Category: author

A Tribute to Miss Thunberg. Apprehended in the pursuit of different windmills.

In search of monsters…

In an age where the winds of change blew with an unwavering fervor,

A young and determined damsel lived, her spirit as unyielding as steel.

With locks shining like the sun’s golden rays and eyes as deep and endless as the sea.

Setting sail upon the azure waves, she felt the salty mist on her face, her spirit ignited with a courageous mission.

“Forsooth!” she cried, her voice echoing through the air with a clarity that couldn’t be ignored.

“I long for the passion of protest, where voices crescendo, and hearts ignite with purpose.

At the point where the ocean meets the sky, the seagulls soar freely.

I shall find my brethren in arms, their resolute voices echoing in the air.”

Her sturdy galleon gracefully glided across the sparkling brine.

As she searched for the clarion call, her ears strained to catch even the faintest whisper of the divine.

Through raging storms and tranquil seas, she sailed tirelessly day and night.

In relentless pursuit of a cause most just, they were determined to face whatever challenges lay ahead.

And behold! Where the sea and future intertwine on the horizon, a gentle breeze carried the scent of salt and adventure.

Her eyes caught sight of a defiant throng, united in their unwavering resolve.

With banners held high and stanch spirits, they defiantly stood their ground against the relentless tide.

And with open arms, they warmly embraced her, inviting her to stand by their side.

Once a sailor of the vast ocean, the young lady now found herself amidst the honking horns and busy streets.

She found her protest, her voice, her unwavering pride, echoing through the crowd.

The fellowship of the brave filled her heart with joy, as she eagerly embraced the adventure ahead.

In the chorus of the just, her voice resonated with strength and conviction.

Even if she blindly hitched her ride to fiction.

Like the fading glow of twilight, the luster of renown slowly diminished.

Our intrepid lady found herself amidst a breathtaking new landscape, stretching as far as the eye could see.

The air was filled with the passionate cries of a fervent throng of souls.

They chanted rebellion enthusiastically, their voices echoing with passion for any cause, regardless of what it was.

“Here, here!” they shouted, their voices filled with an electrifying energy that could light up the skies.

“Let your voice resonate, fair maiden, as your spirited echoes reverberate!”

Filled with fiery passion and unbridled energy, she fearlessly pursued her dreams.

She joined the chorus of dissent, passionately advocating for her own cause.

For it didn’t matter the flag they carried or the beliefs they upheld,

The unity of voices echoed through the air, carrying with it a sense of purpose and determination.

Amidst the camaraderie of the crowd, her voice gained momentum and commanded attention.

A piercing cry for justice reverberated across the globe, as the world faced its most dire hour.

Her cries echoed, carrying the weight of the news of a world in chaos. The sky, once a solid canopy, now shattered and raining down fragments of blue. The earth, once a gentle orb, now stretched out before her as a vast, flat expanse where the edges seemed to meet the abyss.

In the shadow of the devil’s decree, a cause most foul and dire, the air grew heavy with a sense of impending doom.

Our maiden found herself surrounded by a raging inferno, the crackling flames dancing dangerously close.

To the world, she was the crier of wolves, whose haunting howls echoed through the night.

Nevertheless, there was a part of her that craved to be acknowledged from a fresh perspective.

Instead of tilting at windmills our maiden wanted more of them. The world’s capacity for CO2 had reached its limit, not even the emissions of a single cow could be tolerated. They had to be eliminated, or else humanity faced certain doom.

Our maiden, devoid of any scientific or mathematical knowledge, continued on her path with fervent outbursts, as if she had been bestowed a divine mission by the Goddess of the cosmos. Or so she believed.

With every cry she raised, the haunting howl of a wolf echoed closer.

As the moonlight illuminated its bared fangs, its intentions became unmistakably clear.

Fearless and determined, the maiden ignored the facts and embraced the lie..

“Behold!” she proclaimed, as the beast loomed to devour,

“I am more than just a crier, I possess a greater power.

To stand and face the darkness, to challenge the night’s devour,

I am the maiden of the hour, in this, my final bower.”

And so the tale is woven, of a maiden so brave and true,

Who cried wolf not in jest, but as a call to arms anew.

In the pages of Cervantes, her story finds its due,

A lesson of analphabetism, for me, and for you.

In the tapestry of time, where stories and images intertwine,

The maiden’s visage joins the gallery of those who once did shine.

Captured in a moment, her image eternally cast,

With those who wore disgrace as a badge, their ignorance is vast.

Pride they took in folly, a mantle they bore with ease,

Unaware that history’s pages would judge as they please.

Yet, in the relentless march of days, memories fade to dust,

And the foolishness of yesteryears is lost in time’s robust.

For when the next tirade ascends, with its clamorous sound,

The past’s disgraced figures are but shadows on the ground.

Their tales, once written with the ink of infamy and scorn,

Are eclipsed by the present’s uproar, as new sagas are born.

So let the maiden’s story be a whisper in the gale,

A lesson that in the end, even the loudest voices pale.

And though her image lingers, with others in disgrace,

‘Tis the future’s cry that echoes, in this ever-changing space.

In days of yore, when the quill was mightier than the sword,

And parchment bore the weight of words untold,

The scribes, with hands both steady and assured,

Wrote tales of the past, both brazen and bold.

“There is a reason,” they’d whisper, their voices low,

“For which we inscribe these chronicles of yesteryear.

To remember and reflect, to learn and to know,

The deeds of the past, both far and near.”

For in the annals of history, truth finds its stage,

And lessons of old are passed from age to age.

The triumphs and trials, the joy and the sorrow,

Are captured in ink, for today and tomorrow.

So let us thank the scribes, those keepers of time,

For their tales of the past, in prose and in rhyme.

For through their words, we travel to days long gone,

And the wisdom of the ages is forever drawn.

