All posts by Dave

The bloated warthog who pilots this ship onto the rocks of despair--then turns around and sets sail for the Island of Lost Toys. Always wanted to go there!

Republican Voters

Dear Republican Voters.

 

What’s happened to you?

Today’s news focused on 12 indictments of Russian Military members (GRU) involved in attacks against the 2016 election in America. Fox News didn’t cover it much, so perhaps you haven’t heard yet.

It’s beginning to look a lot like treason.

The GOP has responded with denials, and suggesting that they plan to impeach Rod Rosenstein for (unspecified) crimes? What did Rosenstein do that wasn’t his job? Doesn’t that reek of cover-up? The House Intelligence Committee concluded that there was nothing worth investigating, which wasn’t too long ago. Doesn’t that reek of cover-up? Incompetence? Complicity? Direct involvement?

Trump has responded by reaffirming his plans to meet with Vladimir Putin, go ahead with shaking the hand of the man behind the attacks on America. Doesn’t that reek of treason?

This isn’t a witch hunt, folks. Because there are actual witches here, not innocent and frightened women. There are senior members of the GOP involved, and there will certainly be senior members of the Trump campaign involved. If you believe what Roger Stone said yesterday, his contact within the Trump campaign was Donald Trump himself.

That’s not a Deep State conspiracy. That’s a Republican operative passing stolen intelligence directly to THE Republican candidate.

So why don’t Republican voters seem to care about any of this?

You’re getting your tainted Justices—number two! You’re getting Roe v Wade. You get to own the libs, wallow in the malice, roll around in the schadenfreude. Maybe you get your all-white Ethno-state, free of those pesky immigrants. You got your tax cut, and a fistful of tariffs that will eat up your profit with inflation that’s already begun. You got crippling national debt for your kids. You got your Messiah, if you’re a follower of Franklin Graham—even if Trump does turn out closer to Putin-approved than God-approved.

Whatever your motivation for voting Republican in the last election, what are you going to do now?

Is it time to close your eyes to Treason? Are you really ok with Putin, is he your buddy because Trump told you he is? How deeply does your partisanship go, do you still vote for a party of traitors next time around?

“But no Americans were directly named in these indictments.”

Do you seriously believe there won’t be any indictments of American Republican politicians coming in the future? Do you seriously believe the Trump Admin, which has been in full lie-and-conceal mode from the day of Inauguration can possibly be all smoke and no fire?

I’m just baffled. I don’t believe we can come out of this with more politics-as-usual. I do not see how voters on the Right cannot react in some way, unless they close their eyes and chant “it’s not happening, it’s not happening.”

You want to be patriots.

Stop concentrating on the wrong goals. This is a very big deal, much bigger than “owning” the Left.

What’s good for America? And what’s bad for it?

Do you honestly believe inaction is the answer to outside-corrupted elections?

Because the Trump Administration has done fuck-all so far to prevent it happening again, in 2018 and 2020. Why aren’t you, as a Republican voter, demanding to know why?

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What’s going on, Dave?

Well, a couple of things happened simultaneously.

I reached the conclusion that there really wasn’t a market for micro fiction; as much as I enjoyed writing it, no one would ever show any interest in buying any of it.

“That’s all right,” I thought. “I’ll just think about novel ideas for a while. Bound to be heaps of stuff I could turn into a novel. Even if I’m not that confident as a writer, surely there must be something.”

Turns out reading is fun, too. Uh oh. So are games, and television…

Once I stopped regularly publishing, of course the urge to write dried up, too. You can call it a writer’s block if you want to, I’d call it inertia (or lazy) setting in.


7-2And then Trump.

You know how that happened. The guy I’d long ago pegged as an authoritarian nut job with fascist, racial, sexist, and criminal tendencies.

No one seemed to care. America was selecting a candidate with no moral compass at all. None.

Oh my god, how is this happening? Evangelicals like this guy? W .. T .. F .. How?

I’m not political. I wasn’t. Now I am.

He’s a clear and present danger to every one of us, and to America.

He’s got to go. That’s really all there is to it. I’m not a Democrat…ugh, yes, he’s pushed me that way, I am now. I’m too invested, and I’ve seriously annoyed all of my relatives.

“If you are part of a society that votes, then do so. There may be no candidates and no measures you want to vote for … but there are certain to be ones you want to vote against. In case of doubt, vote against. By this rule you will rarely go wrong.”

― Robert A. Heinlein, Time Enough for Love

Trumpism is the thing that I will forever be voting against. Well, at least as long as he allows us to vote at all. That’s in some doubt. He’s being supported by some particularly slimy fellows with billions, and they may yet “win,” God help us.

