Western Towns in the Movies Bear Little Resemblance to Their Real-Time Predecessors

We have all seen western towns in the movies or from the many half-hour and one-hour serials prevalent in the fifties and sixties. These shows bear little resemblance to their real-time predecessors.

The high-class saloons with intricate millwork and bars constructed with exotic wood, were not the norm. In many cases, the saloons were tents and the bars nothing more than boards supported by any number of sawhorses. It also bears mentioning that the whiskey was awful.

Of course, bad whiskey would be welcome to the frontier dental patient, whose doctor was limited with pain relief options. Shot of whiskey, apply pliers like instrument to the offending tooth, a moment of agonizing pain, then, all is right with the world . . . ish . . . nuff said.

To round out the above information, guns were strictly controlled and officers of the law were held to no standards when hired, Go figure.

Christmas is around the corner. I hope you have a wonderful holiday. Remember, it’s not about presents, it’s about Jesus!

 

Sources: Truewestmagazine.com     oldwest.org.com

November Arrives Ushering in Thanksgiving

Here we are, a few days before the last Thursday, in the month of November. We call this day, Thanksgiving, as proclaimed by Abraham Lincoln, on October 3, 1863.

I don’t believe anything within this proclamation stated that turkey must be served as the center piece of the smorgasbord we devour on this day of over-indulgence. There was not a morsel of this bird that said, “gobble, gobble,” at the first Thanksgiving. Why so much now? It turns out the bird was rather plentiful and turkeys on a family farm were almost always available for slaughter.

Of course, complaining about having to eat turkey on Thanksgiving is rather shallow. I have so much for which I’m thankful; I believe I’ll change my tune.

I’m fortunate that I am able to dine on turkey even though it is not my favorite protein . . . How about that? Faux pas averted.

Regardless of the food we eat to celebrate Thanksgiving, we should remember how blessed we are to enjoy the bounty we receive every day. These blessings flow from the love of God.

Enjoy Thanksgiving and remember those who have little or nothing to eat. Enjoy the upcoming week and may God continue to bless you and yours.   

Contributor—Britannica.com

On Earth we Have Creatures No One Can Prove Exist

As I write science fiction, I create many interesting creatures and characters, normally, on some exotic planet, light years away.

On our planet, called Earth, we have many interesting creatures just about as believable as the ones I create for my science fiction novels. I bet that last statement piqued your interest.

The first creature I’ll reference is Bigfoot. You know, the big hairy ape-like monster that normally appears in the Pacific Northwest. People have been looking for these creatures since time in memorial and have yet to find one. In fact, along with the Bigfoot, you can scratch the Yeti, the Sasquatch, and the Abominable snowman as no-shows.

Day-after-day, week-after-week and year-after-year, we see the same or a new group of people on a television showing trailers that lead you to believe that they saw the real Bigfoot up close and personal, but alas, not this time either.

We can even look to the water, find absolutely nothing for decades upon decades, and continue to search with new technology, find nothing, yet, still believe this animal, the loch ness monster, exists. Why? I do not know, though we carry this to other waters, naming other monsters such as, “Chessie,” the one who occupies the Chesapeake Bay.

You can carry these things on and on. There is the “Chupacabra,” and many more too numerous to name.

To all those out there still-hunting for these creatures, take a break, take a nap, or just take it easy.

Have a great week and may God bless.

The Enjoyable Portion of Halloween

We are done with Halloween for another year. The enjoyable portions for me in this so-called holiday are the precious 2 and 3 year olds grasping their parent’s hands. A doorbell is heard emanating throughout the house. I open the door to small children pressing against their parent’s legs, and at the same moment, being coaxed to utter that famous phrase, “trick or treat.”

Eventually, the children step up and excitedly accept the candy, as it drops into their bag.

My other favorite thing is pumpkins.

For instance:

Smallest pumpkin is the Jack-Be-Little.

Largest pumpkin is the Cucurbita maxima.  

The best eating pumpkin is the Cheese pumpkin.

The sweetest pumpkin is the Sugar pumpkin.

The inedible pumpkin is the Jack-O-Lantern pumpkin.

Last but not least, the best punkin chunkin pumpkin is the Casper pumpkin.

Now, that we have determined the most enjoyable part of Halloween, plus named a multitude of pumpkin uses, what do you do if the kid says trick?

Have a wonderful week and may God bless you richly.  

Information collected from: marthastewart.com, wikipedia.org, gardeningknowhow.com, usatoday.com, thedonutwhole.com

I Often Think of Idioms

Just as in my last blog post, this post runs along the lines of the types of thought that occur as I write. I often think of idioms that are contradictory to themselves, such as, “I slept like a baby,” meaning I had a good night’s sleep. Ask a young couple raising a family and you will find that babies seldom sleep.

