Ten for the Summer: Ripping Good Movies

Here's my list of the ten most promising movies of the summer.  Yes, it is chock full of ripping good yarns - sorry, the art house favorites and tea house darlings are not on this list.

But if you want a ripping good yarn, with great characters and an exciting plot - here's my best bets:

10)  Dark Places, premiering August 7th, is another great adaption of a novel by Gillian Flynn (writer of Gone Girls).  Expect dark suspense and a stellar performance by Charlize Theron as Libby Day, setting out to discover whether her brother is innocent of the murders of the rest of her family.

9) Vacation, premiering July 31, brings back into the the world of Clark Griswold.  Rusty is all grown up now, and played by the very funny Ed Helms.  I loved the original and am looking forward to its return!

8) Tomorrowland, premiering May 22nd, centers on a utopia designed by such great minds as Jules Verne and Nicolas Tesla.  This film has some great writer/director cred behind it, and for my female rippers so inclined, it also stars George Clooney.

7) Fantastic Four, premiering August 7th, has a somewhat controversial reputation among comic book fans.  As a reader of Fantastic Four since the early 60s, I can tell you yes, it's going to depart from prior tellings of this story.  SO WHAT!  It looks awesome anyways, and is directed by Josh Trank, who directed the great movie Chronicles.

6)  Pitch Perfect 2, premiering May 15th, and like, wait...what?  How did this movie get on this list?  I couldn't help it.  The first movie was such infectious good fun, I am ready for a second helping.  It probably doesn't hurt that I was in Glee Club in college.

5)  Mad Max: Fury Road, premiering May 15th, is on this list because it is being done by the same director, George Miller, who did the original movies. And it has a bald Charlize Theron.

4) Minions, premiering July 10, is my one best animated bet for the summer.  Oh, yeah, I think this is gonna be fun.

3)  The Man From U.N.C.L.E., premiering August 14th, is the movie I've waited the longest for.  I loved this TV series as a kid, and I'm hoping this remake will do it justice.

2) Jurassic World, premiering June 12th, is the movie closest to my birthday so, oh yeah, I know what I want for my present!  The trailer looks lush and exciting, and the star, Chris Pratt, is like the Harrison Ford of the 2010s - he's everywhere, man!

1) Avengers:Age of Ultron, premiering May 1st!  Did anyone doubt that I would list this first?  Whedon...Marvel....great actors from top to bottom....BRING IT!  This is the reason they make movies, this is what it all led up to!

As usual, my little proviso that I will still probably get to less than half these movies at the theater, but when I am able to go, these movies will be my top priorities.

Happy movie going, everyone!

Sketchy Weekend and Other Monday Musings

Retro Comic con!

Yes, I finally got my son to a comic book convention!

It was a small convention that took place in Pooler, Georgia, which I think is a suburb of Savannah.  I had seen a few smaller, and I had seen a few bigger, but it was a good introduction to Benjamin.  We brought two of his friends with us, and we had a pretty good time.

The picture above shows the highlight of the experience.  Benjamin got to meet THE major artist of his favorite comic series, Sonic the Hedgehog.  His name is Tracy Yardley! (the exclamation point is what he uses as his signature when he signs his work),  He personally did the sketch that Benjamin is holding in the picture above.

Cosplayers were everywhere.  This is the relatively new phenomenon of dressing up as characters from various popular series (television, movies, comics, amine, video, etc,).  I think it started out as something done at more narrow focused conventions, such as Star Trek, then filtered into broader conventions like Dragon Con in Atlanta, and now is the central part of any entertainment themed convention.

Besides the joy of seeing my son attending, I go because it's a chance to meet artists and creators, and for the comic books I can find.  I was pleasantly surprised that there were a good number of vendors there selling older comics.  It had been a very long time since I had seen so many in one place.

Many of them were too rich for my blood.  One man had a some really, really good older comics in great condition.  His prices were awfully high, which made sense with the condition that the comics were in, but were way outside what I felt comfortable in paying.  I primarily get back issues of Superman and related titles, but I am perfectly happy with reading copies.  I found one that would have been a very expensive comic if it hadn't been for the little bits on the top that had been chewed off by a rat.

I saw a copy of the first The Man From U.N.C.L.E. comic book, and thought it was for $50,  With the my great love for that show, and the movie coming up, I thought that might be a great purchase.  It was high, but I it would be real treasure, and maybe undervalued.  I asked for a closer look and found it was actually $150,  Yikes!  I politely made noises that I might consider it, and then got the hell out of Dodge.

----------------------------------------------

The final edit of History of the Trap is complete.  I could mess with it for the rest of the year, and still have things to tinker with, but it's time to s____ or get off the pot.  I'm scared as all get out, but I need to put it out there.  I may track a dual route, doing both self-publishing and still follow up with a broader publisher.

------------------------------

I am also trying to finish up Crowley Stories, but I am having to get back into it, so that I can pathway the best way to bring it to a conclusion.  I have charted and reviewed the first 23 of the 34 stories, and have listed off over 100 characters.  There is some tightening and elimination of duplication to do, but for the most part, I make no apologies for this.  Each story focuses on a small group of people, and many characters are in several stories.  This is not a mistake.  This is what I want to present.  Slice of life stories that show many aspects of a small town.

Until next time,

T. M. Strait

History of the Trap: New Last Chapter Part

New ending part for History of the Trap....this is at the ending of the epilogue.

-4-

The Trap, Year Eight

The knife began its swift descent.....

...........and clanged sharply as it reverberated against the concrete floor, sending spikes of pain up through her arm, her wrist bleeding, her knuckles aching and red from the punch she had given him.

She cried.  Loud, hard sobs that shook her entire body.  It wasn't cowardice that stopped her.  It was something else. 

She retrieved the plastic ties he had used on her, and he tightly bound his hands, and then did the same to his ankles.  She would secure him in such a way that there was no risk to her or others.  She would strap to the cot, and if she had to, drag the cot all the way back to the school.

