world sees us, and there’s a lot of things that feed into the myth. But it’s not true. It’s more that we’re more… real? than the rest of the world. We take things to their logical conclusions, little hampered by “but it’s never been done before.” We have severed our roots, but we’ve bound ourselves to other roots, to a document that is supposed to set our limits.

And yes, I know what you’re going to say. And yes, that’s the problem precisely. To the extent that America is bound to the Constitution America is bigger than but good. In gamer terms? Chaotic good. (No bear with me. I’ll explain.) But if we’re unbound? Good or bad? Mostly yes. Very fast. And very, very big.

What do I mean by bigger? Well, I remembered the other day that the Guiana’s People Temple massacre took place on my birthday. I remember waking up to the newspapers being full of it. But you know, I never associated it. I have pleasant memories from that birthday, because it was probably my biggest party. For some reason I had a lot of “friends” at the time. (Yes, note the quotes. They weren’t enemies, but they weren’t close friends either. Yet, for the first time in a long time, I had people who were very friendly acquaintances, ten or so, which made it the biggest group I ever had at a party. Ever.)

How could I wake up to descriptions of that horror and not identify it with the date? Easy. because at the time I had it firmly set in my head that in America huge things happened all the time, good and bad. I don’t think I believed, as a lot of people we fight with on line do, that in America people got up and shot fifteen people before breakfast, then shot their way into work, etc. But I did believe that in America crime was much, much higher. Particularly in the cities. When I stayed fifteen days in NYC upon landing (In an enclosed college campus — it was an orientation thing for our group) I heard sirens day and night, and I thought ‘Ahah.’ It wasn’t till much, much later that I realized the bulk of those sirens would be in hot pursuit of speeders, red light runners and just coming to the scene of accidents.

But it’s the image. You can be shivved in any random walk through the neighborhood, but on the other hand, someone can discover you and make you a Hollywood star, or give you a million dollars or something.

You can be a pauper or a king, but not anything in between.

Look, I know that’s not true. Most of us live lives of routine and politeness, and while I personally was once two minutes from an armed robbery (we’d just left the Kroger when the armed robbers went in. No seriously. Downtown Colorado Springs. Tiny neighborhood store) the only times I’ve been shot at, or been near someone who was shot was not in the US.

Part of this is of course that they get our news, but they imagine that our news instead of sensationalizing things mute them down. So they imagine it’s more like the movies, all the time. I have the hardest time explaining to mom that I don’t routinely get shot at on the way to the grocery store and don’t have to dodge a car chase on the regular, while going out for sewing notions or something. And she visited the US. (Granted tiny Manitou Springs. She probably thinks it’s the exception.)

But the other part of it is that to them (and to an extent to the history of the world) we’re unfathomable.

You guys, if you grew up here probably don’t get this. Heck, I didn’t fully get this until I was here and had more contact with Portuguese, from here to there, because I was broken and never paid any attention to what people expected of me. (Not paid any attention is the wrong way to put it. I didn’t “see it”. I still have that issue here, just less so because things tend to be more explicit. Except where they aren’t, and then I run into trouble.)

But there is a bound assumption that you’ll do something like what your ancestors have done. Jobs are acquired ONLY through connections (It’s getting that way here) so changing ‘class’ is really really hard (Not so much here because our connections frankly don’t care about “class” or if someone is in a manual or intellectual profession.)

Some jumping can occur through entering University, say, when you’re the first in your family, but it’s still hard. And beyond that, there is a powerful substratum of “this is how it’s always been done. Always.” and shock when people do things differently.

In America, even when that happens, it’s not what is expected. America as a culture is where we can do anything, or at least that’s the expectation.

And part of the expectation was us doing the impossible. Don’t ask me why, but we’re the only country who kicked out the king, put up a constitution and hasn’t FORMALLY reconstituted three or four times since. I mean, yes, the Constitution has been ignored and twisted every which way but lose, but we’ve not outright tossing it out and rewriting it every generation. Most of the countries who tried to follow in our footsteps (with various degrees of crazy shot it, like France which had all the crazy) have.

Instead, we have despite fraud and other things followed the peaceful revolution every four years, and except for the Civil war (which yes, was big, but also the result of pushing big issues under the rug) haven’t had a set-to in forever.

This is so weird that even the founding fathers didn’t expect it.

