​I am one of those writers of fiction that believes that the characters usually take over the story and write it. I wrote this short story about it a few years ago (2013). It is a little too long for a blog, so I broke it into two parts. I will post the second part on Monday. Come back and see how it ends.
 
Who’s in Control?
 
It always happens when the room is too quiet—like now when she is cooking. At first, random thoughts race through her mind, usually about food such as hash browns and blue cheese. Why hash browns and blue cheese? They don’t go together. That is how it starts—always. However, she knows she has no control over these random thoughts. One leads to another which leads to another, and then it happens. She is out of control. No use even fighting it. She has learned to accept it. She wants to enjoy it, but sometimes there’s stress, tension, and emotions. The emotions are always there--of lost love, of love rekindled, and, of course, sex. The experience leaves her exhausted and excited at the same time.
 
Another random thought rushes through her mind--German black forest cake! What’s the thread? It makes no sense, and she knows it but cannot stop it. Black forest cake, a black forest, a dark forest in Europe? No! A castle in a dark forest in Europe. That’s it! She feels it. Inside the castle, it is all black and dark. No! It is light. Candles are everywhere. Red velvet hangs on the walls. It is a grand ballroom. She sees herself there in a long, formal black dress, flowing and yet sensual. Wait--it is not her. It is someone else. Who?
 
She clenches her fists in an effort to drive the thoughts out of her head, but she cannot. The pot boils over—again. Crud! Double crud! Crud for spoiling another meal and the crud burnt to the bottom of the pot. She will tend to it later. Another meal destroyed by random thoughts. As she places the pot in the sink to soak, she notices a movement in the reflection of the window. She turns toward figures in the family room. Damn! They are here. Too late to run an errand and try to maintain some sanity. Her uninvited guests have arrived and now sit motionless. They are waiting for her. With a sigh, she finally gives in and goes into the family room to join the group. They have saved her favorite chair for her. She sits down and lets her thoughts take over.
 
He is there—the protagonist. God, he is gorgeous! If ever I want to commit adultery, it would be with him. That’s silly. I’m divorced now and it would not be adultery. I could give myself to him willing. But it can’t be. He is in love with her.
They are sitting there holding hands and smiling at each other. She envies her. Her with her long, blonde hair, good looks, and a body that makes truck drivers do a U-turn for another look. She wishes she had her legs. Mental note; must give them both names.
The antagonist is there too. She hates him with a passion. He reminds her of her ex-husband, a mind so twisted and cruel and yet cunning. Somehow, he will get what he deserves. She will make sure of that. The others are there too but for the moment are not important.
 
He speaks again. What an angelic face. She decides to call him Angel. “Good, you are back. Where did we leave off? Yes, of course, I was trying to rescue my true love from the castle.”
Oh my God. He looks and talks exactly like my old boyfriend from high school. I must have written him subconsciously.
 
End of Part 1

It is with great sadness that I must announced the death of an old friend--Common Sense. Common Sense lived a long life but died in the United States from heart failure. Some say it may have been a terminal brain cramp. No one really knows how old he was, but it is believed that he was friends with Ben Franklin.

His health declined starting with the conspiracy theory that the moon landing was a hoax. As the number of illogical conspiracies theories increased, Common Sense’s health declined proportionately. Common Sense was able to tolerate the Flat Earth theory, attributing it to ignorant people who ignore the scientific facts. The round earth has been a proven fact for more than two thousand years.

The conspiracy theory that political and media elites are conspiring to replace white people with immigrants nearly killed him. He survived that only to see the increased popularity of the global warming conspiracy theory which alleges that global warming is a hoax.

Common Sense took a turn for the worst following the 2020 elections when President Trump and his followers claimed that the election was “stolen”, leading to the January 6 insurrection that attempted to stop the recount of the election results. By then, Common Sense’s heart could take no more. His decline was then irreversible.

He was preceded in death by his parents: Truth and Honesty; his wife: Logic; his daughter: Wisdom and his son; Intelligence. He is survived by his stepson, Nonsense.
​
Rest in Peace, Common Sense.

Chris Andrew knocked on the side of the door to Monte Office. Monte called it his office, but it was more of a space in a corner of the kitchen where he could write in semi-private. Chris stuck his head in.
“You wanted to see me, boss?”

Chris was Monte’s stand-by character, never the protagonist or antagonist but a well-developed character in his own right. He was like an old friend that Monte always enjoyed having around. Monte had written him into many of his short stories and even a few of his novels.

“Come in, Chris and pull up a chair.” Monte waited for Chris to get settled. “I want to talk to you about my crime fiction manuscript.” Monte paused to collect his thoughts—carefully selecting his words. “I’ve decided to kill you off.”

