Friday, May 31, 2013

Just one child to wrangle tonight.

I just finished getting my pixie settled down to sleep, more than an hour after she wanted to go to bed.  Why?  Because we had another tornado warning.  Actually, we had two or three overlapping ones.  And we just left our interior shelter less than twenty minutes ago, the dog let me know she desperately had to pee (it was a quick trip out), and then I got the pixie to brush her teeth to go to bed.

The imp is with Grandma and Grandpa tonight, and the radar indicates that the area where they are faced no worse than a little rain and maybe some mild thunder. 

I'm beat.  It's difficult to keep a two year old girl and a not-quite-one-year-old puppy corralled on opposite sides of your body, especially not when both are scared anyway.  I think it was actually easier when I had the imp in the bathroom, too, during the last thunderstorm warning.

But...but... this is impossible!

Chicago has some of the strictest gun laws in the country!  Surely, there can't be gun violence in the streets!  Why, it's like criminals ignore the law when it suits them!


Don't. Just...don't.

Don't fire a warning shot at an intruder into your home.  Actually shoot the son of a bitch, and maintain--always maintain--that you were in fear for your life. 

Otherwise?  Yeah.  The idiots in charge will arrest you and charge you with a felony, because since the scumbucket ran from your warning shot, you obviously weren't in any danger to begin with.

Better dead list

There are some people alive only because it's illegal to kill them, outside of them attacking you.  Some people are no better than rabid dogs that need to be put down. 

1. Jerry Andrew Active--released from jail, and immediately turns around and re-offends.  Immediately.  Horrifically.  Every time he's released.  Usually involving sexual assault on a small child.  Why he's still being released periodically, I don't know.  Why he's still alive is due entirely to a justice system that frowns on putting mad dogs down, no matter how many they've attacked.

Who gives a flying fuck?

So a bunch of Buddhists in Myanmar* rioted and burned out a lot of Muslim shops, and attacked pretty much any Muslim they saw in the streets.  Good.  It's about time.  Maybe the goat-suckers will learn that actions--like dousing a young, non-Muslim woman in gasoline, then setting her on fire--have consequences. 

This needs to happen anywhere Islamofascist violence against non-Muslims does, and as quickly, as long in duration, and as violently.

Maybe then the savages would get the message.

*The nation formerly known as Burma.

FFOT: public school policies

Public schools in general and these three schools in specific can fuck right the fuck off.

First: how the fuck does a kid get fucking traumatized by a fucking plastic toy gun about an inch long?  Even if it is a fucking evil black rifle?  Simple: he doesn't.  The fucking pansy-ass leftist panty wad bus driver is so shit scared of guns he (or she) can't stand to see a little green army man's gun.  Betcha he'd be just as scared if he saw a real penis with testicles still attached, rather than removed, bronzed, and sitting on someone's mantle. 

Second: the teacher was right to teach the kids about their fifth amendment rights.  Every student has a right to refuse to take a survey--especially one that has their name on the top.  The fucking school does not have the fucking right to fucking punish him for doing his job.  His job is to teach.  So fucking what if he used their fucking illegal survey asking questions about criminal behavior?  What, were they planning to turn the surveys over to the police (probably)?  Even better for him to have taught them that they have the right to NOT FUCKING ANSWER THOSE FUCKING QUESTIONS!!!


The wheels are coming off this country.  And it's nowhere more apparent than in the education system.

Thursday, May 30, 2013

Definitely a whiskey night.

We made arrangements, Tuesday afternoon, to get the imp out from under foot during delivery and installation of the counter tops that were supposed to get here tomorrow morning.  He's at Grandma and Grandpa's until Saturday morning. 

Now, it's pushed back to Tuesday.  At the earliest.  Because some chucklehead can't read instructions. 

I'm gonna forget about it for a while.  I'm going to put on some music that I like but can't listen to with the kids up and about, drink a bit of scotch on ice, and see how much writing I can get done while I relax. 

Because, seriously?  I still want to fling somebody out of a fifth-story window.  I'm just not calming down about this, no matter what I try.

I am beginning to daydream of defenestration.

I got a call a bit ago, from the counter top manufacturers.  The guy sounded irritated and apologetic, but apparently, our order was fucked up again.  The twatwaffle cutting the counter top angle...cut it at 90 degrees.  Again.  Instead of the 92.8 degree angle that the installer called and reamed them out for not doing right the first time. 

And now, it's too late in the day to re-do it...and somehow, they're not able to re-do it until next Tuesday.

I want to throw somebody out of a fifth story window onto concrete so fucking bad right now.

Keeping my fingers crossed.

I got a call from the counter top manufacturers.  Y'know, the retards that cut the angle on my counter wrong the first time.  They said they'll be delivering the new counter top tomorrow, between eight thirty and nine thirty.  The counter top installer said he'd be here between nine and ten to put it right in. 

Here's hoping the angle's cut right, and that nothing else goes so spectacularly wrong. 

Interesting experience.

So, yesterday at the range, I had the opportunity to try out a Keltec P-32.  It was kinda cute.  I have tiny hands, and I could hide it completely in between them.  My pinkie hung off the bottom of the grips.  Teeny-tiny little gun. 

Since it is so small, the sight radius is very short.  It's not hard to pick up the front sight, but it is hard to hit anything at conversational distances, especially with the very long, if light, DAO trigger.  I'd say this gun would really shine at talk-dirty-to-me distances. 

The P-32 could be argued that it shoots an anemic round; however, with as small and light as the gun was, and with how much plastic* is in the gun, I wouldn't want to shoot a heavier round through it.

Also, the version I got to play with was prone to failures-to-feed.  It felt in my hands like the gun just needed a good clean-and-lube--I could feel the rounds sticking on the feed ramp.

Overall, though, I can definitely see the utility of the little things.  

*Yes, I know, it's technically polymer, and yes, I know it's been tested to make sure that it will function reliably and without blowing up in the user's hands.  But it sure feels too fragile to be a gun.

Wednesday, May 29, 2013

I'm so ashamed!

It's been so long since I took a rifle to the range that my AK had dust bunnies on the inside of the scope mount rail and underneath the gas tube! 

It still functioned like an AK, and shot easy bulls-eyes from the bench at 25 yards (and I haven't shot it for almost two years, now), but I really need to take it out to go play more often.

I also need to take my Brazillian Mauser that's been re-chambered and re-barreled to .308 to the range again.  I'm sure it needs love, too.  And my Mosin-Nagant carbine that I got for Mother's Day four years ago...

I've been spending my very limited range time making sure my pistol skills don't atrophy.  I miss my rifles.


My blog has hit one--sometime about an hour ago, it rolled over 100,000 views. 

In August, it'll hit another one: it's fifth birthday.

Gonna be a good day, if I have anything to say about it.

My son decided at seven thirty to slam his sister's door open and flip her light on in her face.  She, of course, woke up squawling, and asked to nurse and rock so that she could go back to sleep.

It's now eight, she's still soundly sleeping, and I'm making the boy sit quietly on the couch, no toys, no television, no talking.  I am honestly trying to make him as miserable as he made her.  And me. 

But it's going to be a good day.  We're going to take the kids up to my mom's for the day, and go poke holes in paper for a while.  We have a fair plenty of 7.62 x 39, and it's showing back up on the shelves somewhat.  We also have a fair plenty of practice ammo in Makarov, and we found some 9 Luger practice ammo.  So, we're going to take a couple of rifles and a couple of pistols to the range for a play date.

And, after we get home, we're going to spend some time relaxing, cleaning guns, and just being together without having to referee fights between the kids. 

So, yeah: miserable start, but it's gonna be a good day.

Tuesday, May 28, 2013


After the way this administration has handled everything thrown at it like the totalitarian thugs they are, I can't see how this hasn't happened earlier, or how anyone can even pretend to be shocked.

I have an idea!