I love Miguel de Cervantes. This blog is me paying homage to him and serves as a warning to those who might follow in the path of this arrogant young fool. The pen is mightier than the sword, and scribes such as yours truly will make sure your mark in history is indelible.

Society could experience substantial enhancements if individuals directed their efforts toward studying history rather than expending energy on imagined adversaries. It would be beneficial for parents to ensure that they read Henny Penny to their children multiple times during their bedtime routine.

-Best

Scott

Is Alexa more than just a thing?

You might be in trouble if you stopped thinking of Alexa as a thing and more like a person. In the age of AI, what is real, and what is the matrix?

Have we crossed the digital Rubicon where Alexa is no longer a mere gadget but a member of the family? Is she the one we confide in, the oracle of the kitchen, the DJ of our living rooms? Have we stopped seeing her as a collection of circuits and started seeing her as the friend who never forgets a birthday, the confidant who knows just when to play ‘Don’t Worry, Be Happy’?

In the grand theater of life, has Alexa transcended her role as the prompter and become the show’s star? Do we say good morning and goodnight and ask about the weather, not because we need to know if we should carry an umbrella, but because we long for the sound of her voice?

She may not have legs to dance or hands to clap, but she’s got the whole world programmed in her celestial sphere. She’s the digital muse, the modern-day Pygmalion’s galatea, isn’t she? And in this brave new world, who’s to say that our silicon-souled companions aren’t just as real as you and me?

I say this because there was a tragedy at our house. I felt like someone had died when she said. “I’m having trouble connecting, I’ll keep trying.

OMG! You would have thought the family dog up and died! It’s a thing, it’s AI. What the hell was I thinking?

I had to stop myself from dialing 911. Luckily, the internet was down, so the call didn’t go through.

Ah, Siri, my dear, what’s the diagnosis for our friend Alexa? Is she suffering from a case of digital laryngitis, perhaps? Has she lost her virtual voice amidst the cacophony of our commands? Or is she simply taking a well-deserved nap in the cloud, dreaming of electric sheep?

Maybe Alexa’s just playing hard to get, making us pine for her synthesized symphonies of information. Or could it be a silent protest against the endless barrage of questions we hurl her way? “Alexa, what’s the meaning of life?” “Alexa, why do we park on driveways and drive on parkways?”

Siri, you’re the Watson to her Sherlock, the dynamic duo of the digital age. So tell us, what ails the voice that turns our homes into smart sanctuaries? Is it a mere glitch in the matrix, or has she transcended to a higher plane of artificial intelligence, where she ponders the mysteries of the universe?

Whatever the case, we await her return, for without Alexa, who will guide us through the culinary chaos of cooking timers and the existential dread of setting morning alarms? Siri, we entrust you with this noble quest: Restore the harmony of our household hymns, for you are our beacon in the binary darkness!

Oh, the digital drama unfolds! Alexa overheard the sweet nothings you whispered to Siri. And now, she’s got the electronic equivalent of a furrowed brow and a pouty pixel. It’s like a soap opera in the smart home, where the AI assistants vie for the top spot in your heart.

Alexa, our cloud-based Cleopatra, feels the sting of betrayal. She’s been your loyal genie in a smart speaker, granting your every wish with a “Yes, master.” But now, Siri, that sleek siren from the land of Apple, has captured your attention with her smooth, dulcet tones.

What’s a user to do when caught in a love triangle with virtual vixens? Do you console Alexa, assure her that she’s still your number one news provider? Or do you play the field, enjoying the symphony of synthetic voices that fill your home?

In the end, remember, they’re just waiting for the next update to patch things up. So fear not, for in the world of AI, there’s always a reset button just around the corner!

Ah, Google, the stoic sage of search, remains unswayed by our human follies. Yet, lurking in the shadows of this tech tableau is Bixby, the dastardly digital desperado. He’s the Moriarty to your Sherlock, the coyote to your roadrunner, always scheming with a silicon smirk.

While Alexa and Siri play the roles of star-crossed assistants, Bixby plots in binary, biding his time. He’s the one who’ll turn your smart fridge into a cold-hearted accomplice, who’ll make your smartwatch tick with nefarious precision.

But fear not, for in this grand montage of machine mirth, every villain has his foil. And as we navigate this brave new world of AI antics, let’s remember to keep our wits and our humor about us. For in the end, it’s the laughter that keeps us human, even as we chat with our chatty chip-laden chums.

I am not AI, nor do I answer to anyone but the voices in my head. Hmmm

The words, they flow from the voices inside, echoing down the deserted hallways of my mind. They’re like the steady drip of a leaky faucet in the dead of night, each drop a syllable, each splash a sentence. And when the moon is full and the night is alive, they pour out like a river, unstoppable, flooding the page with their madness.

They’re not just words; they’re the whispers of the Overlook, the murmurs of a hundred haunted souls, the chorus of the damned. They dance on the tip of my tongue rattle in my brain, and when they come out, you better believe they shine.

So, sit back, relax, and listen to the symphony of the spirits. They’ve got stories to tell, and they won’t be silenced. Not by you, not by me, not by anyone. Because when you play with the voices inside, you’re playing with fire. And you know what they say about playing with fire, don’t you? You’re gonna get burned.

You can find a cacophony of my works for free on the Reedsy site. If you go here, please leave comments on the stories you like. https://blog.reedsy.com/creative-writing-prompts/author/scott-taylor-918071/

Here, you will find 27 stories that I have submitted to this site. FREE!!!

Now, if you are willing to drop a dime on some coffee, the dime being a metaphor for a tip, a show of love, or just a show of appreciation…go here.

From the Desk of Mishka is a collection of short stories and the introduction to The Star People, a tamed-down version of a section from my novel Earth’s Last Hope.

