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IS THIS FOR REAL???

This is Ryan Roberts reporting from downtown Boston, in the year of our Lord, 1774. Station BBB (which we stole from England)

We print all the news fit to be printed...and some that is not.

Our motto here at the office is...what?

Today, there is grave news of a planned attack upon British ships carrying tea provided by the East Indian Company via Chinese sellers.

This actually happened last year but news has been slow today and it's our job here at the 'media center' to stir up trouble and strife among the rebellious colonies. 

We get a lot of kickbacks in the form of King George bumper stickers and fake wooden teeth, which will be a big item after George Washington becomes President later down the road. 

Film at eleven!

People dressed up like Indians, (not those Indians) the ones that wear feathers and are members of the group: YMCA singers...are said to be behind this travesty  and mockery of justice.

It wasn't even Halloween which hasn't been invented yet.  I'm just happy to report that no one thought to dress up as that Friday the 13th guy that hasn't been invented yet either.

These rebel rousers climbed aboard ships and heaved chests of tea into the Boston Harbor.  

Mistress Benefia Evers was also heaved over the side of some unidentified brothel balcony by accident.  The would-be Indians just got carried away, a spokesman for the group explained later on.

An official apology has been issued to Mistress Evers.

On the bright side, this is a very happening type of year.  We here at the Boston Gazette predict many unsanctioned acts on the horizon by both militant troublemakers and political enthusiasts alike.

So, if you enjoy such emotionally charged stories, just remember to hit that ‘like’ button and don’t forget to subscribe to our ever-growing franchise.  Merch available soon!

CAPTAIN'S BLOG: STARDATE: 4259.3 AND SOME FEW SECONDS

I just got a chill.  I feel like I'm channeling Bill Shatner.  Not the guy who saw things on the wing of the plane, the other Bill Shatner.  No...not the fake police officer with the weird hair either.  The other, other guy.  Captain James T. Kirk of the Starship, Enterprise.

Captain Kirk could have seen things on the wings of his Starship, but if he did, he never mentioned it in his ship's blog. 

I know he didn't because all the information has been released for public viewing, as of this month.  Right along with the Kennedy assassination files and Big Foot's appearance on David Letterman some few years back. 

What do you mean, the Starship Enterprise had no wings?  Then how did the Captain see things on them?  You're confusing me, so get off my blog.

I can say what I want, it's my blog, not yours. Go get your own blog!

Anyway....

Captain's Blog.  

Today was like any other day.  Spock was a pain in my ass.  He thinks he knows everything.  Trouble is, he usually does which pisses me off.  No one likes a 'know-it-all'.  

I made a pass at some new Yeoman, which is what I do, as you all know from my previous blogs.  She was, of course, most receptive and we will meet on the planetarium side of the ship after hours tonight.  Man does not live by bread alone, after all.

A man, even a Captain must have diversions to keep sane out here among the stars.  

Scotty keeps telling me he 'canna do it'.  Not sure what he's talking about, as I have not asked him to do anything other than his job.  I think he's hitting the Saurian brandy again. (It's green!)

My mission, should I choose to accept it...wait, I think that's another show.  So, never mind.

Our five-year mission which has turned into so many spin-offs and unnecessary movie franchises, is to explore strange new worlds, to seek out new life and new civilizations, to boldly go where no one has gone before which brings to mind...

What the hell were we thinking?

I'm just going to grab a nap because I'm getting on in years and I do have that Yeoman expecting great things from me later tonight, so...

This is James Tiberious Kirk. (god, I hate that name, mom must have hated me).  signing off.  

Good night and good luck.

I'M HAPPY, THRILLED AND PROUD...

My mother asked me, what do you wish to be when you grow up.  

I wanted to be a princess, a coffee making machine and a puppet, not necessarily in that order.  A Writer???  Didn't even enter my head...

Author, dreamer, skeptic, nonconformist. Researcher, WWII enthusiast, lover of all things romantic and steamy. Instill humor in all I attempt but at what expense, one could wonder. 

I believe staunchly in aliens, but they refuse to believe in me. I hate double standards, don't you?

The motivation behind anything I write comes from the multitude of voices in my head. (Oh, don't even go there...like any author does not experience this phenomenon).

You know the little guys, who keep you awake at night, insisting upon plotting out an entire novel, usually, the size of War and Peace, even though you have a meeting the next morning with the new boss that's flying in from Geneva to evaluate your department's contributions over the past fiscal year? Those characters?

They motivate me to keep a writing tablet beside my pillow (and a flashlight and gel pen...it has to be gel, they insist.

 They have trouble reading my handwriting the next day otherwise) that I not miss any of the special gems they throw out willy-nilly, usually just when I'm reaching that blissful state of comatose all serious sleepers crave.

I am seriously beginning to dislike these phantom people.  

Why don't they just go away, or at least come when I am sitting idly, doing nothing per se.  But...NO! 

 No, that's not how they work.  Not at all. Nor do they understand, I actually have a day job that keeps them in writing tablets and gel pens.

