A Couple Things That Puzzle Me

The last few weeks, several of my interactions online have boggled my mind. It’s not stupidity (I’ll get to that shortly), it’s the reactions of a few folks to things I’ve said, or done. I’ve chatted on facebook with a couple of female friends and they’ve told me about some of their issues and how they feel. That’s not what confuses me. The part that boggles my mind, is when I tell them how much they mean to me, or compliment them, they act as if I’m the greatest person ever. These are amazing women. Surely I can’t be the only one that sees, and appreciates, this?

Another thing that has me confused: Not too long ago, I talked about how awesome I found a pair of books (1 & 2) by R.S.Guthrie and I also reblogged a post from a funny lady, Sweet Mother. Both of these wonderful people seemed to think I was pretty cool for doing this. The part I don’t understand is, is it simple appreciation, of were my actions that rare? Eh, it’s got to be simple appreciation.

Okay, now for the part you’ve been waiting for: The stupidity I have encountered. Not too long ago, at the place where I do most of my writing (Peace & A Cup Of Joe, if you’re in Baltimore, come check it out. It’s awesome), a group of people came in to hold a meeting. They’re trying to get the U.S. to become a Socialist state. Fortunately (or unfortunately, depending on your outlook), I sat and listened. I don’t remember what their name is, or what their website is, or I’d link to it. (I seem to be link happy today)
So, the stupidity, for me, came in with a few of the things they were spouting. For example: Did you know that in Cuba, they have a vaccine for brain cancer? They can’t distribute it to the world because the United States and our Allies have an embargo on that country. Never mind the fact that Elian Gonzalez came here from Cuba back in the 90s and hundreds of others have, too. Let’s also ignore the fact that that would be worth Trillions of dollars and couldn’t be held back for anything. Let’s focus on what was said with a perfectly straight face: “They. Have. A Cure. For. Brain Cancer. In. Cuba.WHAT?! Let’s break down why this is impossible, shall we?
1) Brain cancer is not caused by viruses. It’s a result of cells mutating uncontrollably.
2) There are about 120 kinds of brain cancer.
3) It’s Cuba. Despite what the pro Cuba people want the world to believe, it’s not a good country. If it were, there would be more people sneaking in not out. They don’t even recognize the Scientific Method. Da fuq?! How can you say Cuba is a world leader in Science without recognizing the most important factor of science?

Another thing these fools spouted got me steaming:
When they come into power (their words), they will take all the money from banks and corporations and give it to everybody, starting with the homeless. What the fuck?! That’s money you and I worked our asses off for! No one is entitled to it but those that worked for it. Listen: I’ve not yet made more than $11,000 a year. You rob Bill Gates to give me some of his money, I’m gonna kick you in the groin and give it back. I don’t do handouts. I’m sure there are other who feel the same as me, but unfortunately, there are too many who will gladly sit on their butts and take. My question is this: Without banks and corporations, there are no jobs. With no jobs there is no money. What are you going to do when no one has anything? Beg for help from others?

And… I’m done for now. Do you agree with me? Disagree? Talk to me!

Sweet Mother

For today’s Sweet Mother post I’m going to send you elsewhere.  That’s right.  There are two things you should see today.  One is a beautiful new post over at Canadica by the Weebs.  The whole post is a rip, roarin’ ride through the new nation state of Canadica.  If that doesn’t tempt you, go for the new national “seal” of Canadica.  That is worth the price of admission alone and since the admission is free, well, don’t be an a**hole.  Just visit it, right after you read the rest of this post.  (Still can’t find Canadica?  Just hit any Canadica in the above paragraph and ye shall arrive.  On a chariot…but, ye shall arrive.)



Today’s second diversion:





Just what in the hell is PODCOM, you ask?


PODCOM is my new LA show happening at the PODSHARE.  An innovate, pimped…

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My First Poll

In two more days, National Novel Writing Month, or NaNoWriMo for short, begins. As you know, I’ll be participating. I’m actually going to attempt a romance novel. Well, action/romance, but still. Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. Guys really can write romance novels that women are interested in (if they have read them, or get help from women they know). But that’s not important. What is important is I have created my first poll. “Why?” you ask. Because I want your opinion. So, do me a solid? Vote in the poll? Thanks.