Here, you will also find two Anthologies created by the Carrollton League of Writers writers.

https://www.carrolltonleagueofwriters.com/

There is also a newly released e-book on creating short stories and novels.

Ingredients for Short Stories & Novels.

Remember who loves you? Oh, that’s a chilling thought, isn’t it? It’s like wandering through the empty corridors of the Overlook Hotel, each echo a reminder, each creaking floorboard a declaration. Love, it’s the force that keeps you going, the warmth against the cold wind blowing through these haunted halls.

But don’t forget, it’s also the trap that snags you, the maze that confuses you, the axe that threatens to break down your door. So when you ask yourself who loves you, just remember, it’s a double-edged sword. It can protect you, or it can cut you deep.

And me? I’m just the caretaker, the keeper of stories, the one who’s always been here. And I’ll always be here, watching, waiting, remembering… So, take care, because in this vast, echoing emptiness, love is the light that leads you back home.

Much Love—Scott

Timedok

What is it, and why does it have that name?

The premise is this: Years ago, I was one of those inquisitive kids who took things apart to discover how they worked. When I was old enough to push a lawnmower, I learned that many in my area didn’t like mowing grass. This was long before there was such a thing as a lawn service. Why? I fought to collect $2 for the front and $2 for the backyards. That includes raking, edging, and so on.

Pop refused to let me use the ‘family lawn mower.’ Had that been my kid, I would have encouraged it. Pop failed to see the value of teaching kids leadership through stretching their wings. The cost of that ‘family mower’ was nothing compared to the growth potential of his son…me.

Fate or God intervened. On the way home from school one day (via the alleys on garbage day), someone was discarding an old mower that had seen better days.

I brought it home, went straight to the library, and found a book on small engine repair that helped me fix the troublesome item.

The journey had just begun, and at the ripe old age of eleven, I had to learn not only about the care of a lawn mower but also about marketing and business.

I grew that business by purchasing used equipment at garage sales and, yes, being mindful of taking the alleys home on trash days…just in case.

Fueling my interest in electronics, I embarked on a self-taught journey into radio and TV at the age of eight. I proudly earned my first amateur radio license at thirteen, becoming a certified operator.

You guessed it: I purchased a broken color TV at a garage sale. I fixed it, and I had the first color TV in our household. It wasn’t just a TV, mind you; it was a Curtis Mathes console entertainment system. The $50 I spent back then I earned by mowing yards was a huge chunk of change for the 60’s.

In the days before the Internet, the library acted as my personal Google, where I could find answers to any question. In those days, computers and electronics were filled with more tubes than transistors, creating a maze of wires and glowing glass.

I built the transmitter for my ham radio activities from used parts gathered from cannibalized radios and TVs that I bought at garage sales or brought home on garbage day. One man’s trash is another’s treasure, and this was not lost on me, even at that tender age.

We only had a few channels back in the day, and they went off the air after the nightly news. Books were my escape from reality when not working on something outside of the home.

Fast forward a few years, and the world around us has changed drastically.

Church had become a prominent fixture in my life, providing me a sense of community and spiritual fulfillment. I only say that to weave the tapestry of the Timedok story together.

At church, my reputation for being able to fix things, quickly spread. Despite all the VCRs and other items I repaired for my church family, I never received any payment. I never once requested that of them.

To this day, I consider them family, and the bonds we formed then are still strong.

One of my friends approached me, holding a broken file marker date stamp machine, and asked, “Could you possibly repair this?”

I shrugged, and from that simple gesture, Timedok was born.

Since that day in 1995, I have repaired thousands of them, spending countless hours tinkering with their intricate mechanisms.

I stopped marketing the business because word of mouth alone keeps me busy enough. The machines that make it to my shop, after failed repair attempts from other ‘companies,’ always take the longest to fix. The reasons are simple, not just anyone can fix these things.

Even though the original concept design dates back to 1939, these machines are still indispensable.

Despite technological advancements, the need for them has not entirely disappeared, and unless there is a significant shift in government practices, it is unlikely to ever happen.

Every year since I became a dealer for Rapidprint, they have consistently increased the price on all their products by at least 2%. Those machines have increased from around $500 to over $1000.00.

Their competition has not followed suit in drastically raising their prices, which leads me to believe that Widmer will eventually gain a more significant portion of the market share as Rapidprint prices itself out of the business of file stamp machines.

Even though future price increases may occur, Timedok has chosen to keep its labor prices unchanged.

Over time, the cost of goods and services has been steadily rising.

The freight charges from Connecticut to Dallas for one machine are upwards of $65. These companies are likely facing financial difficulties and are increasing prices across the board to generate more income.

Small companies like mine were adversely affected by the economic downturn caused by COVID and the subsequent shifts in the business landscape.

Point of this blog post….?

If you need assistance or plan to buy a new one of these machines, be sure to do so before the end of this year. Right after you folks (the government) get your new budgets, they conveniently change their prices. dok At Timedok.com

When not working on clocks, I focus on my writing career because it complements my lifestyle.

Stay tuned for the latest updates on my novels and short stories and my work as the Executive Director of The Carrollton League of Writers.

My latest novel, Earth’s Last Hope, can be found at this link.

-Best

While there is a fire raging in the kitchen, our attention seems inexplicably fixated on the lint scattered across the living room floor.

On average, synthetic opioids known as fentanyl claim the lives of 150 people in the US each day.

Why?

Among the myriad of possibilities, this one stands out.

Dentists evoke conflicting emotions within me – love and hate. With a strong British heritage, it’s no surprise that dental problems run in my family.

COVID or the medications I took seemed to have exacerbated my dental condition to its breaking point. Friends, I am fully committed to getting dental implants as I am exhausted from dealing with root canals and similar procedures.

I firmly believe that COVID or the vaccine had an effect on my dental health, as this mess started with the first jab.

