20 Rules for Surviving Halloween

Provided free of charge by the

Agency Governing Humanely Horrific Haunted Halloweens

  1. Don’t go anywhere alone.  In fact, don’t go anywhere.
  2. If you must insist on leaving the safety of your house, go with a large group. The more of you there are, the better the chance be a survivor, not a bloody memory.
  3. But if you are determined to leave your house by yourself, at least be prepared.  Practice screaming. You should also carry the following: a loud whistle or digital screech alarm, a large crucifix, a string of garlic worn around your neck, four cans of pepper spray; a police baton, a taser; a handgun, a shotgun, a machine gun. You might want to consider a hand grenade or two. Rear running shoes, and take time to practice running without falling down. Whatever you do, avoid all old, abandoned buildings, especially asylums, schools, hospitals, prisons, any building more than one story tall, and filling stations.  And if you’re even considering going to a graveyard, there’s no point in reading further. Just kneel inside the entrance, stretch your arms out, and yell “Take me!”
  4. While you’re out there, be alert. Trust no one. If you see a clown, spray it. If it turns out to be some idiot in a clown costume, they should have known better. Stay in the light. Generously spray shadowy areas with the pepper spray. If you are approached by an eighteen-inch tall, sneering doll, anybody wearing a Scream mask, a hockey mask, a Hannibal Lector mask, or a burlap mask and carrying a knife or chain saw, turn and run. Run as fast as you can. And come to think of it, leave all of the guns at home.  You’ll just panic and drop all but one of the bullets and then miss with that one shot anyway. Leave the hand grenades too.  You’ll shake, drop the pin, drop the grenade, won’t be able to find it in the dark, and then . . .well,  just leave them at home.
  5. Do NOT stand your ground. You have to run. It’s expected.  While you’re running, remember this. Do. Not. Trip. You should know, too, running won’t  do any good. You’ll run, exhausting yourself. Meanwhile, your pursuers will walk, stumble and fall, stop for a sandwich, take time to sharpen their knife, or chainsaw, pause to take pictures. Oh, you’ll put a mile or two between you, but whenever you stop running, they’ll be there waiting for you. It’s a rule. On second thought, forget the running. Break the rules. Stare right at them, raise your arms to the sky, and yell as loudly as possible, “Look behind you! It’s Elvira!”
  6. If you’re smart you’ve decided by now to stay home, where it’s comparatively safe. DON’T EVEN DO THAT ALONE. Invite a friend over. Several friends are better. Rule 2 still applies. But there are things you must remember.
  7. Make sure all of your friends know the deadline for arriving.
  8. Turn on all the lights in the house. That’s all the lights. This is no time to conserve electricity.
  9. As soon as the deadline for arriving guests has passed, lock your doors. Front, back, lock them both. From this point forward, do not open those doors for any reason. Ignore knocking. Late arrivals are on their own. If you look through the peep hole and see a friend, don’t be fooled. Halloween monsters wear costumes too, you know. Pay no attention to children chanting “Trick or Treat.” Some ghouls are shape shifters. And now that you think you’re safe in your locked house, remember these rules.
  10. Don’t have wild sex. Those people are always the first to die.
  11. Avoid drugs and drinking. Those are the next to go.
  12. Ignore all outside noises like car crashes, wild running and yelling, sirens, evil chants and screams. Make a special point of ignoring those screams. Their serial killer is their problem.
  13. A special caution is in order here. Pay no attention to any pounding on your doors or windows accompanied by terrified calls of “Help me! Let me in! Help me please!” Bloody horrified faces clawing at your windows pleading to come in will not be bothersome if you close the drapes and blinds.
  14. If your friend heads for the kitchen and says he or she will be right back . . . they won’t. Do NOT go looking for them. Wait five minutes, then board up the entrance to the kitchen.
  15. Do. not. check. out. that. strange. sound. And there will be strange sounds. Where?  Everywhere of course. Be particularly careful not to investigate children’s laughing voices that seem to move around.
  16. Do NOT look under your bed or in your closet, no matter what. Do. Not. Do. It.
  17. If a bat is bumping against your window, point your crucifix straight at the window, hold onto the string of garlic tied around your neck, and yell three times loudly, “You are NOT invited in!” You say you don’t have a crucifix? Well. May the dumb be with you.
  18. Don’t answer the phone, no matter how many times it rings, If it’s someone in the family calling for help, they should have picked a better time. Don’t they know you’re trying to survive?
  19. Ignore all ghostly voices. ESPECIALLY if they are right behind you. This will be easier if you watch the DVD of “It’s a Wonderful Life” with the sound turned up high. Excuse me? You wanted to watch a horror film? On Halloween night? Are you nuts?
  20. Do NOT look for friends who disappear. Save yourself. When you’re the only left, there’s only one sure-fire, guaranteed way to survive the rest of the night. Dash to your bedroom, put on your Winnie the Pooh jammies, climb into bed, and pull the covers up over your head. That always works.
  21. You’re welcome. Happy Halloween.