How about people stop taking offense at stupid, petty shit?  Like this: yes, it's insulting to have a stranger call the police, concerned that your daughters are just random little girls you've kidnapped.  Yes, it's horrifically racist to think that a white man would never marry a black woman* and father cute little biracial baby girls, so that white guy had to have kidnapped those little black girls.

Wal-Mart claims that a customer made the call.  He and his wife state that they will never shop at Wal-Mart again, saying that it's horrible, and racist, and how dare they??? wasn't a Wal-Mart employee that made that call to the cops.  It wasn't Wal-Mart's fault.  If anyone is at fault, it's the random twit that made the call because the man and his children looked like they "didn't fit."  Because he's pasty white, and the little girls are mocha latte.  

However.  He needs to think of it differently: what if someone had kidnapped his daughters?  Wouldn't he want someone calling the police and reporting it? 

Grow up, put on your big girl panties, and stop getting offended at petty crap, people.  Laugh it off, or get mad, see if you can find out who made the call, and sue their ass for being stupid and racist.  Don't blame it on people and institutions who had nothing to do with the whole situation besides being the location where the twit happened to have made the call.

*First of all, these people have been married for ten years.  Despite racist twits giving them shit--from both races--about a biracial marriage.  Second, they waited for six before having their first child.  These children are likely to not be a tax burden--ever--unless their mother pulls the whole "You're not making me happy--get out" shit.  And if she's smart, she won't.  

Second...God have mercy, that was racist.  Prosecute the dumb twit that made the call.

I don't know why I was hoping for different...

I guess that I haven't had all the optimism beat out of me by life as of yet.  I actually expected the countertops to be ready by today--as promised. 

Nope.  Just got a call from the installer.  It'll be Friday. 


Missing the obvious, huh?

Scientists studying the effects of the Google glasses on human minds have discovered that "wearers could fail to see something that would 'otherwise be utterly obvious.'"

You someone taking offense to being filmed by some jackass that thinks they're all that because they have a $1,500 accessory to their smartphone on their face--convenient for a punch to the snoot to dislodge before stepping on it.  

And yes, I do know people who would do just that.  I probably wouldn't...but I wouldn't bet against me tripping the idiot from behind to knock the glasses off, then shoving the idiot so that they step on them.  

And, since they'd be missing the "utterly obvious," I'd bet against them doing anything other than crying over their defunct webcam.

Monday, May 27, 2013

Sometimes I despair.

I will occasionally make a reference to something I was sure was common knowledge, only to find out that nobody knows what I'm talking about.  I mean, I expect that with my family--they only follow local news and weather, and read nothing but the bible.  They don't attempt to expand their knowledge, or to see more of the world than their own little corner.

For instance, I have an acquaintance with a little girl who shows symptoms of having been born with Fetal Alcohol Syndrome.  Hell, the kid's a poster child for it.  And this acquaintance doesn't realize that.  She doesn't see in her own daughter's face that she drank too much, and worse, binge drank too much. 

No, I probably will never point it out to her.  Her daughter is bright enough to do well in the current educational culture, and won't stand out in the current culture of inability to delay gratification and restrain impulses.

Personally, all I can, and will, do is make sure my own children develop a healthy sense of curiosity, and that their reaction to hearing of something new is to do research to learn about it.

In twelve years, I want my son saying, "But Mom, I was sure that my college teachers would know about that!  It's common knowledge...isn't it?"

Memorial Day

How do you teach a four year old what Memorial Day is, in a way he can understand?

It isn't Veterans' Day.  It's the day we honor our soldiers that lost their lives in service to our nation, and to us. 

How do I teach my four year old son, and two year old daughter about that?

Sunday, May 26, 2013

Criminal masterminds

30.  That helpless woman that you and your homies decide to target in a home invasion robbery...may very well not be.  Just don't.  She will shoot through doors and windows at you and your friends, and then you'll get arrested when you go to the hospital because she shot your stupid ass.

31.  If you're already inside a home without the homeowner's knowledge, and while the homeowner is at work, it's in your best interests to make sure you know that he's going to be staying at work, instead of coming home early.  Otherwise, when he gets home, he's gonna shoot your stupid ass.

Curse global warming!!!

If it wasn't for that, then Coney Island and the Jersey shore would have seen record tourists instead of record cold!

Oh, wait...

Saturday, May 25, 2013

I feel... I have been staggering, off balance and still sick, through the entire day.  I'm gonna go write, now that I've finally gotten both kids to bed, and something taken for the headache.

Random Ramblings

I should probably go back to bed.  I wound up waking up about four this morning with a very sick stomach, complete with hot flashes and cold sweats--one of my versions of a gallbladder attack.  I was up for about thirty minutes with it, then awake for another forty minutes or so in bed with it being miserable.  Odysseus tried to let me sleep in, but my pixie had other ideas.  It's kinda impossible to sleep when you've got a pixie knocking gently and politely at your door, going "Mama, wake up.  I wanna hug."

I've been getting the imp up in the middle of the night (usually around eleven thirty or midnight--when I go to bed) to try to start the process of night training.  He is so adorable and snuggly when he's that sleepy.  The least little thing sets him off in giggles.  I try to remember that when he's acting like he was yesterday--bad enough that he got sent to his room for pretty much the whole afternoon, after promising not to do whatever had sent him to his room earlier (pick on the pixie to make her mad, pushing her, hitting her, playing with things I'd told him not to, bringing toys out of his room that I'd told him not to, fighting over cat toys and who got to play with the cats--you name it).  Eventually, I told him that since he couldn't behave, he was going to stay in there until supper (about an hour). 

I also didn't want the pixie going in his room--I was afraid he'd really hurt her.  Spanked her three different times for going anyway. 

Yesterday was a bear.  Here's hoping today's better.

I almost forgot the puppy out in her pen, last night.  I'd finally gotten the kids down, and got this niggling feeling that I'd forgotten something.  So, I thought about it: had the kids had supper?  had baths?  had their meds (pixie's almost done teething--she's got two to go, now--and gets ibuprofen before bed, and the imp gets Zyrtec)?  Cats are both indoors, and neither one in one of the kids' rooms?  Check, check, double check, double check.

And then, I heard the puppy go happy-ape-shit.  High pitched "look at me!" yips, just as fast as she could go.  Which reminded me that she wasn't asleep in her crate.  D'oh!

(The neighbor's three-year-old granddaughter was visiting.)

I really need to get on revising and rewriting my textbook, but...I still don't want to think about August.

I've got about half of Highway to Tartarus (still not sure about that name) written, with more materializing quickly.  Now that my gut realizes that semester's over, I'm sometimes getting two chapters per day written.

I've sold ten more copies of The Last Pendragon on Kindle last week...and two more of The Godshead, after I'd posted the sample chapter.  Okay...lesson learned.  I'm damn sure going to post a sample chapter of this book sometime within a week of publication; same with Resurgent (Pendragon's sequel).

If anyone has bought a print copy of any of my books (Survivors, Godshead, or Pendragon--looks like Amazon has discounted that one by $.80), and you'd like a signed book plate, shoot me an email at heroditus.huxley at with your name, address, and title of book you want signed.

Friday, May 24, 2013


"So, because our politicians are grubby, greedy, nasty, vengeful fucktards, we have no officers to send to you to prevent your abusive ex from breaking in, beating, raping, and potentially killing you.  Maybe you should just ask him to leave, if he's not drunk."

If that's not enough to convince people that protection is their own responsibility beyond making sure they've got a good stock of condoms, I don't know what is. 

The schadenfreude is delicious this time of year...

It cracks me up that the unions that pushed so hard for Obama and his "Affordable" Care Act are freaking right the fuck out because it's doing what those of us who understand how reality works said it would do.

Trying. Very trying.

I'm trying to get the housework back under control.  There's been a lot of things mostly, if not completely, inaccessible with the kitchen out of order.  Including the area of the hall bathroom that I'm planning on turning into a closet for the master bedroom--that's where most of our kitchen stuff is currently residing.