Now, you have certainly heard, “sweat like a pig.” Interesting comment, since pigs don’t have working sweat glands.

I love many different types of food, lobster, a well-aged steak, and most anything laced with hot peppers; however, I have trouble connecting with, “I am what I eat.”    

“Bite the bullet,”  “rule of thumb,” and “break a leg,” I just a-soon not waste the brain cells deciphering these particular three.

“The proof is in the pudding.” Well now, this is certainly interesting. I believe I’ll save this for another day and relay to you one last idiom to ponder. “Cat got your tongue.” Don’t know about you, but that one makes me want to sneeze. I know many of these have meaning . . . but what fun would that be?

Have the best week you have ever had to the power of two, and may God bless you richly.  

Lightning Adds Nitrogen to the Soil

Writing each day tends to open doors within my cranial cavity, inviting a multitude of thoughts to fill the void. These thoughts can range from earthworms to distant planets. Today, for no apparent reason, lightning is the buzz in my brain. Lightning adds nitrogen to the soil, not directly, but after the strike makes nitrogen available to be washed to the ground by rain. This in turn gives gardens and other plants a boost. Ever notice grass is greener after a thunderstorm?

According to Earth’s Sky, lightning can produce sprites. Lightning sprites are electrical discharges high in Earth’s atmosphere. They are associated with thunderstorms, but they’re not born in the same clouds that send us rain.

Covb.org tells us lightning is five times hotter than the surface of the sun. Lightning strikes the United States 20 million times per year. Lightning moves about 30,000 times faster than a bullet. Thunder is the result of the rapid heating and expansion of air caused by a lightning flash.

So, there you have it. Would you agree that this post has been positively shocking?

I know, I know everybody’s a comedian. Have a great week and may God bless. 

The More Things Change?

There is an old adage that states, “The more things change, the more they stay the same.” This open-ended statement can include a multitude of adages depending on how far it is allowed to spread. The most accepted of these axioms being, “Change is the only constant.”

If you read my blog regularly, then you know I cannot allow this to lie without adding the Lynn spin which says, “We will add no line, before its time.”

A prime example could say, “Eli Whitney invented the cotton gin in 1794,” and “The first shuttle launch executed in 1980.” Both new in their respective centuries; however, both were brought to completion under the same sun and remained the same, time immemorial.

The original adage, “The more things change, the more they stay the same,” can run into infinity if you allow it to do so. It’s kind of like beating a dead horse until it turns into a dandelion .Use this old adage sparingly, and remember don’t take yourself too seriously.

I hope this is the best week you’ve ever experienced, and may God bless.  

 

 

Your Next Novel May be Found in the Midst of a Blog

In many blog posts, I speak of writing and my novels. With this post, I’ll be more explicit and show you of what I so fervently speak. Following is an excerpt from my novel, “Terminal Core.”

CLAY STEPPED UP onto the raised walkway.

“I hate this place,” he mumbled, patting his sidearm. He grabbed the door handle and prepared to enter.

Clay was a bounty hunter. His latest skip (if you want to call him that since Clay had spent the better part of two years chasing empty leads) was Sal Ricky—a career criminal with a taste for refined women, as he would consume certain body parts of his victims after performing whatever atrocities piqued his fancy.

Clay stood tall, six foot five. He almost always wore black, except for his blue jeans. He felt it more intimidating.

He stepped into the brothel. A dozen pair of eyes turned his way. Clay removed his sidearm from its holster.

“I’m looking for Sal Ricky,” he announced. After a slight pause, he repeated the phrase. “I said, I’m looking for Sal Ricky.”

“If you want me, all you gotta do is ask,” came a smug response. The voice emanated from a dark corner. In it stood a six foot tall figure. Instead of legs, it sported four eight foot long appendages. These members would shoot forward landing on the ground and allow the rest of the body to move over them like treads on a tank. He could move surprisingly fast when necessary.

“So?” Sal Ricky asked. “What can I do for you?”

Clay moved closer toward the corner and cocked his weapon.

“Don’t play stupid, you ball of snot.” He raised his free hand and pointed a finger. “I’ve been looking for you for almost two years now.” Clay cocked the second hammer on his handgun. “This time you’re all mine.”

Sal Ricky was a hydrak. He lived up to his name, constantly oozing fluid and leaving a trail similar to that of a slug when he moved.

“Ya think so.” The creature lit a cigarette with two human-like hands. The hydrak inhaled deeply, burning up half the smoke in one drag.