She just couldn't do it.  She had seen too much, been through too much, to stoop to the levels of the likes of Mark Granite.  She would not do that.

If he exposed her, revealed all the things she confessed, so be it.  She would deal with that later.  She just wanted the opportunity to make things right.

Of course, she wouldn't bring back whatever tape recording he made.  No reason to go overboard.

She had made mistakes.  Yes, she had.  And they had consequences beyond anything she intended.  But she was a good person.  She knew she was.  And she could go back and devote herself to doing better.  She loved Lance, and she would devote herself to him and to the good people around him.  If he didn't love her back, well, she understood and could accept it.

She would go back.

She would make things right.

Or die trying.

History of the Trap: New Introductory Chapter Part

Special new introductory chapter part for History of the Trap

Prologue

Morgan Brings Razzbutt to the Jailhouse

-1-

The Trap, Year Eight

She bled.

Her wrists were turning red, chafing and straining at the plastic ties that bound her to the leg of the heavy table. At first she just wanted to give in, let this lunatic end her life.  Let her pay for all that she had done, all the mistakes that had led to so much tragedy.  She wouldn't mind the bliss of death, or at least so she thought. 

She changed her mind. The time she was captured led her to rethink the path to oblivion.  She suspected he didn't want to kill her, but instead make her his captive, and the thought of that was unbearable.  And as much as she had messed up, she needed to get away and warn the others that the one they thought was dead and gone was actually still alive.  And that he would be coming for them.

The blood made the ties more slippery on her wrists.  If she could keep focusing, she felt like she could get free.

She had been hiding in the tunnels for more than a month.  She had dug her way past the tunnel collapse, and had spent days traversing their endless maze.  Every time she thought she would starve, she ran across a small trove of canned foods and bottled water.  Then she found this room with a table and cot, and even a bookshelf filled with strange books she had never heard of before.

Her reverie was broken by the approach of lantern light, coming from a corridor leading into the east end of the room.  He was coming back.  She anxiously flexed her wrists, hoping their slick wetness would free her.

"Oh, Morgan, Morgan, Morgan," he said in a sing-songy voice, as he came into the room.  "Pretty, pretty little Morgan?  How does thee fare, my pretty little Morgan?"

"How am I doing?" Morgan replied. "Tired of that growling you call singing, you sick puppy.  Come here a little closer, and let me kick you in place that will help raise you up an octave."

He laughed, chortling madly.  "Oh, Morgan!  You are such a card!  And did I call you, pretty?  Oh, I'm just trying to make you feel good, sweetcakes!  Look at you with your stringy, greasy hair!  And without makeup, your dirty face is a mess!  Your tattered clothes are hardly the fashion statement you used to make, now is it, my former beauty queen?"

"You're right," said Morgan.  "Can't argue with that.  I'm a genuine mess.  But the sad thing is, even with all this, I still look ten times better than you do."

He bent down and stared directly at her, inches from her face.  He had no fear.  Anything she tried with her hands still tied, would receive quick and vicious retribution from him.

"What to do with you?" he mused.  "Am I interested enough to keep you as my girlfriend?"  She scoffed at that, and spit into his face.  He slapped her, hard enough to turn her head almost one-eighty.  She turned back and looked at him coldly.

"Nahh, I don't think so.  I like a little fire, but you have way too much ice as well.  Maybe we should go back together, and I can tell everyone all those things I overheard you confess to."

Before she knew he was watching her, she had made the mistake of talking out loud, communicating with God, trying to work out her feelings of guilt.  A little crazy?  Perhaps, but she had been alone for weeks, and she needed to talk to somebody, even if it was an invisible deity.

"Go ahead," she said, doing her best to focus his attention on her face as she tried to free herself from the ties.  "No one would believe you, anyways."  It didn't matter.  Lance already knew most of it.  That had already caused enough pain.  What would the rest matter?

"But you forgot," he gleefully answered. "I have it all recorded, here on my trusty tape recorder.  Yes, I have a tape recorder, remember?  You'd be surprised what you could find down here if you stay here long enough."

Morgan stared at him, contempt and hatred dripping from her.  "Yeah, there are a lot of rotten things down here, too.  After all, I did find you, didn't I?  How much more rotten could things get?"

"Rotten?" he almost roared, his foul breath bringing tears to her eyes, and she scrunched her nose in a futile attempt at protecting her self from its noxious fumes.  "You know what's not rotten?  You are!" He sniffed her, as if he were a mountain lion about ready to devour its prey.  "You're fresh!  So fresh!  Well, besides the distinct body odor from no bath in forever.  That aside, I must say, you smell delicious.  It really has been a long time since I've had fresh meat."

He pulled out a sharp knife that was sheathed to a belt on his pants.  She didn't know if he was trying to scare, or if he meant to have her for dinner.  He sat on her legs, eliminating the possibility she could strike back.  "I know what you're thinking.  It's a shame your hands aren't free.  You can't stop me from doing whatever I want."

She looked at him with a cocky grin.  "No, sorry.  That's not what I was thinking."  He cocked his own head, surprised at this girl's defiance and sarcasm even in the face of her potential demise.  "I was thinking about how glad I am that my hands are free."

His eyes widened as her hands came around and smacked him on both sides of his face.  This startled him enough to loosen his grip on her legs.  She kneed him herd in just the right place.  He got up, clutching himself, roaring in pain, dropping the knife.  She could hear it clanking to the ground.

She punched him hard, right under his jaw.  He stumbled and knocked his head on the table as he fell.  He was out cold.

She grabbed the knife and stared down at him. She could end it.  End the risk that he would tell. End the threat he may pose to those that were left.  All she had to do was plunge the knife into him.  No one would ever know.

She kneeled down, holding the knife in both hands, poised over his torso, right over his heart.  Blood dripped from her wrist, fell down onto her face. 

The knife began its quick descent.....

