Monday, February 6, 2012

The Fifth Dimension

For newbie authors there are five dimensions to the writing experience.

The first dimension is Twitter – Twitter is the place where you have 5,000 contacts you never contact.

The second is Facebook – Facebook is the place where the mundane lives of people become more mundane and "ewe" join in like sheep to the slaughter.

The third is your Website – Your Website is the place no one visits except you.

The fourth is your blog – Your blog is where you build up five or six followers who think you have thousands of followers.

The fifth is insanity – Insanity is the place you live after visiting the first four dimensions.

A word of advice; use these dimensions wisely. If you do not, you might return to sanity and as we all know – sanity is no fun!

Now click the title of this blog and sing along with me to Waylon Jenning's “I've always been crazy.”

I’m just saying,


Sunday, February 5, 2012

Treadmill Aliens

Three times a week, I "Sharpen The Saw" with a wild and woolly workout. When I finish my workout program designed to help with arthritis due to 47 years in the construction industry, I jump on the treadmill for a 30 minute fast paced climb up Mt. Everest.

To keep from being bored out of my skull during all this excitement, I watch television. This morning my usual animal programs were all repeats, so I settled for an expose on the Military Channel about UFOs’, Aliens and Area 51.

“Hey, ma, it’s that alien crap again!”

Why am I drawn to this stuff? Could it be because I feel so alien all the time? My evil identical twin brother and I were born with super large heads, our own secret language, simultaneous dreams, ESP and God only knows what else. We always knew our parents were mere earthlings, because they were so boring. I wondered if mom knew she was a victim of alien abduction, because it explains everything.

The day I turned 21, I told my mom about seeing a flying saucer while we were going to the San Diego County Fair in 1953.
“Why did you wait so long to say anything,” she replied?
“Simple, mom, you can’t have me committed after I become of age.”
“Silly boy, we could have committed you and your brother many times in the last 21 years had we wanted to.”

Humm, good point…

I thought I would post pictures of Waltster and I so you can get an idea of what we looked like when we were kids.

Mittster at age five

Waltster at age five

Have a good day in spite of me,


Saturday, February 4, 2012


The BTK killer

I watched “I Survived the BTK killer” last night on TV, and was left with a sour stomach, broken heart and unable to sleep. This revelation is coming from a murder mystery writer who has been accused (more than once) of being a “sick puppy’ concerning my books “Evil in the Mirror” and “Day Stalker.”

The program didn’t center on Dennis Rader, known as the BTK killer. Instead it focused on three people who lost loved ones to Rader’s horrible sexual fantasy murders. These three people tell a story much sadder than the slain victims because they live the horror of these murders each and every day of their lives, as do the rest of the families involved who were not spotlighted on the program.

The old saying “You can’t make this stuff up” rings true when you study the real deal in murder and mayhem. Researching murder is not fun in the first place, but it becomes particularly nerve-racking when you run across someone like Dennis Rader. I am not going to go into detail about this horrible excuse for a human being. Click the title of this blog if for some obscure reason you have never heard of him.

The reason I watched this program in the first place is because I am ready to continue writing my third murder mystery called “The Phoenix Code.” I already have the story board completed and have finished eleven chapters, but I needed a break from writing. I wanted a fresh approach to the task at hand. I have no intention of changing my style, “sick is as sick does.” I just wanted to see through fresh eyes the horror of murder. Brother, BTK fills the bill.

The sour stomach comes from the knowledge that Dennis Rader was not executed but is spending the rest of his life in prison. Although I am (in principle) against capital punishment, the idea of this monster living leaves me sickened. The prosecution made a deal so they could learn the scope of his killings and close the chapter on this guy. To me, and the families involved, this is little consolation given the absolute horror and pain his victims went through.

One man who lost his mother, father, brother and sister to this monster stated at the trial, face to face with Dennis Rader, in a clear and steady voice, “You did not manage to wipeout our my family because I survived what you did to my loved ones. I win because you are never going to see the light of day again.” The reality was that during the program this brave and courageous young man wanted revenge in the worst way. He wanted his time alone in a room with Dennis Rader. Believe me if you had seen this man on the program, you would know that Rader would be a dead man.

