Tuesday, May 31, 2011

GERIATRIC DIRTY DANCING


If you will click the title of this blog you will see what most of us wish we could still do. I used to love country western dancing and the two-step was my favorite. Hell, there was a time when I could even disco with the best of them. OK, maybe not as well as John Travolta, but good none the less.

My, how times have changed. Remember when the dance halls didn’t even start really jumping until after 10 p.m. and to be there any earlier would mean you were drunk before the dancing started or a dork or both, and the dancing didn’t stop until the bouncers kicked everyone out?

I watched the Arizona Diamondbacks beat up on the Florida Marlins last night until after 8 p.m. and this morning I feel like I have a hangover! Wahoo, what a party animal I am now – pathetic, I know, but such is the way of life. God only knows what the young people dance to now-a-days, but I bet they don’t have as much fun as we did when live bands played real dance music and you could even hear the lyrics. I guess I will never know who dances to what; I can’t stay awake late enough to find out. Do people even dance anymore?

Come to think of it, I am a total day creature now. It’s like reverse vampirism; I live in the sunlight only to crawl back to my coffin at night. Crazy, I know, but it suits me and my wife. Let the youngsters have the night, you can’t see anything anyhow.

I’m just saying,

Mittster

Monday, May 30, 2011

Thank You!

As a nation, our thoughts and prayers today and everyday are with our service men and women who are serving the world over to protect our freedoms at home. I want to thank my Navy daughter who served her country with honor and distinction, not only on the high seas, but also in Iraq. Her mother and I are some of the lucky ones whose sons and daughters came home to a hero’s welcome.

As parents, our hearts go out to the families who were not so fortunate. Their children gave the ultimate sacrifice for the concept of freedom for all. It has been this way down through the ages because the fight for human dignity and freedom remains the goal of every peace loving country.

I, for one, wish peace could prevail around the globe, but there are others who try and dominate the world through fear, torture and death. As long as these tyrants exist, we, as a freedom loving people, must stand and be counted among the nations that will resist until the tyranny is vanquished.

Today, as we honor our fallen soldiers, let us pray also for our wounded ones as well. These young combatants are dealing with all manner of terrible injuries. Sometimes the scars are not visible, but they are there just the same. There are horrible psychological wounds that disable just as surely as bullets or shrapnel. The road to recovery is a long and painful journey and we need to support each and every one toward a full recovery.

For those still fighting the good fight, I pray you all return home safe and sound. America can never repay the services our fighting men and women have performed throughout our history to make the world a safer place to live. We can only thank them from the bottom of our hearts….

Write on,

Mittster

Sunday, May 29, 2011

The Road Less Traveled



Formal education will make you a living; self-education will make you a fortune. – Jim Rohn.

Right and I am a self-made millionaire – wrong! I like the sound of Mr. Rohn’s statement though because it gives validity to me wasting my high school years on party, pleasure and hot rods instead of buckling down and learning something of value. I am sure there are some self-made gazillionaires out there who don’t even have a high school education, but they are far and few between like lottery winners. As my mother-in-law says about me playing the lotto, “How’s that working out for you?” Sometimes she really pisses me off! Unfortunately, she is right as rain and it isn’t working out worth a poop.

When my mother reached thirty she said the hell with working as a construction secretary for our stepfather for the rest of her life. At the time she didn’t even have a high school education, but that was about to change. She went on after getting her GED to receive a Bachelor of Science degree and then a Master’s in music education and ended up teaching in the same junior high school she had graduated from years before.

I was so proud of her, but I was making a ton of money in construction and just knew I would be a successful contractor someday. What I didn’t know was that being successful also meant being responsible for my actions. I worked hard and drank hard. When I wasn’t working I was spending all my money on partying and not worrying about tomorrow, let alone next week. This was not the formula to the success I envisioned.

It wasn’t until I reached forty that I started realizing that had I put the money wasted on booze into an interest bearing account I could have retired to Hawaii. Instead, I just helped make bar owners wealthy and me poor. It was at this time I also said the hell with working my butt off swinging a hammer and started to learn the things that could and would make me a project manager and get me out of the field and into more money using my brain and not my back.

Over twenty years later I have managed some success. I became a project manager, consultant and published author, but not without great effort and many disappointments. One thing stands out more than any other. The whole process would have been so much easier had I learned study habits way back in high school. Our minds are so much more receptive to leaning when the brain cells are young and not permeated with beer and tobacco.

