My Dutch Court Judgment Against O'Neil & Associates of Dayton, Ohio

I'm going to be uploading videos and photos about my attempts to enforce the Dutch court judgment I received against my former employer, O'Neil & Associates, Inc of Dayton, Ohio. I'm doing this as a public service.

It's my opinion, based on my experiences working with O'Neil & Associates, Inc. that this company needs to be investigated by the United States government. My research has included speaking with former employees who were harassed, intimidated and discriminated against by this company.

This is a company that does Department of Defense work. They are being paid with American tax dollars. It's time to ask our government to check into this company's operations.

To follow is a copy of the monthly billing that I send O'Neil & Associates, Inc of Dayton, Ohio.

As you can see, at this time this billing is for $240,974.52 US Dollars. This is the billing for the month of January 2017.

For those of you considering working for this company or hiring them for services you might need, I recommend checking their reviews on www.glassdoor.com.  You might find it interesting.

Mark Twain aka Samuel Clemens on Slavery of all types

It's amazing what is written in some books.
Hidden away to jump out at you.
Literary ambush.

I expect to find a sci-fi tale of time travel into the past (A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court) but discover that Mr. Clemens has hidden discourses on the stock market, employment, social attitudes and military matters in the book.

Would you be surprised that he's spent many pages on the various forms of slavery?

Mr. Clemens would be disappointed to see our current conditions.

In which slavery has been taken to a new level.

Economic bondage for the majority.

Can I get you a loan for that bauble you desire?

You'll just love the arrangements and it'll only leave you indebted for life.

Slavery without the chains is still bondage.

Colbert Nation vs Amazon Bezos

Oh boy, now they've done it.

Amazon has picked a fight with known authors, like J.K. Rowling and Stephen Colbert.

What were they thinking?

It was OK when they were not recognizing (and paying royalties to)  minor players or even lesser authors like yours' truly, but going after a major power player like J.K. Rowling?

Woe unto thee Mr. Bezos.

Have you crossed the line into territory where you'll not win?

This is going to be interesting, to say the least.

Too bad we can't get the poor workers at Amazon to realize just how bad they're being treated and do something about it.

Mr. Bezos and company may have bitten off more than they can chew this time.

Surveillance is Slavery

Call it what you will, but if anyone is watching you, even in a benign manner, that's an invasion of privacy.

I consider any attempt to harvest information without the subject's permission to be akin to slavery.This attitude of 'You gotta watch them people, you can't trust them' is now being applied to ALL people.

You know how people are, they can't be trusted to stay in line. Never know what they're gonna do next. They might not like you, the nebulous watcher, watching them.

After all what do they think they are? Free or something?

So, when presented with the opportunity to sign a petition today, joining other authors in a protest against the digital surveillance we are now under, I signed up.

Didn't check the background of the site, who really owns it, what their manifesto might be. Just put my name on the internet, along with other personal information and was added to the list of known persons. People who don't like being spied upon, no matter who's doing it.

Does this make me a 'person of interest'? Probably not, with the boring life I lead.

I've always liked that phrase, considering that it's used to indicate that someone is under suspicion for an alleged act.

Hell, here I was thinking that they might actually be an interesting person, one with a fascinating background, not some potential criminal type.

IF a 'person of interest' might be a criminal, does that make US, as a nation under surveillance, a 'people of interest'?

Now, I don't know what to think.

Is this what the governing elite want?

Of course not, they want to do your thinking for you.

Just do everything they say and you'll be fine.

They aren't watching you, they're protecting you.

Now, don't worry, be happy.

Remember, what you don't know.....

is none of your business.

Videos and the lack thereof

August? Who let this happen? I thought I would have about a dozen videos done and posted by now, but a variety of factors have slowed me and the process down this summer.

The heat we've had for the past three months hasn't helped much. It's either been scorching or raining. Getting hit with a major case of heat exhaustion didn't help either.

About the videos. The Baja Bug has been pushed back. I am going to clean up the 1935 BMW cabriolet and do a video on how it was abused by so-called 'car restoration' people. I have a 26 part TV series outlined for it. Anyone interested?

Video queries for my novel are going out to agents and publishers. It may not be the accepted thing to do, according to the rules driven agent application process, but the pace at which I receive or don't receive replies is glacial.

When I was in management, you answered an email that day, unless you had to provide info that required research, then it was usually within 48 hours. Waiting two months for an agent to tell me, "Sorry, not interested", if they answer at all, is an odd way to do business.

I have a feeling that the publishing business is about to go the way of the music business and many agents/managers/publishers will have to revamp their methods, as authors will turn to self-promotion to get their work before the public. The internet has turned the business model of more than one sector of the economy on it's head.