Also including, since this past Wednesday, the laundry area.  That's where stuff got moved to so that the counter top installer could do his job.  And that stuff can't really go anywhere until after Tuesday, when he said he could get the counter re-cut, and the job redone. 

The kids are trying to help.  What they're actually accomplishing is carpeting the living room with their toys, and getting underfoot when I'm trying to work. 

I think that, if tomorrow is even halfway decent, Odysseus is going to have them outside a lot, so that I can get stuff moved around, toys picked up, and clean clothes that had been piled into the laundry room until this morning put away. 

I just have to keep reminding myself: it's going to get better when the kitchen is done.  Then I can get the rest of everything else done, too, little by little. 

Criminal Masterminds...

28.  Never, ever attack a farm girl on her farm.  She will pull a gun out of nowhere (despite the knife you're holding at her throat or stabbing her with) and chase you off with a hail of lead--assuming she doesn't manage to actually shoot your stupid ass.

29.  If someone tells you to get off their porch, do.  Then run.  Otherwise, they're going to pull a big-ass gun out of somewhere, make you put your face in the dirt, and hold you there while you wait for the police to come drag your stupid ass to jail.

FFOT: Howard Dean

Okay, this is going to be below the break.  It's gonna have a lot of profanity.

Thursday, May 23, 2013


I don't have the words for this

Cookies and clean dishes

Well, after the counter top disaster yesterday, we had a choice between letting it go for another week while they got it reordered with the correct angle cut, or getting the sink plumbed in temporarily.

Guess which way we went? 

I've got dishes done, now, and four dozen chocolate chip cookies baked. 

I feel a lot better. 

I'll be happy once this is done, and I can work on getting my house back in order.

I don't think he's gonna measure up...

Weiner's first campaign stop?  Harlem.  Apparently, he got a "supportive reception." 

I read that as he couldn't get up on his own.

"Religion of Peace." Yeah.

I think this happened in Britain because they've made their citizens helpless victims. 


PAPER: 'Islamists who slaughtered soldier are British born'...



'We swear by almighty Allah we will never stop fighting you'...

Rant against the West...

'We want to start a war in London tonight'...

Radical Preacher Blames 'Murdering' British Troops...

Anti-Muslim reprisals after attack...

If this had happened in the United States, especially in the Midwest, the bastard with the machete would have been filled so full of holes and lead they might have had to use DNA to identify him, and a squeegie to clean him up.

And remember, people, "moderate" Muslims who don't believe that way are supposed to outnumber "radicals."  I've never seen any evidence whatsoever of that fact.  "Moderate" Muslims either don't exist, or they're bigger chicken-shits than politicians are. 

Wednesday, May 22, 2013

I really, really love the Drudge Report.

His headline writing skills are awesome.  I seriously got the giggles reading these:


Avoids Tabloid Wood by Announcing in Middle of Night...

NY Pol demands Weiner pay $350k cost of disgraceful exit...

I suppose the only thing better will be if he drops out of the race ("Weiner pulls out!") or loses ("Weiner comes last!").

It's been a day. counter tops were delivered yesterday.  The installer was out to put them in today. 

And the angle was cut wrong.  He wrote orders for a 92 degree angle, and the factory cut a 90 degree angle. 

So, we have another week to wait.  He said it shouldn't be any later than next Tuesday, and he'd be out to install same day. 

At least I haven't had to worry about keeping the kids under control during this BS.  We dropped them off at Mom's for the day (not that she minds in the least). 

Fuck propriety; I'm having a drink. 

What a stupid, senseless waste.

The school in Moore, Oklahoma--the one hit by a mega tornado--did not have a tornado safe room

Um, hello, people: we are smack-dab in the middle of Tornado Alley.  How in the hell did this slip by everyone, who in the hell thought it was a good idea, and how the fuck do they think they can justify it?


  • She and her husband had best take their kids on permanent vacation in a country that doesn't have an extradition treaty with the United States, because it's looking more and more as if the orders to the IRS to target conservative groups came from the top camel fellatio expert.  
  •  And now we know why the DHS put in such a huge order for bullets: besides causing a shortage that keeps ammo from the hands of lawful gun owners, they were aware that they'd have to guard the IRS from irate citizens.   

Way to admit it, dipshit.

"I plead the fifth" is exactly the same as "I did it, but you can't make me admit that I did."  The American people know that.  And the American people aren't happy. 

There's a bit in Frank Herbert's Dune where the Emperor admits that his elite troops can take on any of the great houses, but he cannot do it openly lest all of the rest gang up on him and take him down. 

The IRS has just attempted to take down House Atredes, and were exposed in so doing.  What are we going to do about it?

Tuesday, May 21, 2013

Sample chapter for The Godshead

As with The Last Pendragon, it's kinda long, so it's below the break for those who don't want to read or scroll past the whole thing.  And if anyone wants to read other stories from the same world (different characters, different situations) that just didn't add to the plot that The Godshead* developed, you can go here for that.

The whole world was spawned by a dream I had.  Imagine Odin (king of the Norse gods) and Zeus (king of the Greek gods) arguing over who was the better king of the gods over a pint...or ten.  I woke up with the giggles, and the world was born.

I'm about a third of the way into writing the second book (out of five) in that series, if anyone likes what they read.

*The first link goes to the Kindle version, the second to the print version.  For some reason, they didn't sync like The Last Pendragon did.

Quick question...

Would anyone like for me to post the first chapter of The Godshead?  I mean, you can click on the image of the book on Amazon and read the first two chapters, and part of the third, but the way they've got it formatted is...irritating to say the least.

Monday, May 20, 2013


About five o'clock, or so, I turned on the radio, because the radar on the National Weather Service's site looked...chancy.  I heard what I was dreading/waiting for about an hour and fifteen minutes later: we were under warning to get under shelter.  The sirens hadn't gone off yet, so I shooed the kids into the bathroom, then grabbed each of the cats in turn and tossed them in, then went to get the dog (since she's right next to the back door).  I was back in the hallway, three steps from the door, when the siren went off. 

So...we were under a tornado warning from about six thirty to seven fifteen.  I had a clausterphobic four year old boy, a hyperactive two year old girl, two nosy and hyperactive cats, and a curious dog that would have liked to get hyperactive and chase the cats and kids around a six by twelve room still packed with kitchen stuff a few times. 

I wound up spending forty-five minutes sitting on the floor, listening to the radio coverage of the storm system, watching the radar, yelling at the kids to be still, and hanging onto the dog's harness, keeping her mashed under my elbow.  And as soon as we got out from under that, I took the dog out, and found out why she was so insistent that she needed to get out from under my elbow: she spent maybe three full minutes squatted in the rain, peeing and pooping. 

Yeah...the kids have maybe ten more minutes before they're going to bed.  And after that, I'm going to write a bit, then head for bed as soon as Odysseus gets home from work, sometime between ten thirty and eleven.

Wanna know why I carry a gun?

I carry a gun so that I am not taken hostage by a career criminal, then shot in the head by a police officer. 

I carry a gun because I'm a better shot than a lot of cops I know personally, and because it's my responsibility to protect and care for myself. 

I carry a gun because I'm far more motivated to protect my own life (as well as not shoot myself) than any police officer can be.

I carry a gun because it's up to me to protect my children, and to teach my children to be self-reliant.

I carry a gun because, in my opinion, I'd be a shit mother if I didn't.

I feel for the parents of the girl who was killed by the cop when he missed the target.  I feel for the cop, and hope he gets effective help for the self-hate he's facing if he's anything approaching a good person. 

Criminal masterminds...

27.  It might be best to attack people in home invasion robberies when they have a Coexist bumper sticker or an Obama/Biden 2012 sticker.  Because other people?  Yeah, other people aren't satisfied to "coexist" with criminals, and will Tazer then beat your stupid ass until you look like the mouth-breathing retard you are. 

Definitely a good reason to pull funding.