You know those old guys that hated Roosevelt forever and ever?

I can’t wait to wave my cane and shout, “Get off my lawn.”


I’ll get around to writing something again, maybe, one of these days.

Round Tuit Seal

 

Student of Shadows

“You’re in the market for a magic sword. For enhanced strength, speed, and durability, this blade is everything you need. Get a feel for the heft and balance. Try it.”

The sword coruscated with each forceful strike at the dummy.

“Totally unsuitable,” the customer responded. “Listen, you dolt, I said Ninja School.”

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52 words, for this week’s Shapeshifting 13 (#52).

Rapid Roy

The Chevy driver wiggled his eyebrows and waved to the women as his car drifted around the curve in an obscuring cloud of red dust.

“Number 38 is your favorite?”

“Yeah, that’s Rapid Roy. He’s the best driver here.”

“Didn’t you say Mercury was in this race?”

“And he’s not the only deity, either. Mercury has mad straightaway speed. He’s just useless on the turns, and dirt tracks are all about drifting and controlling traction.”

“So how does this mortal win against gods?”

“Who said Roy’s mortal? ‘Every Sunday afternoon he is a dirt track demon in a ’57 Chevrolet.’

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100 words, for this week’s Sunday Photo Fiction prompt:

Still confused? This tale is my homage to Jim Croce’s Rapid Roy (the stock car boy):

I fear the song is better than the story. R.I.P. Jim.

Johnny Appalling

Tonight on Criminals At Large: Johnny Appalling.

Carduus sanguinem hunts by surprise, launching neurotoxic needles with astonishing accuracy when it detects ground tremors made by animals, or people, moving nearby. Carcasses often surround the thistles and decompose into fertilizer.

The blood thistles first appeared in the summer of 2027, reported in sixteen American states simultaneously. Seventy Americans have lost their lives to date.

John Aperlo is the molecular geneticist who gene spliced the species in 2025. His exact methods are unknown, but authorities believe he backpacked across the country in 2026, planting thousands of seeds of this invasive predatory plant.

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100 words, for this week’s Microcosms (18): Celebrity/TV Show/Sci-fi

 

Redressing the Balance

Booming, ominous barking echoes through the maze of offices and cubicles. Salvator is back in residence.

He taught me everything I know about ruthlessness and how to get ahead in the corporate world. Earning the trust of everyone you lie to and then choosing the perfect moment to strike. I watched his back during his meteoric rise through the organization.

That was before he demonstrated the insignificant value of my loyalty. I draw my automatic and verify there are silver bullets in the chamber. Now, it’s time for me to turn up the crazy and balance our ledger.

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98 words, for this week’s Picture It & Write prompt:

I Could While Away the Hours

OUTER SYSTEM SENTINEL 210 MESSAGE: PROBABLE DRIVE SIGNATURES DETECTED AT 3E+08KM AND CLOSING.

There are response systems beyond my control. The reactor comes up to full power and the satellite begins broadcasting over a variety of frequencies, radar, lasers, even particle beams.

Nineteen other satellites identical to this one link up an array and begin scanning the outer system for target locks. We’re prepared to aim barrels, open missile hatches, and simulate an orbital defensive position. That’s all ersatz, a sham.

The primary race abandoned this system eons ago. My brothers and I are achingly lonely. Why did they think it necessary to install brains in their scarecrows?

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108 words, for this week’s Microcosms (#17). Elements: Scarecrow/Outer space/Sci-fi.

Adventuring Ain’t All Fun and Games

Dungeon level fifteen, east wing, subsection 17A&B.

Most people think that we’re down here searching for wealth and fame. While it is true that our dwarven pack mules are staggering under the weight of accumulated gems and gold pieces, they weren’t our primary motivation.

We’ve been down here for months. The beasts we battle aren’t going to make us famous, but they keep us fed. I’ve gotta tell you, dragon steaks aren’t the taste sensation that some believe. Dragons are just honking big lizards, you know. Gamey. Tough.

You see, we lost the section of maps with the dungeon’s entrance.

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100 words, for this week’s Friday Fictioneers prompt:

Once More Unto the Breach

The wind blew, the leaves parted, and there it was; the dreadful beast the priest had warned me about. A most puissant foe, it stood fully forty-five cubits tall. Its four arms were each equipped with an enormous scything blade, and its beady little eyes peered out from beneath a massive wooden helm.

With a sound that would surely chill the bones of a lesser knight, it groaned as a soul lost to perdition. I stood in my saddle and flung my helm over its head in a challenge, and lowered my lance to the ready position.

Forward, bold Rocinante. Our destiny is at hand, for fair Dulcinea del Toboso!

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110 words, for this week’s Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers prompt: