Tuesday, September 27, 2016

No contest

An exercise in poetry.

It was no contest.
The tiny single-engine Cessna,
though perched diffident in challenge,
crumpled before the onslaught –
A thousand pounds of angry meat and horn
smashing into propeller, frame and wings.

An aerolon skitters away beneath flying hooves –
trhe bull charges on into the evening mist,
leaving a tumbling fuselage,
twisted metal struts;
A wing slowly twirls to a stop.
Distant hooves drum away into silence.

- end

Thursday, September 22, 2016

They Should All Live Forever

All of our Video Stars should last forever.

The original Batman, Adam West, should remain
young and vigorous, along with Burt Ward. The
“Supermen” of the small and large screen should all
be here, not six feet under, drenched in memorials.

The favorite beloved actors throughout the years,
John Wayne, Cary Grant, Marlon Brando, etc
should all be kept in suspension in some other
dimension, ready to be re-animated whenever
desire strikes. Same with the mega-stars of the late 20th century.

James Garner, Gene Wilder, James Doohan and Leonard Nimoy.
David Bowie, Jim Morrison, Janis Joplin, Jimi Hendrix et all.

Would that they could all co-exist in some universe,
pleasing and adding joy, and even talking to each other.
Besides that of one's memory, so fallible and riddled with errors.

(Lacking such a wonderful universe,
where Howdy-Doody, the Mousketeers, Leave it to Beaver,
Lost in Space, Land of the giants, Daniel Boone
all the way on up to the latest pop sensations could
exist forever, we are left with the online electronic equivalent...)

Google, Youtube, Wikipedia and the rest will just have to do.

Wednesday, September 21, 2016

Fall not really

How hot can it get the day before Fall officially begins.   Seems like a record, to go outside in scorching heat, to a scorching car seat.  The sun is setting earlier and earlier, on schedule.  But the plants are wilting, the ground is sun-baked like desert tundra.  And the A/C units are working as hard as ever, pumping still more heat out into the summer-like air.   Someday I feel confident the cooler temperatures will arrive.  But climate change seems to be rearing up, and Mother Nature keeps reminding us she is in control.  We are just luckless passengers, hoping and praying for the next break.

Hang in there, everyone.

Thursday, September 15, 2016

New Fundraising Campaign

Dear Mr. and Ms Politician,
Thank you for your numerous emails,
addressing me by name, urgent
reminders of how desperate your
situation is, and that of our country.

It is nice to receive up-to-the minute
updates on dire world conditions.
I was unaware that your evil opponent
nearly seized power and ran everything aground;
But you made me completely aware.

Now I must make you aware of my
equally dire financial situation.
I struggle to make expenses and income meet,
simply paying monthly bills and my mortgage.
While I do give a small bit occasionally,
I am unable to send money every day,
in response to your urgent pleas for help.

However, some of you politicians are fairly affluent,
and (I'm certain) live better than I on my janitor's salary.
Therefore, I make my own urgent appeal:
Just $5.00, nay, even $3.00 will help me today.
Especially if you give tomorrow, and the day after...
You know, like your emails suggest that I do?

Thank you very much in advance, and
I await your generous donations into my
local checking account.
(However, I am not holding my breath.)

John Q. (broke) taxpayer.

Wednesday, September 14, 2016

KindleBooks for sale

Get them while they're hot, if a stream of bits can be hot:

Shadow Intersection – Poetry www.amazon.com/dp/B00AWZNGYA

Future Property – Sci-fi short stories www.amazon.com/dp/B008HHEWVQ

A Strange Enterprise – Short Stories and Alternate History - www.amazon.com/dp/B00MXP9D7Q

Epic Prime Collection – www.amazon.com/dp/B01D8107K0

Experimental Tales – www.amazon.com/dp/B01AWJSRBC

The Osmotics – www.amazon.com/dp/B00IDW1OFM

New Venture – First Contact in the Kuiper Belt – www.amazon.com/dp/B00U9URST2

Thanks for taking a look!

Tuesday, September 13, 2016

Post-Coital Fusion Song - fiction

 It seemed like magic long ago, as I look back on it all now. When we all had energy worries and struggles, from how to fuel our vehicles, to heat our homes and the like. When two inventors came up with a solution for achieving fusion reactions. All while lolling about after a night of partying. The rest is history.

Martin and Jack were known for good sex parties. Often on weekends one could find them sleeping on the floor, amid a tangle of blankets, mattresses, lube and sex toys. A tangle of human bodies that had spent every spare drop of their reproductive seed in an orgiastic frenzy. The two twenty-somethings awoke from one of these, one drowsy Sunday morning over three decades ago. They looked at the woman between them, and grinned. Martin extricated his lanky frame, covered with blonde-red fur, carefully from the woman, Lydia's, limbs, and crawled around to Jack. He laid down next to Jack's dark-haired, slender body, and tousled his hair. Then lay facing each other, and whispered.

“That was one amazing night, man,” said Martin.

“Yeah, wasn't it great,” replied Jack, grinning.

“Suitable exercise for us. Tomorrow is the next firing of the LLNL Dielectric experiment”

“Think we'll get there this time?”

“Probably not. Just another burst.”