Planned Parenthood either needs to ask questions and inform parents of teens under eighteen that their daughter is there for an abortion, or face having funding yanked, and be criminally charged with aiding and abetting pedophiles.  Every time. 

Sunday, May 19, 2013

Cavity warning: major cuteness* ahead

I found out exactly what happens when you have a two year old girl who loves baby dolls, but has never had (and may have never seen--I'm not sure) a bottle. 

She will "feed" her older baby dolls and little girl dolls with a spoon and a cup of baby food (empty, of course), but she doesn't feed her infant dolls.  They're too little, and she doesn't have a bottle, or really know what a bottle is.

So, when I looked up earlier this afternoon, I found that my daughter was breastfeeding one of her many baby dolls, earlier.  Snuggling it up to her chest, helping baby "latch on," telling the baby to nurse, petting the baby's molded, plastic hair, rocking the baby, and singing to it.  Oh, and leaning down to kiss the baby every now and then. 

And doing this pretty much absently, while watching television.

Don't know where she got that last  I was always grading papers, answering questions, or reading books on my laptop. 

*At least, her father and I thought it was really cute.

Criminal Masterminds...oy.

26.  Look in the closet before you shut the homeowner in it, especially after you've already knocked him around a bit.  If you don't, the closet will end up being the one where the household's guns are stored, and the homeowner will shoot your stupid, unobservant ass.

Saturday, May 18, 2013

Thanks and welcome

Thank you to Rufus King, who hit the follower button.  I've got Scotch, Irish whiskey, bourbon, and honey whiskey, as well as coffee, tea, juice, and Coke--let me know what you'd like to drink, and kick your feet up on the coffee table and relax.

(Sorry--no cookies until late next week.)

Hmm...good question.

I was asked in the comments a few posts back how one might go about getting a signed copy of one of my books.  For someone who doesn't live in the same town, I'd recommend buying yourself a copy on Amazon, then shooting me an email at with your name and address.  I'll sign a bookplate for you and send it to you.

Not that I'm expecting a flood of these requests, but...if you want such, just let me know. 

Right. Pull the other one.

Did y'all know that the CDC is convinced that 1 in 5 American children is suffering from a mental disorder?  And by "mental disorder," they mean anything from Autism (which is a developmental not just a mental disorder) to anxiety (caused by parental issues, anything from emotional abuse to divorce to a lack of set and enforced boundaries) to ADHD (which has been suggested to be caused, in something like three fourths of cases, by sleep deprivation, in turn caused by bad parenting and not setting bedtimes). 

Does this stink to anybody else of the government trying to take control of our children through backhanded methods?

random ramblings

The kids have spent as much time as possible outside playing this past week.  The imp has figured out how to balance on the swings, and enjoys pushing himself with his feet.  The too short to climb into the swing and sit, so she lays across the seat on her belly and pretends to fly.

I got slammed with a migraine, yesterday, about half an hour after Odysseus left for work.  The kids, once I got through to them that being noisy hurt Mama's head worse, they were remarkably quiet.  Very good kids.

(Yes, I've still got the headache.  Oddly enough, while bright light makes it hurt worse, the laptop screen doesn't.)

The dog, on the other hand...she refused to come inside.    She refused at eight, at eight thirty, at nine, and at nine thirty.  At which point, I gave up.  I did not feel up to chasing her around her pen and hauling a struggling dog that weighs only ten pounds less than my daughter out of her pen and into the house. 

Besides that, the dog was having so much fun chasing June bugs!  If my head hadn't been hurting so bad, I'd have been giggling watching her. 

The cats were also badly behaved last  night.  They decided that the perfect time to start thundering around and flinging themselves and each other into closed doors was...after I'd gotten the kids to bed, behind those closed doors.  So, the cat that I caught first got tossed into the pantry with the door closed behind her, and...silence.  For a few minutes.  Because then, the other cat found her toy.  And she talks to her toys while she's playing with them.  Loudly.  And then, after I went back to lay down in a dark room, she realized that she was all alone, and started crying.  Loudly.  And refused to come back to where I was...because her toy wasn't already back here.  (She also farts when startled--and she's easily startled--and drools when she's very happy, but those are other faults.)

I am startled, pleased, and impressed with the sales of my books this month!  I've sold (with thanks to everyone who's mentioned my work on their blog) twenty-six copies of The Last Pendragon--the last seven or so after DaddyBear and Larry wrote those awesome reviews.   Another copy of The Godshead sold, too, bringing that total for the month up to three.

I'm currently working on a sequel to The Godshead, tentatively titled either Road Trip or Highway to Tartarus.  I plan to be finished by the end of this month, so that I can write the follow-up (and final book) to The Last Pendragon, titled Resurgent.  That one is outlined in pretty good detail, so I should be able to knock that out this summer, too.  After that, they'll sit on my computer for a while, while I rewrite my fall textbook.  I'm planning on a publication date for the next Modern Gods book sometime in late November, early December, and for Resurgent of sometime next April. 

After that?  I've got about a dozen other projects in mind.  Three more in the Modern Gods world, three more in another world, a redemption story, a horror story, a kind of experimental in form alternate history/reality story, a stand alone, and Lost Girls (which I'm currently stuck on, but I'm sure will come unstuck sooner or later).  In other words...I've got between four and six years' writing worth of books lined up. 

Time to go write. 

Friday, May 17, 2013

Uh-huh. Felons, all of them.

Who?  Why, the federal government, of course.  They break the laws set down to restrict their actions against us daily.  Remember this?
The right of the people to be secure in their persons, houses, papers, and effects, against unreasonable searches and seizures, shall not be violated, and no warrants shall issue, but upon probable cause, supported by oath or affirmation, and particularly describing the place to be searched, and the persons or things to be seized.--Amendment IV, United States Constitution
I do believe this violates both the spirit and the letter of that particular law restricting government from looking for things to convict us of, without any suspicion that we're actually breaking the law to begin with. 

And I also believe the government and government goons that are trampling on the citizens (as in: equals who hire government to run the country, NOT subjects controlled by a government) may go fuck themselves.  Go ahead and get my phone records.  I rarely talk to anyone other than my mom, or a couple of friends.  I don't give a damn if they've got them, and I will not comply with anything they demand while insinuating that they've got my phone records. 

After all--I receive a copy every month.  In the mail.  I've never been under the impression that any form of communication other than face to face with NO cell phones, computers with microphones, or any other sort of sound recording capable device present.

Wow. Big surprise, there.

It makes enormous sense that physically strong men are more independent, more conservative, more likely to believe that they, and they alone, are the only ones entitled to their hard work, while weaker men are more likely to believe in a welfare state. 

If they're not working out (and learning the value of hard work as they build their muscles artificially), they're working at hard, physically demanding jobs.  Jobs that are either very high paying, or very low paying.  And they understand the value of being willing to work, and work hard. 

Weaker men, on the other hand...see the stronger men, and think, "I want what they've got.  But I don't want to work for it.  I'll just have the government hold a gun to their head, and make them hand it over to me."

They carefully noted that there was no difference between stronger and weaker women.  But that's not where the divide lies, there: the divide lies between women married to a breadwinner, and single women who spread their legs for all-comers, and depend on their low-hanging crotch fruit as income generation. 

You know...the ones screwing the pansies that want the government to pay for everything. 

FFOT: No words.

Fucker.  Don't want a kid?  Use a condom.  Do not get an abortion pill, relabel it as an antibiotic, and give it to your girlfriend who had picked out a name for the baby she'd seen on the ultrasound, and had planned to keep, whether your sorry ass was around or not.

I have no words harsh enough for this self-centered cuntdrip.  None.  May he be sentenced to death for first degree murder, and spend eternity being buggered by spike-dicked demons for what he's done. 


Thursday, May 16, 2013

Should my local PDs (and there are half a dozen in my local area) or Sheriff's Departments put out a call for ammo to the local people...