And it’s not genetics, because genetics have changed so much from the beginning. (BTW, that alarming statistic of most Americans or half Americans or whatever have a parent born abroad? I see those families every time I go grocery shopping. To an extent I are those families ;) . And it’s because American males are marrying abroad a lot, now that communication across the ocean is a trivial matter. And that’s because American culture is bigger than life, and women are attracted to the winning tribe. Also, from my kids’ friends, those with one parent from abroad are more American than George Washington and FAR more American than Alexander Hamilton.)

Anyway, I think the magic sauce is that all of us here are either immigrants or descended from those who were. (Shut up. There are no full blood Amerinds. Not a single one.) In a new place, it’s easier to break the unspoken ties of culture and stick to the Constitution. or try to.

This has cast us loose to make our own way. Sometimes we choose bloody stupid things — like Prohibition — but most of the time, it frees us from the errors of the past.

Which means, to the rest of the world, we appear unfathomable. And bigger. Just bigger.

This is why I say communism has to die here. No, it has never worked anywhere else, but stupid idiots don’t realize it’s against human nature itself, and think it could maybe work here. I mean we’ve done the impossible before.

They’re not wrong. Except about communism, which is a mind virus hooking into very old tribal sentiment. Part of the reason it had and still has such a hard time infecting here. But it it were a simple utopian philosophy? Yeah, we’ve done that before. (Most of them have failed, yes, but we sure tried them.)

It’s also why if any nation or culture can take us to the stars, we can. Because we do the impossible, the strange, what can’t be done.

We’re greater than. We’re humanity unleashed.

And this is why dooming based on other people’s histories will not be predictive.

We’re not the same. We’re qualitatively and quantitatively different.

This is not chest beating. It’s just a change in how things are done. Romans were just such a step. They were the first culture to more or less (less than more, but all the same) look beyond tribalism. We’re the next step in that, with classism also left in the dust, and innovation baked in.

We’re something quite new.

Which means the old pathways turn weird shapes here.

And yeah, that does mean we could end up worse than anyone else, sure thing.

Or you know, we could end up better.

It’s a risk we take, and we’re a risk taking people? Me? I choose to believe and work towards our ending up better.

Someone has to take humanity to the stars. And I say it should be us.

Because we’re greater than.

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. A COMMISSION IS EARNED FROM EACH PURCHASE.*Note that I haven’t read most of these books (my reading is eclectic and “craving led”,) and apply the usual cautions to buying. I reserve the right not to run any submission, if cover, blurb or anything else made me decide not to, at my sole discretion.– SAH

FROM JERRY BOYD: There’s No Space Like Home (Bob and Nikki Book 44)

The Gene scrambles to help Milly. Watch as they get through the obstacles to bring her home safe. Bob and Nikki decide to finish their shore leave on Earth. A nice relaxing few days in the Holler, right? You know better by now, don’t you? Come find out what all happens.

FROM LAURA MONTGOMERY: The Wheels Run Truly: A Science Fiction Lost Colony Adventure (Martha’s Sons Book 6)

Two brothers fight for freedom. A lost colony’s governor strives to reinvent the feudal state. Can Martha’s sons escape to liberty and a future?

Thaddeus Dawe is a patient man. On a planet where only the valley of First Landing is fully terraformed, he waits for spring’s agonizingly slow arrival. He plans to take the colony’s last terraseeder to fortify a secret northern enclave outside the governor’s control. When the palace loses power in late winter, Thaddeus scrambles to save his and his brothers’ hopes for independence.

Peter Dawe suffers under another secret. When he receives his brother’s call to return from exile to save the terraseeder, Peter forces himself to disclose his long-planned departure to those who sheltered and befriended him, including the woman he wants in his life. None of that goes as planned, and he heads north responsible once again for too many lives.

With the terraseeder losing power, a promise he has yet to fulfill, and the governor’s men against him, Thaddeus fears the new chaos marks the imminent death of the essential terraforming microbes and the failure of the new world he plans to build. Peter has spent the winter learning skills for his brothers’ northern plans, but joining Thaddeus’ team puts not only his own life at risk, but that of the woman he gives up to friendship.

Can the Dawe brothers escape the governor’s dominion with the life-giving terraseeder in time, and with their friends and loved ones alive?