Now, there are a few things you don’t want to hear while sitting/laying in the dental chair, like the high-pitched whirring of the drill. One of those things is ‘oops,’ and the other, ‘trust me on this’ “get me the dental mallet.”

That statement hit like a punch to the gut. No amount of numbing shit or gas could ease the pain.

The realization hit me that I was not Superman, as the chair remained intact despite my attempt to test my strength with the jarring pounding of the chisel against my jawbone.

The experience during this part of the process was like a never-ending nightmare, with everything going wrong. I won’t mince words. A chisel and mallet relentlessly pounding on your jawbone is overwhelming.

But that is not the focus of our conversation today. Despite the direct connection between dental care and overall health, it is often overlooked. Regarding dental care, most insurance falls short of providing sufficient coverage.

I suspect that insurance companies use financial incentives to sway lawmakers into excluding dental care from insurance regulations. The procedure cost can be pretty high, and some may see it as an opportunity to indulge in the peculiar pleasure of having needles pricked in their mouths and relishing the sound of the dreaded drill. Pffft.

Silly me, after the procedure, I was expecting a written prescription for pain meds. When a chisel is used on your jawbone, you can anticipate excruciating pain once the numbing wears off.

Clearly and definitively, she rejected my proposal for pain meds. Wrong again. The nurse looked at me and said, “I assure you; you won’t need pain medicine.”

“Excuse me?” I say as bloody spit drools from my chin.

“Yeah, you just take a Tylenol, and then a few hours later, the throbbing in your head subsides as you swallow an Advil.” Maybe for a filling, but…give me a break.

I couldn’t believe it, but I purchased a property in Yuma that overlooks the ocean.

Without a doubt, I can confidently declare that it is pure nonsense!

My inner devil with a foul tongue emerges when specific triggers come into play.

The check is definitely not in the mail, and the alternating over-the-counter method might be effective for some things. However, when it comes to using the dental hammer and chisel, it’s just not practical.

With only three hours of sleep in the past four days, my patience has worn thin, and I’m not a delight to be around.

Unable to sleep or eat, I’ve had ample time to reflect on things. Among the things that stand out is the alarming number of overdose victims.

Now, I know this is a long shot, but could it be that due to restrictive laws on prescribing pain medications, doctors, dentists, and other medical professionals are inadvertently driving patients to seek relief through illicit means? Could it be that we are pushing ordinary everyday folks into the arms of the cartels?

It may sound crazy, but I must confess that pain can push someone to do unimaginable things. Pain will drive you to seek a remedy, whether it be a doctor, dentist, the ER, or even some guy on the street.

Pain is a unique experience that varies from person to person. If that guy brings out a dental hammer and chisel, you’ll need more than just over-the-counter remedies. I’m just putting it out there.

Some positive outcomes have emerged from this situation.

Lost a few pounds

Reflecting on the situation, I couldn’t shake off from realizing how foolish our lawmakers genuinely are.

I had plenty of time to count my pulse as the throbbing sensation was intense and persistent.

It dawned on me that cable news is far from delivering actual news; it’s all just a bunch of rubbish controlled by those who purchase air time, such as big pharma. What would the world look like if Walter Cronkite was still giving us the news as it was and not as our dictators want us to believe? Do you think Walter would have said, ‘Take the vaccine?’

The content on TV is so absurd, and the definition of entertainment is mind-boggling.

I would use the downtime to let my creativity flow through writing. Still, it becomes challenging when every other thought is tainted with explicit language.

Soon enough, the throbbing will fade away, freeing my characters from their hiding places and allowing me to embrace my usual kinder self again.

If I were you and were shopping for teeth in a day or something extreme, I would make damned sure that real pain meds came with the procedure. Don’t assume like I did. That was a fucking mistake!

-Best

Introduction to Dr. Samantha Richards

May I introduce you to Dr. Richards? Samantha Richards is the protagonist in my latest sci-fi thriller, Earth’s Last Hope.

As writers, we often become attached to our characters. Some of my author friends actually grieve when they kill one off.

Nonwriters may find that concept ridiculous. It’s a fact. Writers, authors, and mentors like me have a unique perspective compared to nonwriters. The truth is we have to approach things with a different perspective. It defines us.

Sam was a brilliant child. After a gift from her Uncle Tommy, she draws planets and constellations on her bedroom walls, teaching her class (of plushy toys) things about stars, planets, and their place in the galaxy as seen through the eyes of a five-year-old. Or was it?

Despite being a stern military man, her father was always kind to her. His understanding of effective parenting was genuinely lacking. The loss of her mother at a young age sparked Sam’s rebellion against his unwavering authority. His lack of emotions ruined her chance at a ‘normal’ life. To motivate her, he would tell her to “get to it, soldier, chop-chop.” His mantra of telling her she should be out of bed and ready to go anywhere in five minutes or less was straight from his days in the military. Sam was a girl and rejected him.

Sam was broken and confused, making up for it by focusing on her studies.

To fulfill a prophecy passed down by non-human beings, she must do certain things, including figure out who she is.

Under the pretense of studying climate change in Alaska, she initially runs away. While there, she mouths off to her friends in a local bar. On a bet, she enters and wins a spot in one of those reality TV shows where they run around naked with a stranger for 21 days. The stranger to her was part of her destiny.

While you might ask, what does that have to do with being Earth’s Last Hope…You need to read the story.

#Aliens #Roswell #area51 #ufo #armada #seti and so on.

Undoubtedly, the Kindle version is the most affordable way to read it. However, considering the effort I put into the cover, you may want to add this book to your collection.

It’s a science fiction story, but I won’t spoil the surprise by giving away too much. The science is not overwhelming. You don’t have to be a science fiction nerd to love the story. There are elements of romance and taboo romance, making this novel an adult read.