That said, I've taken a different stance as to my public persona. Too many people may have the wrong impression about me living out here in the hills of Tennessee. I'm not a complete hillbilly, more like a redneck peasant. Love living out here, away from all the traffic, noise, congestion, etc. of the big city.

Don't get me wrong, I enjoy being in NYC, LA, London, Paris, Brussels, Prague. I could go on with a long list of cities I either lived in or visited and their attractions. It's just that I get more work done in the solitude of the farm. There's a pile of work that I've done over the past 10 years that now needs to get out to the rest of the world.

Like I tell people brave enough to ride with me.

"Sit down, buckle up and please scream quietly...I don't like being distracted when I drive."

Shameless Self-Promotion

Those of you who read this blog know that I've been working on a novel for the past five years. Which might seem to be a long time to write an action/adventure book based on cyber war.

The problems I encountered trying to find and verify information about the threat that exists in the Internet was a bit difficult, since most people don't want to admit this threat exists. In addition, my novel is based on the premise that the electronic media we all use can be used against us, in more than one way. This goes beyond financial, structural and nation/state attacks.

This week I read "Cyberwar, The Next Threat to National Security". For me, this book confirmed and justified all the work I did on my book. I have a different perspective than Mr. Clarke and Mr. Knake have on how a cyber war would affect the world and this country, but that's to be expected, considering our backgrounds.

The novel is done and I'm sending queries out to agents and publishers at this time. The only thing that concerns me about the publishing business is the amount of time it takes to get into print. This is not a book that can wait for two years.

I'm also considering putting it on the Internet, either through a blog or by posting videos of me reading it.

The novel is not the only that I've written in the past five years. I did a "romance-novella" spoof titled; "Shotgun Romance", a couple of screenplays and a dozen short stories.

During that time I was an extra in a feature film. OK, more like 'human background scenery'.

I've shot some short videos and will be posting them on YouTube in the future on my site at Tom2u.

That and worked on the farm. Hey, don't have to worry about getting to the gym!

Agents of Change?

Having fun, sending emails to literary agents. Which seems to take forever.

Please bear with me, the Internet isn't as fast out here as it is in the cities. As I've mentioned before, I had better Internet access in the Netherlands, 10 years ago. Even my neighbors, who just moved here from Nashville, complain about the service. No, they're not on dial-up, cable's not available, so they're using satellite. Which is pretty slow out here.

Yesterday, heard Bob Edwards Weekend's final chapter of "The Future of Publishing" series. Which sounds like it's going to keep changing, now more rapidly then ever.

Wonder how it's going to affect literary agents?

Everyone in the publishing game is now having to deal with the Web. Twitter, blogs, e-books, websites, all things that didn't exist 10 years ago.

Is the best thing to have a daily video of you reading your book? A podcast for those who are driving or otherwise busy? Followed up by a link to your blog/website where a reader can download a PDF file of your lastest chapter? With a 'donate to the starving writer' button for that all important PayPal account?

Will the writer be able to directly access the reader, without the need for publishers, agents and managers?

Stay tuned, it's all changing.

Do You Research or Just Write It?

I spend a lot of time at the local library. A couple of weeks ago, my friend, the librarian, asked me, "Do you do research for your books?"

The question caused me to stop for a moment, "Can't write a book without doing research."

We got into a discussion, since that had been a topic brought up by some other librarians.

Even when I did my memoir-mockumentary (there's a new word for you), "Going Dutch, Trials of a Wage Slave" I did research. I checked on quotes, regulations, business topics and liability. Getting sued is no fun.

The novel I just completed took me almost 5 years to write. It's on a complex topic, cyberwar, and there aren't too many references out there. The subject is so leading edge, most people can't comprehend the topic.

It led to me creating a 4 drawer file cabinet full of background information. This doesn't include the movies, videos, library books, Internet, blogs, etc. that I reviewed to gain an understanding of my subject.

The worst thing a writer can do is put out a book that doesn't have all the latest info on the subject. Sure, it might be wrong in the future, when the technology advances or society overtakes the concept.

But for right now, it better be as good as you can make it.

Faking it will get you burned, every time.

Persistence

Persistence, that great word which means you don't stop until you reach your goal.

Tenacity is part of my personality. I will stay on the book, project, job, whatever, until it's done. Why stop? There's nothing more aggravating than a unfinished project lying around.

Which leads to the frustrating part of being a writer. The real work comes after I write the story. Then I have to find an agent or publisher.

I've sent out the query letter.

Now comes the hard part, waiting for the reply.

How Many Ways Can I Write This?