Yes, I love being a writer.  Don't we all.  It's fulfilling and magical and I am just darned proud to be counted among the elite group of wondrous people.  Anyone have a gel pen I can borrow, mine just ran out of ink.

I would have made a great puppet, just saying.

SO I FELL IN LOVE FOR THE 8TH TIME TODAY...

It happens mostly when I'm bored or drinking heavily, but who hasn't been there, right?

I'm reading this new saga.  Not sure what a saga is, and yeah, I can Google it, but I'm trying to just get along on my own these days, without tech assistance or AI.  It's like trying to stop smoking, I'm pretty sure although, never smoked.

So, back to the story...I've fallen in lust with the protagonist (I did Google that word cause I liked the sound of it) as I am apt to do on occasion.  The last time this happened, it ended with me in a jail cell (again) cursing at police officers at two in the morning, referring to their mothers in terms best not stated here.  Good times!

I have trouble separating fact from reality when immersed in a novel, apparently, or that is what the judge said, at least.  I do not give much credence to his sage words, however.

I know fact from fiction.  I'm a professed writer, after all.  It's my job to know such weighty things.

But I am in lust, and I enjoy this state tremendously.  I am bereft when the book series end and I must return to a normal state of being.  Major bummer there!

I'll keep you apprised of any interesting developments in the near future, should any arise.  If I happen to end up incarcerated, can I count on you for bail money?  No....???

Well, fine.  I just want you to know, you are stifling my love life tremendously by not being there for me when I need you most.  Just saying.

On to the second novel....

SO I AWAKENED LAST NIGHT

Ever get something stuck in your head?  It keeps creeping in at the most inopportune times.  It won't go away.  And most times, it's only a tiny fragment of the whole, so not only do you repeatedly say it, you get it wrong!

So, about four in the morning, I sat up in bed and said...

I know how to tie my shoe; I take the loop and push it through...  

Now, mind you, alas, I was alone in bed, and I knew the little ditty that had come to mind well.  Why had it come to mind?  Because God hates me, that's why.

And you can't NOT finish it even though you're sitting there like an idiot, in the dark, talking out loud...to yourself, reciting a stupid children's poem and where you read it??? No clue! I don't HAVE any children. (the little trolls).  

Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!

'It's very hard to make it stay, cause my thumb keeps getting in the way.

THERE.  IT'S DONE.  GO BACK TO SLEEP.

Nope.

I lay back, and here it comes again.  I got up after ten minutes of putting curses on people I didn't even know all that well, got some chocolate milk cause it is about to expire and a person just can't waste chocolate milk, right?  Did I want chocolate milk?  No.

Yeah, God has it out for me, but I am stymied as to why.  I'm a good enough person most times.  I don't have road rage...all that much.  I open doors for old people even though they look at me angrily most times, some even kick me in the shins for my efforts.  What's that all about???

You know what I'm doing as I type this?

I'm reciting that stupid poem, that's what I'm doing...

WHY ME LORD?

Musings, thoughtful insights, revelations...who needs them?

I was sitting in my office cubical yesterday, as I do on occasion, staring at the wall.  It's a nice wall as walls go but if I stare at it long enough, I get cross-eyed.  So, I'm looking at the wall and this thought comes, out of the blue.

It's a deeply profound thought about the life and times of Edgar Allan Poe.  I've never met the man.  I've seen a couple of his movies, sure, who hasn't.  I've never read anything he wrote.  But this thought was moving and eloquent and just something I usually do not think, if you get my drift.

My deepest thought to date was something along the lines of...why do gorillas not eat other gorillas.  There's a lot of meat there, right?  But, no, these guys are vegetarians.  If they could, they would be into smoothies, I'm thinking.

They are mean enough to devour one another if the mood strikes, I'm sure.  So...yeah.  They shouldn't be veggie eaters.  

And then another thought struck.  How many bananas did King Kong eat in a day.  (are you seeing a pattern here, people?) 

My thoughts are not deep.  So, I am thinking...always a dangerous pastime apparently, some alien entity entered my body and took over for a brief but meaningful moment. 

That's why I had such a disturbing though.  I would not have had one on my own, obviously.

 I feel so much better knowing the why of things.  

For a moment, I thought I had actually grown up or something.  A terrifying reality, right?  Peter Pan has nothing on me, folks. 

But, I feel okay now.  Just saying.

WHY ELON MUSK HATES ME 

It's a strange, obsessive relationship and I am kinda digging it.  We 'met' on Twitter, then he got mad at me and changed it to X (the artist formerly known as) and the rest is history.

What can you say about a habitual liar.  Oh, come on now.  It's not that bad.  Especially if you know the person has issues.  Turn the other cheek, is my motto.  I actually think my motto is 'a few good men' but that's another subject for another blog.

Back to Elon Musk. 

It all started one dark and gloomy night.  Not really, that is just the writer coming out in me.  It all started with a scammer trying to get me to believe he/she/it/they were Johnny Depp.  