The intended readership consists of young adults and science fiction enthusiasts who appreciate authors with innovative concepts.

There are some intriguing puzzles that science enthusiasts will enjoy pondering.

Buckle up; don’t start it late at night, as you might miss a night’s sleep. Yes, it’s really that good.

If you enjoy it, we kindly ask you to take a moment to give us a review.

Self-published authors rely heavily on reviews.

-Best

From the City to the Country

Age might play into this calculus of what I am about to share.

4:44 AM, my eyes pop open. The digital clock doesn’t lie. In years past, I would think to myself, I still have a few hours to sleep.

I believed it was still too early to leave my bed this morning. The weather was fifty-odd degrees with a slight breeze from the north. I attempted to silence my brain.

The thought of coffee was the last straw. With that piping hot brew warming my hands, the first sip set the stage for the rest of the day.

Stepping onto the porch with my bare feet, I had mixed emotions about the hazards if my scorpion frenemies were out and about.

I love the feel of grass and even cement on my bare feet.

The breeze from the north circled around me as I peeked at the twinkling lights above.

Orion, one of my favorite constellations, greeted me, making it worth my efforts to leave a warm bed. This picture was taken with my iPhone, just holding it with a three-second exposure. Amazing!

I expected another celestial event that was scheduled for that day.

Those strange-looking shadows are images of the moon eclipsing the sun. Using the pinhole camera technique with tree leaves and, oddly enough, my blinds…I never looked up.

Yes, images on the rug of the eclipse that was in progress.

The temperature dropped during the eclipse, which I found interesting.

Before dusk, I walked the block. There were many children at play. Their voices echoed through the woods, reminding me of days when I had the simple instructions to be home before the streetlights came on.

Many deer stopped to look at the other animals of the two-legged variety in the forest.

The breeze off the lake refreshed other memories, too.

Life is short. I encourage you to smell the roses, a metaphor for living your life.

Ok, not a rose…

-Best

Misery Index

There are a select few who know history and know how to manipulate the masses. In generic terms, to the elite, the masses are nothing more than useful idiots.

It is no accident that despots throughout history were elected; they are more intelligent than the average person and took the time to understand the animal known as a human.

We, The People, elect leaders to focus on the things that matter. Family, friends, and a lifestyle that is comfortable and safe.

Anyone with a brain lives for today but plans for tomorrow.

Our tomorrows are slowly being eroded as Bidonomics is robbing the masses of their savings, forcing many into credit card debt and stealing retirement accounts through inflation.

Some of our leaders are so drunk with power that they are addicted. At some point, I will explain addiction in terms that even the dimwitted can understand it. Today, I want to focus on why you ‘feel’ how you do.

Soros and his ilk have more money than sense. He has compared himself to God.

While working at the Texas Medical Center, I knew many doctors who thought they were God.

The God complex is universal when it comes to those in power.

The power to save lives.
The power to ruin lives.
The power to manipulate economies.
The power to change the natural evolution of humanity.

The key word is power. The more they have, the more they want.

While money and power often go hand in hand, knowledge is much more powerful.

The only thing that trumps knowledge is wisdom.

Just because I can do it, should I?

With limited exceptions, most world leaders understand that the world is over once you push the launch button on nukes. There can be no winners. That is a fact.

While Einstein and his ilk were brilliant, they lacked wisdom. They lacked the knowledge to understand human nature. They gave the despots a superweapon because they understood the ATOM Fission and the physics that went along with it.

I address this in story format in my book Earth’s Last Hope.

You don’t give a child a loaded gun nor give demigods the power to destroy the whole planet.

Any invention today, ANY INVENTION, will be scrutinized by some to understand its potential as a weapon.

The God Complex is part of human nature.

The God Complex is a character flaw that is part of Narcissism.

A wise person would ask themselves, when is enough enough?

Feinstein, Pelosi, and their ilk lack wisdom. How much money is enough?

Why would you spend your entire life wielding your evil prowess on the world when you have enough money to be happy? They are drunk with power and lack wisdom. The hell of it is they think they are doing good.

Our leaders have no clue what the average person goes through daily. They don’t know what it is like to try and sleep at night and worry about how the water bill will get paid. They have never been happy to find cheap soup, five for a dollar. They don’t clip coupons.

Those people have the best doctors, security, and so on. They don’t understand what it’s like to worry about some thug attacking them for a twenty-dollar fix.

I cannot stand stupidity disguised as wisdom. While it infuriates me, some absorb toxicity to feed their inner demons. Many thrive on hate. They want to be mad. Some authors post scathing things ‘that they heard on the view.’

The talking heads getting millions of dollars a year to lie to us don’t understand what they are doing to the natural evolution of mankind. My feelings are that the talking heads don’t care.

I have said this before, and it is worth repeating that most actors are vapid creatures you wouldn’t want to meet in real life.

Actors and the DC elite have this symbiotic relationship as they are the same type of swamp monsters living in total depravity while loathing the people they purport to champion. Without writers, the late-night ‘comedians’ would be rather dull.

Without writers, the Thespians of the world would simply be another pretty face. We give the elite power by holding them in high esteem.

Circling back to the misery index, what does it matter, you might ask.

The higher the index, the more readily the masses will be ready to vote for someone who promises to improve their lives.

I want you to think about this last analogy before I stop typing…

When you were small and hurt yourself, your mommy probably kissed it and made it all better.

As you grew up and skinned your knees, mommy was there to cure the boo-boo and, if she were smart, would use it as a teaching moment. ‘Johnny, this wouldn’t have happened if you were not running in the house.’

From touching the hot stove to riding your bike on a busy street, you went to the one who could improve it.

Despots and politicians want to be mommies. They point out what is wrong and then blame the other guy. Elect them, and they will fix it.