Dear Agent,

Have I told you about my book?

Yes, I know this isn't the way to do it, but my angst is now overwhelming my restraint.

Spent the better part of the morning, rewriting my basic email query. Went out, chopped some wood for the wood burner. Got cleaned up and got on the Internet.

Enjoyed the nerve wracking experience of putting my carefully crafted query into an email, then checked it.

Yep, all that time spent putting page breaks, correct spacing, page numbers on the query, wasted. Down the tubes. Repair the damage and try again. Send the email to myself.

Haven't looked at it yet.

Afraid of what I'll find.

So, Dear Agent, you might not get the query until tomorrow.

Literary Agents Search

If you write and want to be published or produced (in the case of film), then you know the biggest job is getting representation.

Believe it or not, over 100 years ago, agents didn't really exist. Writers contacted newspaper, magazine or book publishers about publication. You might get a deal to do an article or a contract, if there was a series involved.

Now you have agents who specialize. Some won't touch poetry, others screenplays. I can understand this, as the literary world is now much more complex than in the days of Mark Twain.

Which is OK, if you're a writer who only works in a specific format or genre.

I like to work in all forms of word and story construction. Whether it's Haiku, poetry, short stories, novellas, screenplays or novels, I've written them all. Blogs, websites and tech manuals can now be added to the resume.

No matter what you write, finding an agent you can work with is of supreme importance. I've never pushed myself to get an agent, until now. It's a time consuming process, but one which, if done right, can result in a long-term relationship.

Actually, it's more of a team than a one-on-one relationship. After all, you have the writer, the agent, the editor and the publisher/producer.

Having a Muse is optional.

I'm ready to find and work with an 'A-Team'.

Have Muse, will travel.

Research, Love It or Pay For It

In my last post I mentioned that the ending for my novel came to me while taking a pecan break from house painting.

Why did it take a couple of weeks from the 'moment of enlightenment' to getting back to the novel?

I spent that time doing research, reading and cross-checking information. When writing a techno-thriller, all the elements should be feasible. Suspension of disbelief can only take place when you present a good argument. Too far out and it becomes fantasy or sci-fiction.

Research is something that I love to do. Finding out about places, things and people help me paint a better picture for my audience. Why pay someone to do it for you? First hand knowledge is the best.

If you don't know the subject, don't try to fake it! It's a sure bet that there will be someone out there who will catch you.

Your agent and publisher might not notice. They're counting on you to have done your homework. If it gets past them and into the hands of the public, it could be a different situation.

You don't want to pay that price.

And Now, THE END as a Beginning

The "Project X" novel has been in the works now for more years than I want to mention. You don't want to get any elements wrong in a techno-thriller. The 'experts' will kill you.

Been gnawing over the ending for the past months, many of them.

A couple of weeks ago, while taking a pecan break during the great house painting escapade of 2008, it struck me. The ending, wrapping up all the elements of my novel, popped into my head as I masticated a pecan. I didn't do a little victory dance, just leaned back against the truck and went, "Whoa, that's it!"

Now I'm rewriting the book, cutting into the 257 pages, slicing the 130,000 plus words, paring it down. Excising fat, leaving meat and bone.

Gotta steal a line here;

"I love it when a plan comes together."*

*("The 'A' Team" TV show)

Outrunning the Avalanche

This is like downhill skiing, in front of an avalanche.

The faster I go, the closer the towering wall of snow draws to me.

Have a couple of more posts to do on the "You Wanna Be In Movies" series. but who's making movies right now? Only the independents. Most of Hollywood is shut down due to the SAG/AMPTP fiasco.

Plenty of work to do on the farm. It's only hot as hell with humidity approaching sauna levels. Work for about an hour and I'm soaking wet. Great way to lose weigh.

Still, I love it! Think of all those hours I could be sitting in traffic out in LA or riding the subway and NOT writing...rather be writing than riding. Especially with the speed limits we have.

If we go back to 55MPH, I'm gonna have to fix my old VW Baja Bug. It's got a top speed of about 85MPH and it takes all day to get there.

I'll be back yet this week.

If I can stay away from Nikki Finke's blog.

I Can Write, I Have Written, I Will Write On

Writer's Block.

That infamous malady which afflicts the introspective. Most of the world doesn't have a clue about it, unless they run into a problem with their grocery list.

Those of us who write sometimes have problems with the next sentence, paragraph or thought. There are many remedies relied upon by different authors for this malady.

While reading a copy of "Lew Hunter's Screenwriting 434" book, I thought about the phrase he uses to close emails and with which he embellished the cover of this book; "Write on".