Yeah, no.  Especially not the largest of the surrounding area PDs--they pushed for (and succeeded in getting) a law preventing Sudafed from being sold over the counter, even with it behind the counter. 

So, no.  Not our ammo.  Just not gonna happen.  Local cops are probably great people.  Lovely people.  I happen to know the local sheriff, and like him quite a lot.


These are still the people who enforce the unconstitutional laws handed down by D.C.

Edited to add: Okay, what?  What kind of glue have "retailers" been sniffing when they accuse the customers of stockpiling ammo in the face of more restrictions, and blaming the current ammo shortages on that rather than DHS's orders?  

Hmm...I wonder if they will help the PDs they're deliberately shorting with those orders...

Edited again to add: First saw the stories over at Wirecutter's place, and forgot to link it.  I really shouldn't blog while drinking, either.

Wednesday, May 15, 2013

Holy shit!

Check out number 12.  Then, number 13. 

Now, check out who's at number 1 and 2 in the Hot New Releases:

Pretty freakin' awesome.  I'm certain that will change as soon as Tolkien's work is released, but it's awesome right now.

Surprisingly good quality.

I ordered several paperback of The Godshead for placement in local bookstores when I published it, and found (to my great surprise) that CreateSpace print on demand publishing does excellent work.  That impression was (mostly) reinforced yesterday. 

I ordered four copies each of Survivors and The Last Pendragon a couple of weeks ago.  Like Godshead, Survivors and Pendragon had a cover of glossy-printed heavy cardstock wrapped around nice, crisp white, satisfyingly thick paper pages.  No tissue thin pages where the print rubs off on your fingertips, here.   

Survivors is a slightly smaller book, measuring at about 5"x8", and the printers weren't really careful in the shipping--the books I'd ordered previously were shrinkwrapped together in stacks, packed into boxes, then shipped.  Survivors and Pendragon weren't shrinkwrapped, nor were they packed into a box--rather, they were wrapped in cardboard, like Amazon does sometimes when you order something relatively small.  And the end Survivors was in...came open a bit.  No, I didn't lose any books, but the ends of the spines were scrunched.  Other than that, though, they're as high a quality of books as you'd expect to find in any book store, and higher quality than some mass-printed books.

Pendragon came through with flying colors.  No scrunching, no damage. 

Honestly, if I were shopping at a bookstore, and happened to pick up these books, I'd check the price after looking to see if it were something I wanted to read, then run cackling to the checkout, convinced I was getting a steal, judging by the quality. 

Overall, CreateSpace print on demand books rock the quality.

I am...outside. Trying very hard to laugh at myself.

It's a gorgeous day, out here.  Public school is still in session, so I have the kids out in the back yard at a time when I won't have to drag them inside because the twit teenagers next door are blasting rap and hip hop "singing" about sex, crime, and other things the kids don't need to hear about at four and two years, with language they don't need to pick up, yet.

Yesterday was hot.  Hot enough that even the imp didn't want to play outside in the afternoon for more than a half an hour--which kinda sucked.  The pixie decided, yesterday, that she needed a morning nap, then went down in the afternoon, too--right as the imp was waking up from his nap.  And he's impossible to keep quiet in the afternoons.  So I was really hoping to keep him outside until the pixie woke up.

No such luck.

Today is supposed to be a bit cooler, but still on the warm side--lower rather than upper eighties near ninety.

My morning today started out sucking.  The pixie woke me up (can't vouch for Odysseus because he didn't move if he did wake) by banging a little toy skillet on something in the living room.  So, I got up, threw on clothes, and trudged back to put dog food out in the dog's pen (her favorite place in the world), before I put the dog in the pen.

And so, of course, she pees in her crate--on her bed, no less--between the time I stepped out the door, and the time I stepped back inside to get her less than thirty seconds later.


Then, after I got the pup safely shut in her yard, I went to get the kids' breakfasts.  Imp wanted a green cookie (one of these), and pixie wanted pancakes and sausage (as usual--two mini pancakes, and one sausage link).  As I'm fixing this, I happen to turn around and notice...that I hadn't put up the beef enchilada casserole from the night before.  Half of a casserole wasted because I was too tired and frazzled to think of things I needed to do when I needed to do them.


So, after I got the kids' breakfasts to them, it was finally my turn.  I flipped my laptop open and got it winding up to start checking my blog roll, my sales statistics (eighteen copies of Pendragon sold), my email, and Facebook, then grabbed my coffee cup.  Filled it.  Stuck it in the microwave.  Checked on laptop, and clicked through to get to my desktop.  Went back to get my coffee...and dropped the full cup on its side as I'm pulling it out of the microwave.  Lost every drop.

I will admit, that on top of everything else kinda did a number on me.

And I just am not in the mood to sit through children's programming this morning.  So...outside it is.

The kids are having fun, at least.  And when Odysseus gets up and gets out here, I'll go in and see about making myself another pot of coffee.  Because coffee isn't just my energy drink, it's also my go-to for comfort after a shitty morning.

And I haven't even been up for quite two hours, yet.

Tuesday, May 14, 2013

Serves 'em right.

Speak up for others' rights.  It doesn't matter if you like a group, or see the relevance to you and your interests or not.  If you don't speak up for the rights of others...who's gonna speak up when it's your turn to have the fist of government shoved up your ass?

And, isn't it specifically the job of the media to shine a huge fucking halogen spotlight on injustices perpetrated by government?  Isn't that the whole purpose of "Congress shall make no law...abridging the freedom of the press"?

Unfortunately, for at least my lifetime, the press has been an arm of the political left.  Which means that, now that the political left has one of their muppets* on the throne in the White House, the press has been an arm of the federal government for the past five years.  And, until now, they haven't given a damn that conservatives have been targeted for reprisal for their opposition to King Putt.  They have not only not given a damn, but actively rewarded those who ordered the targeted auditing of TEA Party groups and other conservative associations.

Now that the Associated Press has been found to be wiretapped--and wiretapped by probable White House orders (despite their whole "Not us--look to the DOJ" attitude), who among us is doing anything but sitting back, pointing and laughing at the useful idiots in the media.

Nobody.  Because they fucking deserve to be laughed at.

The National Socialist party in the 1930's gained power through catering to minority groups like the gay lobby.  Not long after starting to gather power, the party abruptly turned on the gay lobby, treating them much like Jews, only marked with a single pink triangle, rather than a yellow Star of David.

It's good that the media is learning exactly what their political masters are capable of, and discovering how the rest of us feel on a near-daily basis: violated.

*A puppet and a muppet both have strings, but a muppet also has somebody's hand up their ass talking for them.

Excitement is...

...watching copies of the books I've worked so hard on actually selling.  The Godshead came fast and easy--I've enjoyed watching it sell, and enjoyed knowing that people have enjoyed it.  The Last Pendragon took a lot longer--four years for the first draft, rather than about five months, total--but part of that was because of how I wound up hitting a wall because I tried to take the book in a direction it didn't want to go.  I'm also very proud of my first book, Survivors, mostly because it shows how I refused to let someone else's actions knock me down and keep me there.

I'm still a very new author, and I know I have a long way to go before I can call myself a successI also know that, no matter how long it takes, I will keep trying and I will get there eventually. 

Again, thanks to all of my readers who've bought copies of one or more of my books.


I'd like to extend a warm welcome to Robert Fowler, of Robert's Gun Shop who clicked that little blue follower button.  I don't have any cookies, but I do have a fresh pot of coffee.  Kick your feet up on the coffee table and relax for a while.

Monday, May 13, 2013

Fucking cowards.

Cops in Trenton, NJ, are called because of an imminent threat to human life, and instead of calling in SWAT (useless fuckers that they otherwise are) on day one, when they first noticed a dead body, they retreat and hide outside for three days.  Leaving two kids alone with a crazy fucker who's going crazier, after said crazy fucker killed their mom and one of their siblings. 

Not all cops are fucking cowards, nor are all cops useless.  The ones in that case, however...yeah. 