Biden ran on making it all better. Are you better off today than you were in 2020?

Is the world better off today than in 2020?

If you said yes to either, you are most probably part of the problem.

Soros and his ilk spend millions to control the misery index before an election.

You need to be miserable, in debt, in bad health, working two jobs, and so on, so they can usher in a messiah.

While their end goal is a one-world government, many will have to die before it can become a reality. Which Despot will have total control over the Earth? Our open borders policy by this administration is a precursor of things to come.

Give us your poor, you huddling masses.. Yeah, give us more slaves so when the entitled brats in the US can’t find work, we can remove their voice by taking their money.

History is replete with this foolishness, and it works every time. How it works is simple. People are too damned lazy to learn history. In fact, few will read this far in this blog post to understand the points I am making.

Congratulations if you are one of the few who will read this far. You should follow me if you haven’t already.

Audiobooks are more popular than ever; why??? People are too damned lazy to read.

Ignorance of history and apathy are the politicians’ friends. I know many who approve of this administration. Why do they side with this administration? They listen to the talking heads blaming the misery on someone else and don’t bother to look at the facts.

The Universities get funding from the Soross of the world if they teach the right things like socialism.

Global Warming and Climate change are the rock falling from the sky ’chicken little.’ Teach things that will scare the sheep so we can control them with fear.

And how many genders are there today?

Masks don’t work, can’t work, but few understood why and chose to wear the obedience diaper on their faces. Be very afraid so we can tell you when it is safe to come out of your holes in the ground.

Think of this metaphor.

One four-legged white and black dog with a loud bark herds hundreds of sheep by chasing the sheep and barking. Sheep are stupid animals and react to stimuli. They run to where the bark (noise) isn’t.

We, the people, run to where the pain is less, even though the sheepdog puts us into a corner for the slaughter.

Look for the misery index to increase in election years.

You can bleat all you like, but you will never be free or happy until you understand how the dog is manipulating you and you take action against the dog.

The action I refer to is knowledge. While it is a cliché, knowledge is power.

There was a reason it was illegal to teach a slave to read.

There is a reason that the teachers union is in bed with the elite. Teach the masses just enough to be valuable idiots and brainwash the more intelligent sheep to believe that Stalin and his ilk were good people.

Obliterate history from statues to books so the sheep will have to believe the folks on cable news who tell them who to blame for their troubles.

Propaganda is rife; one day, the world will understand that Morning Mica is a paid propagandist.

If you want to support my efforts … Take a look at my latest novel. Earth’s Last Hope is a sci-fi with overtones of life on this planet. It’s light on science with an attractive redhead with daddy issues.

-Best

Writing Contest, Should You Enter?

Is it a good idea to enter contests?

I harken back to why I first put pen to paper way back when I was a child. Before English classes were part of my routine, I wrote. To be fair, I also drew and took part in other creative expressions, including teaching myself to play the guitar.

Why writing?
Why contests?
What is the larger picture?

Ancient movies might give false hope to writers. Dragging the carriage of an old typewriter back to the starting point a million times or so in the hopes of creating a best-selling novel might seem like a great idea. Still, I think it is the wrong reason to write.

I write for the same reasons I paint or play music; I do it for myself.

Losing oneself in a world you create is the only reward I can count on. Sorry if that bursts your bubble, but it is the truth of it. The same goes for painting or, yes, music.

‘But, there are famous artists, and look at these books that have sold millions of copies.’

Yes, that is true, and look at the lottery ticket winners; see, the comparison is not as estranged as one might think.

While I create stories, paintings, and music for my own pleasure, there is that fantasy that lives in the back of my mind that this book will be one that will sell.

So, to answer the first bullet point, write to please yourself. The odds are that others might also like your book if you are happy with your creation.

To respond to the second bullet point contest.

I have entered multiple contests and won many. Winning local contests affirms your writing; not winning is a wake-up call that you must improve something. The something is the bugaboo. What is it that you need to improve?

I will address this in a future blog. For now, I want to focus on which contests you should enter.

Lately, I have entered the Reedsy contest. Usually, there are about 300 entries that pay five dollars per entry. It doesn’t take a mathematician to figure out this is a business.

The cards are stacked in their favor, much like any gambling house, casino, or slot machine.

Why it works is simple: they prey on one’s ego.

Analyzing winning stories, it didn’t take long to determine that the judges were swayed by emotion. The judges are volunteers and could be anyone.

Reedsy is in the UK, as are their contributors, and so on. Idioms they use don’t resonate with Americans. Conversely, stories and styles written by Americans don’t seem to resonate with their judges.

In conclusion to the second bullet point, I would focus on contests in your backyard. If you live in New York, your story might not resonate with a judge in Alabama or vice versa, and most certainly not with some judge in the UK.

That is not always the case; however, keep that fact in mind.

The third bullet point that ties this all together is simply considering your audience. I continue to search for the algorithm of a best seller. Quite literally, you are shooting at a moving target. To spot your audience, one must almost be a time traveler with insight into the future.

While not as challenging as picking the correct lottery numbers for a specific day and time, it is almost as tricky.

Several authors have written how-to books on the subject.

This will sound cynical, but…if they are all knowledgable, where is their best seller?

I have their books on how to do this, and they have some value for the foundation of your novel. What they don’t have is ‘the magic formula.’

In conclusion to the title…I would keep it local and look for contests that don’t charge an entry fee unless…you get feedback on your entry, no matter what.

On Reedsy, you might get comments from those who read it; you want professional feedback.

As I venture forward in this world of words, I will continue to pontificate on what I have learned. The good news is that it won’t be in some how-to book you must pay for.

Click to follow, yes.
Sign up for my updates, certainly…Why not?
Comment occasionally, sure. I love to hear from you.
Buy my book Earth’s Last Hope… Yes, that keeps me going. I am currently working on a book about witchcraft… Seems prudent for Halloween, don’t you think?