Into The Realm: The Chronicles of Carter Blake (raw update 1)

Daphne and I headed up to my library to research her psychology assignment. We began with scanning her textbook for the differences between sociopath and psychopath. I asked her to sum up what the text said so I could hear it in layman’s terms. After several minutes of thought, she did, finding it wasn’t as clear-cut as she had hoped. We worked for another two hours.
I was reading ahead while she wrote a preliminary diagnosis on a fictional patient’s session. Keeping my eyes on the book, I asked my second question.
“Daphne, what was your first real kiss like for you?”
Her head snapped up in surprise after a twenty-second delay.
“What? Where’d that come from?” she asked, bewildered.
“I was curious,” I answered honestly. “I haven’t had one yet.”
She smiled. “It was both sweet and awkward. Neither of us had had any experience with kissing. It was my freshman homecoming dance. His name was Tyler. The DJ was playing ‘Lady’ by Kenny Rogers. There’s a line, ‘I’m your knight in shining armor and I love you.’ Right then, Tyler moved in to kiss me. Oddly enough, I had decided to kiss him at the same time. Result? We bonked heads. We smiled painfully at each other, and tried again. This time, our lips met instead of our skulls.” She chuckled. “Not too smooth. But, the kisses got much better after that.”
I was fascinated. Immediately I conjured a vision of Daphne giving me my first real kiss. I felt her eyes on me and glanced up from the book, my face aflame. She kindly pretended not to notice and rose to her feet. She plucked the text from my slack fingers, dropping a small kiss on the top of my head.
“Goodnight, Carter,” she said, leaving my room. I never saw her again.

Jennifer Steel, Agent of the F.S.I.A. (raw update)

A blond-haired, blue-eyed woman dressed in a beige pantsuit stood before them expectantly. Her chestnut hair was pulled back in a simple pony tail. She was shorter than Jennifer, but seemed more imposing than the larger Rob. A tentative smile slowly grew on Jennifer’s face as she stared at the tiny woman. Adrenaline dumped into her body, causing her heart to thump rapidly. Her skin tingled as the blood shot through her veins. Her eyes sparkled and flashed with happiness. She stepped forwards and pulled the little woman into a hug. “Oh, thank, god you’re okay, Danni.”
Danni patted her friend’s back. “Of course I am, my dear. Thank you for your concern. Though unwarranted, it is greatly appreciated.”
“I found your laptop, but it’s back in my car. I didn’t look inside.”
“Keep the computer. The Karo syrup will clean off rather easily. None was able to get to the insides because of the covering created by Mr. Stevenson. It should work perfectly. The password, incidentally, is the first 14 numbers of the Fibonacci sequence.”

NaNoWriMo Character Blog Hop

I recieved info about a Character Blog Hop from a friend, Lanise. Sorry it took me so long to post, dear lady.
Me being me, though, I had to put my own twist on things. So, this is the first ever (as far as I know) NaNoWriMo Character Blog Hop. The difference is that we use a character from our NaNoWriMo novel. So, the instructions will be below and my answers will follow. Sounds fun, eh?

Here’s the instructions:

Nadine at CC came up with this idea for a different type of a
character interview.

If you’d like to join in, here are the instructions:

Well, this week we’ve set up the Character Blog Hop! It’s very simple:
just have one of your characters answer the questions, then link to
other bloggers’ posts.

But maybe I should let Cloverpuff explain… Your turn, Clover!


Hello everybody! I’m Cloverpuff, the dimension-hopping rabbit. I’ll be
popping by your novels this week, asking your characters these

1) What’s your name?

2) What were you doing when I came in?

3) If I told you you had to do some spring cleaning right away, what
would you throw out?

4) Look deep into my eyes… Do you have any secrets you’d like to confess?

5) If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be?

6) And what do you like most about yourself?

7) Is there anyone you really, really hate? Come on, you can tell me!

8) Imagine it’s a typical Saturday afternoon. What are you doing?

9) What’s your strongest childhood memory? It can be good or bad.

10) Well, thank you for your time! Before I head on back to my dimension,
can you complete this sentence for me?

If I could be a domestic appliance, any appliance, I’d be a…

Now I’ll hop on over to… [insert other bloggers’ links here]

I’m gonna cheat here. I’m not gonna re-write the questions. This will be with my female MC, Kirstin Stone, a Fire Assassin.
I’m skipping the first question because I already answered it. Whoops. lol

2) I was practicing my flame throwing.
3) Spring cleaning? What is that?
4) I like rabbit stew.
5) My eyes. Everyone has brown eyes.
6) I like my dedication the most. None of my targets have ever escaped.
7) I really hate annoying, talking bunnies.
8) A typical Saturday? I’m usually training, or hunting my target.
9) My strongest childhood memory is of the beach. Waves crash against the white sand. A huge fire burns nearby.
10) An appliance? C’mere, you stupid bunny! *chases the rabbit which hops off*

The bunny hops as fast as he can to:

Sweet Mother

Brother Jon

Meeka’s Mind

What do you guys think? Let me know below!