Chris’ jaw dropped and his eyes widened. He stood up and started pacing around the kitchen. “What? Why? I thought I was a good character.”

Monte leaned back in his chair and took a deep breath. “It’s not personal, Chris. This isn’t easy for me, but it was always in the plot. The time has come for you to die. Don’t get me wrong, I like you, but this time you need to go. I’ll put you in another story later.”

Chris threw hands up in the air. “But why, Monte? Haven’t I been a good character?”

“You’re the best, Chris, but the plot of the story has you being killed.”

“Please, boss. I like this story. I’m the sidekick of the protagonist. I’m his wingman. Everyone likes me. You even wrote me some funny lines.”

Monte shook his head. “That’s why it has to be you. It will be more of a tragedy because you are so popular. Everyone will greave—maybe even the reader. The protagonist will be heart broken.”

“Can’t you kill off what’s her name? You know, the best friend of the hero’s girlfriend?”

“You mean Linda? No, I thought of that, but it doesn’t work. She’ll comfort the protagonist in his grief. That will set up tension between the two women in my novel. It makes the story better. It has to be you.”

“But you didn’t give me any warning. This is out of the blue. Shouldn’t you write in a premonition or a forewarning?”

“It’s a surprise plot twist, Chris. I think once you see it, you’ll like it.”

Chris sat back down and hung his head. Monte stood up and placed his hand on Chris’ shoulder. Chris looked up at Monte’s face with tears in his eye. “You promise me you’ll put me in the next novel?"

“I promise.”
 
Chris stood up and looked into Monte’s eyes. “Will it hurt? You know I can’t stand pain.”

Monte Laughed. “Chris, you’re a fictional character. You can’t feel pain.”

Chris shook his head. “You know what I mean.”

Monte sighed. “Okay. No, you won’t feel anything. I’m thinking you’ll die instantly; a gun shoot wound to the head or heart.”

“What will I be wearing?”

“Come on, Chris. This is getting to be ridiculous.”

“Humor me a little, boss. Last novel you wrote, I was wounded and bleed all over my new suit. It was a mess. Don’t make me wear a suit.”

“Okay, okay. How about I kill you off in your underwear? Is that satisfactory? Now stop this nonsense and get out of here. I have a novel to write.”

“Right, boss. You got it. It’ll be a best seller, I know it. My death won’t be in vain. Thank you, thank you.”

The End

​

A couple of years ago I read an article about a new book, Power Cues: The Subtle Science of Leading Groups, Persuading Others, and Maximizing Your Personal Impact, by Nick Morgan. He talked about all the fake listening that people do while they act as if they are listening to you. He listed seven:
1. Their eye contact is too fixed, and their heads are too still.
2. They smile too brightly and for too long.
3. They tap their fingers.
4. They fidget.
5. Their body is turned away from you.
6 Their feet are pointed towards the door.
7. They don't mirror your body language.

This got me to thinking about other subtle ways you can tell people are not listening to you. Here are ten more:

1. They fall asleep. This is a dead giveaway. 
2. They don’t notice when you stop talking.
3. You ask them a question and they just nod their heads.
4. They tell you in English that they don’t speak English.
5. They wave a crucifix and a strand of garlic at you and attempt to drive a stake into your heart.
6. They let their dog pee on your shoes.
7. They put coins into your coffee cup and walk away.
8. They hold up a lapel pin and ask you to speak into it.
9. They steal your watch and wallet.
10. They fake a heart attack, so they don’t have to listen to you.
​
If you notice this type of behavior, stop talking. Your audience has stopped listening to you.

I first posted this story in 2016, but it’s still current.

You may have read Mitch Albom’s novel, The Five People You Meet in Heaven. With a wink and a nod to Mr. Albom, I now present The Five People You Meet in Hell. Sorry, it’s a blog not a novel – maybe later.
Okay, you screwed up and you know it. You are going to hell. No sweat, you say. You have many friends in hell, so you won’t be lonely. True. The company you keep puts you in hell. Here’s a clue; your enemies are there too, and they are waiting for you. Here are the five people who will meet you at the gates of hell when you arrive:

1. Your ex-girlfriend/ boyfriend and/or ex-spouse. Remember how you cheated on your significant other? You cheated. You lied about it. You confessed and promised never to do it again. Then you cheated again and lied again. You thought you got away this last time. Your ex knows what you did and will confront you in hell. What you don’t know is that you caused your ex to have a crisis about his/her sexuality. He/she blamed him/herself more than you. Your ex went into therapy. Finally, he/she had a sex change operation. Your ex then joined a commune to “find him/herself.” In a freak accident, your ex smoked some loco weed that looked like marijuana. It was fatal. With his/her dying breath, he/she swore revenge on you.