All of which led to an impromptu, off the wall mantra:

I Can Write

I Have Written

I Will Write On


Can be chanted, as needed. Use as directed. Not guaranteed to work in all cases. Some people will have side-effects, such as excess verbiage, non-linear thinking and potty mouth.

See a doctor, if blockage continues.

Remember, only you can put words on the page.

Soggy Bottom Sightseers

Slow start to the month.

Was going to post every day, of course, starting with the first....

Sunday morning. Worked up at the shop for a while, predictions of rain.

When the rumbles of thunder got too close, I packed up and headed to the old homestead. Can't paint in the rain.

I figured that I would get the next instalment done on the "You Wanna Be In Movies" series, but then it started to rain. Which led to a downpour. A couple of hours later, after dealing with the leak in the kitchen roof again and a couple of power surges and a hour long power outage, the rain really started to come down.

By the middle of the afternoon the front yard was under water by an inch. Which is more impressive when you consider that it slopes downhill from the house to the road. After a couple of more hours, there was three inches of water running down the road. The fields next to the house were under water, as the creek was now about 200 yards wide, instead of 15 feet. My neighbor's house across the road had water within 20 feet of the front door, then a 'creek' about 60 feet wide that spanned both ditches and came up my driveway about 3 feet. It made a nice video.

People were trying to get down the road, attempting to drive through rushing water over two feet deep, it was probably deeper up by the bridge. Even if you have a big, old SUV or some 4X4 truck, it doesn't make you indestructible. I watched as fools, morons and idiots attempted to play Noah with their auto-arks. They all backed up, turned around and went back to the main road.

Some of the locals started to come around. All the old timers said they had never seen it this bad. Everyone had heard how deep the water was getting and they just had to see for themselves. My driveway was busy all afternoon and evening. Which kept me from getting any work done. I came out here to get away from crowds and they show up at my door!

When the Fire Department Chief showed up to block off the road, he brought some 'Fire Line' tape. You know that yellow ribbon stuff that they use to keep people from getting to close. Which made for the evening entertainment.

Sitting on the front porch in the dark, as the power was off, again, some hotfoot would come roaring up the road, only to slam on their brakes to keep from hitting the yellow tape. Then they would turn around either in my driveway or my neighbor's. Sometimes, Scoundrel would be there to greet them.

He's your un-average, weird looking, muscular multi-breed. Has a good eye and one that's, well, spooky looking. It's kinda albino, but it works. At night, being a white dog, he looks more like a ghost. Scoundrel likes to race around, hyper-kinetic and all, so even in broad daylight, he freaks people out. You can imagine what it's like to have him come charging at your car in the dark.

The Fire Department tape didn't make it, about midnight some local with a noisy pickup truck blasted through it, headed up the hill. Probably too wasted to even see what he drove through.
I heard him motor through the deeper water up by the bridge, then he was gone.

By this time, we had a couple of more surges and another power outage. Every time it would kick out my surge protector and throw me off the computer. I gave up around 1AM and went to bed.

Never a dull moment.

Word on the Writing Life

I have been emailing another writer, trying to figure out why a local writing group is heading towards dysfunction city.

Just an acute observation, take it with a slug of vinegar.

There are usually three kinds of writers;
those who talk about it,
those who try to do it
and those who get it done.

Everyone has their 'life'.
For some of us, writing is our life.

Everything else is done just to pay the bills and get more writing time.

You Wanna Be In Movies, Part Five

This security cop couldn't be more serious. He was going to throw me off the lot.

I looked around, David was crossing the parking lot, headed towards an equipment truck. He looked toward me and I waved him over. The security cop asked me my name again.
I didn't say anything, as David walked up, "What's going on?"
"This officer wants to throw me off the set for taking photos."
David shook his head, "I'm one of the crew, he's with me. It's OK for him to shoot photos. He's not taking any pictures of the set, only the museum trains."
The cop looked at David, then at me as he growled, "Fine. Just doing my job."
"Thanks officer."
He gave me a dirty look, threw his clipboard back on the seat, dropped his car into gear.
I looked over at David as the police car threw gravel on us as it hurried off, "Thanks, I appreciate it."
"No problem, that guy is just trying to make points."
"Why didn't he stop me when we were looking at the trains and taking photos?"
"Probably too busy to notice. I've got to get the generator set up."
"Yeah, thanks again." David nodded and walked away.

I went back to my car, slid in and put the camera away. There wasn't going to be much to see around here, the sun was dropping, so I left for the low-rent motel.

Motels, hotels, trains, planes, none of them are any good for sleep. Great to meet people, have some fun, but rest, forget it. Never, if you have a choice, get a room next to a stairwell. Unless you like to hear every drugged/drunk loudmouth in the world stumble around trying to get upstairs or fight with the semi-functional ice machine.