Success is not equated to money only. Success is being able to take responsibility for your own life and look in the mirror when you want to blame others for failure. Success means surrounding yourself with capable men and women who want to be there because of mutual respect and admiration. Success means giving credit to co-workers knowing that the praise will come back full circle. Success also means caring about others, especially your loved ones and family.

No, I’m not a millionaire, but I am rich beyond my wildest dreams. I have the perfect life and life’s partner. I am blessed each and every day with all my needs and desires fulfilled. Would I do it all over again knowing what I know now? No, I probably would just screw up at a different level. What I would do though is get that formal education that is available to every American. Sometimes the road less traveled can be the easiest one.

Write on,

Mittster

Saturday, May 28, 2011

Memorial Day 2011

A friend sent me the most amazing patriotic art painted on a car that I have ever seen. I will let the painting talk for me and shut up for once. Have a wonderful and safe Memorial Day weekend!

Friday, May 27, 2011

To Kill an American



Written by an Australian Dentist? Not, but still a fine work! Click on the title of this blog to find out the truth behind this article.

“You probably missed this in the rush of news, but there was actually a report that someone in Pakistan had published in a newspaper, an offer of a reward to anyone who killed an American, any American.

So an Australian dentist wrote an editorial the following day to let everyone know what an American is. So they would know when they found one. (Good one, mate!!!!)

'An American is English, or French, or Italian, Irish, German, Spanish, Polish, Russian or Greek. An American may also be Canadian, Mexican, African, Indian, Chinese, Japanese, Korean, Australian, Iranian, Asian, Arab, Pakistani or Afghan.

An American may also be a Comanche, Cherokee, Osage, Blackfoot, Navaho, Apache, Seminole or one of the many other tribes known as Native Americans...

An American is Christian, or he could be Jewish, or Buddhist, or Muslim. In fact, there are more Muslims in America than inAfghanistan . The only difference is that in America they are free to worship as each of them chooses.

An American is also free to believe in no religion.. For that he will answer only to God, not to the government, or to armed thugs claiming to speak for the government and for God.

An American lives in the most prosperous land in the history of the world..
The root of that prosperity can be found in the Declaration of Independence , which recognizes the God given right of each person to the pursuit of happiness.

An American is generous.. Americans have helped out just about every other nation in the world in their time of need, never asking a thing in return.

When Afghanistan was over-run by the Soviet army 20 years ago, Americans came with arms and supplies to enable the people to win back their country!

As of the morning of September 11, Americans had given more than any other nation to the poor in Afghanistan ..

The national symbol of America , The Statue of Liberty , welcomes your tired and your poor, the wretched refuse of your teeming shores, the homeless, tempest tossed. These in fact are the people who built America
Some of them were working in the Twin Towers the morning of September 11, 2001, earning a better life for their families. It's been told that the World Trade Center victims were from at least 30 different countries, cultures, and first languages, including those that aided and abetted the terrorists.

So you can try to kill an American if you must. Hitler did. So did General Tojo, and Stalin, and Mao Tse-Tung, and other blood-thirsty tyrants in the world.. But, in doing so, you would just be killing yourself. Because Americans are not a particular people from a particular place. They are the embodiment of the human spirit of freedom. Everyone who holds to that spirit, everywhere, is an American.”

God Bless America,

Mittster

Thursday, May 26, 2011

To Kill Or Not To Kill



I see the death of little Caylee Anthony is back in the news and the trial of her mother for first degree murder has started. That also means that if convicted, Caylee’s mother, Casey, could, and probably will, face the death sentence. The trial is in Florida, where a death sentence means exactly that, a death sentence. Now is when the nation, and in fact, the whole world will start lining up in two camps. The capital punishment advocates vs. the no capital punishment group.

From my perspective it is the angel against the devil sitting on my shoulders whispering in my ears. The devil says convincingly,
“Execute the horrible monster who, after killing her daughter, stuffed the little darling into the trunk of the car to rot while Mom went dancing and partying.” “Hold on, devil,” the angel replies, “Only God has the right to take human life. Vengeance is mine and mine alone. Besides, how many innocent people have been executed by the hangman throughout history? Maybe, just maybe, Casey is telling the truth. Only God can decide her innocence or guilt on judgment day. Remember the commandment, Thou shalt not kill.” “Oh, I remember it,” replies the devil, "God is killing off thousands of children every year due to starvation and abuse. What kind of God do you worship anyway?”