Un Derfully Dry

Undefeated
He reigns as champion
Infallible
He rules them all

Unstoppble
He conquers all the spaces
Nimble
He dances around the truth

Undeserved
He still wears the crown
Gracious
He deigned to let you live

Unanswered
He left all your prayers
Radiant
His heart shone through

Unremarkable
He cannot issue new
Prostrate
He kneeled to one who did not care

Unkindly
He  treated all, berating even the best
Laughing
He mocked my friends

Underized
He blew a silent tire
Creeping
He flitted the night sky

Undeterred
He bled across the pathway
Melancholic
He surrendered the dwindling worth

Unwise
He left the throne
Frescoed
He parted the landscape

Jumping With Kenny

Local TV used to be a lot more fun.

Some things get better over time, and some things don't.  I think local TV was a lot better when I was a kid.  They had many more local shows back then.  Not just stuff that's a variation of the Today Show or The View, but entertainment shows.  And the best were local shows designed for children.  The host would introduce cartoons that the station had acquired rights to, usually ancient cartoons that were cheap to get.  But the local talent was live, and best of all, they would often have live audiences, filled with squealing kids,

Probably the most franchised and popular was Bozo the Clown.  Local stations would have their own Bozo (the clown - I can't rule out that there might have been other kinds of Bozos).  I'm pretty sure the Flint, Michigan TV station had one.  Flint was a community about a half hour south of where I lived growing up in Bridgeport.  It's not surprising that Flint had the more famous and higher-production value show.  At the time, GM was riding high, and Flint had about the best per capita income in the country.  For what later happened to Flint, please see Michael Moore's great documentary, Roger & Me.

But it wasn't our favorite, not by a long shot.  That was reserved for the somewhat lower production-valued, but rather unique children's show coming from Channel 5 in Bay City, a community a half hour north of where we lived.  It was not a franchise, but a "one and only" starring THE Kenny Roberts the Jumping Cowboy.  Kenny Roberts brought his own energetic talents to this show, and it was a great little show to tune into, even if the cartoons were not as good as Bozo's.  At least Kenny was real and caring, and he wasn't hiding behind a pile of greasy makeup.  I mean, who really knew who was behind all that Bozo make-up?  It could have been IT from the Stephen King book!

But not good old jumping, yodeling Kenny Roberts.  He was a real country western star, and for five years, he brought his magic to the children of our area.

And best of all, it was a heck of a lot easier to get on the Kenny Roberts show than it was Bozo.

This picture shows some of my classmates from Bridgeport, posing with Kenny.  Kenny often had brownie troops and cub scouts on his show.

Imagine my incredible excitement when my sister's Girl Scout Brownie troop were scheduled to go on the show!  AND I WAS ABLE TO GO TOO!  Woohoo!  Both of the Strait kids on the same show!  Poor Kenny wouldn't know what hit him!

Kenny loved to have games that the kids competed in, with the prize being the incredible Holloway All Day Sucker!  This was a kind of a hard chocolate based sucker, almost a taffy, that was huge.  For a kid, it was the biggest thing in the world, like the size of a tree or something.  Well, it was big, anyways.  And it really would last all day.  If you tried to bite into it, expect a visit from the Tooth fairy that night. So it had to be slowly licked, over hours and hours, almost to the point you you don't know whether you ever want to have another one for the rest of your life.  That is, until weeks later, when you remember the joy of having something that delicious last that long.

My sister was lucky enough to be chosen to play that day's game.  He had set up a kind of mini-golf course around the studio.   Those selected had to use a stick to hit a ball into different locations.  The kid who did it the quickest won that coveted sucker.

My sister hit the course with manic force.  Really, she was like a whirlwind.  She couldn't score to save her life, but she was all over the place, and the camera could barely follow her.  Everyone was laughing and cheering. She would duck behind cameras, race around the bleachers, run circles around the Jumping Cowboy, who practically had to jump to get out of her way.  Seriously, there was hardly ever a performance like it in the history of the show.  And I was jealous as all get out, because even back then, I wanted to be the star, I wanted to be the performer.

When the contest was over, and my sister had lost, they couldn't get her to stop trying.  She kept going and going.  It was impossible to get her to hold still.  Kenny finally corralled her, but she still rocked back and forth as he tried to gently hold her in place.  He awarded her a special prize even though she did not win, because of the level of enthusiasm and energy she showed.  My sister squirmily accepted her Holloway All Day sucker.

Me?  The only camera time I got was at the end, when the crowd of youngsters waved goodbye.  When the camera focused on me, I knew I had to do something to compete with my sister.  So I did the most brilliant thing I could quickly think of.  I stuck my tongue out.  The Cameraman must of went, "Oh, God! Another one of those!"  and quickly switched to another kid.

After the show, I asked my sister how she knew to be such a performer, if she had planned out being such a superstar.  She was surprised I thought that.  She said that what was going on was that she had to pee really, really bad, and she was afraid if she was still, she would wet herself right there on TV.

That taught me a very important acting lesson.  Sometimes, if you need high energy onstage, a full bladder will do the trick.

So, yes Benjamin and other younger kids and teens today.  You got your Cartoon Network and dozens of channels, and your YouTube and other Internet shows.  But trust me, you haven't got anything like Kenny Roberts, the Jumping, Yodeling Cowboy.

And you are that much poorer for it.

Super Chill Weekend and Other Monday Musings

Ellie's got the right idea of what to do with the first post-tax season weekend.

There was a walk planned, as you can see by the leash, but there was nothing like crashing on the pillow and getting forty winks. Ellie did what I should have done with this weekend.  I came close at times, but didn't quite achieve her blessed nirvana.

I had a rehearsal on Thursday night for Dearly Beloved.  It was a good rehearsal, but showed clearly I needed to spend some more time learning lines.  I have done that this weekend, at least enough to be dangerous.  Starting tonight, we cannot call for lines.  This should be interesting.

I got back into the fiction zone, completing a brand new Crowley story.  That felt really good.  I'm going to need to spend some time re-reading and working up a character bible.  Can't have my blonds turning into redheads.