“Better men have tried,” he said, finishing his cigarette with a second drag and dropping it into a puddle of slime; the butt hissed as the glowing ashes died.

Clay tightened his grip.

“We can do this the easy way or the hard way. I get just as much for you dead as alive.” Clay smiled out of one corner of his mouth. “It makes no difference to me.”

Sal Ricky crossed his arms which were anything but human. They were muscular with a lizard-like texture and a green color to match. His lower half was bulbous and horizontal to the ground, turning vertical at mid-thorax until it formed his head.

“Don’t you tire of the same old clichés?” Sal Ricky snickered. “Easy way, hard way, alive or dead, blah, blah, blah. After two years, you should know I do nothing the easy way.” His head was square with a round circle on each side. Sal Ricky could spin his neck three hundred and sixty degrees if need be. He had a set of eyes at the upper portion of each circle. One side contained an orifice with which he spoke and took in nourishment. One big tuft of green hair sprang from the center of his scalp, climbed vertically, about a foot, and then flopped over on all sides.

“Have it your way,” Clay said.

Just then, two dark humanoid figures appeared on either side of the slug. The first figure made a move and then slipped on his boss’ excretions, landing flat on his back.

Clay rolled to his right behind a steel column and fired one barrel, removing most of the second figure’s head. The first man, still floundering in the goo, was an easy take out.

Sal Ricky moved toward Clay knocking him to the floor as he passed by.

Clay moved to one knee and steadied himself. He would have but one shot.

Sal Ricky could easily burst through the wall, and that’s what he had a mind to do, Clay surmised. He made sure both hammers were cocked. Cocking them was one thing; firing both at the same time was something you didn’t do unless you had to.

Clay took a deep breath and pulled both triggers.

I hope you enjoyed this small piece from my novel. If so, you can find it on Amazon or ask for it in your favorite bookstore.

Have a spectacular week and may God bless!

Where’s My APP?

There are many activities that each of us would enjoy a chance in which to participate. The problem encountered when probing about electronically is called an application. The average computer guy or girl (no other pronouns allowed) plus anyone who owns a cell phone, calls this plague an “APP.” However, everyone seems to be looking for an APP.

 Just about anything new you want to investigate, be it your computer or cell phone, requires you to install an APP.

As if this wasn’t enough, we have this same feature on tablets, smart watches and smart TV’s.

The day before yesterday, after a morning constitutional and a stint on the porcelain lazy boy, I diligently searched for an APP before sending all organic matter toward the concrete tank buried in the back yard.

I can only assume that the APP is used to collect more money from the masses, either by paying for the APP, or using the APP to appropriate other items, be they tangible or not. Or, possibly by purchasing the APP or acquiring something else through the APP, another APP will lead you in a way which will then lead you a different direction that you were seeking from the beginning. Having found the exact object or possibly an unknown thing that you were not searching but found, leaving you satisfied simply because you were convinced there was no other way.

I will have to admit, the rise to power seemingly brought about by the APP no longer concerns me, for an APP floating willy-nilly around my writer’s room loaded itself through my right ear and into my brain.

This APP let me know that all is right with the world and all I need is more APP’s. APP’s, APP’s, APP’s and an APP for every APP that I acquire, even another APP for each acquired APP.

This leads to a whole lotta APPs.

Now throw this into all of the other mess you have going on throughout the week and think about what you think.

Me . . . well I think you know where I stand. Have the greatest week you’ve ever had, and remember how much God loves you!

 

Who Can Make a Living as an Author?

I have been writing for nearly eighteen years and am about to release my fifth novel. Out of tens of thousands of writers in the U.S.A., around one-hundred individuals make a living as an author. This opened another door that I was compelled to walk through, wanting to know how the big names began their work-a-day world before the writing bug took hold.  

Here’s how they stack up, according to the New York Public Library:

• Kurt Vonnegut, a car sales man,

• George Bernard Shaw, Telephone company employee, and
  

• Arthur Conan Doyle, a surgeon.

The Expert Editor says:

• Stephen King worked as a high school janitor.

• John Grisham was a plumber.

• John Steinbeck spent his days as a construction worker.

• George Orwell served as an Indian imperial police officer.

• and, JD Salinger, worked as a cruise line activities director.

Seems to me anyone has a shot at becoming a successful author . . . I wonder why so few do?

Marketing, marketing, marketing. With more than one-hundred new titles being released each day, you have to get your book into the hands of those that wish to read your work, hence, marketing, marketing, marketing.

I hope you enjoyed a short stent, highlighting normal people that made it in the writing world. Can’t help but wonder, who will be next? Have a great week and may God bless you richly.