The argument on my shoulders goes on and on until my head feels like it is going to explode. Finally, I intervene – “Be gone, both of you!” I knock the devil and angel off my shoulders, bag them both, put the bag in the trunk of my car, and then go down to the local pub for a cold one. I don’t mean to make light of the seriousness of the crime. The whole thing makes me sick inside. Sometimes humor, even sick humor, is the only way I can clear the cobwebs of indecision out of my brain.

There is one thing that makes the whole execution vs. life in prison without parole dilemma easier for me to deal with. Mankind has not figured it out for hundreds of years. For me to figure it out seems less important and in fact senseless. We are dealing with the law of the land, and the law in Florida land is clear. If you commit capital murder, you will be executed by lethal injection. Lethal injection, now there is a subject – oh, never mind, I will save it for a later blog. Lucky, lucky you….

Write on,

Mittster

Wednesday, May 25, 2011

The Truth



"Let's be clear on this:

OBAMA did NOT kill Bin Laden.

An American sailor, who Obama just a few weeks ago was debating on whether or not to PAY, did. In fact, if you remember a little less than two years ago, his administration actually charged and attempted to court marshal 3 Navy Seals from Seal Team Six, when a terrorist suspect they captured, complained they had punched him during the take down and bloodied his nose. His administration further commented how brutal they were.

The left were calling them Nazi's and Baby Killers. Now all of a sudden the very brave men they vilified are now heroes when they make his administration look good in the eyes of the public. Obama just happened to be the one in office when the CIA finally found the bastard and our sailors took him out. This is NOT an Obama victory, but an AMERICAN victory!!”

End of e-mail message sent to me by a friend.

Ah, yes – the truth; and what is the truth? Does anyone really know anymore?

"Perception…. Is all there is.... Manage it! There is no reality!" Tom Peters

I, for one, throw Tom Peter’s hat in the ring for President of the United States of America for telling the truth.

Write on,

Mittster

Tuesday, May 24, 2011

We Were Warned

No, the tornadoes hitting large cities are not a sign of the impending doom of the Earth. The weather forecasters have been warning us for decades that as our cities grow larger, the treat of direct tornado hits becomes more probable and deadly. I am not making light of the horrible tragedy in Joplin, Missouri, but quite the opposite. What I am trying to convey is that forewarned is forearmed. No state is excluded and no city is immune from tornadoes. It’s a fact of life and those of us living in highly populated areas need to be prepared.

While we are at it, New York City and the Eastern Seaboard need to prepare for a direct hit from a hurricane. Again, the weather forecasters have been warning us about a direct hit on New York City by a category 3 or larger hurricane for years. It’s not if, but when, and the when could be this year. New Yorkers are not prepared for the massive flooding that will occur with this weather event.

These weather patterns are not hocus pocus or professed future events by false prophets. Agreed, it is the doomsday advocates dream scenario, but the doom and gloom fanatics have it all wrong. Nature is nature…sometimes good and sometimes really bad. You don’t need a crystal ball to know that because the Earth is overpopulated, deaths are going to occur during natural Mother Earth events. These natural events have nothing to do with God or the lack of God. They have everything to do with the dynamic planet upon which we live. Earth is a living organism and she kicks and turns often. Her body is in many parts and all the parts are moving in different directions at the same time. Her breath can be gentle or wild depending on her mood. She can cry a little or a lot; sometimes she doesn’t cry for decades. Our Mother Earth also ejects new life from her womb and the birth is violent, hot and fiery, but all life depends on her fertility.

Our Mother Earth is fickle and proves it often. Like any woman, she needs to be pampered and respected. I for one love our beautiful blue planet, whirling through the cosmos with breathtaking speed, because she is my haven from even more horrible conditions in outer space. With that said, let’s not bite the hand that feeds and protects us.

I’m just saying,

Mittster

Monday, May 23, 2011

Dorky and Lovin It

“Why do husbands dork out most of the time?” was the question asked by a friend on Facebook. I thought the question interesting simply because I am a man and the question was asked by a woman. What, does she think I am a famous guru or soothsayer? “Why ask a man that question in the first place,” I wrote back, hoping not many people were reading the thread.

“Mitt, you know everything,” was the reply. “Not, I’m on Facebook, aren’t I?” was my reply. I thought my last statement was a good point, but she was not dissuaded. “Oh, Mittster, you can’t be your age without knowing more about life that anyone I know!” OMG, I must be the oldest person on Facebook. That does it – Now I feel like hiding in a cave!

“Look, lady, all men are dorks. It is what we do, it’s all we do. We are genetically hardwired to be dorky most the time and we can dorkout at the drop of a hat.” That should shut her up, I thought while getting ready to sign off. “Oh, Mitt, you are so smart,” she replied. “I told my husband he couldn’t help it and that I forgive him, but he went to his mother’s house anyway.” Oh, swell, now I am in the middle of a marriage breakup.

I asked her if he would eventually return home and she was sure he would. After all, his mother lived in the guesthouse behind the main house. She told me not to worry because she called him a dork all the time, and he always returned after spending time with Mom.

I signed off with this pearl of wisdom for my friend on Facebook. “Do ya think calling your hubby a dork all the time may be rubbing off?” “You have me thinking I’m a dork too.” Her reply was simple and brutal. “Of course you are a dork too. You said it was genetic and that all men are dorks.” How in the hell did I get into this conversation in the first place? Oh, well, no worries; dorky is as dorky does, and I am lovin it big time!

I’m just saying,

Mittster

Friday, May 20, 2011

Being Thankful

"These photos are heart wrenching. So we've had a rainy season – the housing market is down – our cars may need a new battery – we worry every day about our financial future as we age – health care is not what we want it to be – some may solve their problems be doing drugs, smoking or drinking – some women have to live in shelters – people are being outsourced – the poor are getting poorer...BUT, after viewing our humanity during those years in pictures...TODAY THE SUN CAME OUT. I HAVE A FULL REFRIGERATOR. MY BILLS ARE PAID. I HAVE A ROOF OVER MY HEAD. I OWN CAR THAT WORKS. I HAVE FRIENDS WHO CARE...I HAVE A COMPUTER WITH WHICH TO SHARE IN MY BOUNTY! I HAVE HOPE FOR THE FUTURE!
AND WE THINK WE'VE GOT IT BAD!

This was a mere 70 years ago....

Makes complaining about no cell service, high gasoline prices, not
enough cable channels, et al, seem a bit ludicrous.

I am reminded to be grateful for what I do have....

Start each day with a smile and a prayer – then pass it on!"

Write on,

Mittster

Thursday, May 19, 2011

Crazy is as Crazy Does

Remember the old country song where Waylon sings, “You have to be crazy to keep from going insane?” Well, brother, truer words were never spoken in today’s world. Among politics, religion, environmental issues, hate, death and taxes, people on this planet have a tough road to hoe, and when you add in the Mayan end of the world calendar in 2012, it gets really dicey.

I, for one, don’t give a damn about predictions in general. They have all been wrong or I wouldn’t be here writing this blog. The Mayan calendar thing is a little disconcerting though. The five thousand year cycle could mean the earth’s magnetic poles might switch places and life on this planet could have a really bad day. It has happened in the past and certainly could happen again.

Even this possibility really doesn’t concern me as much as Donald Trump running for president, especially after he said he wasn’t going to run. Could you picture him and Sarah Palin running on the same ticket? Stranger things have happened and continue to do so daily. I doubt The Donald could stand a real close look at his personal life though, but then who could? Just ask Arnold – it’s a good thing he wasn’t born in this country or he would have been running until a couple of days ago. I still don’t believe that the Schwarzenegger family couldn’t spot one of Arnie’s spawn a mile away. The accent thing should have given the little rug-rat away.

I think the craziest thing I have heard recently is that the U.S. had been holding Osama bin Laden prisoner for almost two years at the villa in Pakistan until the time was ripe to kill the bastard and let President Obama take the credit. What better way to get re-elected when the economy is tanked, along with most Americans. Sounds good, but politicians are not smart enough to pull that one off; only the CIA could do that…hhhmmm….

There is one bright spot in all this dark gloom. I was at my fiftieth high school reunion last Friday night and we had invocation and then stood and recited the pledge of allegiance. We even used the words “In God We Trust.” It had been a long time since I uttered those words and it felt very good. Perhaps I should stop worrying about the things I have no control over and start trusting in God more. Stop and think about it. Who else is there to trust?

I’m just saying,

Mittster

Tuesday, May 17, 2011

Run with the Big Dogs

Dear al Qaeda,

I hear you are pissed off because we finally brought your leader to justice. I just thought you would like to know that Zawahiri is close to meeting up with bin Laden and his son real soon. So, bring it on you cowardly bastards, we have some real whoop ass waiting for you!

Sincerely,

Navy Seals

Monday, May 16, 2011

Yeah, Cougars!

Well, it’s over and Escondido Union High School’s fiftieth reunion is now a memory. Can you imagine the collective memories the attendees must have? Even though Escondido, California, in no way looks the same as it did in 1961, my former classmates at the reunion all reminisced about the good times we had when our town was small and a great place to grow up.

The decision to attend with my twin brother was a good one. We took the opportunity to rekindle old friendships and make new ones while we were there, and most importantly, realized that old feuds and hurt feelings no longer applied. We all have changed and lived our lives the best we knew how.

Will I go to the 60th? Only time will tell….

Write on,

Mittster

Wednesday, May 11, 2011

Fifty Years and Counting

My mentor once told me not to ever divulge my age to anyone connected to the book publishing world. Well, like most advice that requires me to lie, I promptly ignored it. “If they (the publishers) find out you’re over forty you will never get a book published,” was the message. Hell, I never had a chance with “they” anyway; I went to a POD publisher
and never looked back.

Friday night is my fiftieth high school reunion at Escondido High School in Escondido, California. Yes, I said fiftieth, and I have earned every one of those grey hairs the hard way. I really think this one will be my last reunion trip though, but I said that after my fortieth too. Perhaps it’s the fear of me ending up at my sixtieth reunion in a wheelchair with a bib tied around my neck trying to catch female classmates scurrying about in their wheelchairs while trying to stay out of my reach. Providing there are any classmates alive at that point. I wonder who would organize the reunion if I were the last one standing (or sitting). Now that reunion would be no fun at all.

I do know a classmate that lives out-of-state and just had a hip replacement. She can’t come to the party, but I plan to place her picture where everyone can see it at the dinner table. After taking pictures, I will e-mail them to her so she can at least see her classmates and live the reunion through them. As for the classmates who have departed this planet, I am sure they have more important things to do. We will remember them with fondness.

My twin will be going with me this year. I don’t know if Escondido is ready for the both of us in one place, but that’s its problem. We wanted to ride our motorcycles to the reunion, but after that long of a ride we would both be stoved up in our motel room unable to attend. Best we just drive and play it safe. It will be nice having my brother with me to share some time with old friends and people we don’t recognize. Not remembering faces at the reunion doesn’t bother me much; most of the time I don’t recognize the face I see in the mirror daily!

I’m just saying,

Mittster

Tuesday, May 10, 2011

Goodbye, Annie

We were forced to put down our little female Chihuahua, Annie, yesterday. I don’t have to tell animal lovers what a sad and painful day it was. After my wife and I had to put down our male Chihuahua, Elvis, four years ago, I swore I could never witness euthanasia again. The death of Elvis left me saddened for many months. The poor little fellow was racked with epilepsy and could hardly walk, but watching him pass broke my heart even though, as responsible pet owners, we knew his quality of life was painful and dismal.

Annie, on the other hand, was not crippled physically, in fact quite the opposite. She paced incessantly around the house, barking at shadows and sometimes sitting and staring at what we could only guess were ghosts. During walks, Annie was afraid of everything from diesel trucks to dust blowing in the wind. Annie was our Prozac dog, which was prescribed for her after repeated and sometimes violent attacks on our Pomeranian. Mittsy is 14 years old and hardly prepared to fight back with few teeth, poor eyesight and loss of hearing. Annie got along well with our male dogs, and if she wasn’t licking them she was licking our bed covers. The drug was effective in curtailing the attacks and Annie would sleep through the night oblivious to the world unless there was wind, rain or thunder. During these times we would have to give her extra Prozac just to keep her from climbing the walls. Annie was also a very finicky eater and during bad weather she would not eat at all.

About two months ago, Annie’s behavior became more bizarre. She started eating any food put in front of her with abandon, but she was also losing weight at an alarming rate. She started pacing the house twenty-four/seven and could not settle down or sleep and began having bowel movements and urinating in the house. When we took her to the vet yesterday she had lost over two pounds in two months and her hip bones were showing like she was being starved. Annie was never a lap dog, but now if you even came close to her, she would yelp like she was being stepped on.

During our visit with the vet yesterday, it became apparent that Annie was no longer living a normal dog life and that there was some kind of mental disorder going on. Putting her to sleep was the only option left. Drugging her with Prozac and Valium into oblivion was not an option. After the vet administered a sedative to Annie, she was handed to me and instead of resisting as usual, she cuddled in my arms and fell into the most peaceful repose. It was the first time since Annie came into our lives that she allowed anyone to hold and cuddle her. The vet said it would take perhaps ten minutes or so for her to sleep, but instead, she fell asleep the minute she reached my arms. During the time she fell asleep and the vet returned to administer the final injection, I held Annie while my wife and I cried wishing there were a magic pill that would save our precious Annie’s life.

After our little dog passed, we left the building and sat on a bench outside grieving with the intensity you would think would be reserved for human loved ones. That, of course, is the real issue; our pets become family, our children to be precise, and we love them unconditionally and unabashedly. Oh, if only they could live as long as we do. We would only have to grieve once, instead of every 14 years or so….

Write on,

Mittster

Monday, May 9, 2011

The Proof is in the Pudding

My author friend Eri Nelson once told me that she must strive for perfection in her writing. My reply to her was simple. “Strive for perfection and I guarantee you will turn into a blubbering idiot before you become a senior!” At one time, I too thought perfection should be the goal of any novel writer worth their salt. As it turned out, both of us were dead wrong.

I will always remember when I received my author copies of my first murder mystery novel, Evil in the Mirror. I was excited beyond belief and couldn’t wait to give copies to my family and close friends. After receiving glowing reviews and feeling on top of the world, I received a great review from a friend that also included the revelation that I had an obvious mistake in the book. One of my murdered detectives showed up again in a later chapter. I had inadvertently given the lead detective the wrong name. I called my publisher yelling, “Oh, my God, hold the presses, stop everything; there is a mistake!” I was mortified to say the least, and my Wheatmark representative Kat Gautreaux was mildly amused at the obvious tailspin I was in.

Kat softly said, “Mittster, nothing is perfect in the universe and we live in an imperfect world. Our goal as human beings should be excellence, not perfection. Not to worry, later down the road when we insert reviews, we will take care of the oversight.” With that being said, I reluctantly hung up the phone and headed for my wife in the next room for aid and comfort. My writer’s ego had taken a direct cannonball hit and was shattered beyond repair.

As I worked hard to complete my second novel, Day Stalker, my wife would interrupt me every time she found a mistake in a book she was reading. Being an avid reader of murder mysteries by bestselling authors, my wife interrupted me often and I was amazed at all the mistakes being made by known authors. After a few months of interruptions, I finally got it – we all make mistakes, including people who proof books for a living! I was able to finish my second novel without fear of failure; after all, it’s the storyline that really counts. Write an excellent book and people will read it regardless of typos and clerical errors. Write a stinker and no one will see any errors because they will have already slated the book for a yard sale without reading it.

The moral of this story is that we write because we are compelled to do so. We make mistakes because we are human.

I’m just saying,

Mittster

Sunday, May 8, 2011

Mother's Day

I guess we know at an early age we really do belong
A child, innocence pure, sweet and dear
In our wildest young nightmares we waken to a song
A soft, loving remembered voice we long
Fluttered eyelids wake to see our protecting mother near

Later when we grow to wander wild field and dark forbidding glen
Her face pressed against the window with motherly concern
We go forth armed with slingshot rocks that fly with wicked spin
To find a dragon or black knight to end their life of sin
We head home filled with manly things that we have learned

And finally home weak with hunger and torn from battle
Looking for comfort of food and rest we suddenly discover
The neighbor window broken so quick their son did tattle
Oh dear God now I must face our father's homemade paddle
But alas his temper has abated with the heavenly voice of mother

Adulthood has not changed my wanderings very much
Unfortunately dragons and black knights have become very rare
So I traded in my slingshot for fancy cars and such
Still longing for home with memories my mind can touch
And knowing all along my mother will always care

Mitt Winstead 1992

My mother, Matie, passed suddenly in 1996 while visiting from Arizona when I was living in Michigan. I lost my mother, best friend and role model that horrible day. If your mother still lives, hold her close today and spend every moment you can with her. If your mother too has passed, cherish your memories until you meet again in Devine Love.

Saturday, May 7, 2011

China Sucks!

I took the liberty of blogging an article that my friend Laura sent me. It’s time we started paying attention to who we buy our products from. Enough in enough!

“Trying to avoid buying 'Made In China' is a practice that I have been consciously making for a while. I'll try even harder now.

Did you see that Diane Sawyer has a special report coming up this week? They removed ALL items from a typical, middle class family's home that were not made in the USA.

There was hardly anything left besides the kitchen sink. Literally. During the special they are going to show truckloads of items - USA made - being brought in to replace everything and will be talking about how to find these items and the difference in price, etc.

It was interesting that Diane said that if every American spent just $64 more than normal on USA made items this year, it would create something like 200,000 new jobs!

WAS BUYING FOOD THE OTHER DAY AT WALMART and ON THE LABEL OF SOME PRODUCTS IT SAID 'FROM CHINA’


FOR EXAMPLE THE "OUR FAMILY" BRAND OF THE MANDARIN ORANGES SAYS RIGHT ON THE CAN 'FROM CHINA '


I WAS SHOCKED SO FOR A FEW MORE CENTS I BOUGHT THE LIBERTY GOLD BRAND OR THE DOLE SINCE IT'S FROM CALIF.


Are we Americans as dumb as we appear --- or --- is it that we just do not think while the Chinese, knowingly and intentionally, export inferior and even toxic products and dangerous toys and goods to be sold in American markets?

70% of Americans believe that the trading privileges afforded to the Chinese should be suspended.


Why do you need the government to suspend trading privileges? DO IT YOURSELF, AMERICA!!


Simply look on the bottom of every product you buy, and if it says 'Made in China ' or 'PRC' (and that now includes Hong Kong ), simply choose another product, or none at all. You will be amazed at how dependent you are on Chinese products, and you will be equally amazed at what you can do without.


Who needs plastic eggs to celebrate Easter? If you must have eggs, use real ones and benefit some American farmer. Easter is just an example. The point is doing not wait for the government to act. Just go ahead and assume control on your own.


THINK ABOUT THIS: If 200 million Americans refuse to buy just $20 each of Chinese goods, that's a billion dollar trade imbalance resolved in our favor...fast!!


Most of the people who have been reading about this matter are planning on implementing this on May 1st and continue it until June 1st. That is only one month of trading losses, but it will hit the Chinese for 1/12th of the total, or 8%, of their American exports. Then they might have to ask themselves if the benefits of their arrogance and
lawlessness were worth it.


Remember, MAY 1 TO JUNE 1st !!!!!!
START NOW.



Send this to everybody you know. Let's show them that we are Americans and NOBODY can take us for granted.


If we can't live without cheap Chinese goods for one month out of our lives, WE DESERVE WHAT WE GET!


Pass it on, America...... BUY AMERICAN !!!!!”

Friday, May 6, 2011

Open Letter To Osama Bin Laden


Osama Bin Laden
1 Nightmare Street
The Bowles of the Earth, Hell 666

Dear Osama,

Well, by now I bet your son is really pissed at you because where you both are now residing there are no virgins, ice water or strong tea. But you knew that, didn’t you. It’s a shame that now you not only have to answer to the God you perverted, but also thousands of your followers who preceded you to hell without the benefit of young, sweet, untainted women.

Look at it this way; when you are finished with eternity in hell, you can then face all the converts you led down the false path to the place all murderers of innocent people must go.

“Vengeance is mine,” saith the Lord; and it is as it should be. The United States of America was the tool that brought you to justice; and that is as it should be.

Oh, by the way, save a place for your doctor friend, Ayman Al Zawahiri. He will be joining you shortly!

Sincerely,

The memory of all the innocent souls lost to you and your murderous, ungodly following

Thursday, May 5, 2011

So You Want To Be An Author


So what is keeping you from joining the ranks of millions of other unknown, broke and downtrodden author wannabes? All it takes is money to get your novel published in today’s book world. There are many print-on-demand or POD publishers out there just waiting for you to happen by, said the spider to the fly.

I know much has been said about the thrill of seeing your book in print and for sale on Amazon.com, and there is some truth in that visual treat. The only downside is that unless you are independently wealthy, you will surely slink back to your day job to keep beans on the table and wonder if the effort was worth it.

My murder mysteries, Evil in the Mirror and Day Stalker are indeed on Amazon and my name is plastered all over many pages on Google, but book sales are dismal no matter how hard I try to promote them. Could this mean the books are garbage? It could, but they are not; just check out the reviews! Something else is the cause of stale book sales.

The world economy certainly plays a large part. It’s hard to sell anything right now, let alone new books at retail when people can go to used book stores or better yet, a library and get books for free. I don’t blame anyone for doing that; readaholics need their fix and when money is scarce, libraries are the place to go.

Another possibility is that traditional publishers have become so elite that sending a manuscript to them is an exercise in futility and a waste of postage. How the big publishers stay so snobbish is a mystery to me (no pun intended). I think there is a method to their madness though. If you publish only known, bestselling authors, you don’t waste profits on promoting someone unknown that may or may not sell many books.

On a positive note, I am not going to throw in the towel. Maybe I can outlive the publishing snobs and snobettes and still become a bestselling author. In the meanwhile, I think I will fire up the Harley and go for a ride. When I get back, things will look much better and I will be able to continue writing my new murder mystery called The Phoenix Code. After all, writing is my passion while money is just a means to an end. I think the term “starving author” has some dignity to it. No one likes an obese bestselling author!

I’m just saying,

Mittster

Wednesday, May 4, 2011

Why I Ride Harleys


Native Americans call it “The Iron Pony,” a description well put. When you straddle the leather seat, there is a feeling not unlike when a cowboy mounts a bucking bronco at a rodeo. You know something awesome is about to happen, but you’re not quite sure what.

Starting a hog for the first time is part of a love affair that will last forever. When that “Twin V” engine comes to life between your legs, you will have an idea of how that bronco rider must feel.

Nothing on the planet sounds like a Harley. At an idle, it has a low chugging beat, slow and strong like a rhinoceros just before the charge. The weight and massiveness of the machine is deceptive, even a little intimidating. Your first thought is that if this bike falls, it’s all over but the crying. Oh, well, either ride it or sell it! Once you let the clutch out and start to move, magic happens. The ponderous, chrome hog becomes a graceful lady, responsive to your every touch. Each gear is a different dimension to her character. Every mile per hour faster is a study in stability.

You look at your companion riders in front, on the side and behind. A knowing smile spreads quickly. You are part of an American legend. Ride your “Iron Pony” into the sunset. A great adventure waits!

Mitt Winstead 1996

Tuesday, May 3, 2011

The Hand of Justice

Remember when Saddam Husain’s sons were killed in Mosul, Iraq by our brave military? I was saddened because a father lost his sons, but I was glad because justice was served. These sons were evil and had caused great pain and suffering to the Iraqi people.

I remember when Saddam Husain was hung by his own people after a trial had pronounced him guilty of crimes against humanity. Just like with his sons, justice was served. I thought the mode of death was gross and inhuman, after all his head was severed during the hanging.

Now, Osama Bin Laden, the most wanted man in the world, has been shot dead along with one of his sons by our military’s elite warriors. I am again saddened by the death of a father and son, but justice has finally been rendered to a savage and evil pair of human beings.

To those who say we should never celebrate the death of a person, I agree in principle, but I say, “Justice will always prevail for the evil ones who set themselves apart by the wanton butchery of fellow human beings.”

If I were Omar Kaddafi, I would leave Tripoli post haste. You are in the crosshairs and the hand of justice is near!

I'm just saying,

Mittster

Sunday, May 1, 2011

My Bad


Three weeks ago after deciding to buy a Harley-Davidson V-Rod, I asked my wife if she would drive me down to Buddy Stubbs Harley in Phoenix, where a pristine 2003 anniversary model was for sale. We brought along our son, Jay, who is also an avid rider.

After we arrived, I became very busy with paperwork with the sales manager while, unbeknown to me, Jay was flirting with a gal who worked in the store. Since I rode the bike home, I only heard about it after we got back to Camp Verde that afternoon, and to be frank, I was mainly interested in my new (to me) V-Rod.

Two Saturdays ago, I again went to Buddy Stubbs, but this time Hoppy Mennenger and I drove down because he wanted to buy a beautiful 2006 V-Rod I had seen in the used bike area the week before. While he was with his salesman, I started wandering around the store looking at all the Harley accessories. It was there that I met the pretty young lady that my son had been flirting with the weekend before.

With my usual tact and charm, I told her that my son thought she was gorgeous and wanted to know if she was married. After her crimson face turned back to a more normal skin color, she informed me that she was in a serious relationship, but that she was flattered. Ok, at least I tried….

While riding home yesterday with my wife and Hoppy after we loaded his bike in the trailer (he had to wait a week to pick his bike up because of stuff he wanted installed), the subject of the young lady in question came up. My wife asked, “Who are you talking about?” I replied, “You know the tall, young lady that sold me the helmet today. The one that Jay was interested in the last time we were here.” My wife started laughing hysterically and after gaining her composure she said, “You idiot, she wasn’t the one he was flirting with. It was the young thing that sits at the desk welcoming customers at the door!”

As my wife and Hoppy were laughing and making fun of me for being a dork, I realized it was only a matter of time before our son would find out. Hell, this mistake would be the catalyst for many ribbings for weeks to come. We have a lot of family who live for this kind of thing. Of course my wife couldn’t wait to call our boy after we got home. His only reply was, “Please don’t help me anymore, Pops!”

He was only saying,

Mittster