What really frosts me is that this guy was a registered sex offender living in a home with children. 

Makes sense.

The prosecutors railroading someone who legitimately defended himself under Florida's Castle Doctrine laws want his attacker's past--which would help build a picture of a dangerous criminal instead of the innocent, black choir boy facing a slavering, racist, gun-happy bigot that the media would prefer to see--kept out of the trial.

I am so sick of shit like this.  Throw it all out there: Zimmerman was an idiot, and Martin was a thug.  Let the law and the jury decide what is and isn't relevant.

Hoping...and praying...

I'm expecting to hear back about the counter tops sometime this week or next.  Here's hoping nothing goes wrong.  I want my kitchen back.

Tell it, brother.

A young man in high school, Jeff Bliss, was caught on a classmate's cell phone camera telling off a history teacher for refusing to teach, doing nothing more than handing out packets. 

The disturbing part of the story is that she kicked him out of class for speaking truth to her: "If you would just get up and teach them instead of handing them a frickin’ packet, yo. There’s kids in here who don’t learn like that. They need to learn face-to-face. You’re just getting mad because I’m pointing out the obvious." 

Her response was to tell the young man to quit wasting her time.

That isn't a teacher.  That's a chair-warmer.  That's a classroom monitor.  That should be paid less than an actual teacher is paid. 

I do have a textbook I'm writing.  I do expect my students to read it.  What we do in class is different from what is in the textbook, but what we do reinforces the textbook: I actually walk them through the steps of writing a  paper with a sample topic after they've read the unit. 

I do not hand them a textbook and go "there you go.  I won't help you learn it; leave me alone."  Not if I have any choice and control in the matter (which I didn't last semester).  I don't do that with packets, either.  I don't assign busy work.  Everything we do in class ties directly into the project we're working on.  And if a student asks, I'm happy to explain how it does, or go further in depth with any part of the project.

I cannot imagine handing most students a packet and expecting that to be the whole of the thing.  I may learn best like that, but I am fully aware that most of my students don't.

Sunday, May 12, 2013

Long day.

Lots of fun, though.  We spent two hours walking around the zoo this morning.  Odysseus and I spent the last half an hour trading off who was carrying the pixie, since she was so tired she was just standing in place and crying when we put her down, instead of walking. 

The imp had a blast.  The zoo had a small train that did two circuits around the lemurs and the pond that their island is in--and the imp was so entranced that he was completely expressionless.  The pixie?  Not so much.  Oh, she had fun, but it was all goofy grins and squealing giggles.  She greatly enjoyed more for the geese in the pond, bathing.  And the goslings. 

What I thought was the coolest was the albino peacock showing off his eight foot diameter spread of iridescent white feathered tail, and the giraffes slurping crackers out of my kids' hands (the imp actually got licked by a foot and a half of purple tongue grabbing that second cracker). 

But yeah.  I'm exhausted, and in pain.  I feel like my arms and legs are going to fall off, and wish that my legs actually would with how bad they're hurting. 

Happy Mother's Day to any of my readers who are also mothers (I know--many of you are dads, but your day is coming next month).

Saturday, May 11, 2013

Ah, laundry.

One of two never-ending chores.*  Third load for the evening is in the washer.  I hope to get at least one more loaded to be run tomorrow morning before we leave for the zoo for Mother's Day (the pixie and I get in free, and the imp's discounted, since he's over three but under twelve). 

*Picking toys up when you have small children is the other one.

I love my kids.

We got the imp (with a gift in an envelope from Grandma and Grandpa) a tricycle, just after Christmas.  It's not pretty.  What it is, is tough, rugged, and off-road capable. 

And big.  The pixie won't be able to use it until she grows another eight inches or so.  But that's okay.  She's got a giraffe.


The dog (in the background, on top of the dog house) is just pleased that we're starting to spend more time outside.  At least, we are until the neighbor's teenage daughters start playing really vulgar rap and hip hop that we don't want the imp picking up language from.  And they play it loud.

It's sad when the kids have to come in because of teenage twits, but judging by their behavior, we'll only have to put up with another year or two of them living there before they leave.

Random ramblings

I've had a pixie on my lap all morning.  I can't drink coffee with a pixie on my lap, much less write. 

My imp is starting to repeat everything he hears.  This is a stage he should have gone through a couple of years ago, but better late than never.  His language acquisition has been all over the place, and in no particular order for the usual steps.  And some of his facial expressions just crack me up--he uses them for exaggerated effect.

The pixie has finally made a breakthrough on cutting those last four back teeth that have been giving her such problems for the past several months.  She's got both bottom ones partially through, and I can feel the shape of the top ones.  It won't be long, now, before I can quit giving her ibuprofen every day.

The pup has been absolutely tail-waggingly happy, the past few days.  It finally quit raining.  I'm just waiting for the ground to dry up enough to be able to go play outside with my air rifle.

Again, thanks to all of you (now ten) who bought The Last Pendragon.  You guys are awesome.

As for what I'm currently working's going.  The follow-up to The Godshead is well underway.

Friday, May 10, 2013


One of my cats either has very fast or very incomplete digestion: this is the second, nearly intact mouse foot I've found sticking out of the end of a cat turd.  Intact enough that I could tell it was a hind foot, both times. 

I'm glad my cats are such efficient mousers.  What doesn't thrill me quite so much is finding evidence in the litter box, either in the form of a bloody-ended mouse tail on top of the litter, or the mouse foot in the cat shit.

Kinda sad.

Commencement is tomorrow.  Our neighbors across the road will probably be changing, soon--for the past three years, we've had a very sweet football player from San Diego living there.  He's graduating, this semester.  And he sounded sad and wistful about it, but he's loading up after commencement tomorrow, and going home. 

He's got two roommates.  One graduated last semester, and is also very sweet.  I think he was in track--tall and skinny, with a build for speed rather than the clash of the football field.  I don't think I've ever met a more flamboyantly gay young man, but he's a very good neighbor.  The third boy is much quieter, but just as nice. 

I suppose, with the parents of the football player who's lived across the street from us for three years selling the house, we're likely to get new neighbors.

Here's hoping that the next bunch are as nice.

Criminal masterminds...cont'd.

25.  Don't mess with old people.  Even if they look like helpless victims, chances are good that they won't be.

So, how am I doing?

It's been almost a full week, down to the hour, when I published The Last Pendragon.  I've sold nine Kindle copies of that, one Kindle copy of The Godshead, and one paperback copy of Survivors

Not bad, overall, but I've still got a long way to go before I can quit my day job.

And to those of you who bought copies of my books...thank you.  I can't thank you enough.  I hope you enjoy the fruits of my imagination.

Criminal Masterminds

24.  If you must commit armed robbery in Texas, it would be best to pick a potential victim with a thick accent that thicker 911 dispatchers can claim they don't understand, so that help isn't dispatched when the potential victim pulls a gun, shoots at you, and misses.  Because the longer it takes for police to get involved, the better your chance for getting away clean.

(Note: This works best in large cities, where the dispatchers are too dumb to understand the words "armed robbery" and "I shot at them.")


I cannot think of any other word to describe a government who even permits an enemy to spit on the bodies of our soldiers, much less asks them to.

Of course an Islamic cleric is an enemy.  It doesn't matter where it is, where he hails from, or whether he serves in the US military or not--he is Muslim, and he is an enemy.  I'm pretty sure Ft. Hood's soldiers would agree with me.

Asking an Imam to pray over soldiers fallen in the line of duty is asking the enemy to spit on our troops.  And that displays a troubling disrespect on the part of our government.

I'd be sickened, but right now, it's making me far too sad.


Carol Abar divorced the husband that was repeatedly raping her daughter.  She married the sonofabitch when her daughter was nine, and he started raping her then, and didn't stop until the girl moved out, and finally got the courage to tell her mother. 

And after she kicked the fucker to the curb, a fucking California judge fucking forced the woman to fucking pay alimony to her daughter's rapist. 