Into the Realm: The Chronicles of Carter Blake (raw)

Let me tell you a story. My name is Carter Blake. I live in southwest Baltimore in a row house smack in the center of a shitty neighborhood. I’m fourteen and a junior at Johns-Hopkins University. I had skipped grades a few times in school. Not the easiest way to live, but my options were limited. I’d either be pummeled daily for being a total geek in high school or I’d be a pariah in college. The latter was preferable. As it turned out, the thing that used to get me beat up a lot in middle school – my intelligence – got me a lot of respect in college.
I arrived home after a series of lectures on String theory and particle physics. My professor, Dr. Kevin Rosenthal, had some interesting ideas on their applications in cold fusion. It was amusing to see most of my older classmates staring slack-jawed after one of Professor Rosenthal’s more abstract lectures. They got stunned looks on their faces when he delved into his own hypotheses on String theory. The non-befuddled ones would simply struggle to stay awake due to their all night cram sessions. The Prof frowns on sleeping in class and will use a slumbering student as target practice with a chalk-laden eraser. Unlike my other professors, he preferred chalk boards to dry erase ones. For those three of us still tuned in, his lectures were as mentally stimulating as a Penthouse centerfold was physically.
I threw my jacket over the banister, just inside the front door of my house, and trudged up the stairs to my bedroom. With a satisfying thud and a sigh of relief, I dropped my load of books on the floor. I collapsed in front of my computer, flicked in on, grabbed a soda from my mini-fridge and waited for the system to start up. Afternoons were when I indulged in my favorite role-playing game, BattleHammer. It’s a swords and sorcery, hack-and-slash, dungeon crawler type role-playing game (RPG). I played the tabletop version on the weekends, but this was my fix between sessions. As the computer came on, I hit a button on my stereo remote. Seconds later, the first notes from my favorite rock album began to pound from my speakers. I cranked up the volume and spun back to the monitor.
I loaded my current favorite BattleHammer avatar, a dark dwarf fighter named Drago the Clanless. I played as him on the weekend, too. He was Clanless because Mordecai, the Rakshasha wizard had wiped them out while he patrolled the Utterdark. Upon his return, Drago vowed on his dead clans’ souls he’d wear Mordecai’s guts for garters and his skull for a cap. While I waited for him to load, I received a message from another gamer with the screen name of “Gandalf.” I rolled my eyes at that, and then clicked to check his profile. I laughed when I saw the character he was controlling: it was one of a race called “treebeard” and was named “Pippin”.
I played for a few hours, and then logged off. I spun in my chair, and flipped open the mini-fridge. I scowled at its bare shelves. ‘Remember to restock,’ I thought.
I turned off my stereo, went downstairs to get another soda and considered making dinner. My mom wasn’t due home for another hour. It was just the two of us. My father disappeared around the time I turned three. I didn’t have many memories of him, only a vague short film memory of a seemingly powerful yet shadowy person. I wasn’t too fond of him for what he did, though I desperately, and secretly, wanted to meet him.
I grabbed steaks from the fridge and tossed them on the counter. Stepping out the back door, I quickly ignited the grill. I wanted it warming up while I marinated the beef in a glass baking pan. I poured vodka over the beautiful meat (I am an avowed steak lover), adding my favorite spices and some extra virgin olive oil. I could not wrap my mind around the idea of the so-called “marbled” beef. To me, the fat just got in the way. The fat veins get tough and stringy, making the meat difficult to eat. I stuck the pan of steaks in the fridge and stood there; debating what else I wanted to make. My cell rang and I flipped it open without looking.
“This is Carter,” I answered.
“It’s Daphne,” came the melodious reply.
Daphne Sinclaire is 24, and the most gorgeous lab partner a guy could ask for. She stands at 167.6 cm, and weighs in at 83.9 kilos of firm athleticism. She has coppery red hair, sea foam green eyes and an awesome 40-32-42 body. How do I know her measurements? Simple: I asked. At the start of the semester I won a bet with her. We’d been randomly paired for a science expo which had a cash prize of $5,000 each and, better yet, a write-up in Scientific American. Daphne wasn’t too pleased, especially when she learned that not only could she not trade partners, but this project would also affect our final grade. She made it perfectly clear that she didn’t want her grade to depend on, as she put it, “A little kid.” To attempt to placate her, I declared we’d win. She scoffed. I challenged her to place a wager. The terms were simple: if she won (by our losing), I’d be her personal servant for three years, no task refused. If I won (by being naturally right about the outcome), I could ask her five personal questions, no chance to refuse. Confident that we’d lose, she agreed.