There is no question that the BTK killer probably will not survive incarceration. Just like Jeffery Dahmer and others before him, he will die in prison, but not from natural causes. I believe this a fitting end to Dennis Rader. This, and only this, will close the last chapter of one of the most chilling real life murder mysteries on record.

My broken heart is not just for the victims and families of these murders, but also for the wife and children of Dennis Rader. He managed to live an exemplary life in his community, hiding in plain sight, as it were. I can’t even comprehend how his wife and children must feel. She was sleeping with a monster that surely now makes her skin crawl. His children are stained for life and have a long, hard road to hoe. It won’t be easy for them, but with the grace of God, they too will survive the BTK killer.

Write on,


Friday, February 3, 2012

The Real Meaning of Family

A million words have been written about the importance of family, but I don’t think we truly appreciate our families until we reach the age when we know leaving the planet sooner rather than later is fast approaching like a runaway freight train. At this point in a person’s life, all the petty reasons why contact with some family members ceased seem ludicrous.

When we reach the age when our parents, grandparents, uncles and aunts have all passed on and the kids are grown and living their own lives, we suddenly realize “holy crap” we are next. While old age mostly teaches us that our bodies and minds are fast going the way of the dinosaurs, our hearts yearn for family. Love transcends time and space and gives us the strength to endure watching our bodies submit to gravity and our brains turn to mush.

I had the pleasure of visiting with family I had not seen in years yesterday in Tucson. Although this extended family is by marriage only, they are indeed still family and we go way back to when we were kids playing together in the southern California summers and then Sandy and Ricky would go back to their mom and stepdad in northern California at summer’s end.

You see, my twin brother and I never knew our father because he died when we were very young. Our stepfather was the only dad we had ever known and we were nine or ten before we even knew that Sandy and Ricky were stepsister and stepbrother. It was quite a shock actually and hurt deeply because being stepchildren held some resentment and scorn in those days by some family members. Nonsense to say the least and you would never know we were not blood related yesterday. In fact, Sandy’s sister Christine (whom I had never met) commented how we all looked alike in so many ways. That statement was music to my ears because we all looked at each other and smiled. It was true – so much for being stepchildren.

We had come full circle and left the restaurant parking lot after many hugs with the commitment to never stay out of touch again. I headed for my home in northern Arizona, while my brother Walt headed for his home in Tucson. My brother Ricky, his wife Marie and my sister Sandy left for northern California and my new sister Christina headed for her home in Palm Springs.

It was a short, but meaningful family get-together and I look forward to seeing them again soon. Ricky invited us to go fishing on his boat in Santa Cruz and Christine offered her guest house to us anytime we pass through Palm Springs. My wife Sandy was unable to be with us and was missed by everyone, especially me. Between e-mail and Facebook, I am sure we will stay in touch in the coming months. It will be fun to share stories about getting older and what kinds of moles are being removed on any given day. OK, that part will not be fun, but what the hell…it beats talking politics or religion!

One parting thought, why didn’t I get the camera out of my coat pocket and take a group photo for this blog? Because I’m an idiot, that’s why!

I’m just saying,


Wednesday, February 1, 2012

Surf's up!

When I was a young teen surfing in California, all we could do is talk about the huge waves off Hawaii during the winter. Sure, we occasionally snagged twenty footers at Wind and Sea in La Jolla and to us they were giants. We even made the trip to Northern California a few times and surfed large waves at places like Steamers Lane and Cowls Landing. The water was freezing, but we thought the waves were awesome.

We still kept dreaming of the really big winter waves at the North Shore of Maui, but unlike the stars who made surfing movies all over the world, we were sand bums, stuck close to home working as grocery clerks or gas station attendants. While the surfing stars rode new boards in exotic places, we were content to use hand-me-down boards that needed repairs on a weekly basis. We even rode homemade skateboards made out of plywood and caster wheels during the times the surf was dead or the wind was blowing from the west so hard that the waves crashed on the beach like tsunamis.

Even though we never surfed the giant ones, we still had a great time on the coast of California when you could build a fire and sleep in sleeping bags right on the beach while waiting for the first sets of early morning waves that beckoned at first light. We barely took time to eat, but when we did, it was always the most tasty cheeseburgers and fries ever made. Small diners dotted the landscape from San Diego to San Francisco and the food was the best in the west. You can’t find food like that anymore and especially for a dollar, which included fries or onion rings!