I started a story I put exclusively on Wattpad.  It's called The Awakening: Mail Order Bridezilla, and is my attempt at the genre of Christian Romance.  It should be quite an interesting journey, and if you would like to read it, or many of my other works, long and short, carefully and conveniently laid out, than you should consider joining Wattpad and becoming a follower of  TomStrait.

We took a mini-trip to Brunswick and St. Simons, all of about six hours.  Between the three of us, we spent almost $100 there, but came away with a good haul of books and magazines.  I love trips to the bookstore.  I could spend hours in them, and also libraries.  I just get this overwhelming feeling that I am home, and hat I am where I belong.  I did look up Books-A-Million, the store I visited, on my smarty phone, curious as to who owned them (some group out of Birmingham, Alabama), and found that one survey ranked them the worst employer of 2014 (low pay, crappy hours, high pressure bosses, pay based in part on how many magazine subscriptions you can push on people).  Sigh.  Sometimes it's hard to boycott all the bad businesses because there are so many of them.

Speaking of boycotts, I unfriended and blocked only my second person ever on Facebook.  I don;t regret it, as the person was referring to a day of silent protest in schools over LGBT bullying as "National Sodomite Day".  That was offensive enough, but he had said many other things over time, and it was the last straw I needed to go ahead and pull the exit button.  I have a friend who did not eliminate him right off, to see how he would react.  It wasn't good, attacking me as intolerant, making fun of my name, Strait, in light of my "gay" views, and referring to me as a "Michigan transplant", as if someone who has only lived in Georgia since 1978 and whose children and spouse are native Georgians, has no right to a view in this state.  The most horrible realization about him is that when he spouts his terrible, intolerant views, he actually gets people supporting him.  He is not alone in his unreasoning, vile hatred.  On the other hand, my post saying I was unfriending him and why, received as many likes and support as anything I've ever done.

I tried to ask my Great Unanswered Question* again, this time directing it to specific people, hoping for an answer this time, to no such luck.  Some resented that they had been called out.  Others asked why I thought they hated Obamacare, and then listed reasons why they hated it.  Others complained that it was not their responsibility to solve the problems of the world.  Well, too bad so sad.  If you are going to ask for repeal of Obamacare and rail against it, and then not offer a plan to replace it that insures as many or more people, then you are telling me that you have no moral compass and no ability to participate in the great Democratic experiment.  You have to get informed.  You have to care.  You can't make things worse without any plans to make things better.

So as irritated as my conservative friends get, I will not remove the lamp.  I will keep it hanging out until they tell me they have a plan, or until they concede to me that they simply don't care about anyone's health care access but their own.

Until next time,

T. M. Strait

* What plan do you have to replace Obamacare  that will insure as many or more people?

School Yard Fun Time

"Hey, nerdling!  I hear your mama has a killer boyfriend!"

David Roper just wanted to walk back into school.  He thought walking outside after his lunch would help clear his mind.  He wanted so much to think about the game he was inventing, To Crown a King, but instead he was filled with thoughts about his mother and that creepy boss of hers.

At first it was just his problem.  He was glad his mother had found a job, working at the same firm as Captain Creepo, but then he had to show up around her after work hours.  Wasn't the guy married or something?

He was friendly enough, the few times he saw him.  He just didn't like his smile, and he wasn't big and strong like his father was.  Although he was big and strong enough to possibly hurt Mom like his father did.  And who knows?  The police think he killed a guy. So with the right weapon, anyone was strong enough.

The only reason they were living in this godforsaken town, in a crappy trailer in a rundown trailer park, was to avoid the monster his Dad had turned into.  She ran away with David and the clothes on their backs, ran so she wouldn't suffer again.  And here was another man, one who looked like a dweeb but might be a killer.

"Where you going, gameboy?" sneered Skipper Reese, blocking his way.  He was skinny and mean, and even from five feet way, he reeked of cigarettes.  He stood there with the Gorland twins and a couple of other bullies.  Most were from the trailer park he lived in.  They loved to tease him without mercy.  "Yeah, we heard about your stupid game, To Bop a King, or whatever.  You are such a wasteoid."

"How...how do you know about that?"  David was upset.  He didn't want to have to discuss his game with these Neanderthals who could barely read.

"We overhead your tubby little girlfriend, Dona, simpering about it to one of her little friends while they were sitting outside their trailer," answered Skipper.  They were all chortling.  "Man, that butterball really has it for you, don't she?  Makes her fat cells jiggle you do, don'tcha?"

My god, it was one thing for them to be nasty towards him, but picking on Dona was low.  "Stop talking about Dona like that!  What is wrong with you people?  Just let me back inside the school!"

Roland Gorland came up to him, inches from David's face.  "Just let me back into the school!" said Roland, with a mock whine.  "Oooo, please, don't be mean!  Please. Please, let me go, before I wet my panties!"  The whole group lit up with derisive laughter.

David stood his ground.  He couldn't win a fight.  There was nothing to do but stand and take it.

The other Gorland twin, Sammy, took Roland's place.  "So your Mama digs that killer boyfriend, huh?  She just loves the way he curls his little body up against hers?"  David started to quiver, but he set his jaw hard, and his eyes turned to steel.

Skipper added fuel to the fire.  "Will he kill for her?  Is that how Rondy Strickland got blown away?  Did your Mama ask him to do it?  Or did her killer boyfriend just get jealous?  Maybe Rondy maybe a pass at your whore mother!"

David shot out his fist before he could think, before he could stop it.  He smacked Skipper on the jaw, leaving Skipper in shock and David's hand tingling and sore.  He hadn't thought about how to hold his hand and his thumb throbbed like it had been broken.

Roland jumped in, pushing David hard and was getting ready to wail on him.  Somehow, as Roland approached him, he managed to trip Roland so he fell hard to the ground.  He instinctively stepped on Roland's back so he couldn't get up.  "Leave me alone!" he shouted, long and angry and loud. 