On the other side, I had a couple of construction workers. Been on the road together for ten years, punching holes in the ground for elevators in new buildings. The older one came over as I unloaded the car. He wanted to buy the Porsche, right then and there. Offered me cash for it, as long as I would take a check. Uh, huh, sure. What's it drawn on, the Bank of Wishful Thinking? It turned out that he knew quite a bit about Porsches, except that this one isn't for sale.

We talked for a long time, long enough for them to cook dinner on their barbecue grill, mounted on the back of their work truck. They were completely equipped, two large coolers, one for pop, the other for beer, a frig for their food. Steaks, potatoes, condiments. They offered to cook me a steak, but I declined. Told them I was too nervous about going to my 'job interview' the next day. Which led to the inevitable questions about the 'job'.

I fended this off for about an hour, before I finally told them that it was really just a one day background extra part in a movie. They were surprised that they hadn't heard anything about it. They had been in town for over a week and no one had said anything about a feature film being shot in Chattanooga. I told them that it wasn't that big a deal.

I really wanted to try and talk to the producer or a couple of the stars. I have a screenplay with characters that I think they would be interested in playing.

We talked about my screenplay, "A Model Heist" for a while, I explained to them that it's about war veterans who come home to a changed country. They got the idea, nothing is like it was. Which is the way things work, everything undergoes change, that's what life is, constant change.

What they couldn't understand was the stuff they had to watch on TV. Their big complaint was that everything was either a bad copy or rerun of something that was done better, in the old days. I pointed out that TV shows have a lot of writers and they tend to dilute the product. You know the old saying about "Too many cooks spoil the pot".

Then they asked about movies and I had to tell them that it was the same problem. For some reason, executives seem to think that the more writers they add to a project, the better it gets. After they give them notes on how to write it. Which rarely improves the work.

Look at people like Hitchcock; get a good screenwriter, work out the camera angles, rehearse your actors, shoot the damn film.

Now, everyone's a writer, even the actors. Who also want to direct, produce, etc. Which is why I drove to Chattanooga. You have to know as much as possible about the entire movie business, if you want to play in the game. There comes a time though, when you have to cut to the chase and get the camera rolling.

These good ole boys could understand all of that. They just couldn't understand, with all the money and talent, how the majority of new stuff is terrible. Like I told them. Too many people who want to influence the film or TV show and claim that they were the 'creative force' behind it.

That's not even taking into factor that with all the available networks, you have dilution. Stuff gets thrown against the wall that would never be seen in a more competitive situation.I left them to their cable TV programs and went back to the room to do my daily writing. In this case, a journal entry for the day.

At 10PM, I tried to get to sleep. It was going to be an early call in the AM and the construction guys were going to be up before me. Didn't happen, parking lot noises, random shouts and conversations, general crashing and banging of people hauling themselves up the stairs.

After about 6 hours of fitful sleep, I got up and took a shower. Time to get dressed and head for the set.

My first time on camera in a feature film, please get my good side.

Gutting Bambi's Brother

I get up and write early in the morning. So, I’m usually up around 0500hrs (5AM). It’s usually an hour before the brain clears up enough and I’ve taken care of the dogs, started breakfast, etc. to get started on my work.

On the weekends, I sometimes get started later. A couple of Saturdays ago, I was involved in my morning toilet ritual when there was a heavy pounding on my front door. The dogs started to bark out back. Not too many people would be coming to see me at 0700hrs (7AM). I pull my pants up, muttering impolite things and get to the front door.

It’s my neighbor from up the road. The quiet, polite grandmother who works at the local China-Mart. She’s dressed like a Tennessee Volunteers football fan, right down to the orange watch cap and booster jacket. She’s out of breath and there’s no car in the driveway.
"I got a deer and he locked me out of the house!"
"What do you mean, locked you out of the house?"
"I went down in the bottom, shot a deer and now can’t get into the house! He’s gone to see his mother at the nursing home. I had to walk up here."
"All the way from the bottom?"
"Yes! No! I went to the house first and it’s locked up!"
"Let me get the truck and we’ll go get your deer."

She’s breathless, leaning up against the brick pillar of my front porch. I just shake my head. She knows my edict against coming into my shack. Nobody gets in the door, everybody waits on the porch.
"Just hold on a minute, let me get dressed and we’ll go down and get your deer."
She’s like a kid on Christmas, "It’s a five-point buck, I’m so excited!"
No kidding. I’m not really thrilled myself. Having committed to help her get any deer she shot out of the woods or fields a couple of months earlier, I now realize my mistake.