2. Your best friend from high school/college? You remember your best friend? You two vowed to be best friends forever. That was until you stabbed your BF in the back. You stole your BF’s girl/guy. You did it without a thought of how you hurt him/her. What you don’t know is that your BF had trust issue after that. He/she never trusted anyone again. He/she became very bitter and mean. With no friends, your BF sat alone at home watching reruns of Gillian’s Island. It wasn’t cable or satellite, because your BF did not trust the installer to show up at all. In a freak accident, your ex was killed by a flock of pigeons while feeding them.

3. Your old boss. You do remember your old boss? The one that didn’t give you that bonus or promotion. He said you did not achieve the goals he set for you. He said you wasted time playing games on the computer and taking naps in the stockroom. It was all true. What you don’t know is that he didn’t get a bonus or promotion either. Your failure caused him to fail too. Eventually, the company fired him for poor performance. He couldn’t get another job because he couldn’t get a referral. The industry blackballed him. He became homeless and wandered around aimlessly – without goals. In a tragic accident, he was cooked to death due to a malfunction in the heating grate he was sleeping on. Investigators found your name scribbled on the side of his cardboard box with the words, “I’ll see you in hell.”

4. Your old schoolteacher. You must remember your old schoolteacher – the one that you caused to have a nervous breakdown? She was a 30-year veteran but had never met anyone as bad as you. She even told you to your face if you ever go to hell, she will find you and kill you -- again. What you may not know is she gave up teaching and joined a street gang. For several years, she committed drive by shootings of students. When her eyesight failed, she retired to a rural area in Montana. A black bear killed her when she tried to spank it after it climbed into her apple tree. She thought it was you. The police found a picture of you with your eyes gouged out in her cabin.

5. Jack Hodges. You remember Jack Hodges? Probably not. Everyone remembers him as One-eyed Jack. Your mom always told you not to throw pencils but when Jack asked to borrow a pencil, you threw it. Sure enough, he lost an eye. That was bad enough, but what you don’t know was worst. People bullied and teased One-eyed Jack the rest of his life. He finally had enough and chose a life of crime. One day the police caught up with him, and he died in a hail of bullets. The police said that with his dying breath, he said it was all your fault.
​
So, have fun in hell.

sI know I published this before, but I love it. Enjoy.

It’s now official -- the F-word, or least that variation of it that ends in “er” is a racist word and politically correct and/or sensitive people can no longer use it. In a recent research study, an ethnic group called the F*#%erswas identified. Genealogists and biologists were surprised that this ethnic group survived so long without recognition as a distinct ethnic family.

Apparently, they have existed in plain sight for centuries all over the world. They blend in well since they are not of any distinct color nor do they have any distinguishing features. There are mother F*#%ers, father F*#%ers, little F*#%ers, and even stupid F*#%ers. The stupid, mother F*#%er, a much rarer variation, also exists.     
Many live and work in Washington D. C., but researcher found them in most state capitals. Many elected officials are F*#%ers. A disproportional number work for the DMV in most states. They seem to be attracted to jobs that require a great deal of red tape and bureaucracy. They are well suited for managerial positions. Few will acknowledge that they belong to this ethnic group, but there is no doubt that they are F*#%ers of one type or another.  
  
One researcher, who asked not to be identified for fear she might turn out to be a F*#%er, said she is happy the work to identify all the F*#%ers can now begin, because many of the F*#%ers don’t know they belong to the ethnic group of F*#%ers.    
 
We welcome this latest ethnic group and wish them well. In all fairness, it would not be correct to label someone as a F*#%er until the genealogists complete their work. However, many F*#%ers are self-evident by their lifestyle. Research will confirm this one way or another.    
​ 
PS. during my research, one of the genealogists checked my DNA, and it turns out that I am a F*#%er too. What a surprise. Who knew?

If you read my last post, then here’s the rest of the article. I wrote an exposé revealing the code of silence of the brotherhood of men. It is a little long for a blog, so I’m posting it in two parts. If you missed Parts 1, scroll down. Here is the last part.

Myth Number 9: When a sexy woman walks by, the first thing men look at is her butt.
The Truth: Simply not true. I think I can speak for all men when I say this. When a sexy woman walks by, the first thing I look at is the back of her head. Then I ask myself, “I wonder if she has a brain to go along with that really nice ass?”