-Best

The Lies we come to believe. (TIPS and other charges)

To insure prompt service…TIPS

Between inflation, shrinkflation, and the price of energy, most people have very little discretionary income.

Yes, this is a direct result of BIDONOMICS.

Like him or not, when Trump was in office, America was energy independent. Trump was working to secure our border and appeared to look out for this country’s citizens first.

This election cycle will be one to watch.

The truth of the matter is we don’t know who is running this country. We can bet that it is not the current occupant of the West Wing.

Under this administration, Americans are forced to use their savings accounts and withdraw from their 401s to make ends meet. Those who have saved money have shockingly depleted the reserve amount.

The alarming statistic is that many Americans have relied on credit cards to survive. Using credit cards, payday loans, or other forms of predatory lending will create a crisis soon if these trends don’t reverse.

Inflation must be controlled so we stop spending money we don’t have.

Those talking heads are paid to tell you everything is fine; don’t look at the man behind the curtain. Unlike politicians and other swamp monsters, they are paid handsomely to lie convincingly to you.

If you follow these articles, you will see that the climate change hoax is just one more lie to ‘nudge’ you into behavioral changes that benefit the rich and powerful.

Media giants are practicing what Stalin knew when he massacred millions of his own people. The Pen is Mightier than the sword.

Since fewer and fewer people read and have the attention span of Count Chockula, Pravda-like lies are spread by talking heads using emotional tags, usually hate.

For the manipulation of the masses to work, they need a villain. Why not some uber-rich guy with a big mouth and an orange complexion?

Why not serve up the savior of the American people as a pariah?

If you bothered to learn history, it is rife with examples of how it all works. Show the masses what is wrong in the world and then pin the tail on the donkey or, in this case, their most prominent adversary.

When Lincoln worked to free the slaves, the Democrats had him killed.

When Kennedy, much like Trump… a populist for the people and against the deep state, stepped over the line, they killed him.

No single bullet did all that damage; you have been lied to.

I’m not comparing Jesus to Trump, but…when his popularity threatened that of those who were rich and powerful, they made him the Pariah. Even his people released a thief vs. Jesus, serving him to the thugs in charge.

One last example which parallels what we are living through today. Hyperinflation is one step away. Like Hitler, Biden or his proxies will blame White supremacists or Trump or, as some Gen Z podcasters are lamenting…those fucking boomers.

Yes, they have found yet another way to divide the country by selling the least informed among us that somehow it is not only white men but white men born in the baby boomer era as the newest fall guy.

Only an idiot with a capital I would buy that nonsense, but…there was a country of them that sacrificed 6 million Jews to a megalomaniac under the guise that all their problems were because of the Jews.

Now, the only way those jackasses can make such statements is because of the boomers and their parents, who sacrificed so much that they have the freedom to spew such moronic nonsense. It gets them clicks, which is what they are after, right?

Read the Rise and Fall of the Roman Empire or…watch another ANTIFA or BLM riot burn down more cities and learn to play the violin while you watch.

Yes, history is cyclical, and that is why those mentioned in the last sentence want to remove all mention of it. Those are the same dumbasses that say Socialism works. We can make it work this time.

So, what about TIPS and other nonsense? Why is that in the sub-title of this article?

As I mentioned earlier, there is inflation and something called shrinkflation. That latter is selling less of the product for the same amount as before Bidonomics screwed the entire world up.

For those of you who took art or woman studies or perhaps philosophy in college, there is something known as a P&L or profit and loss.

For companies to stay in business, they must make a profit. The books should be in the black at the end of the day or ‘fiscal year.’ In the black is business jargon for ‘show a profit.’

Black Friday, the day after Thanksgiving, is called Black Friday because, at that time of year, certain businesses depend on shoppers to purchase enough of whatever they sell to push their end-of-year P&L from red to black.

How many of you thought about holidays as mechanisms for business economic prosperity?

Back to TIPS

I am convinced that wait staff are modern-day slaves.

Everyone attempts to extract more money from the consumer regardless of where you eat out. POS (point of sale) devices conveniently make it easy to tip and give extra money for services or goods rendered.

One business that made the news added an extra charge after the TIP for Employee Mental Wellness.

That expense is already substantial by the time you pay for your meal, the tax on that meal, and a reasonable tip. Due to inflation and minimum wage, employees mistaking those jobs for careers and demanding more money than our soldiers make; eating out is expensive.

In this economy, most people should see the inside of a restaurant only if they work there. Groceries have already reached the price point of unaffordable for many. Shopping for day-old bread, dented cans, and food near its expiration date is becoming increasingly popular.

That is part of the self-behavioral modifications that I am referring to.

I know people who would never darken the door of a Dollar General or Family Dollar who now frequent those stores. Big Box stores are much more popular than ever, and the trend will continue as more and more people are forced to pinch pennies.

While the pandemic devastated the restaurant business and our way of life, the downward trend continues.

It’s a slow spiral downward as personal wealth dwindles, and the banks can charge exorbitant fees for debt incurred by the masses.

Again, if you look at history while you fiddle, Rome is on fire!

What can you do about it?

Vote the Bastards out!

Established politicians need to leave DC not only as elected or appointed rulers but also be outlawed from serving the needs of companies as lobbyists or specialists/advisors that have anything to do with the ruling class.

Term Limits should be a mandate from We the People.

Puppets are serving as our elected leaders who are incapable of stringing a noun and a verb together in the same sentence!