Before we went down to the bottoms with her rifle a couple of weeks ago and I found out that she’s the Tennessee Annie Oakley, Little Sure Shot of Cherry Bottom. Put a slug dead center through a 2x2 piece of wood, using iron sights, from about 40 yards away. First shot.

So, I told her I would gut her deer, if she got one. Just for the experience. It sounded like a good idea at the time. Get some venison for the table, a few good bones for the puppy to teeth on…The last thing I figured was that she would actually shoot one.

I put on my dark green military pants, field jacket, grabbed my knife and the camera, then head out the door. After making it plain to Thor that he’s not riding in the front seat of the truck, I lock the hubs, put it in four-wheel drive. We go around the barn and down over the hill towards the slough in the bottoms. The brush has grown up in the track and I have to drive through some tall grass and saplings to get to the bottom. Thor bounds along beside the truck, excited at the break in routine. We drive up over the small hill, then down into the mown hay field, hay rolls scattered around the bottom.

Sure Shot points towards the middle of the bottom, "He’s right over there, about where we were when we tried to set up my scope. Which is when I found out she could shoot, even after getting too close to the scope and having the gun recoil and butt her in the head. Her forehead looked like a Klingon from STAR TREK, but the two black eyes she developed over the next few days really got some comments down at the store. She still had the black eyes, two weeks later and now her deer. Who’s laughing now?

Bambi’s brother was lying there stretched out like he was taking a nap, good size, about 80-90 pounds. I pulled the truck up next to him and got out. Thor was unsure, sniffing from about 10 feet away, got down and moved slowly towards the buck. I ordered him to sit. I kneeled down next to Bambi’s brother and checked him out. Sure Shot had nailed him high in the right shoulder and it probably killed him instantly, the so-called ‘painless death’, didn’t know what hit him. I don’t think he took more than a step before he dropped dead. He looks good, his tongue doesn’t have any spots on it. Thor has remained motionless, watching me.

Sure Shot positions herself next to her kill as I work the camera. Couple of shots of her next to the buck, holding it’s head up, one standing next to it, with more background, hay rolls and field. Thor bumping me, trying to get my attention while I’m shooting the pictures. He wants to gnaw on the deer. I tell him to lie down.

I go to the truck, put the camera away, get my stuff, hand the new packet of dish washing gloves to Sure Shot. I was going to use them for laying up some fiberglass on my boat, but they’ll clean up. There is no way anyone is going to gut an animal and not get blood on them. I walk back over to Bambi’s brother.

Sure Shot is circling, telling how she sat and watch four of them playing in the field. She waited until they settled down to graze, picked out this buck and then busted him. It was about 80 yards from where she was sitting, a damn good shot with open sights on a target that could jump in the blink of an eye.

I pull out my combat knife, trying to remember the instructions I had read on the internet about gutting a deer. It’s been almost 20 years since I skinned one up in Kentucky and a lot longer since I had to dissect a frog in high school biology class. Bambi’s brother gets rolled over on his back and I have Sure Shot hold onto one of his rear leg’s while I cut around his anus (a**hole, to you non-medical types). Got to get the guts with fecal matter out of the body cavity first. Then I slice up from there, up around his manhood parts and then on up into his guts. It’s not going well, more like rookie meatball surgery. "This is like watching those old M*A*S*H* TV shows" I say to Sure Shot. She just shakes her head. I cut deep into the hip area, trying to separate the muscles that hold it together and get the large intestine out of the body.

You have to use a sharp knife and be careful not to cut too deep, you don’t want to slice into any intestines or the stomach, ruining the meat. I then cut up to the bottom of the breastbone. The line that I scored with the knife is not deep enough and I have to go back over it, trying to cut just deep enough to separate the skin, but not cut his intestines.

Sure Shot it fascinated, although having seen this done plenty of times, but not actually done it herself, "This isn’t making you sick?"
"I worked in a hospital for about a year. Had friends in the E.R. Sometimes I had to help out there. I’ve seen blood before and torn open bodies."
"Yeah, but still…

"Had a guy bleed all over me one time, up in Ohio. He had hit a large metal pole head-on in an old 1960’s Cadillac. Must have been doing 50 miles per hour. Power seat went forward and drove his knees into the dashboard, face into the steering wheel, no seatbelt.

A buddy of mine and I had just dropped off his girlfriend, three of us riding tight in his 1964 Corvette. I was early 20’s, just out cruising, you know. We were headed to another bar, came around a corner and here’s this Caddy, embedded into a large metal pole. Dude had to be flying, car hit about three feet off the ground. Must have just happened, no one out of the house it’s in front of and the car’s steaming from a busted radiator.