Myth Number 10: Men are afraid of commitment.
The Truth: Also, not true. Men are not afraid of commitment – they’re afraid of women. All women scare the hell out of us.

Myth Number 11: Men like dogs better than cats.
The Truth: It’s not that men like dogs better than cats – they don’t. It’s just that men get excited and confused when women ask men if they would like a little “pussy.” The conversation never ends well. It is easier to talk about dogs, although they can be bitches too.

Myth Number 12: Men do not have close friends the way women do.
The Truth: This is another popular myth perpetuated by men. All men have a secret Facebook page. On that page, they have many friends including ex-girlfriends/wives, your sisters, and that good-looking divorcee next door.

Myth Number 13: Men don’t listen.
The Truth: I’m sorry. What were you saying?

Myth Number 14: Men are not sincere when they say they are “sorry and it won’t happen again”.
The Truth: Okay, there’s a nugget of truth in this myth. Let’s face it - men are stubborn. The truth is that by the time men finally get around to saying they’re sorry, they have forgotten what it is they’re sorry about, so they just say the words.

Myth Number 15: Men will cheat if given the opportunity.
The Truth: Okay, this is basically true. However, women must share part of the blame. If there were no women to cheat with, men would not cheat.

I hope this article helps to clear up the mystique that surrounds manhood and the bro code.

A few years ago, I wrote an exposé that blew the lid off the code of silence of the brotherhood of men. As a member of the male gender for as long as I can remember, I could no longer abide with the cover up and fraud that men have perpetuated upon women. At the risk of losing my subscription to Esquire Magazine, I debunked the myths and misconceptions of the mystique of manhood. It was a tell all, name names (like Thomas, Richard and Harry) and scandalous mea culpa. Sorry guys, but it was time. In case you missed it, I’m reposting it now. (Also. I don’t have anything else to post.) It’s too long for my usual blog, so I will post it in two parts. Here is Part 1.

Myth Number 1: Men leave the toilet seat up as a way of marking their territory.
The Truth: Men can’t remember to put the seat down. At an early age, men learn not to pee on the toilet lid and/or seat, so they remember to raise them. However, whenever men manage to get 80% of their urine into the toilet, they are so proud of themselves that they forget to put the seat down.

Myth Number 2: Men will never admit when they are wrong.
The Truth: Okay, I got nothing. This one is true. Wait! Did I just admit that I was wrong? Maybe there is something here. I’ll get back to you on this. Men don’t like to be embarrassed in front of women (not a myth).

Myth Number 3: Men have an unerring sense of direction and won’t admit when they’re lost.
The Truth: Men are no better at directions than women are. There, I said it! Why don’t men admit when they are lost and ask for directions? See Myth Number 2. When driving alone, men will seek out another brother and ask for directions. Some men will drive around for hours hoping their female passenger will recognize a landmark.

Myth Number 3: Men like to BBQ.
The Truth: This one is easy to debunk. Men like meat and will eat almost any meat whether it’s cooked or not. The truth is that since men came out of caves walking upright, fire has fascinated them. Sometimes men will go out and start the grill just to watch it burn without anything cooking.

Myth Number 4: Men are poor dressers.
The Truth: Not True! Men know how to dress. However, men do like to be the center of attention. The best way to do that is to wear something inappropriate. Men have been known to wear black socks with sandals just to get attention from significant others (and daughters).

Myth Number 5: Men don’t like Opera.
The Truth: Absolutely not true. Men admire opera. We thought her show was good, and her O Magazine has articles that even men can enjoy. Oh, wait. Did I say Opera? I meant to say Oprah. My bad. Sorry. Never mind.

Myth Number 6: Men have trouble expressing their feelings.
The Truth: Bull crap! Men have no problem expressing their feelings ...to other men. Whenever men gather in small groups for poker or golf, the conversation always turns to feelings. Men perpetuate the idea that they talk about women in these gathering, but it’s simply not the case. Men think that expressing feelings with women is a sign of weakness, so they don’t do it. In addition, it usually starts a long conversation, and men do hate long conversations.

Myth Number 7: Men are good at killing bugs and spiders.
The Truth: Another myth. Men are afraid of bugs and spiders too. People believe that since men are supposed to be hunters that they enjoy killing bugs. Men got over that a long time ago. They hate to be the one to kill them. In order to look heroic in front of women, men will stock and ritually kill pieces of lint and dust bunnies. I know some men that save those fake plastic spiders from Halloween and scatter them around the house. This goes back to men want to be the center of attention.

Myth Number 8: Men are better than women are at math and science.
The Truth: Not true. Women have the ability to multiply, and men can’t multiply. Case closed. 