Not only did our exhibition of sustainable cold fission win, we were invited to demonstrate it to all sorts of government officials. Since we’d won, my first question was what her measurements were. So far, it was the only one. She’s since become a lot friendlier.
“What can I do for you?” I asked.
“I’m hoping you’d be willing to assist me with my psych assignment,” she replied.
“Certainly. Bring it over. Have you had dinner yet?”
“No. Why?”
“You are welcome join my mother and me for dinner. We’re having steak and…something. I haven’t decided what else, yet.”
She laughed, causing a rush of heat to the pit of my stomach.
“Alright,” she said. “What time should I get there?”
“How about…,” I paused.
“Well?” she prompted.
“ASAP,” was my response.
She laughed again, “Roger. Wilco,” then disconnected. I enjoyed hearing the military jargon from her. She’d picked it up from her dad, an Army sergeant.
My heart flipped. I was about to have my first female guest! To say I was excited was a major understatement. Usually, I went over to her apartment on campus. I grabbed three hefty potatoes from the bin, washed them, wrapped them in foil with a dash of salt and E.V.O.O. and slung them in the oven. I raced upstairs to shower. I was in my room before I remembered I had left the oven off. Slapping my forehead in frustration, I ran back down and set it for 350 degrees. I ran back up, stripped and jumped into the shower.
I was tying my sneakers when I heard a knock at the front door. I scampered downstairs and swung it open. There she was. She wore a light green tank top that accentuated her red hair and green eyes, and a black denim mini-skirt that accentuated my interest. She had enough make up on to emphasize her looks. On her left wrist, she had on a gold hoop bracelet and an antique Mickey Mouse wristwatch. Her feet were in black flats.
I stood back and waved her in. She smiled and entered, turning with her right hand positioned so I couldn’t see what she was carrying. After a few moments, she presented a bottle of Pinot Noir with a flourish. I chuckled at the expression on her face. It seemed to say, “Look at what I did!”
“What?” she asked with a smile.
“You look cute.”
“Carter,” she said with a rise in inflection at the end. “Don’t.”
I raised my hands in surrender. “Relax. I wasn’t making another pass. The last attempt and later shooting down was enough of a lesson.”
I took the wine from her, opened it so it could breathe, and placed it on the counter. Gesturing at the fridge, I said, “You think of anything else we should have? I have potatoes baking in the oven.”
Daphne shrugged and pulled open the doors of the fridge. While she searched, I pulled the steaks out and took them over to the grill. They were just beginning to sizzle when my mom’s car pulled up in the alley. She strolled through the back gate and waved. Mom was wearing her usual office uniform: blue jeans, a white blouse and black tennis shoes. Her auburn hair pulled into a bun. Her laptop was slung over her right shoulder as always. My mom is one of the few women I know who didn’t carry a purse. Her warm brown eyes sparkled as she met my green ones. She walked over and pulled me down for a forehead kiss. She had to stand on tiptoes to do so; she’s 165.1 cm, and I’m 185.42 cm. Yeah, I’m an overachiever in everything.
“Hey, baby,” she said. “How was school?”
“Illuminating,” I replied, “as always.”
Mom chuckled. “I noticed Daphne’s car parked out front. Is she staying for dinner?”
“Yes’m. She brought red wine for the two of you. Sounds like she’s making a salad.”
“I wish you wouldn’t ask our guests to assist with dinner,” Mom complained.
“Ordinarily, I probably wouldn’t have. However, she has asked for homework help, so it’s only fair I be compensated for my time.”
Mom shook her head and went into the house. I saw her greet my study partner through the back window. Twenty minutes after I started, the steaks were done.

Not Another Monday!

That used to be my reaction, too. I know Mondays aren’t everyone’s favorite day of the week, but I have something that will hope fully make it better for you: Carter Blake Mondays! I know what you’re thinking: Da fuq? Allow me to explain. Every Monday, I will be posting a raw version of an “Into The Realm: The Chronicles of Carter Blake” section for your reading enjoyment. This one is a great deal more polished than Jennifer Steel, Agent of the F.S.I.A., so I think you’ll get more enjoyment from it. We’ll start with the prologue to whet your appetite and I’ll post Chapter 1, subchapter 1 later this evening. Tell me what you think in the comments below.

Into The Realm: The Chronicles of Carter Blake, Book 1


I squinted across the dusty bowl of the coliseum where I found myself. An alarmingly huge, ripped bald man with fur briefs and a leather breast-plate careened towards me. The scorching sun sucked rivers of sweat from his bulging biceps. Screaming a horrendous battle cry, he swung a serrated great sword at my head. I ducked, feeling the breeze of the blade swooping by, As the crowd in the stands roared its approval,.
‘Whoa! Who the hell has a serrated great sword?!’ I mentally shouted. It may have sounded a bit like a girl-scream. Hell, it was a really big sword.