The Wheels Run Truly is the final installment in the gripping science fiction colonization series, Martha’s Sons. If you like driven heroes, deep bonds of love and friendship, and a fight for freedom, you’ll need to read Laura Montgomery’s thrilling adventure tale.

FROM SPENCER HART: The Masuyo Incident

A short story adventure. The Year is 2185, in a timeline not quite our own. The Jovian Guard patrols the space near Jupiter and its inhabited moons, potentially the last uncontaminated human settlements in the Solar System since the plague 50 years ago.

Lieutenant Osiris Jackson, aboard the patrol ship Nevada, intercepts a distress call from the civilian ship Masuyo near the moon Callisto. Is the crippled ship the result of a mere accident, or are more sinister forces in play?

The young officer is plunged into a life-or-death situation with far more at stake than he realizes as he tries to save the mysterious Callistan passengers.

FROM J.M. ANJEWIERDEN: The Long Black (Audiobook)

Morgan always assumed that if she could survive growing up in the mines of Planet Hillman – feared for its brutal conditions and gravity twice that of Earth – she could survive anything. That was before she became a starship mechanic. Now she has to contend with hostile bosses, faulty equipment, and even taking care of her friend’s little girl. Once pirates show up, it’s a wonder she can get any work done at all.

FROM HOLLY CHISM: Normalcy Bias: Look closer…things aren’t always what they seem to be.

Look closer. The things that you’re assuming you’re seeing? May not be what you think. Is that really a mouse, or is it a Brownie? Is that really an owl? Is that polished gemstone a stone…or an egg?

We take so many things for granted. Some of them may be harmless, but many are a lot less so. I wonder how many people ignore red flags every day, because they only see what they expect to see?

This collection takes what’s “normal” and asks “What if it’s something more?”

FROM DALE COZORT: Exchange: Book One of the Exchange Universe

It’s called Bear Country, an untamed alternate reality where humans never evolved, but saber-tooth tigers and suspiciously intelligent little green monkeys did. Random chunks of Bear Country are temporarily swapped—exchanged—with Earth, bringing a risk-averse, bubble-wrapped society unimagined threats, from giant bears to the hazards of unknown bacteria. They also bring opportunity for anyone brave enough—or crazy enough—to settle there.

Computer guru Sharon Mack prepares to evacuate when she finds out her town is about to be Exchanged . But when her crazed ex-husband kidnaps their autistic daughter, dragging her into Bear Country, Sharon has no choice but to go after them, find her daughter, and escape before the Exchange reverses, cutting her off from her own reality forever.
Flash floods and giant bears aren’t the most dangerous thing in this wild frontier. Bands of escaped convicts, with nothing left to lose, roam freely in a land with no laws but survival of the strongest. Then there’s enigmatic Leo West and the secretive Sister West cult, determined to claim Bear Country for their own. And there are those willing to kill to hide the true secrets of the Exchange.

Exchange is the first book in the Exchange universe. The second is Devouring Wind, available now.

FROM LEIGH KIMMEL: Ice Storm

Everywhere Evangeline looks, a thin coating of ice makes objects gleam in the sunlight. However, the beauty proves deceptive, for it hides a deadly secret, one only she can recognize.

In her youth, Evangeline had aspired ot master the powerful magics of her world. Those dreams died the day her Gift awakened uncontrolled and plunged her into a vision of a full fleet battle. The Admiral’s Gift will not be denied, and for Evangeline there was no choice but to trade her mage’s robes for Navy blue.

Now she is faced with an enemy she cannot fight save by magic. Except those who bear the Admiral’s gift are forever barred from working magic.

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: Handy

The Dreams of which Stuff is Made – by Wyrdbard

No, this isn’t about quantum physics.  This is about fantasy, science fiction, horror, and all the rest.  It is also about the human spirit.

Our hostess has more than once said we are a storytelling species.  (And while I have issues with the also oft cited Hogfather quote, the point it makes is good.)  Wisdom is usually dearly bought, and each generation tries to pass along that which is right and true to the next.  Or at least the functional ones do.

Which is where storytellers come in.  Science fiction and fantasy and yes, horror, all serve a purpose.  Fantasy is “What dreams should I dream and how do I tell good dreams from bad ones?”  Science fiction is “I have dreams, what do I do with them?  And what if people chase the bad ones?”  Horror is “When our dreams go terribly wrong this is the result.  Be careful.” (Though I will speak less of horror than the other two.  It is not my genre in any sense.)

