Nov 17, 2018

Flat Water Is Hell

Today I was reminded of a canoe trip I took many years ago on the Fox River in Illinois. That particular stretch was flat water. I had never paddled flat water before having only paddled white water rivers in NC and VA.

I thought, how hard can it be?

Besides, I had this strikingly beautiful young blond with me, my little head was doing the thinking for my big head, and I thought she would be impressed by being able to spend her day lounging in the front of the canoe in her tiny swimsuit while I did all the paddling.

So we only took one paddle along. And of course the wind was blowing upstream faster than the water was flowing downstream.

Hardest canoe trip in the almost 40 years that I paddled canoes.

When we got back to our hotel room I was hurting so badly I wouldn't allow her to touch me despite the fact that she was very much in the mood.

She didn't take my telephone calls after that.

Nov 15, 2018

The First Man To Die

When I was 20 years old I was working for a truck leasing company in Greensboro, North Carolina doing oil changes, minor repairs on diesel engines, anything that needed to be done on gasoline engines, and changing truck tires-- the old style with the rings that sometimes blew off and are no longer allowed these days.

One night I went out the the east bound rest area on I-85/40 between Greensboro and Burlington, North Carolina to change a flat tire on a truck leased to one of our customers.

When I got there another guy was already changing a flat tire on another truck not more than 50 feet away. He already had the tire mounted on the truck and was tightening the lug nuts when the ring blew off and decapitated him!

Took his head right off while myself, tourists, and truck drivers watched.

I didn't change the tire I was supposed to change that night. My boss had to send someone else out to do it. As a matter of fact I haven't changed a truck tire since.

According to the article in the Greensboro News & Record the next morning the dead man had been changing truck tires for many years without incident. Me, I'd only been changing tires a few weeks. Reading the article made up my mind for me-- it was just a matter of time.

That was the first death I ever witnessed but it wouldn't be the last.

Drone Attack: Finale

Continued from Drone Attack

He was transported to the nearest emergency room, treated, placed in a full body cast, and moved to long term care while he awaited trial on charges of domestic terrorism, and possession and manufacture of a weapon of mass destruction. Luckily no one had been killed but one of the FBI agents was wounded, two of his neighbors wounded, and hundreds of his homemade rounds found their way into neighbors' homes, cars, and property-- some as many as 3 miles away.

The lawsuits and damages would destroy his wife's inheritance.

Dronalist flew their annoying little machines everywhere they took him. Outside his hospital room window, to court with him, even to the airport when he was sent back to Guantánamo to do his time. Only when he got to Cuba was he free from the infernal machines.

Decades later he looked out of the window of his cell at Guantánamo only to discover first one then more and more drones hovering outside his cell window. "Guards! Guards!," he began to shout. "Help me, help me now!"

"What's wrong?" a guard shouted as he ran to his cell.

"That!" he shouted, pointing towards the window. "Drones!"

"Oh that," the guard smiled. "Haven't you heard? You're getting out tomorrow, they're here to carry you home."

Drone Attack: Part 9

Continued from Drone Attack

His home had been damaged, cat killed, dog driven mad. There'd been crop circles, obscenities painted on his house, and he and his wife had been branded child molesters. He'd been to jail and been shipped off to Guantánamo. Thanks to the YouTube videos his story had gone viral. Now, despite public appeals by law enforcement not to do so, dozens upon dozens of seedy Dronalist all seeking to get the next big story were buzzing around his house day and night. That included several very hard to detect drones painted black for invisibility at night and sky blue for invisibility in the daytime.

But which one was the drone that had been tormenting him for so long? He decided it didn't matter. "Kill 'em all!" he shouted an old cliché, "Let God sort 'em out!"

And with that he opened fire with his homemade Gatling Gun from the 3rd story of his home!

A few drones went down quickly. Others began to take evasive action. One, presumably the one he was after, fired a smoke bomb into his window only to anger him more. He began firing wildly in every direction shooting out windows and walls as millions of YouTube viewers around the world watched live on at least 100 different channels. And he continued to fire thousands of rounds the electric motors that powered his gun never letting up until finally he had shot so much that the roof fell down on top of him.

Continue reading Drone Attack: Finale

Drone Attack: Part 8

Continued from Drone Attack

His wife used her vast wealth to get him released from  Guantánamo and brought back to the United States where he would receive outpatient therapy and remain under the constant watch of Homeland Security and the FBI who always kept agents parked in front of his house.

Of course that didn't stop the drone from flying around the back of the house never to be seen by the FBI.

To the delight of the homeowners association, all his surveillance equipment, the radar installation, and the 30' diameter satellite dish were removed by government personnel. As the 3rd floor of his home was now empty he started ordering furniture and other items online-- much of it made from metal. Months later he took his wife upstairs to see his very own homemade electric powered Gatling gun. "This will shoot those drones out of the sky," he said, "from right here inside the safety of our own home."

To learn what came of this continue reading Drone Attack: Part 9

Nov 14, 2018

Drone Attack: Part 7

Continued from Drone Attack

Now that he had finally discovered that the attacks were being carried out by someone using silent black drones attacking by dark of night it became possible for him to figure out an actual plan of defenses. And while he waited for his wife to return to the country and bail him out of jail he did just that.

Using money left to her by her rich daddy he bought search lights, anti-aircraft guns, and installed a military surplus radar installation on their property.

The first night he turned on the radar, agents from Homeland Security, BATF, and the FBI raided his home and property, and carried him to a Federal Detention Center somewhere in Cuba.

As they drove away from his home, him in handcuffs in the back seat of a black SUV, he turned around to see a black drone following close behind. The entire ordeal had been transmitted live on YouTube.

Stay tuned to Drone Attack: Part 8

Drone Attack: Part 6

Continued from Drone Attack

 No job, no social life, there was nothing left for him to do but protect his wife, seek out whoever it was who was responsible for these attacks, find out how they were being perpetrated, and put an end to it once and for all. While his wife was staying at their vacation home in the Caribbean, afraid to show her face in public, he planned to seek out and destroy their enemy by whatever means necessary.

Or so he thought.

He installed an extensive system of alarms and hidden cameras all over their property incorporating the latest technology. Even satellite technology was employed. Financed by the sale of many of their stocks and bonds, what had previous been their secret orgy room was converted to a surveillance room allowing him to track the entire neighborhood. Despite multiple threats from the homeowners association he refused to remove the 30' diameter satellite receiver from his front yard.

Now even the local perverts thought him weird and stayed far away from him.

The rumors went wild. People were even saying he had weapons of mass destruction-- perhaps homemade nuclear bombs-- inside his garage as the few he spoke with talked of him having terrorist ramblings and suffering from wild paranoia.

Weeks went by. Then months. He dangerously suffered from lack of sleep. Weird things would happen, like dog poop falling from the sky in the middle of the night and covering his yard. The homeowners association was irate. The mailman would no longer get near his mailbox and simply tossed his mail into his yard as he rode past without stopping, his mail scattering about like litter.

The rumors got even wilder.

One night as his wife lay sleeping she was awaken by a telephone call from home. It was their attorney. Her husband had been arrested. The police said they found him running wildly around his yard firing his shotgun into the air at something none of them could see. When they finally managed to arrest him the only thing he would say was, "Dammit, I missed!"

"I'll be on the next flight home," she said.

Please continue reading Drone Attack: Part 7