Life moved on for me and thousands of other beach bums who ended up married and working at higher paying jobs to feed the family. Our boards hung on garage walls that were located inland because that was where the work was. Every year we rode the waves less and eventually the boards were sold in yard sales and replaced by construction tools. I even moved to Michigan due to construction advancement and surfing was just a distant memory.

I remarried in 1995 to a wonderful woman who had raised her children and was at the executive level for a large company. I was divorced and still working construction in Michigan. As it turned out, my wife loved to travel and we made our first trip together to France in 1996. The amazing thing was that after that trip, we started planning a trip to Hawaii.

OMG, the surfing bug fired up big time and I thought I would die before the trip day arrived. I would like to add at this time that the Parisians were not rude to Americans during our trip to Paris. The bastards were rude to everyone, including themselves! Thank God there was no surfing there.

We finally arrived on the big island of Hawaii and I was dumbstruck with how beautiful it was and the ocean beckoned to me like the sirens in the sea voyage of Ulysses. We have made three trips to Hawaii since and my favorite island is Maui. We found an older condo with a small surfing cove right next door. It was the perfect place to find my youth. I thought because I had been a construction worker for many years that surfing would still be easy. After all, it was like learning to ride a bike. Once learned, never forgotten, right? Wrong, and I mean with a capital W!

I thought my arms would fall off after paddling out beyond the small breakers, let alone giant ones. I made two trips out past the surf and after washing ashore and crashing like a beached whale the final time, I realized that Old Man Time had made me Old Man Surfer. My wife sat patiently on a blanket, smiling, while asking if I needed oxygen and a litter to get back to the condo. After resting while lying on the hot sand, I finally got up, dragging the board over to some grass for the last time as my surfing dream faded into oblivion. I dreaded taking the board back to the rental shop. I knew the young salesman was going to ask embarrassing questions of which I would be forced to lie about. As it turned out, wifey took the board back for me because I was too tired to make the trip downtown.

It has been eight years since our last trip to Maui and I doubt we will be able to go again. I hate airplanes and money is tight. I still ride my Harley and that gives me some solace. At least when I am riding my bike, I feel younger and memories always flood my mind about the early days. One thing about surfing now scares the hell out of me.

This picture explains the fear without question!

I'm just saying,


Tuesday, January 31, 2012

Frankly, I Don't Give a Damn!

Frankly, traditional publishers, I don't give a damn! If I die not selling another book, you can rest assured that using a POD (Print On Demand) publisher is light years ahead of trying to get a pompous, élite, self-serving, holier than thou, snobbish, dinosaur ass, traditional publisher to even open your manuscript envelope, let alone read it. I have heard that they have huge trash cans for unopened manuscript envelopes and use them to stay warm in the winter, which is impossible considering they are reptilian.

I have lost count of the horror stories concerning newbie writers being treated like sub humans at the hands of traditional publishers. Worse yet, if you were one of the very fortunate writers able to get signed by one of these publishing houses, your status went from subhuman to slave. Forget keeping the content of your novel, it will be tweaked into oblivion. Not to worry though; the odds of getting published are worse than winning the lottery!

Did I send my manuscript to some traditional publishers? Yes. But, after wasting about fifty bucks on postage, I decided it would be cheaper in the long run to hire a POD publisher. After much research and a little luck, I found the perfect publisher, Wheatmark, Inc.

Here is the gist of an e-mail I received today from Wheatmark:

“We received your Proof Approval Form and have released your files to the printer. You will receive your Author Sample Copies in about a week from today.”

In other words, my sequel murder mystery, Day Stalker, has gone to press!

That’s what I’m talking about…. While some newbie authors are waiting for word on manuscripts that will never come, I just had my second novel published. I am already working on the third novel, The Phoenix Code, anticipating finishing the trilogy in May.

What are you waiting for? Get your books started; a great adventure waits!

Write on,


Monday, January 30, 2012


Monday, Monday…how do I love thee? Let me count the ways. NO ways!

If I were to get Monday a Valentine’s gift, it would be pig poop in a plastic bag.