“Another particle orgasm, yeah. Then, nothing.”

They looked at each other, and stared. Martin spoke first;

“You know, I was thinking. Humans can expend so much reproductive resources in one orgy. All that life, in one party. How can we make the Fusion process more lifelike?”

“You mean trick up a fusion reaction somehow?”

“Yes. I mean, instead of simply blasting the fuel with a billion-watt EMF charge, why couldn't we modulate it. Inform it with a pattern?”

“A pattern?” said Jack, looking bemused.

“Yeah. Instead of the typical oscillation, change it. I mean, when I look at the Sun through a filtered telescope, and watch the undulating flames and coruscation, it is almost as if there is some kind of burn pattern going on there.”

“Hmm. And you think if we could create some kind of a pattern firing or burst, we might create some kind of a reaction that would be self-sustaining. Kind of like AC Current, which alternates and therefore sustains itself through much longer distances.”

“Yes, only much more complex. Come on up to my room, I want to sketch it out a bit....”

So the two naked, bi-sexual 20-somethings left the sleeping Lydia on the floor, and headed upstairs.
Sitting on his bed, Martin got out a spiral-bound notebook, lay it on his lap and began scribbling equations.

“Hmm, yeah, yeah. Wait, let me add something here...,” said Jack.

Within an hour they had sketched out a rudimentary regime for oscillating and modulating a high-frequency RF source to create a plasma and engender fusion compression. The two high-fived each other, not noticing the soft clink of a door shutting.

“OK you can have first shower dibs. I ought to go check on our guest...”

But when Martin went down to check, Lydia was nowhere to be found. Not in the kitchen, the downstairs restroom, nowhere. He peeked out, and of course, her car was gone. His next thoughts were darker.

He looked around at the living room. And there, on the floor, were both of their wallets. The paper was gone, but the bitch had left their credit cards. As if that would make some kind of difference. But hey, at least we don't have to cancel them. Goddamn it.

He started to yell, then realized Jack was in the shower. He sat down heavily, and sighed.

No more cash. But at least we have an idea for a sustaining fusion reaction. If that works, we can write our own ticket. Modulate the firing intensity and pattern. Make a song – the fusion song. And if we hit the right notes, we could be rich.

“Who cares about that bar bitch. We might just make ourselves rich,” Martin finally said aloud.

“What...” came from the stairs. Jack was standing there, drying himself with a good bath towel.

“That Lydia just helped herself to our cash, and then left.”

“What the hell? That effing bitch.”

“Well, I didn't have a lot. And anyway, we are rid of her. Meanwhile we have one hell of an idea.”

“Yeah, if it works. I'm calling the cops on her.”

“Um, really?” Martin motioned around the living room scattered with remnants of last nights party, to the coke powder residue, and joint roaches.

“Fuck! Maybe not,” said Jack, shaking his head.

“Chalk it up, dude. Tomorrow we are going to make history.”

“If it works.”

“It will work. It has to be better than we've been doing.”

“Anything is that, dude.”

Well, those two succeeded beyond their wildest hopes. They got several others interested in their idea, and then they managed to calculate and program a modulated power burst. That succeeded in sustaining a twenty-five second flash with Sun-like temperatures. A seven-to-one energy profit return. Succeeding attempts produced ever longer sustained reactions.

Today, thirty-three years later, we have had a Fusion reaction going for several years that shows no sign of lessening, and we are drawing off power from it. New Fusion plants are under construction around the world. And for once, things are looking up on the international scene. Optimism is the latest dominant theme in the media – that is incredible in itself. I guess you just never know. Of course, now the two young scientists, Martin and Jack, are billionaires. And I hear they are going to name a local high school after them. I don't know what ever happened to the one-night stand that took their money and ran. She may still not realize that she had sex with, and then stole from, two guys who changed the history of the world.

Wednesday, September 07, 2016



Uncle Charlie has long hair these days. Reminds me of my old deceased friend Gordon. It looks good on him, and he has lost weight too. Domiciled in Wisconsin, he is subject to their cold winters, so maybe he is just growing enough 'fur' to combat the cold, I don't know. We chatted about weight again – as we once did long ago. Back then he had talked about letting his pants out a notch so they still fit well. This time, he talked about his tailor taking his pants in a bit – so his pockets were very close together (and made his butt look funny).   

Uncle Thad is still kind of sharp, but forgets things every so often. At 80-plus, he is entitled to a senior moment. He talked about specially modifying mousetraps, with a piece of monofilament so the mice couldn't run off with the traps. Things that inform the mind even as my heart is warmed by the sharing of relatives who surely have many aches of their own.

It is so much fun when my uncles are like Uncles. Humorous stories, quips, observations. We become family again, and the long years are spanned in an instant. Suddenly I am 9 years old again, taken in by an Uncle's joke or humorous quip with a surprise punch line. And my heart is warmed – even though that heart is older than those Uncles were, when they first sprang their humor traps on an unsuspecting nephew so long ago.

The memories accumulate along with new offspring. This non-proliferating relation, now an uncle and great-uncle himself, can stand to the side and be amazed at it all. The sadness of loved ones now gone can be tempered with the happy memories, and the warmth of belonging to such a large, varied and wonderful family.