Now, this does not mean each story should be a sermon.  But stories, by their nature, play with ideas.  Truth is a slippery creature, how do you show someone it is important? Stories can often do that more clearly than raw facts.  This sort of thing is why Sabaton is so effective at hooking people into history.  Yes, they get details wrong, but the STORY is compelling and that pulls people in to go find the facts.

In defense of fantasy:

Fantasy is the realm of dreams.  What if?  What if we could… it rarely concerns itself with how except in the mad scramble of the REACH for the thing that works right now.  Also, by its touch with the mystical, shows faith more clearly than Science Fiction usually manages.  Faith in science fiction often becomes another fact.  It can be a human fact but the wonder of faith is often lost in Science Fiction, where it more easily comes to the fore in Fantasy.

Dreams can be good, dreams can be bad.  Fantasy looks at them, and little fancies spun out to their conclusion let us test them without touching the real world with them.  Fantasy answers “Can dragons be killed?”  Fantasy answers “Can life go on?”  Fantasy answers “Can men of good will rise to the occasion?”  Fantasy answers “What darkness tempts men’s souls?”  Fantasy also answers “Can a man resist the darkness?”  Fantasy answers “What are the duties of a Leader?”

Fantasy also looks at ‘where do we come from’.  With its roots in the mythological it can help us set our roots deep in our past.  “What drove our ancestors?”  We have their stories and myths and legends, and while some things are shockingly different, courage and honor and truth weave through them.  So there is a connection and a good one.  Fantasy lets us examine all those things so we can learn from mistakes, and embrace strengths of the past.

Many of the old things are under attack.  The foundation upon which the future is built is under attack.  Strength is derided unless it is the strength of the thug.  Yet, as long as Aragorn, son of Arathorn is spoken of, as long as the High King Peter steps out on to the field with Miraz the Usurper, as long as a mouse named Mathias opposes a besieging bilge rat (Redwall for those unfamiliar), strength and courage an honor have not lost their hold.

In defense of Science Fiction:

If Fantasy deals in what dreams are and the past, Science Fiction deals in what comes beyond dreams.  Science Fiction deals in ‘can we make the dream real?’  Science Fiction also deals in ‘should we make the dream real?’  Which is why there is more cautionary Science Fiction than Fantasy.  Fantasy looks to the stars, Science Fiction touches them.

Rather than “Can the dragon be killed?”  Science Fiction asks “How do we kill the dragon, and what comes after?”  Science Fiction asks “How does life go on?”  Science fiction asks “What causes men of good will to rise to the occasion?”  Science Fiction asks “What kind of system leads to leaders that follow their duty and what is an appropriate duty?”  Science Fiction asks “How does man resist the darkness?”

Science Fiction asks more than it answers.  It is the playground of the future.  It builds on that which goes before and tries to reach the next star.  If Fantasy gives roots, Science fiction gives up reaching branches.  It seeks to go further and fast and seeks the NEW.  The possibilities.  Science Fiction is a quest to find out what we will become.

Like the old, the new is under attack.  Science Fiction tells people that they can build anew upon the old roots.  And that they can choose who and what to be.  It warns them to choose wisely.  Which is why so much these days the emphasis is on the past.  Those who build, who reach, might find something strange or dangerous.  As strength is derrided, so is the ability to build new strength. Yet we have Honor Harrington.  We have Dorsai.  We have Luke and Leia challenging Admiral Thrawn.  As long as these and their companions exist we have branches that reach for the stars, and we can add more.

Roots of fantasy, branches of Science Fiction, the strong trunk of the present.  That trunk is also under assault.  The roots nourish it.  The Branches challenge it.  And there are stories of the real, the now.  Worthwhile ones, though they are seldom stories found in books these days.  (And there are exceptions even there.)

Stories do not have to be fictitious.  Sabaton is not.  The tales some folk here tell of their lives and the lives of others are stories as well, wrapped in a presentation that people wish to listen to.  And the stories will outlast the teller.  Somehow they always seem to.

This power is why stories and the arts were some of the first targets of the culture war.  This power is why Indie is so valuable.  The stories are there and can be found.  Courage is not dead.  Strength is not gone.  Hope is not lost.