I'll post the second part on Friday. Stay tuned. 

I enjoy watching TV shows like FBI, Chicago PD, SWAT and NCIS. If you are a fan, you know when the agents go undercover, they use ear buds that transmit and receive so they can communicate. Everyone knows that. So why is it that the mega-corporate outfits that are behind all the evil in the world never bother to check in their ears when they do a pat down? Surely, at least one employee has a TV and watches the shows. 
   
I would like to see one scene that follows the script below: 
   
KEN ENTERS. Ken: is a super undercover agent. Security stops him at the entrance of a meg-corporation (the one behind all evil in the world) after passing through the scanner.    

TINY sits at a desk in front of ken. She is a female ex-wrestler now working security.  

TINY: Sir, you just made my day.    

KEN: What seems to be the problem?    

TINY: Well, sir, our scanner indicated that you have a few items that you will have to leave here. You can pick them up when you leave the facility.    

KEN: Like what?

TINY: (chuckles) Let’s start with the pistol in your waistband.    

KEN: I have a permit to carry a concealed weapon. I have a constitutional right to bear arms.    

TINY: True. However, but we have the right to keep you out of this private property if you have a weapon. Surrender the piece or leave.    

KEN: (removes pistol and places it on the desk) Okay. I forgot I even had it.   

TINY: The other one too.  
 
KEN: What other one?   

TINY: The one strapped to your right calf.  
  
KEN: (Removes second pistol) Now I feel naked. 
   
TINY: I wish. We don’t allow cellphone either. Leave your cellphone.   
  
Ken takes out his cellphone and places it on the desk.     

TINY: Now the other one.   
 
KEN: What other one?    

TINY: The one strapped to your left calf.   
 
Ken removes the second cellphone.    
 
TINY: Our scanner indicates that you have ear buds.
    
KEN: No. No. That must be a false reading. I have nothing in my ears. 
   
TINY: If you insist. (yells) Max!    

ENTER MAXIMO, a former sumo wrestler now working security. He holds a large hand-held magnet to the side of Ken’s head. A small ear communication device pops out. He does the same to Ken’s other ear and another device pops out.    

KEN: Oh. You mean those?    

TINY: (giggling) Our scanner indicated that you have another device in your colon. Please remove that device too.    

KEN: Now that’s too much. That has to be a mistake.    

TINY: Okay, play it your way. Max!    

Maximo starts toward ken with the magnet.     

KEN: Oh, you know what? I think I am in the wrong place. I should be in the next building. I will just leave. Sorry for any inconvenience. Bye.    
​
TINY: God, I love this job.

This year I turn seven-five -- not looking forward to it. I’m already having memory issues. I’m trying to deal with them. Remembering things becomes a challenge as we get older -- I understand that. My memory was never very good anyway. Many, many years ago my wife gave me a birthday card. I thought it was funny so I laughed. She said that she couldn’t do it anymore; she had given me that same card ten years in a row. I told my family to raise a finger for each time they heard a joke was about to repeat. Many times they raised both hands and flashed ten fingers at me. The other day I told a joke and screwed up the punch line -- a rare thing for me.

In my experience, there seems to be three types of memory lost: the first is a total loss of memory of particular names, events or scheduled events; the second is a mixed match of memories (not remembering correctly or mixing two or more separate events together); and finally, false memories (remembering things that never happened – duh).

To help myself remember (total loss) or remind myself of future events, I post notes to remind myself, mark up my calendar and use visual aids. I put them on my computer, refrigerator, and kitchen counters. I even put outgoing mail near the door where I’ll see it as I leave the house. I do struggle with names, but I always did. I often run into a person I haven’t seen for a while and can’t remember their name. I have on a couple of occasions, let the dog out and forgot to let her back in. She growled at me for two days. I don’t mind so much forgetting some events; somethings are better off forgotten.

Sometimes I would relate antidotes about friends only to be corrected and told I had the wrong person in the story or got the facts wrong. Now when I tell a story, I just say it happened to someone I know. Years ago, I told one humorous story to so many people that when I ran into the subject of the story and was told it wasn’t him but was someone else, I asked him not to tell anyone.
What I really hate is remembering things that never happened. For example, I was trying to remember if I took my morning meds and decided that I did. Later, I discovered that I hadn’t taken them. I was remembering something that never happened. Sometimes my wife will ask if I saw a particular TV show or movie and I’ll say I did only to discover later that I hadn’t seen it at all – a false memory.
​
As we grow older, our memories are often the best things we have. I hate losing them. They say the memory is the second thing to go as you get old. I forgot what the first thing was. I thought I’d better write this article before I forgetaboutit.