Not just no, but fuck no.  What the fucking fuck is fucking wrong with California???  So fucking what if she fucking makes more money than he does?  So fucking what if he never hit her?  He fucking raped her daughter.  Speaking as a mother, I assert that he fucking did more harm to her by fucking raping her daughter than he ever could have by laying one of his hands on her. 

That California judge can fuck the fucking fuck off.  So can Ed Abar, the fucking baby raping cuntdrip twatwaffle who's suing for the alimony payments to resume now that he's out of prison for raping his wife's daughter

Honestly, if I were Carol, I'd change my name back to my maiden name, and confront this man in a castle doctrine state, and shoot him when he physically attacks. 

Thursday, May 9, 2013


The LA Times has reported that the gun crime rate has plunged dramatically since the '90's!  And that, because of the way the media focuses on a few, scattered (if horrific) crimes, people think that the gun crime rate has jumped!

I know!  It's shocking!  I can't believe the LA Times reported it honestly!

Granted, I'm a language nerd...

...but this is seriously cool., can somebody explain this?

You have a city whose gun laws are so very tough that even museums are banned from displaying matchlocks and other historical pieces...and a murder rate that tops even New York City's.  A city where gun stores are illegal, but teenaged choir boys routinely can ride their bicycles, shooting at pedestrians.*  A city where handguns were illegal until recently, but nineteen people were shot over the course of a single night.


Can somebody explain to me how this can possibly happen?  No?  

Then how the fuck can they tell me that gun control works?  The cities with the strictest anti-gun laws have the highest numbers of shootings in the country, because the criminals aren't afraid that their victims will shoot back.

*What I don't understand is how his mother can possibly say that the police shot her angel in cold blood when the little bastard (probably literally) was shooting at the police, first.


I've gotten reports from a couple of Pendragon readers: Larry left a comment over at TinCan Assassin's blog saying he liked it, and DaddyBear left a comment over at The Godshead Tavern saying that I owe him a good night's sleep because he couldn't put it down.

(TinCan Assassin said the same when he read it for me three drafts ago.)

I'm glad that the reports I've heard have all been positive.  Would one of you guys that have read the book leave me a review on Amazon?

Thanks for reading!

Edited to add links.  Note to self: don't hit post before adding links, and I shouldn't blog before coffee.

The Drew Carey Show didn't really do much for Cleveland, Ohio.

Apparently, Cleveland's cops do far less.  According to some of the news reports I've read, some of the things I've heard, they ignored several calls on that house of horrors where three girls kidnapped in their early teens were held for ten years--until a real hero heard them screaming for help, broke in, and got them out.

Now, the media has dug up that Charles Ramsey has been in prison for beating his wife.

I know they're just trying to make the cops look better.  But, if you think about it, this new info about Mr. Ramsey (who also refused his reward, telling officials that he had a job, and the girls needed the money worse than he did) simply makes the cops look worse.

I mean, really: on the one hand, you have those who swore to uphold the law, to investigate when it seems that a crime has been committed.  On the other, you have a man who's beaten his wife badly enough to go to prison for it. 

On the surface, who would you expect to be the good guys, here?  The hero?  The one that actually rescued the girls from being sex slaves? 

It wasn't the cops.  No, the cops wrote off every other call as too ridiculous to investigate--or perhaps, some kinky game between consenting adults (and there are such out there), and none of their business. 

So, the man with a history of violence against women did far more than the police ever did. 

Bravo, CPD.  Bravo.

And bravo to the media for trying to bring the police up by taking the real hero down.

Wednesday, May 8, 2013

Pot, meet kettle.

Green Day frontman Billie Joe Armstrong is on record calling Korean rapper Psy "the herpes of music."  Clever, yes, but kinda rich coming from Chlamydia. 


Somebody bought a copy of Survivors in paperback!  Whoever did that, thanks, and I hope you enjoy it.

What not to buy...

If you believe that the Constitution is meant to constrain government from trampling all over you and your rights...don't spend any money with these people.

Some of the lines were very good.  I laughed so hard I nearly cried over a couple of the snarky remarks.

(Link found on Facebook friend's page)

I love Sam's Club.

We had a visit to my mother's scheduled for today.  Since she can't cook food with flavor, we went to Sam's for one of their addictive rotiserie chickens.  I swear to you, whatever they season those birds with makes it taste better than anything else I've ever had. 

Mom had also asked me to pick up some Blue Bell ice cream.

I found something better, when I went back to the freezer section: Schwan's ice cream.  Their special recipe vanilla.  For a dollar more for a gallon than the Blue Bell costs per half gallon.  For ice cream twice as good. 

Needless to say, I grabbed it and ran cackling to the check out...then had to double back and grab the chicken.


I woke up to find that I'd sold eight copies of my book.  That bumps me way up the Amazon best seller's list:

Amazon Best Sellers Rank: #36,141 Paid in Kindle Store (See Top 100 Paid in Kindle Store)
 #9 in Kindle Store > Kindle eBooks > Literature & Fiction > Fantasy > Arthurian

Now, granted--I won't stay there for long, but it's a hell of an ego trip for someone who's sold less than a hundred books.

Tuesday, May 7, 2013

They grow up so fast.

So, the imp was taking his bath, and I was getting Cinderella  put into the DVD player for the pixie.  I could hear him starting to build a tower out of plastic blocks, and then I hear:

"No, no, no--" CRASH "Shit!"

I seriously about died laughing.  I have heard the same word, in the same tone, come from Odysseus when he steps on a Matchbox car or the corner of an alphabet block in his bare feet. 

Honestly, I prefer that expression of frustration over his usual screaming, jumping, squalling temper tantrum.

But I did lecture him over what words were okay for him to use right now, and which ones weren't.  "Dang it" is fine.  "Shit" is not.

Especially since he's likely to have to go to preschool next fall.

Criminal masterminds

23. Never, ever try to kick in a door at a private residence where the residents are home after midnight.  The homeowner will gather everyone in the home legally into a safe room, and then shoot your stupid ass, whether you're trying to steal their shit or kill your soon-to-be-ex-wife who's staying there.

Compiler's note: This seems to be a major theme amongst criminal masterminds.  I mean, really--why do these nitwits keep breaking into private residences where the residents are armed, and making a fuckton of noise in the process?

Monday, May 6, 2013

Four copies of Pendragon!

I've sold four copies of The Last Pendragon as of the last time I checked a few moments ago!

(Did I mention that the Kindle version is only $2.99?)

Wow. Talk about acts perfectly designed... further damage the economy.  I wonder if the retards in the Senate that voted for the Marketplace Fairness Act realize that, should this pass the House, people will STOP SPENDING MONEY.  Yes, we can get books cheaper through Amazon, but that's not the only reason I spend money there.  I spend money there because I don't have to hand more money to an entity hostile to my rights. 

Yes, that's right.  I buy books from Amazon BECAUSE I don't pay taxes when I purchase from Amazon. 

This is nothing more than corporate protectionism--which never works as intended.

Ah. Grades turned in.

I feel much better, now.  I'm done with the BS online course.

Those of you who are curious...

Currently, The Last Pendragon doesn't have the Look Inside feature that lets you have a sample of the book, like The Godshead and Survivors does.  I did post a sample chapter (here, if you want to reread it), but that was a bit more than a week ago. 

Honestly, I'm not sure the sample chapter I posted isn't going to be more than what Amazon will eventually put up. 

But, if you're curious about Pendragon, and don't want to buy before you've sampled...there you go.  And you can buy any of my books in either paperback or on Kindle--just click here to be directed to the print versions.

Oh, Lord, here we go again.

Dan Rather just can't keep himself from openly displaying how batshit insane he's gone.  I really wish his doctor would adjust his Alzheimer meds, and he'd get a nurse that would make sure he takes them. 

I remember when Dan Rather was one of the big names in trusted media.  I remember watching him on the evening news with my grandmother when I was small, long before Alzheimer's stole her from me.  I remember how trustworthy he seemed.