Is this going to be a about talking apes?  

So, anyway, I didn't believe, but I love the thought of speaking with Johnny Depp or even Johnny Depp playing Jack Sparrow.  Is there a difference, you ask?  I don't know, I don't really know the guy.  All I know is he likes llamas.  And he probably lives in Tibet or some foreign place like that.

So, I paid this scammer (don't judge me) for a book cover that was...(insert gasp here)...never delivered. 

I was incensed and a little soused, so, I naturally posted this fact on my X page. My account was immediately suspended??? 

I contacted Mr. Musk (we are now on first name basis.  I call him Mr. Musk and he calls me...a lot of unnecessary adjectives).  But I explained and after a year or so, the gentlemen forgave all and I now have my account back.  Color me cheerful. The moral of this story is, if you want to speak to Johnny Depp, go through Facebook. 

There are so few Johnnys over there but probably a lot more scammers. I have wised up and only allow scammers on Instagram now.  I feel I have grown as a person.

ELOI AND MORLOCKS

Maybe George Pal and H.G. Wells knew something we didn't...

I always thought of the Morlocks as the bad guys.  I now see them as the savior of what was left of the human race.  

Poor  little Eloi getting eaten by the blue meanies.

If you put it in terms of 'followers' vs 'doers'...the Eloi deserved their fate.  Like the cattle they were, they blindly trusted and followed when the siren called.  Never questioning their lot in life. Remind you of something in this day and age?

The Morlocks, although burdened with blue skin, resembling Smurfs that didn't know how to diet properly, were the smart ones.  And how did the Eloi, who supposedly remained above ground survive radiation poisoning plus manage to come out looking like the Children of the Corn.  They must have had some powerfully effective sun block, is all I'm saying.

I am a Morlock.  I don't mind being blue for the most part.  I will take brains and discrimination over beauty and...stupidity any day of the week.  

I will not listen to a siren. I will place my hands over my ears and wait until the 'all clear'.  I will replace stupidity with common sense and common decency.  I will stand back and watch...and learn what is right and what is wrong.  No one will tell me these things.  I will patiently seek the answers out for myself.  I will make an informed decision on how my life will evolve.  Elois...suck.

A BLOB BY ANY OTHER NAME:

I am therefore I was. 

Is it nobler in the minds to suffer the slings and arrows, which probably would really hurt if you were the target.  

But, in a larger sense, what's it all about Alfie.  (I mean, the Michael Caine version, of course not the remake as there was no remake, with good reason.)

Shakespeare was a genius, so they say.  I say...he plagiarized off Jane Austen and Mickey Spillane. Not necessarily in that order.  And was highly over-rated, much as my own novels are.

Which brings up a good point.  Do the green M&Ms give you brain damage?  I know you are not supposed to smoke the red licorice at Woodstock, but I'm a rebel and did it anyway.

I'm okay today though, as you can plainly see.

Some say my blogs are a waste of space and energy. Who can argue with that?

This is America and we have freedom of speech.  If the men who wrote the Constitution could read this travesty, they would hastily rework that concept, I'm thinking.  Well, there goes the neighborhood.  

What a day, gentlemen.  I applaud your noble goals.  Keep up the good work.  enough said.  (thank God)

Where Is My Blog and Why Should I Care

I am told by those in the know, that I am supposed to be concise, analytical and serious when posting a blog.  I ask myself...why? 

For what is a blog in the larger scheme of things?  Can it change the world?  Can it make mankind better?  I'm sure the government will grant some monies to answer these burning questions somewhere along the line but for now, we are left to our own devices on the matter. 

I say, I want to blog about things which interest me (and hopefully, a few of the less discriminating of you out in the Cosmos).  

Something troubled me this fine day. 

I was standing, minding my own business, in the check-out lane at Walmart.  Not the ten items or less, mind you.  Just a normal lane. 

Some large woman came up to me, out of the blue, asking if I knew where the Ammunition section was. 

I politely ignored her fish-net stockings, her disco thigh high boots, for who am I to judge, remember...and replied, I assume the ammo would be in the 'hunting/fishing' section in the back. 

Knowing Walmart, it could be on the seasonal aisle though.  I hope I didn't misdirect her. 

I had to admire her nose ring.  I think, perhaps, she had it special made.  I've never seen something that big on a human face before.  I am not criticizing.  It looked charming with the outfit she had chosen, really it did. 

As I watched her walk away, these thoughts came to mind.  

Where did she get the fishnet stockings, they were really cool. Are they in the hunting/fishing section for I rarely visit there.  Are they in the frozen food enclosure.  I do not look beyond the Eggo shelf, personally so I could have missed them.

I have a new mission in life.  I must find those enviable stables. 

It takes so little to ignite passion in some people, right? 

I covet those stockings.  I'm seriously considering a nose ring as well.  This woman may have altered my entire existence.  Time will tell.  

This has been my first blog.  I pray that it will be my last, along with most of you who stuck to this cryptic end.