Roland at first seemed trapped, but suddenly he used his weight to flip around.  This caused David to waver and fall, but he fell right on top of Roland, and started to wail on him.  It was like a character from To Crown a King, using what little skills he had to diminish the hit points of his opponent.

As David began to wail on Roland, increasing the pain in his hands, he fleetingly wondered why the rest of the bullies didn't join in and beat the living crap out of him.  He wondered that until he was suddenly pulled up and way by somebody.  He turned around to defend himself, and saw that he was staring into the face of Vice Principal Roger Harley. 

Vice Principal was a big man, a former state champion heavyweight wrestler.  Even the most vile, delinquent kid fell into line when faced with Vice Principal Harley.  "Stop it, boy!  You've done enough.  It's time to cut it out!"

The rest of David's tormentors scattered, except for Roland, who lay moaning on the ground.  "I don't know what came over that guy!" asserted Roland, as he tried to pull himself up.  "We were just trying to get back to class when he just started wailing on me for no damn reason!  I think he's got mental problems or something."

Vice Principal looked over at Roland with a skeptical eye.  "Yeah, Roland.  You and your pals are as innocent as babes. I want you to go to my office and wait.  I'll deal with you in a minute."

"But I'm innocent!  I didn't do nuthin'!" Roland protested.

"Son, you ain't been innocent since the day the doctor slapped your behind.  Now git!"

Roland scrambled off, leaving David with the imposing figure of Vice Principal Harley.  He hovered over him like a large oak tree.  "Look, son, I don't know your name, which given what I do at this school isn't necessarily a bad thing.  What's your name?"

David was shaking, even more than he did with the bullies.  His hands felt like pulp, sore and red.  His left thumb throbbed.  He feared it really was broken.  "D-David.  David Roper," he gasped out his answer.

"Well, Mr. Roper, you have put me in a fine mess.  I didn't see what was going on until you pinned that Gorland boy.  That meant all I saw was you wailing on him.  I know these boys are the Devil's brood, but I got to go by what I seen.  And what I seen ain't good for you.  I'll take you to the office and write you up.  I'm afraid you're gonna have a five day in-school suspension."

David tried to choke back tears.  "Does...does my mother have to know?"

"Yes, she does.  That's just part of the deal, Mr. Roper.  Knowing them other boys like I do, I can't say you were 100% wrong.  But there are consequences to our actions, even though sometimes it's the only thing we feel like we can do."  He put his hand on David's shoulder.  David winced and the Vice Principal withdrew his hand. "Try not to walk alone out here, if you can help it."

No.  Even through his pain, David rejected that notion.  No one gets to be crowned king if they cannot stand up for themselves.  "I have a right to walk where I want to!"

That surprised Vice Principal Harley.  The boy had even more fire than he thought.  "Well, yes.  Yes, you do.  You have that right.  And you also have the right and ability to use some common sense once in a while."

David didn't know what to say.  He was beginning to feel weaker, barely able to stand.  "Where do you want me to go now?" he asked.

"Come on.  We'll go to my office, get this ISS set up."  ISS was short for In School Suspension.  They started to walk back towards the school.  "Mr. Roper, those moves you put on that boy to pin him like that.  Where did you learn that?"

"I-I don't know, sir.  It just came to me."

"Hmmph," the Vice Principal guffed.  "Son, have you ever thought about...wrestling?"

Party Like It's April 16th

It's official now.  April 15th has now passed. A major tax deadline is now over. As a working CPA whose responsibilities include individual and corporate taxes, it is a relief to be now looking on the other side of this date.

I have had people over the years ask me what in the world I do now that April 15th has come and gone, as if that is what a CPA firm spends most of it's time on.  Fortunately if one values full time employment, or unfortunately if one craves a greater degree of leisure, that is not the case in most firms.

It is true that at my age and my desire to have at least some time to pursue other goals, that I personally take a little bit more time off than I do during tax season.  But that is a voluntary choice, one that my firm accommodates.  I am not a partner or sole practitioner, so I don't put in the hours that those dedicated entrepreneurs do.  There is plenty to do year round.  Tax deadlines actually stagger throughout the year, including the non-profit 990 tax form deadline coming up May 15th.  There are payroll services, financial reports, audits, and various different management reports and special assignments. Work has become so steady that it is nearly impossible to hold to the tradition of closing the office for a day or two after April 15th.

The year was a little bit more difficult than most.  Congress and IRS regulations are always adding layers of complications.  This year added the additional requirements surrounding the Affordable Care Act.  We had to ask more questions than we normally do, and had to fill out up to three more forms, depending on the answer we got.  The tax penalties for non-compliance were fairly minimal this year, but will accelerate in future years.  For 2014, it may have been more economical to pay the additional tax than the cost of insurance.  Of course, that only worked if you and your family remained healthy. an awful gamble to take given the cost of medical services.  A few people who got health insurance from the exchanges wound up in trouble because they underestimated their income and had to return some of the premium subsidy they had gotten throughout the year.  If you go to the exchange, please carefully consider the income level you report, noting that it may be more helpful to err on the side of caution.  If you're unsure, you may want to consult with your tax adviser.

Like many of our laws, the Affordable Care Act is complicated, and some aspects are positively Rube Goldbergian,   Most of our legislation is the result of compromise, and therefore often more complicated than it needs to be, but democracy is rarely a straight line.  Unfortunately, many of the fixes that normally occur in legislation are not happening with the Affordable Care Act, because one of our political parties has decided to go to war with it rather than make it better.

Was it worth it?  In my view, if more people are covered, than yes, it's worth it.  And all statistics show that the number of people covered has increased dramatically.  The rise in healthcare costs has slowed dramatically.  The deficit reducing effects of the law have exceeded even expectations.Young adults can be covered on their parent's policy longer.  Pre-existing conditions are no longer the fearful excluder they used to be. Medical bankruptcies should be on the decline.

Some states have not made the progress of other states.  They are fighting setting up their own state exchanges.  They are refusing to extend medicare benefits.  So in some states the number of uninsured is not dropping as dramatically as it is in other states.  Georgia is one of the states, and the strain of our lack of participation is hurting hospitals and care providers, particularly in rural areas.