Ed stopped the ‘vette and I jump out, ran over and jerked the door open. The guy’s still alive, talking to me, wants to get out of the car, babbling about he can’t get caught. I try to move the seat back, but it’s jammed, his knees buried in the all metal dashboard, blood pumping out of him from his legs and face. Ed stood behind me, dazed by the whole thing. Our evening buzz was gone.

I run up to the front door of the house, pound on it and an old man jerked the door open almost immediately. He started yelling at me to leave him alone, he’s already called the police, doesn’t want to get involved. Which sounded like a good idea. I turn around and Ed is in the ‘vette, engine running. I don’t need to think, there are sirens screaming down the boulevard, about a ½ mile away. I ran and dove into the Corvette. We go up a block, take a right and stay off the main drag, backtracking through some high-dollar neighborhood.

When we got to my house, we realized that my jacket is covered with blood. I take it off and put it in the wood burning stove in the shop and burn it. We down a six-pack, talking about it. We looked in the paper for a week, but never saw anything about the accident, don’t know if the guy lived or died. Must have been some high-roller’s kid."

"So blood doesn’t bother you?" Sure Shot persists.
"I’ve seen enough of it, mine and other people’s. I don’t think that you get used to it. When I worked at the hospital, a couple of the doctors thought that I should go back to school, become a doctor. Not the job for me."

I’m cutting around Bambi’s brother’s intestinal wall, trying to get deep enough into the cavity to ease the intestines, liver, kidneys, lungs and heart out, without making a really bloody mess of it. Sure Shot has now got blood up over her gloves, staining her Volunteer jacket sleeves. Thor is being a very good dog, lying on the grass, watching me, knows the pecking order. It’s my kill as far as he’s concerned and he knows better than to mess with my food.

The guts just won’t cooperate, they refuse to come out of the carcass. I get frustrated, grab the deer’s head and pick him up, flip him over, drag him about six feet, trying to get the innards to fall out. All I get is blood all over the ground and on the legs of my pants and front of my jacket. I drop him on his back, pick the knife up and put my hands into his chest cavity, trying to cut his esophagus loose from his stomach. Finally, I cut enough that his stomach, intestines, the whole mess falls out onto the ground when we tilt him up. Thor sniffs the air, sits up and starts to come towards me. I tell him to sit and he does.

"He a really good dog, most of them would be all over the place" Sure Shot nods toward Thor, impressed by his restraint.
"He knows better. He doesn’t get to eat until he sits and obeys me."

I continue cutting and now am reaching into the body cavity, pulling out fat, pieces of gut that I missed, random body parts that don’t look too edible. There’s a pile on the ground that probably weighs about 20 pounds. I look around and gauge how to handle the next problem. The tailgate on the truck is broken, the bed is full of junk and I need to get this deer up and over the tailgate.
Thor is watching intently as I go over to the truck and call him. He runs and jumps in the front seat. Close the door and go back to move Bambi’s brother over to the truck and hold his head up. Have Sure Shot grab his head while I climb into the bed of the truck. Then I reach over and take his head, pull him over the tailgate and into the truck bed. Don’t want to break the small rack he’s got, as that will probably be going on the wall. The three of us crowd into the truck cab and start off to Sure Shot’s house.

We get there and I find a wooden skid to put Bambi’s brother on, while Sure Shot goes to see if her roommate has returned from visiting his mother. Nope, so we unload Bambi’s brother and I tied him up so we can hose him out. There’s no way we can take him to the check-in station with the 4X4, it doesn’t have real good brakes.

Thor takes a place on the driveway and watches while I hose the blood off the deer, the truck and myself. Sure Shot’s roomie finally shows up and we load Bambi’s brother into the back of her mini-van. He’s riding on a tarp, to keep anything from getting too nasty. I decide to ride along, in case there’s any questions about where he was shot and the registration.

At the deer check-in station, it’s like Mardi Gras for camo freaks. Whole families dressed in the latest camouflage fashions. There’s camouflage trucks, ATVs, children, mothers, all on display. We roll in driving a 15 year old mini-van, looking like we just came from either the football game or the barn. The rear hatch goes up and people wander over to look at Sure Shot’s buck. They think it’s mine. Which I enjoy correcting them about it. Then they’re really shook up. Sure Shot doesn’t look the part. She moves slow, has a bad leg, doesn’t look like she would get off the couch, much less sit in the woods and take down a deer.