I know, let’s wrap Monday to a tree with duct tape and pee on it all day.

How about this? We pour cement overshoes on Monday and bury it in the desert. The concrete is to make sure the coyotes can’t drag it off!

I’m wondering if the rack might convince Monday to never appear again.
Sorry, wrong rack....

Where is Godzilla when you need him? He could have Monday for breakfast.

I thought about simply erasing Monday from the calendar, but Tuesday would just take its place! Even naming the days after numbers wouldn’t work. Two would just take over for one.

We could send Monday to Mars on a rocket, but if there is life there it would be so rude.

We could nuke it, but that would kill the rest of the week and us too.

OK, I get it Monday is here to stay, but I don’t have to like it. Let’s just get on with the day and before we know it, Tuesday will be here and we can look forward to Friday. God, I love Fridays – let me count the ways….

I’m just saying,


Friday, January 27, 2012

Smile, it becomes you

“If you yelled for 8 years, 7 months and 6 days you would have produced enough sound energy to heat one cup of coffee.
(Hardly seems worth it.)

If you farted consistently for 6 years and 9 months, enough gas is produced to create the energy of an atomic bomb.
(Now that's more like it!)

The human heart creates enough pressure when it pumps out to the body to squirt blood 30 feet.

A pig's orgasm lasts 30 minutes.

A cockroach will live nine days without its head before it starves to death. (Creepy)
(I'm still not over the pig.)

Banging your head against a wall uses 150 calories an hour.
(Don't try this at home; maybe at work.)

The male praying mantis cannot copulate while its head is attached to its body. The female initiates sex by ripping the male's head off.
(Honey, I'm home . WTF...?)

The flea can jump 350 times its body length. It's like a human jumping the length of a football field.
(30 minutes. Lucky pig! Can you imagine?)

The catfish has over 27,000 taste buds.
(What could be so tasty on the bottom of a pond?)

Some lions mate over 50 times a day.
(I still can't believe that pig ...quality over quantity.)

Butterflies taste with their feet.
(Something I always wanted to know.)

The strongest muscle in the body is the tongue.

Right-handed people live, on average, nine years longer than left-handed people.
(If you're ambidextrous, do you split the difference?)

Elephants are the only animals that cannot jump.
(Okay, so that would be a good thing.)

A cat's urine glows under a black light.
(I wonder how much the government paid to figure that out.)

An ostrich's eye is bigger than its brain.
(I know some people like that.)

Starfish have no brains.
(I know some people like that, too.)

Polar bears are left-handed.
(If they switch, they'll live a lot longer.)

Humans and dolphins are the only species that have sex for pleasure.
(What about that pig? Do the dolphins know about the pig? God I love that pig!)”

Write on,


Thursday, January 26, 2012

Hanoi Jane

The story of Hanoi Jane Fonda is not new, but seems to be forgoten. The following piece was written and posted on the Internet. I felt obliged to make it a blog. It is not proofed or edited because the words as stated are fact and need no explaination. Click on the title of this blog to see the truth about Hanoi Jane. Mittster

Regardless of this woman's acting prowess (or family line) - she really is caustic.. PEOPLE GOTTA KNOW......................

I am sending this one out because so many do not know this truth...
and also because she was on TV 3 times this week talking about her new book...and how good she feels in her 70's. She still does not know what she did wrong. Her book just may not make the best list if more people knew....
also, Barbara Walters said: "Thank you all. Many died in Vietnam for our freedoms. I did not like Jane Fonda then and I don't like her now.
She can lead her present life the way she wants and perhaps SHE can forget the past, but we DO NOT have to stand by without comment and see her "honored" as a "Woman of the Century."
(I remember this well)
For those who served and/or died. . .
and now President OBAMA wants to honor her!!!!"

In Memory of LT. C.Thomsen Wieland who spent 100 days at the Hanoi Hilton [Famous North Vietnam Prison]
This is for all the kids born in the 70's and after who do not remember, and didn't have to bear the burden that our fathers, mothers and older brothers and sisters had to bear.
Jane Fonda is being honored as one of the '100 Women of the Century.'