On the other hand, given the stress involved in the tax system, I am pleasantly surprised by the level of courtesy and cooperation from all involved.  Revenue agents at both the federal and state level are almost always courteous and kind to me when I am able to contact them.  The IRS, in spite of having increasing regulations to enforce and supervise, has had their staff cut repeatedly by Congress, and are becoming a little bit more difficult to secure contact with (if you call them, be prepared to listen to a lot of Muzak).  At the same time, virtually all taxpayers I deal with do their very best to be helpful and informative.  They are doing their best to cooperate and deal with a very complex system that almost no one completely understands.

I can't speak to places that only do taxes, such as Liberty or H & R Block, but as for public CPA firms like the one I work for, don't be surprised when you pass us by on April 16th as to why we're still working.  We are doing many, many things to help you and others, and to contribute to a growing, vibrant, and healthy economy.

The Tax Man Leaveth

Well, not really.  I mean, not completely.  He never goes away altogether.

About a quarter to a fifth of our clients extend, some individuals going all the way to October 15th, and some corporations all the way to September 15th.  We have a number of corporations whom have year ends other than December 31, so their deadlines are staggered throughout the year.

Non-profit returns, called 990s, are due May 15th, and we have a number of those.

We do a great deal of general ledger, payroll and financial statement work, and that's year round.

And we have special audits that we perform throughout the year, with the summers sometimes being particularly heavy.

So, as I write this on April 15th, I know that it's not fully over.

But as constant as it is, there is some relief.  For me, there is not as long of hours, and there is not as much brain wattage used.  This significantly reduces my stress, and allows me to better pursue my own interests - family, theater, reading, writing and writing projects - particularly fiction.

There are a number of fiction projects that I am itching to get back to.  History of the Trap needs just a tiny bit more review and then it will be ready for publication.  Crowley's Stories: Swamp's Edge is about two thirds complete, and I am anxious to get my head back into that story.  When Crowley Stories is complete, I intend to concentrate on short fiction and try to achieve my dream of being published in a science fiction magazine.

I have decided to two track my writings,pursuing both some self-published items on Create Space (Amazon), and also starting some queries.  I'm told it's possible to self-publish AND still look for a real publisher, so that is my current plan.

I do intend to party and take some time to unplug this weekend, create a short mini spring break.  And maybe I can finally learn my lines for the play - that would probably make everyone happy.  I don't know whether we'll get out for a trip or not - I would love to go to a great middle brow Italian restaurant, but we would have to go out of town to do that.  The lawn looms like the big time consumer it is, but I may have to get the lawnmowers fixed first.  I suffer from a huge case of mechanical incompetence, made significantly more difficult by an even worse case of mechanical indifference.  Machines should work.  I don't care how.

But I'm getting ahead of myself.  As I write this, there is still about 0.478% of tax season left.  Granted, there is little time to start a return at the point of the process that I am at (I am the first stage, and there are several stages after me), but I still need to wait it out.

Until next time,

T. M. Strait

Stupid Math Tricks: Tuesday Tidbits

As I write this, there are roughly 40 hours left in in 2,508 hour tax season, meaning  1.675% of tax season remains, which is roughly equivalent to one sixtieth of tax season remaining.  It some ways, it feels a lot longer than that.  In other ways, not.  I can definitely see light.  My job in preparing tax returns is near the beginning of the tail wag, so my work is tapering off.  Emergencies and redos are possible, but it is very difficult for me to do my part with it, and have time left for the other prep stages it must go through, which includes signing off by the client, and acceptance of e-filing.  So, long story short, I am not as deluged as you think right now.  Rain is still definitely possible, but I'm also seeing hints of the rainbow.

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Since most days I only have a half hour or so to write, I think the weight of my achievements are small.  But looking back I see I have a novel in progress, Crowley Stories, that is well over 60,000 words, and a completed novel, History of the Trap, that is well over 80,000.  But even these are dwarfed by my blog, The Strait Line.  I have over 1,100 separate blog stories posted.  At an average of 500 words apiece (some are less but many are more, that would represent  550,000 words.  Yes, over a half million words.  Ulysses and James Joyce, you got nothing on me.  Well, except talent, creativity and lasting literary value.  But hey!  - no plan is perfect!


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The Detroit Tigers stated the season with bats a-blazin', winning their first six games in a row!  Woohoo!  They're 6 and 1, having lost their first game yesterday!  The enthusiasm for this is only slightly dampened by the fact that this only puts them in second place in their division, behind the 7 and O Kansas City Royals, baseball's only undefeated team.

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I have 59 lines in the play that I am in, Dearly Beloved.  I am 59 years old.  In trying to memorize my lines for the play, especially during tax season, I feel every bit that age.  But the play is going to be fun, folks - I can already tell you that.  If you're in the area, you'll want to see it.,,,first two weekends in May at the Ritz.

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We have four announced candidates for Presidents.  Hilary Clinton and three delirious occupants of the Republican clown car.  It's going to be a long political season.  No, Hilary is not my favorite Democrat, not by a long shot.  She has a Corporatist smell, her foreign policy bent is a tad too militaristic, and we get to experience the whole Clintonista spectacle again.  I would definitely vote for a more progressive candidate in the primaries.  But make no mistake about it, my conservative friends.  She is so far ahead of the clown car, it's not even a contest in the general election.  She is a pragmatic leader whom I believe genuinely cares about the American people.  I will gladly register my vote for her over the climate denying, deficit increasing, income gap accelerating, social issue dividers, clown car occupying, TeaParty Amerika RepubliCorp opponent that will be running against her.

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Crap.  Runned out of time.  Now only 1,555% of tax season left!  Let me use my 550,121st through 550,122nd words to say -

Until next time!

Leaves

He ran from the house.  He raced off the rickety wooden steps of the mobile home's ratty porch.  He sped away from the trailer towards the old oak tree in what passed as their front yard.