I also remember his "faked, but true" Air Force documents during Bush's re-election try, and his crack up on air when George W. Bush was re-elected.

Now, there's this: "these people politically want to cut [Obama's] heart out and throw his liver to the dogs."  No, we don't.  We want to send him home to Chicago.  We don't wish him any personal harm--that's what those on the far left wish on those of us who want to be left alone, and to not be controlled, because we're standing in the way of their socialist/fascist utopia.  

Besides.  I wouldn't want to poison a dog like that.

I am occasionally too nice for my own good.

I had a student email me this morning, in a panic.  They thought the paper was due this week.  I don't know how they got that idea set in their empty little head--end of semester was last Friday--but I'm not that surprised.  This student is currently sitting at an F because of work that was turned in late (which I generally don't grade).  They were sitting at about mid-D before the disproportionately large paper grade turned up a zero.

If the paper hadn't been worth 400 points, if the course had been designed better, and if this student hadn't been making an effort to get stuff done the last few weeks, I'd have told them to go soak their head.

As it is...I told the student to email me the paper today.  Or I won't grade it, since they were the only one that fucked up this bad.

Because I may feel sorry for the stupid, but I won't bend so far over backward to accommodate lack of personal responsibility that I end up kissing my own ass.

Three copies of Pendragon

To whomever bought the copy yesterday and the one this morning, thanks.

Sunday, May 5, 2013

Happy Cinco de Mayo.

Not because I have any Mexican Pride, but because everybody needs to have the chance to whip the French.

Saturday, May 4, 2013

You know...

Blood doesn't bother me...unless it's gushing out of one of my kids.  Like the time the imp bashed his mouth on his crib rail while jumping in the crib when he was about fifteen months old.  Or the time the imp took a chip out of the pixie's head by throwing a wooden alphabet block at her. 

Or, like tonight.

There's a rocker recliner in the pixie's room.  She still nurses before going to sleep (yes, she's heading toward two and a half.  That's the only time she nurses, so fuck off if you don't like it).  This afternoon, the imp was standing in it, hanging onto the back, and rocking hard enough to slam it into the wall behind it. 

And then...the pixie wandered between the rocker and the wall, and got bashed just right between the bottom of her nose and her top lip with the hard part of the back.  And that little flap of skin between the top lip and the gum got busted open, and she wound up gushing blood everywhere. 

Needless to say, the imp spent the rest of the afternoon in his room after I blistered his butt.  This is not the first time he's played in that chair like that, nor yet the first time he got spanked for it.  It is the first time the pixie got hurt while he was playing on furniture in ways I've told him not to for fear that he will be hurt. 

Yes, he's sorry he did it.  Yes, he's sorry his sister got hurt.  No, I don't think it'll keep him from doing it again.  He's four.  He knows, after the fact, that he's done something that he's going to get spanked for.  I don't think he's developed the foresight to know that before he does it.

I am still not a happy mama.  I do not like seeing my children's blood where it doesn't belong: outside of their little bodies.

Hard at work, or hardly working?

I graded my last revision.  I've downloaded my grades.  I plan to turn in my grades tomorrow morning.

Last night, I finished one short story for the next Modern Gods book.  This afternoon, I finished another one.  I've got a third one up and ready to go.

My house, on the other hand, is a total disaster.  The stuff I'd put away in the bottom cabinets has to all go back into the hall bathroom--carefully, so I don't block the sink for getting drinks, or for the kids to brush their teeth.  My living room is even worse, thanks to Hurricane Imp and Hurricane Pixie.  Oh, and thanks to the 3'x2.5'x1' box of sink that will need to be installed with the counter top. 

So, I'm trying to decide what I need to be doing next.

Fuck it.  I'm going to write.

Random ramblings

Our weather around here lately has been bipolar.  On Tuesday and Wednesday, we were up in the low-mid 80's, sunny, and beautiful.  The kids played outside all day Wednesday, digging in the dirt in Grandpa's garden (which probably won't be planted this year).  Thursday, we were 40 degrees cooler.  And raining.  Thursday night, it started snowing.  Friday, it was still snowing.  It's stopped now, but it's still cold and nasty.  In May.  This is the first snow recorded in May, since they started making records.  Snow.  In May.

What the fuck happened to global warming???

My imp has narrowed his food choices down to three or four things: sausage links or granola bars for breakfast, peanut butter sandwiches (no jelly) for lunch, and chicken nuggets with cocktail sauce and a piece of cheese for supper.  I'd be a lot more concerned without vitamins. 

My pixie, on the other hand, eats almost anything we eat.  She loves corn and green beans, and nothing makes her happier than having an ear of corn on the cob.  She has trouble with peanut butter sandwiches--she's still teething in the back, and chewing hurts--but has gotten around that by begging for peanut butter on a spoon.  And then eating it like a Popsicle.

It's cute, watching the kids play with the cats.  They call "kitty, kitty, kitty?" and Cricket (black and white) in particular comes running.  Shadow is more prone to snuggling up to sleepy kids in the evening, when they're settling down for bed.  Both cats love chasing the kids when they drag a knitted cord up and down the hall at a dead run.

Speaking of cats, I'm pretty sure Shadow is going to end up planning a painful demise for the dog...or at least, doing her best to scare a mess out of her.  The dog just keeps pranking the smaller, black cat.  A few weeks ago, she walked her water bowl over to the cat, and slung most of it onto the cat with her Scotty beard.  Day before yesterday, she pranked Shadow twice: first time, she jumped the cat from around a corner and scared her fuzzy; second time was another water-based prank--Shadow was getting a drink, and on her way past, the dog bopped the cat on the back of the head with her muzzle, knocking Shadow's face into the water. 

Classes are done.  Friday was the last day.  I got one revision to grade last night, and I'll get that done after I wake up a bit more.  Then, I get to turn grades in.  And then, I'm done until August 19.  I've got a textbook to write sometime in there, but other than that, I'm free for the summer. 

I'm planning to aim at about 3,000 words/day, and see if I can get at least two books written and ready for revision.  More would be gravy, but I'm not going to stress as long as I can do the next Gods book, and the last Legends (Pendragon's sequel). 

I've already sold a copy of Pendragon for Kindle.  Whoever bought that...thanks, and I hope you enjoy it.

Friday, May 3, 2013

Kids are abed...

...Pendragon is published, grading is done.  Today was the last day of semester, and if I get any revisions to grade, they have to be in around midnight tonight.  I'm turning grades in either Sunday night or Monday morning. 

Time to focus.  Lost Girls (vampire story) has stalled, so I'm going to work on the next Modern Gods book.  I'm playing with tentative titles for now--it'll either be Road Trip or Highway to Tartarus.  Once I get a draft finished, I'll write the second of the Legends series: the sequel to The Last Pendragon. 

I have fifteen weeks and two days, starting now, until fall semester starts.  Let's see how much I can get done.

It's up.

The Last Pendragon is now available for sale on Kindle--it's linked over on the right.  It may be tomorrow before the paperback is available.

Update: Paperback is now up.

FFOT: I got nothin'.

My book is well on its way (though, if CreateSpace hadn't messed up the pagination in the Table of Contents the first time, it'd be available now).  Semester is done, and all I'll have to do today is grade revisions and turn in final grades Sunday night or Monday morning, leaving me free until August 19.  I seriously have no complaints about that.

I'm tired of bitching about my kitchen.  The counter top should be in and installed in two weeks, as should the drawer/door pulls that the salesprick forgot to order when he forgot to order the counter top.  So, I'm done bitching about that until the end of May (if it's not done by then). 

Well...snow.  Snow in May.  That can fuck off.  As can having to walk the dog in the snow. (Although, seeing a squirrel slip on an icy patch on a tree trunk and faceplant in a patch of snow at the bottom of the tree was epic funny).

If you have anything that's fucked up your week, let off steam in the comments--use whatever language feels appropriate.  That's what these posts are here for.