Unfortunately, many have forgotten and still countless others have never known how Ms. Fonda betrayed not only the idea of our country, but specific men who served and sacrificed during the Vietnam War.
The first part of this is from an F-4E pilot.
The pilot's name is Jerry Driscoll, a River Rat.
In 1968, the former Commandant of the USAF Survival School was a POW in Ho Lo Prison the ' Hanoi Hilton.'
Dragged from a stinking cesspit of a cell, cleaned, fed, and dressed in clean PJ's, he was ordered to describe for a visiting American 'Peace Activist' the 'lenient and humane treatment' he'd received.
He spat at Ms. Fonda, was clubbed, and was dragged away. During the subsequent beating, he fell forward on to the camp Commandant 's feet, which sent that officer berserk.
In 1978, the Air Force Colonel still suffered from double vision (which permanently ended his flying career) from the Commandant's frenzied application of a wooden baton.

From 1963-65, Col. Larry Carrigan was in the 47FW/DO (F-4E's). He spent 6 years in the ' Hanoi Hilton'...the first three of which his family only knew he was 'missing in action'. His wife lived on faith that he was still alive. His group, too, got the cleaned-up, fed and clothed routine in preparation for a 'peace delegation' visit.
They, however, had time and devised a plan to get word to the world that they were alive and still survived. Each man secreted a tiny piece of paper, with his Social Security Number on it, in the palm of his hand. When paraded before Ms. Fonda and a cameraman, she walked the line, shaking each man's hand and asking little encouraging snippets like: 'Aren't you sorry you bombed babies?' and 'Are you grateful for the humane treatment from your benevolent captors?' Believing this HAD to be an act, they each palmed her their sliver of paper.
She took them all without missing a beat.. At the end of the line and once the camera stopped rolling, to the shocked disbelief of the POWs, she turned to the officer in charge and handed him all the little pieces of paper...

Three men died from the subsequent beatings. Colonel Carrigan was almost number four but he survived, which is the only reason we know of her actions that day.

I was a civilian economic development advisor in Vietnam , and was captured by the North Vietnamese communists in South Vietnam in 1968, and held prisoner for over 5 years.
I spent 27 months in solitary confinement; one year in a cage in Cambodia ; and one year in a 'black box' in Hanoi . My North Vietnamese captors deliberately poisoned and murdered a female missionary, a nurse in a leprosarium in Banme Thuot , South Vietnam , whom I buried in the jungle near the Cambodian border. At one time, I weighed only about 90 lbs. (My normal weight is 170 lbs)
We were Jane Fonda's 'war criminals....'
When Jane Fonda was in Hanoi , I was asked by the camp communist political officer if I would be willing to meet with her. I said yes, for I wanted to tell her about the real treatment we POWs received... and how different it was from the treatment purported by the North Vietnamese, and parroted by her as 'humane and lenient.'
Because of this, I spent three days on a rocky floor on my knees, with my arms outstretched with a large steel weight placed on my hands, and beaten with a bamboo cane.
I had the opportunity to meet with Jane Fonda soon after I was released. I asked her if she would be willing to debate me on TV. She never did answer me.

These first-hand experiences do not exemplify someone who should be honored as part of '100 Years of Great Women.' Lest we forget....' 100 Years of Great Women' should never include a traitor whose hands are covered with the blood of so many patriots.

There are few things I have strong visceral reactions to, but Hanoi Jane's participation in blatant treason, is one of them. Please take the time to forward to as many people as you possibly can.. It will eventually end up on her computer and she needs to know that we will never forget.
USAF 716 Maintenance Squadron,
Chief of Maintenance DSN: 875-6431 COMM: 883-6343

Wednesday, January 25, 2012

Old is Gold

I am sick and tired of old people jokes. I happen to be 69 years old and this is my best year yet. Besides, I can't go back and if I could, I would just screw up at a different level.

Here is the real deal. When you reach my age you can do pretty much as you please. I don't worry about my hair or lack of. I don't worry about looks (if you don't like what you see – don’t look. It won’t hurt either of our feelings.) I can actually gaze at young women because I have learned not to gawk and I appreciate beauty without it being dirty. You won’t find me with a woman 30 years my junior because I have too much respect for women. Besides, who wants to go out with their grandfather? Everyone would be embarrassed!

The best thing I ever did was quit drinking. Those days were filled with me thinking women adored drunk guys and wanted us to jump their bones while reeking of booze and not able to find anyone's ass with both hands. Reality dictated that the women would leave in disgust and I would wake up retching in the golden throne promising never to do it again.

Man slut

I believe there is some truth in the saying that getting older is like the aging process of fine wine. The whole process is based on how you store the bottle. It’s the same with humans – if you don’t take care of the container, what is inside turns to vinegar. That’s why some older folks you meet are sour, resentful and spiteful. They are miserable and want everyone around them to be the same. I, for one, refuse to go there. Maybe that is why I still ride Harleys and smile a lot. I want people to be happy and appreciate the things they do have instead of always wishing for the things they think they need and don’t have. Once you learn to be happy with what you have and who you are, the other things don’t seem as important anymore.

I don’t know how many years I have left on this beautiful blue planet, but I do know each and every minute will be enjoyed. For those who think old people suck…go suck an egg. I want to hang out with people who are alive, happy with their lives, love animals, and are willing to help others in times of need.

“I don’t need no stinking sourpusses!”

I’m just saying,


Tuesday, January 24, 2012

"I will fight no more forever."

Chief Joseph

You might ask why the Mittster is going off on a tirade about Indian treaties and wars. Actually I am not; the tirade is going to be about our Republican Party and how the whole sorted mess makes me think that I am not going to fight about who should be running against President Obama no more forever. In fact, I want to go live on a reservation somewhere that is lacking in electricity, radio, television or any manner of communications.

President Obama is watching this fiasco with a grin ear to ear while counting the money he will not have to spend getting reelected. The Republican Party has already reelected the current President hands down. It’s just a matter of the Democrats waiting out the rest of the Republican Party comedy act until the November general elections.

I hate writing blogs about politics, but how can I not say something about the cartoon characters debating each other on national television while each and every time proving we don’t have anyone worth electing to the town council of Po Dunk, Idaho, let alone to the Presidency of the United States of America.

President Barack Obama

While I have been a lifetime Republican, I cannot help but marvel at the professionalism of President Barack Obama. Everything he does and says speaks presidential. I may not like his politics, but I like the man. Let’s face it, he projects the kind of professionalism needed to gain the respect of world leaders who look to us for leadership. For those leaders who do not look to us for anything but grief, Donald Trump could be president and they wouldn’t care. Speaking of "The Donald," I truly think he is a worthy Republican opponent compared to the current field of want-to-be presidents. If you are going to act cartoonish, at least look the part.

Donald Trump

Just for giggles (because I don’t want to cry), I here and now throw in Clint Eastwood’s name as a write-in Republican candidate.

Clint Eastwood

He looks presidential, has some political experience, and is tough as nails. If I could do just half of what he accomplishes daily at his age, I would be more than satisfied. One thing is for sure, if any of the other candidates give him any crap at the next debate, he would look down at them and say, “Make my day!” Glory be – that would be a sight to behold.

I’m just saying,


Monday, January 23, 2012

I Crush You Flo

Ok, I admit it – I have a crush on the Progressive Insurance lady Flo. This is not easy to admit when you are a married man, but admit it I must. Wifey already suspects something is going on because of my incessant request for a Flo Bobblehead doll

and I turn up the volume on the TV whenever her commercials come on. I especially like the commercials when she is riding Harleys. Man, she can ride with me anytime. She would have to wear the same clothes as in the commercials though, that’s part of the deal. What can I say…I am kind of kinky?

I know if my wife catches me dressing up our Chiuhuahua it will be all over but the crying, but I just can't help myself!

I even drempt that she was a vampire trying to suck my blood. Holy Anne Rice, that was a scary dream. I'm thinking it would almost be worth it as long as she made me one of them and I could hang out with her forever.

I remember when Flo pulled the plug on Flo-bot. I was just wondering if the broken robot was for sale or something. You know, it would be great to have as a memento or something. Not like a London Love Doll, but something?

I did find a picture of Flo out of uniform. I'm sorry, Flo, but it just isn't the same. I have a crush on the Progressive Flo, not the real Flo. Parting in such sweat sorrow....

I'm just saying,