He dove into a pile of autumn leaves accumulated near the trees and bushery that grew relatively wild on their untamed residence.  A large truck tire dangled from a tree limb, the chain holding it up broken on one side, rendering it unusable.  He would sometimes try to ride the top of the tire, but it was next to impossible, and not very comfortable.

He dove deep into the leaves.  They were not pretty or colorful.  They were brown and damp and dying, any delightfulling of chlorophyll long since vanished.  Even though they were nasty and moldy, he did not care.  Hr wished he could bury himself in them.  But they were not deep enough to cover even his six year old body.

He heard the screen door creak open, and then snap shut on it's spring.  The boy's heart beat faster.  He scooped the leaves as if that could hide him.  But he saw him.  It was too late.  Too late to hide, too late to run.

He was not scared.  He was mad.  He just wanted to run away before his Daddy could.

"Bobby?" the man said, as he approached the little boy.  "What you doing in the middle of these nasty leaves?  You don't wanna get no ticks or chiggers now, do ya?"

The boy, sitting on the ground, enfolded his head into his arms.  Maybe if he didn't look, Daddy would just go away.  That's what he was going to do.  Go away.  Daddy always went away.  This time he feared for good.

Daddy sat down next to his boy.  "Now, son.  I'm sorry I got to go away.  But I got a job upstate and I can't pass up the money."

The boy looked up at him, tears streaming.  "You made momma cry."

Daddy looked at him sadly, his big blue eyes brimming with his own tears, tears that as a Daddy. he would fight to make sure never fell.  "Yes, Bobby, your Momma is upset now, but it's got nothing to do with you.  We both love you very much.  Your Mama just needs some alone time too.  At least away from me for awhile.  I'm sure things will be better when I get back."

Bobby would not be fooled anymore.  "You're not coming back!"

Daddy looked away for a moment.  He had to think of what to say.  Bobby saw this on one of the shows Mamma watched, one of those detective shows.  That meant Daddy was going to lie.  "I'm coming back, Bobby.  I promise."

Bobby clutched some leaves, bunching them tight in his fist.  "When?  When you coming back?"

Again Daddy looked away.  Then he stared back at Bobby.  It was going to be another lie.  "As soon as the job is done, Bobby.  I can't say how long it will take.  With any luck, I can be back by Christmas."

Halloween was just last week.  And for a six year old, Christmas was a universe of time away.  And even that was a lie.  Bobby knew that it was a lie.  Daddy opened his arms.  "C'mon, Bobby!  Give you old man a hug goodbye.  Don't let me leave without a hug."

Bobby jumped to his feet, and threw his handful of leaves in Daddy's face.  He threw them as hard as he could, and he could tell Daddy was surprised.  "I hope you get chiggers!  I hope you get chiggers and die!"

Bobby tried to run past Daddy, but Daddy caught him.  And hugged him as if he would never let him go.

But Daddy did.

Bobby ran back to the porch, his chest heaving, tears pouring down, watching, watching.  Watching as his Daddy leaves.

Never to return again.

Ripping Good Yarns: Is it Gone With the Wind?

Had the group been more vibrant, this would most likely would have been the next entry in the Ripping Good Yarn Hall of Fame,  But with the group....gone with the wind...it will probably have to wait.

It was a ripping good idea, really.  A place in the midst of Facebook and all its noise, a place to share and discuss an interest in great storytelling, whatever the medium.  Not the artsy-fartsy stuff, but the melodramatic and exciting stories that grab you by the imagination, whether they be mysteries, romance, westerns, science fiction or other genres.  Where you could discuss your favorites without fear or relentless negativism, being told how "they'" don't watch television, or how reading fiction books is an impractical waste of time, or how movies are too expensive.

It was to be a great forum, filled with shared news, and discussions of shows and series, classic tales and great new stuff coming up.  It was to be filled with contests and pseudo awards.  It was to be a joyous celebration.

I invited every friend I had whom I thought would be at least remotely interested.    I had hoped it would grow from there, and others from outside my friend circle would want to join.  I envisioned a large group, sharing information, participating in discussions, voting for favorites.

But Facebook had other ideas.  They have constructed groups in such a way that if you don't view and participate in them constantly, they fade from sight.  So, over time, instead of the group growing it has been shrinking.  I have a handful of diehards, whom I'm very grateful for, but many more who probably never see the posts anymore.  I know this is true with other groups that I am in, so it must be true of Ripping Good yarns as well.

The only people who have asked to join the group in recent months are people I don't know with shadowy profiles, whose purpose is unknown.  If your profile only has one picture, and it is of a half-clad female, yet the only other information is that you are a male from the Philippians, I'm probably not going to accept your invitation. 

It's been hard for me to keep my foot on the trigger, what with tax season and competing writing interests.  But I don't know if I'm ready to completely abandon it.  I don't quit easy, even if it feels like I'm just tilting at windmills.

For those of you who have stuck with it, I appreciate it, and it means a lot to me.  I will keep plugging away, hoping beyond hope that Facebook changes so that even infrequent participants can see the posts.  I dream of the day when I can return to contests and the Hall of Fame, and get more than the five or six votes that it is now down to.

So is Ripping Good Yarns gone with the wind?

Be quiet, Rhett, with your "Frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn(s)!"

I prefer to quote a more hopeful Scarlett -

"After all...tomorrow is another day."

Sooooo...how 'bout that Agents of SHIELD?  Is it a great show or what?

In Search of Jesus

For our church Easter Egg Hunt, a large army of Jesus' were created.

Then they were scattered all about the church courtyard, mixed in with non-Jesus eggs.  It was supposed to be an extra special treat to find Jesus.

Jesus cleverly hides behind a chick pinwheel.

Can you find Jesus?  I'm thinking he is up a tree.

Jesus takes a selfie to show his endorsement of evolution.

All the peeps gather for a post Easter Egg Hunt victory celebration.

I am grateful that I am in a faith where humor is possible, and people don't break out into a Jihad, a pogrom, an inquisition, just because someone uses the image of their religious leader in a silly or satirical way.