Those sly Republicans will be, well, sly…

This time around I’m providing a link to an excellent, thoughtful, article debunking one of the GOP’s sly talking points: the sacredness of the Electoral College.

This is definitely a MUST READ. The Washington Monthly accurately and succinctly exposes the lie of the Electoral College serving as a beneficial tool in Presidential elections.

Well-indoctrinated Republican, Dr. Lerah Lee—please excuse me, but I’m always amused  by people with a PhD or EdD who insist on referring to themselves as “Dr.” as if they are a real physician, or somehow much smarter than you and me—is running for Congress in Georgia’s 7th Congressional district.

In her email, which somehow found its way into my In-Box, Mrs. Lee fervently, while also attacking Democrats in general and specifically AOC as racists, defends the Electoral College with the same old Republican talking points. The Republican party has always had a problem with things like LARA: Logic, Analysis, Reasoning, and Accuracy. This article explains exactly why their talking points attempting to prop up the archaic institution of the Electoral College are 100% wrong. 

If you have received an email from Mrs. Lee, you will want to read the article. If you have a friend who has received one from her, or another Republican stalwart, please pass this along to them.

Facts are facts, and in this case the facts are also the truths. Please don’t be fooled, and don’t let a friend be fooled.

The link:

The Electoral College is not what its defenders say it is

While we celebrate Labor Day. . .

While we celebrate Labor Day. . .

One of the great incongruities, and condemnations, of Christianity is that black Americans and white Americans both prayed to the same God, from the Civil War, through the Jim Crow era, which has ‘ended’ only in our imaginations right up to present day America, where that conundrum continues.
And while black Americans prayed and strove—almost always peacefully—right up to today, for the simple freedom of equality, white Americans have responded, and respond today, with guns and fires and explosives and other forms of violence. This has always been supported by the conservative church through means ranging from cowardly silence to active participation.
So much for the image of a ‘just’ God, and Godly “Christians.”
Wonder no more about why modern Americans increasingly turn away from this religion awash in its own hatred, bigotry and hypocrisy.
Here ends the sermon.

Labor Day And The Elaine Massacre Of 1919

America’s Greatest Evil = Fake Christians

I’m using this post to share a horrible news story and introduce humanity’s—and morality’s—public enemy of the day.
Adam Fannin, a “pastor” of dubious sanity who is given legitimacy by religion, , is openly calling for the murder of Sarah Silverman, from the pulpit. He is just the latest individual hiding behind the trappings of clergy while he spreads hate and, in this case, openly solicits the commission of murder. Deranged individuals like him are exactly the reason intelligent and thoughtful people continue to turn away from churches to seek personal spirituality in place of a sick cultism that has long poisoned Christianity.
This deranged and hateful man should be arrested and charged with soliciting murder. 
If anything happens to Sarah Silverman, or if someone even attempts to harm her, Adam Fannin must be charged as a co-conspirator.
Adam Fannin—and religious zealots like him, of which there are plenty—are a danger to all decent people, and an affront to God and Jesus. They must be held accountable for their hateful rhetoric, which goes well beyond any freedom of speech.
The wild ravings of Adam Fannin and others like him are not inspired by God, any God. They are the sick manifestations of a diseased and hateful mind. They are antithetical to everything Jesus taught and would have us be. They are born from a sick hate of anyone ‘different.’ They are diseased.
If there really is a “rapture,” these fake Christians will be shocked to discover themselves the ones left behind.
The story is here:

Short Story- THE HUNT

This is a story I wrote awhile back, before Donald Trump and his Interior Department head, Ryan Zinke, filled Wildlife Protection Board with animal murderers, the only possible description of people who kill animals for enjoyment and trophies.

The Hunt

It was a small clearing in a not very large valley in a medium-sized forest. A trifling stream ran through it on one side, not quite in the middle. The setting sun calmed some of the sounds of the forest, awakened others. The residents began to settle in for the night. A bird trilled from the branch of an oak, saying goodnight perhaps. Another answered. The waters of the modest stream flowed quietly, gently bubbling around a large rock here and there without disturbing the fish that swam lazily just beneath the surface. The peaceful clearing in the forest preserve could have inspired a Disney film.

Hunting was illegal, forbidden within this place. The life here had no need to fear man. But there were always humans who did not concern themselves with such things as laws and rules, those who considered hunting a God given right and the laws an “…unfair infringement” on their fondness of hunting and killing.

At this twilight, the hunters blended into their surroundings on the small hill, watching. They wore camouflage fatigues, moved slowly and quietly, all but impossible to see or hear in the deepening twilight. The taller one lay nearly motionless, watching the small clearing a hundred meters away. The shorter one crouched easily, a meter to his right.

The night vision scopes on their rifles didn’t quite turn the deepening darkness into daylight, but brightened the sleeping forest enough for the two to see easily. The newest generation of scopes showed the scene in color instead of monochromatic shades of green and black.

“Got something.” the tall one whispered. into his throat mic. “Three o’clock. one buck, one doe. Wait one, got a third one, fawn following the mom. ”

“Copy,” the shorter one replied. “I have them too.”

The hunters watched as the three deer paused just inside the clearing, stood very still and looked around, the buck in the lead. Through his scope the hunters lying prone watched them listen and sniff the air. The adults exchanged a look. Then, satisfied there was no threat, the family moved forward, toward the stream. The two adults kept the fawn between them. Smart, thought the tall hunter. But the animals’ caution would prove defenseless against the killing technology the hunters possessed.

“Our two friends are stirring,” the shorter hunter whispered. ”

The tall one lifted the barrel of his rifle minutely to reacquire the area on the opposite hill. His scope showed him the other two hunters clearly. He and his partner had watched them arrive, prepare their position, and settle in to watch. The small, peaceful, supposedly safe clearing had since been under the observation of all four predators. The others also wore camouflage, and made little movement. They were practiced, experienced. Now they were carefully, quietly changing their positions slightly, excited at the arrival of the prey but disciplined.

“They’re anxious,” the tall one whispered. “They’re going to take their shots when Bambi and his folks are drinking.”

“We’ll beat them to it. Early bird gets the worms.”

The family of deer moved to the stream, unaware of the human killers on either side of them. Though the deer were accustomed to the safety within this forest, the male might have sensed something. He paused again, raised his head to listen and sniff the air. Whatever had made him cautious was insufficient to create flight. He bent to drink from the cool, flowing water. The female and fawn followed suit.

Now all three of the animals were drinking. The muted music of the stream and the act of drinking kept them unaware of the minor movements of the hunters. The four predators took a breath and let it out slowly, adjusting their rifles to settle the crosshairs of their powerful scopes on their targets. The buck and doe would die first, then the fawn.

The male and female deer looked up suddenly at the sound of two sharp coughs on the hillside above them. They examined the forest, listening intently. For a long moment they stood like that, then looked at each other, before turning back to the stream. The fawn had raised his head only briefly.

Just as the deer examined their surroundings, so did the hunters. They kept their scopes centered on their targets longer than the deer had taken to examine the slopes. They knew they didn’t have to look at the bodies on the far hillside that long. Both shots had been clean, precision shots through the exposed foreheads. But the Guardians were professionals. They left nothing to chance. They watched through their scopes for a full sixty seconds before turning to look at each other for the first time in over an hour. The taller one sat up carefully so as not to spook the deer. His shorter partner sat beside him.

“You’d think they would learn,” the man said quietly. The woman shook her head.

“I doubt it. I don’t think we’ll ever run out of people who get their thrills from killing animals that can’t fight back. Makes them feel like they’re some kind of big stuff, important somehow. That’s why we have the program. Fines and jail time do no good. Someone always thinks they won’t get caught.”

The man nodded.

“Well, nobody can say they weren’t warned. Signs all over the place. Media announcements. No hunting, no warnings, deadly force, the whole nine yards.”

The two of them sat quietly with their thoughts for several moments. The family of deer turned and left the clearing the same way they had entered. The hunters watched them go.

” Did those shots sound a little on the loud side to you?” the man asked.

“Yeah, they did,” the woman said. We need to ask for a couple of the newer silencers.”

“Good idea,” the man said. He picked up his radio to report the kills..

# # #

 

Twiddling Politics While Time Runs Out

THIS ELECTION MUST BE ABOUT THE ENVIRONMENT OR NOTHING ELSE MATTERS
I watched Tuesday night’s debate in real time. Good stuff. Came away thinking Warren-Buttigieg.
I didn’t watch Wednesday night’s debate until last night. Absolutely disaster.
Came away thinking Biden is past his time. His checkered past doesn’t help. His stuttering a couple of times didn’t bother me. His mind was sending information to his mouth faster than his mouth could organize it and spit it out. It happens with a lot of people. Trust me on this. It’s sort of an area of expertise.
Harris didn’t help herself at all. Gabbard was impressive, as was Gillibrand. But as a group they primarily did a good job of showing Trump how to go after any one of them. Pool of little sharks in a frenzy, showing the megashark how to eat them. He might not even need the Russians.

Now I’m thinking Warren-Inslee. Or Sanders-Inslee. Jay Inslee was the ONLY candidate out of the twenty who passionately maintained that the environment MUST BE the no. 1 priority. Otherwise nothing else counts. He came back to it at every opportunity, and he is absolutely right. A Vice-President is seldom used well. Jay Inslee as VP could be the sledge-hammer Warren will need to beat climate-positive change into heads around the world.

Yang’s $1000 a month isn’t well-thought-out. As an entrepreneur, he ought to know that the first result of that will be corporations jumping at the opportunity to lower their pay scales “…because people already have this $1000 monthly coming in.” That, as Baretta would say, is ‘da name a ‘dat tune.
NEVER expect a corporation to do the right thing.

I loved DeBlasio preaching to tax the hell out of the wealthy. I imagine the wealthy are already figuring it would be worth a couple of billion dollars to buy away enough of his voters to make it academic.

Nobody else made a big impre
ssion on me, one way or the other. But you can take Jay Inslee’s passion about the climate change issue to Baretta’s bank. The clock is ticking on that one, and we only have, maybe, ten years before it is simply too late. I forget whether it was Yang or Castro said we’re already ten years too late and implied that therefore it’s all over. If we think that way, we might as well all light up our bbq’s, sit in our gas guzzlers with the motor running while we eat, and wait to die. That is pointless.
And that’s the reason we all probably WILL just do the above. Because America MUST take the lead on this, but our system is geared against that kind of unity on the part of our politicians and our populace. We had to almost lose WWII before we even got our asses in gear to fight it.

Americans will continue to play political games while hoping that Trump is right about there being no environmental crises. That is a malaise that stretches across both party lines, and it is virtually a death warrant for our children and their children, as well as most life on the planet. It is what it is. But those of us who see it, have to do our damndest to wake people up. For the sake of my children and grandchildren, your children and grandchildren; For the sake of every living thing on this planet that we’re killing, I will keep harping, keep sending out the message. 

Warren/Inslee for me. 

Summary Misery

One of the more perplexing irritations a writer suffers is the ubiquitous one-page summary.  Regardless of how long your novel may be—two hundred pages, three hundred or more—or how complex and riveting. every publisher and agent seems to require this three hundred word ‘pitch’ in representation. I’ve been tempted to merely grab the most interesting word from each page, toss in a suitable sprinkling of random punctuation, and toddle the thing along.  

I wonder. Did Mark Twain have to deal with this one-page wonder? Did Dickens, or Hardy? Stevenson? Shakespeare? I wonder what a one-page summary of, say, HAMLET, might have been spun by the bard? I decided it might have looked like the following.

Hamlet

By William Shakespeare

A single page summary

 

Alas, poor Hamlet. The youth doth toil in trauma, deranged by distress, embroiled in confusion. He finds himself bereaved and bereft, besieged on all fronts by loss and remorse, attacked by angst, haunted by indecision, more so by the ghost of his dead father, also of name Hamlet.

The lad’s dad, alas, has been killed by Hamlet’s own uncle, Claudius, now the king, that he may have the poor boy’s mother, Gertrude. Evil abounds, while the father’s ghost roams the grounds, terrifying the simple minded—most likely evangelical Baptists—as he beseeches, implores, nay, demands his son avenge him.

Torn ‘tween hate and reason, fear and vengeance, yon young Hamlet, never the most stable stone in the palace garden, succumbs to madness. Or does he, for here, dear publisher, is the pointed pebble in the proceedings. Is Hamlet really, truly, genuinely insane as he plots to kill the king even as he courts and confounds the nubile Ophelia (also both more and less than she seems)? Or is it all an act, a mere theatric with which to cloak himself in the appearance of an energetic but harmless cuckoo while he summons the courage and the means to act on his dead father’s behalf, that he might at last get a decent night’s sleep?

Intrigue lies everywhere. Will Hamlet act? Will he dispose Claudius before he is himself erased by the King? Is his mother victim or conspirator in the elder Hamlet’s end? What, exactly, is Ophelia about? What “great” actors will expose themselves as mediocre imposters trying to portray the young Hamlet in the coming generations?

This is the stuff of heart-rending sorrow, with episodes of toe-tingling suspense, moments of stunning violence and murder, sure to mesmerize viewers of all classes. This, then, is HAMLET!

 

I await most humbly, the pleasure of your acceptance.

Will S.

Ps. Speaking of Kings and Queens, did I omit to mention our Queen is a personal friend? I wish thee a most bounteous day.

Will S.

Ps. Speaking of Kings and Queens, did I omit to mention our Queen is a personal friend? I wish thee a most bounteous day.