The Tennessee Wildlife Resource crew check over Bambi’s brother, note his rack size, estimate his age at a year and a half, give us some tips on gutting deer for next time. Sure Shot gets all the paperwork done and we go back to the mini-van. Just then a dude pulls in with a huge buck, probably a 10-12 point rack. Sure Shot pulls forward 100 feet, stops the mini-van, she’s got to see this buck. I get out, not all that enthused, dead deer are dead deer.

Sure Shot is all over the buck, the dude who shot him doesn’t act too happy about being questioned by her. Then I ask where he shot it. It’s over on the other side of the farm, near where people have been poaching on the old man’s property. The game warden busted a guy a couple of years back. It cost him quite a bit of money, lost his gun and his truck. They still do it, just like the ones who spotlight deer from the road and then are surprised when they’re caught.

We get back in the mini-van and leave, heading for the butcher shop. Sure Shot was supposed to have all this figured out. Knows somebody down at the store, who’s son knows the guy who processes the deer. It’s not call ‘butchering’ any more. The crew at the deer check station didn’t know how to get to this guy’s place. The game warden told me he bought a meat grinder and does it himself.

We drive towards the deer processor, but I get bad directions when we stop at a local corner store. The lady behind the counter talking on the phone, while giving the lost Yankee, which I’m not, I just sound like one, directions. Which were wrong. Or maybe I misunderstood.

We drive about 10 miles, miss a turn in the village we weren’t told about, go back towards the burg after we get to the county line, now knowing we're too far out. During our drive towards the general vicinity, me making cell phone calls using her cell phone and getting people who are surprised when I start talking to them. The ambiguous male accent throws them off, then I explain that Sure Shot got her deer and everybody’s congratulatory and friendly. Where’s the deer processor?

When we get back into the burg, Sure Shot stops at the local trading post. The guy inside tells her the correct directions. We head down the road, drive about a mile and we’re there. Some kid, about nine years old is out front of the building. He’s got thick glasses and is wearing the full camo rig. Hat, jacket and pants, hunting boots. Sure Shot asks what to do with the deer. He tells her to unload it, put it on the concrete and he’ll skin it for her. She can’t believe that he would skin it.

I get the rear hatch open and the kid comes over. He wants to help unload it and goes to grab the head. I ask him to switch, I’ll grab the heavier end. He grabs the rear legs, pulls the deer out of the van, with me holding the front and drops Bambi’s brother on the gravel. Embarrassed, he picks the deer up and staggers over to the concrete pad, me following his lead. I thank him as we put the deer down.

Sure Shot is standing talking to the deer processor’s wife, who’s got a clipboard, noting down what she wants in the way of cuts and sausage. Then comes the big question. The deer processor comes out and asks if she is going to mount the head. It’s only ten bucks to cut it off properly, but the taxidermist is going to want around $200 to mount it.

Sure Shot shakes her head, so the deer processor asks if she wants the rack.
"Well, yeah, how much does that cost?"
"Nothing," he replies.

Then he reaches over for an electric saw and immediately cuts the top of the deer’s skull open. One slice down from the rear, above the ears and the other across the front, just above the eyes. Pops the top off and hands it to me. Nice clean gray matter, exposed to the world.

"Is that the brain?"
"Yep, sure is," answers the deer processor.
Sure Shot leaned up against the mini-van, I thought she was going to faint right there.

After all that blood, a little bit of brain got to her.

We got in the mini-van and left.

It’s all over but the eating now.

Agents of Change, Literary and Other

It's been a couple of weeks since I posted, haven't stopped writing, just didn't find time to post stuff here. My apologies to whoever might be reading this blog.

Last half of November was descent into hell. Neighbor shot a deer, which I didn't think would happen. I had committed to helping get it out of the woods and gutting it.

Since I never expected her to shoot one, I didn't think that I would be making like a M*A*S*H* field hospital surgeon and wind up dissecting Bambi's brother in the middle of a hay field. Yes, it's bloody and yes, it's a very long post. The squeamish should not read it. I'll post a warning before and after the post is put up, later this week.

Then my other neighbor died. This wasn't unexpected, just happened sooner than most thought, as his cancer spread rapidly, in weeks rather than months as the doctors had predicted. Watching the actions of his grown children, grand-kids and other relatives was enlightening to say the least. I'll try to keep from being too acidic in my comments.

The most important thing has been my sending out emails to literary agents, trying to get one to promote my books, screenplays, songs and poems. I usually don't mention all of these types of the written word when sending a query email. Everyone is a specialist these days and there are certain agents that don't represent screenplays, others that don't touch poetry, etc.

My take on that is that they are all forms of expression. Even if you aren't good at one and excellent at another, there is nothing wrong with working on your weak point to build it up and strengthen it.

Too many people write, in the hopes of being famous and making money. I write because I love it.