At least that's my hope, anyways.

Blessed Easter Weekend!

Flower displays were prominent at our church Sunday, including this one on our portico, a cross that was decorated with many flowers, each added by different parishioners.  Here my son Benjamin makes his contribution.

Bring in da Easter!  Bring in da Hats!  Our service was a joyous celebration of the risen Christ!  Reverend Kit Brinson here proudly displays her Easter bonnet.  Her sermon was moving and started with some jokes that had the whole place rocking with laughter.

Eucharist was an amazing blessing, with our full sanctuary crowd receiving the body and blood of Christ.  I helped serve, and it was an epiphanous wonder to see so many come forward,  a wide variety of economic and ethnic groups, people of many different walks of life, all opening their hearts and minds to the grace of our Lord, all willing to add their body, strength and service to strive to be the hands and feet of Christ.

Stay blog-tuned this week!  These were just the most easily found photos this morning.  I hope to find more and publish at least one more story...at least one more about this year's celebration of the greatest story ever told.  A story of truth and the light, and the triumph of love and hope over evil and despair.

Happy Easter!

He is risen!

He is risen indeed!

The Importance of Hospitality

The two cities were filled with sin and evil.  It's true that there was debauchery and sins of indulgence. But their worst sin was turning their backs on the vital tradition of hospitality.  They no longer opened their city and homes to strangers.  They no longer cared for the poor and disadvantaged. They had hardened their hearts to all but their own selfish interests.

When the angels came, only Lot would take them in.  Only Lot and his family practiced the importance of being hospitable.  It angered the other citizens of the city so much, that a mob surrounded Lot's family, demanding that he bring out his guests, so that they could vilify and disrespect them.  Lot was so adamant about the importance of hospitality, that he would rather the mob disrespect his own family members before he would let them disrespect his guests.

And thus sealed the fate of Sodom and Gomorrah.

Jesus believed in hospitality, front and center. When he went form town to town, he and his disciples would depend on the kindness and generosity of those living there to provide food and shelter for himself and his disciples.  He was open to everyone. including all into his flock, even those others had deemed sinners and unworthy.  He just asked that you believe, that you extend love in return.

He saved his wrath for the money-changers and merchants who sullied the temple grounds, attempting to make money off those who tired to worship there.  He constantly contradicted the Pharisees, a group obsessed with exacting rules, and determining who was clean and unclean.  Jesus made it clear.  Rules were not as important as love.  Inclusion was more important than exclusion.

Two states recently, Indiana and Arkansas, stood on the brink of codifying into law protecting acts of in-hospitality. In combating what some may see as sin, they were willing to commit the greater sin.  They would turn their backs on hospitality.  They would choose permitting hate and exclusion over love and inclusion.  And they would do so, astonishingly, in the name of "religious freedom".

As of writing this, both state have backed down somewhat from the precipice, rewriting their laws to be closer the the federal law that passed in the 90s, and more like the religious freedom laws already in place in many states.  I would love to tell you they did it because the response of individuals and/or people of faith made them realize they had made a mistake, but it was really almost exclusively to do with pressure and reaction they got from large corporations, and those who were threatening to withdraw conventions and businesses from their states.  When moneyed interests talk, politicians listen.

And now Georgia stands on the precipice with a similar law being considered by the legislature.  Which route will they go?  Will they emulate the federal law, or will they try to follow the inhospitable path of Indiana and Arkansas?

It is right and good and just to have laws on the books that allow people to follow their religious traditions when they don't impinge on the rights of others.  If someone feels required to wear their hair in such a way that others may not want to approve, unless there is some compelling health or safety reason to do so otherwise, the government should not be able to compel them to conform their hairstyle.  But to deliberately deny others their civil rights, to empower yourself to hate and exclude, particularly in the common marketplace?  I'm not sure what kind of religion actually wants to do that, but I do know this....

It's not Christianity.

Jesus wouldn't stand for it.

Joining the Righteous Brigade

Congratulations, Arkansas!

You stand on the verge of joining your Indiana brethren in the great righteous brigade!

That will be two states with religious freedom laws with real bite.  Laws that will allow Christians to express their views and judgements freely, even in the open marketplace.

Can Georgia be far behind?  Why, I'm surprised it's taken us this long!  Usually we're number one on the religious rights hit parade!

And when that glorious day finally comes to Georgia, I can at last open my own storefront, Strait Pies for Straights.

But wait!  Why stop there?  That's just the tip of the iceberg when making our Lord's favors clear.

You say you're not a Christian?  That indeed you are some kind of atheist scum?  STAY OUT OF MY STORE!

You are living with someone unmarried and in a state of sin?  YOU'RE NOT WELCOME!

You've voted for Democrats, and have not repented, especially that foreign-born Muslim tyrant, BayRock Hussein Obama?  WHY ARE YOU EVEN DARKENING MY DOOR?

You rotate your crops the wrong way?  You wear mixed fabrics?  You say you ate shrimp last night?  GET THEE AWAY FROM MY STORE, YOU SATANIC ABOMINATIONS!!!

Do you lend people money and then charge interest?  Do you make a living by exploiting the poor and disadvantaged? What's the matter with you?  Usury is the most mentioned sin in the bible! NO PIE FOR YOU!

Adulterous?  Lecherous?  A gambler or a drug addict?  If you are actively committing these and other sins, and have not restored yourself to a state of grace, then YOU ARE NOT WELCOME.

Have you ever been divorced?  KEEP OUT!

Wait.

I've been divorced.  I voted four times for Obama.  I bought a lottery ticket last month.  I ate a shrimp a awhile back. There are some doubts among the Christian Right as to whether my denomination of Episcopalians even count as Christian.

CRAP!  I can't even get into my own store.

I look in the windows of my store, and I see there's no one in there.  Nobody.  No staff, no customers. Nobody and nothing.

I look down at the sidewalk and I see a stone.

I pick it up, but there's no one left to throw it at.

Just me.