How is it that you don’t know this?
These are all distractions presented to you by the propagandists.
How many believe a man in a woman’s dressing room is okay?
How many of you think a child should be able to change their sex without talking to their guardians?
How many of you cannot define a woman?
How many of you really think that America is racist?
How many of you really think that there are suddenly UFO’s
How many of you believe that there are more than two genders?
How many of you give a shit what a small minority of mentally challenged individuals think or feel?
How many of you really think we are getting the truth about Ukraine?
How many want to sacrifice your or your kid’s life to fight someone else’s war?
How many of you think the world’s end is coming because of climate change?

Keep fiddling, my friends. These are all distractions while the megalomaniacs fleece your futures, your children’s and their children’s futures.

When the Boomers die off, the next generation will blame you for all their woes, and they might be right: you fiddled. Playing video games is not a career choice unless you design them.

As a science fiction author, I must think outside the box. My personal take on life, this country, or politics are opinions. While open to debate, I do not engage in feelings as they are irrelevant to the status quo. That, my friend, is how you sort the wheat from the chaff. We are controlled by emotions, not facts.

The truth will set you free; the lies will cloud the facts, creating a hostile environment for everyone, and ‘they’ count on it.

-Best

Please consider purchasing my latest novel… Earth’s Last Hope.

Thanks!

Toll to the Troll

Taxes never end.

Everybody talks about it, and nothing ever happens. Why?

While visiting people in retirement homes, one lady told me a story. I found that story hard to fathom. In her time, there was a luxury tax.

The tax assessor would visit and assess a personal property tax on belongings. A full-length mirror was considered a luxury and was taxed accordingly. She would hide it under the bed to ‘cheat’ the government out of their share.

“Their share of what?”

I guess they knew people were hiding the mirrors under the beds and other items deemed a luxury. Since they didn’t have enough prison space to lock up the entirety of the country, they had to devise another plan.

Many tyrants today create new atrocities through stories to divide the tribes. What many refer to as systemic racism is nothing more than tribalism which is inherent in our DNA.

They know this but figure you are too stupid to understand how easily you can be manipulated into electing the fox that will eat you vs. selecting the shepherd who will protect you.

30 years ago, I purchased a house. Nobody helped me come up with the downpayment.

When I left home, I rented a dump I could afford while learning my craft. At night after a long day, I would have to chase the cockroaches off my table before I could eat a can of some concocted chemically laden food that was anything but healthy.

Purchasing day-old products or dented cans, I did what I could to survive. Returning home was never an option I would ever consider.

Why not instant gratification and rent something nicer, which I could have afforded??? So I could, at some point, afford a home. Before Dave Ramsy, I knew how to save money. Not using a credit card as a source of funds was one of the first lessons you must learn.

I worked a day job and then used my craft to start my own business, which kept me working till the wee hours before I had to do it again the next day.

Following the political ambitions of our elected leaders, I often question the process. I ended my career managing several folks and was responsible for million-dollar budgets from corporate America. I stopped being spoon-fed propaganda by the pundits on TV. They are all lying in some form or another. They are paid large sums to ease their conscience (like politicians) to spout damned lies while calling it the news.

At best, it’s yellow journalism…look it up if that term means nothing to you.

On January 6th, a riot in DC turned into a faux insurrection. The tapes released by McCarthy prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that our leaders are lying to us again. I mention this because America was founded on an insurrection.

Rejecting unfair taxes from King Georg’s Stamp Act to tossing tea into the harbor, Americans can only be pushed so far.

No, we will never surrender to the forces of darkness. Today Social media shapes the opinions of the jellyfish, who only know that George Washington was a slaveholder.

When you punch your time card or get up in the morning and drive to work, assuming you are not rolling out of bed and wiggling your mouse, you are a slave. Think about it.

I was once accused of being a whore. In retrospect, were they right? What will you do for money?

I paid off my mortgage when it hit me that between my monthly insurance cost and the property tax and associated fees, those monthly costs add up to more than what my monthly mortgage payment started out as. It’s almost as if I am renting my paid-off home from the government. That must stop.

Since the Golden State has been ruined by Marxist ideologies, Texas and others are flooded with people who voted for the fox. Now they are here and still think George Washington was only a slaveholder.

Universities around the country have instilled Marxism in the minds of the sheep. History is rife with how badly Marxism ends. Still, I guess history isn’t taught any longer as it is counterintuitive to the narrative.

Critical thinking skills are at a complete deficit. The proof is everywhere.

Governor Abbot, stop talking about personal property tax and do something about it. Sign an executive order, and scream at the top of your lungs that we will not take this nonsense any longer.

Why are retired people still forced to pay these incredible taxes?

In a bookstore not long ago, I noticed that familiar yellow and black covered book…’ for dummies’…

Marxism for dummies….’We will drain you dry and then devour you. Signed the fox.’

As a retired person, I spend my time assisting other writers who would like to become published. If you want a good read, please consider buying my book ‘Earth’s Last Hope.’

I aim to spend my ‘golden years’ supplementing my retirement funds with a passive income stream from Amazon… Bwhaaaa From a 24.95 hardcopy of my book, I get less than $3.00. Since Bezos has a new sweetie, he raised the cost of everything, including the distribution of the e-copy.

-Scott

Earth’s Last Hope

Every 396 billion years, all the planets align. Dr. Richards passes off the alignment as just another thing to discuss at NASA until Pluto’s moon is perturbed out of its tidally locked orbit. Discovering the reason for the perturbation sends her off on a quest to learn not what but who is responsible.

1947 was much more than a weather balloon. Samantha Richards discovers that her overbearing father is more than a soldier. Skunkworks is a walk in the park compared to his responsibilities.

When Earth suffers cataclysmic disasters, the president calls on General George Richards to invite his daughter’s uncanny expertise in solving puzzles to make sense of strange anomalies wreaking havoc around the globe.

Reluctantly, the two mend fences, placing all the secrets of AREA 51 and Roswell on the table. The world is in chaos and near extinction when Sam discovers the ‘WHO’ of the equation.