Mark R. Hunter's Blog, page 23
October 1, 2021
The Newsletter Travels to the Past, and Hoosiers Are Still Hysterical
It was ten years ago this summer when my first novel, Storm Chaser, was published. Almost exactly a year before that I received the publishing offer, an event I envisioned as going very differently than it did. I told that story in our latest newsletter:
https://mailchi.mp/200abd2041ac/ten-y...
Don't forget to subscribe, and in return I'll try to be entertaining. And no, I don't sell my e-mail list to anyone, although I suppose the NSA already has it.
Meanwhile, since then we've (Emily is invaluable) had ten more works published. One of them is Hoosier Hysterical: How the West Became the Midwest Without Moving At All. I'm highlighting it because today it appears on the Fussy Librarian website, which you'll find at https://www.thefussylibrarian.com/
You can get it at the same price on the website or Amazon (it's illustrated and everything!) at just $2.99 as an e-book and $10.00 in paperback. You could even hand me the cash and I'll hand you a book--I won't tell.
It's a little silly, but I like to see how many I can sell in a short period of time. I have a theory that if you sell two books on Amazon within an hour, you'll end up in the top ten, and selling ten in that time gives you the ability to brag about being a best seller. Nobody really understands their algorithm, so why not?
If you choose to accept that experiment, the link is here:
https://www.amazon.com/Hoosier-Hyster...
Or, as usual, you can buy it direct from us here:
http://www.markrhunter.com/
It's well know, of course, that Hoosier Hysterical is among the top ten humorous Indiana history and trivia books ever written, so far this decade. And to prove it, below is a new excerpt from the book, one which I assume is quite funny. Although as I write this I haven't picked it out, yet, so I could be wrong.
INDIANA FACTS:
“He’s Our President! No, He’s Ours!”
Three states can lay claim to Abraham Lincoln. You could say he was born in Kentucky, grew up in Indiana, and did all his adult stuff as an Illinois resident.
Well, you can say it if you want—who am I to stop you? It’s a free country, partially thanks to Abe.
A lot of the stuff you hear about Abe Lincoln is, surprisingly, true. His family got to America in 1637, and Thomas Lincoln’s father, the original Abraham, moved his family to Kentucky in 1782. So it took them almost 150 years to reach the Bluegrass State and produce little Abe, but hey—travel took longer back then.
Unfortunately, four years after they arrived Grandpa Abe Lincoln was killed by American Indians, because, after all, he stepped on their proverbial lawn. But Thomas grew up, married Nancy Hanks, and bought a farm near Hodgenville. Hodgenville is south of Louisville along the Lincoln Parkway, although it’s safe to assume the highway didn’t exist at the time.
Just like in the stories, Abraham Lincoln was born in a one-room log cabin, and later attended school in a log schoolhouse. They laid a lot of logs back then.
In 1816—the same year Indiana became a state—the Lincoln family crossed the Ohio River and settled in Indiana. Abe was six, so we Hoosiers can claim some of his formative years.
And formative they were. At age seven he shot a wild turkey, which upset him so much he never hunted again. It was February, after all, and with no way to keep the turkey until next Thanksgiving, it was wasted.
The next year he got kicked in the head by a horse, and for a time everyone thought he was dead. Personally, that would have put me back on to shooting animals. That same year his mother did die, permanently, from a medical condition called milk sickness.
Like Lincoln, milk sickness was uniquely American—this is the only continent it happened on. It came when cows ate a plant called white snakeroot, and wouldn’t you think the name alone would keep the cows away from it? That’s why learning to read is so important. Today milk sickness is almost unheard of, so we use fast cars to control the population.
Lincoln didn’t attend school much, but he developed a love for reading and would borrow books whenever he could. This was because they had no electricity for his PlayStation. You can’t power a videogame console with candles, but you can sure as heck read by them.
He also got to travel a bit, something many people never did. In 1828 he helped crew a flatboat down the Mississippi, and got his first taste of slavery when he saw a slave auction in progress. During the same trip seven black men tried to rob the flatboat, which could be called ironic. After he fought them off Lincoln didn’t hold a grudge.
Then, in 1830, the Lincoln family moved 200 miles, into Illinois. Abraham Lincoln was never heard from again.
Okay, not really. In fact, that same year Lincoln made his first speech, which urged navigation improvements on the Sangamon River, near Decatur. Over the next several years he read, enlisted in the military, read, ran a business into the ground, read, became a postmaster, got elected to the state legislature, and realized he’d read so much he could start studying law.
So it all worked out pretty well for him.
Okay, there were bumps along the way. He had bouts of depression, lost an election, was unlucky in love, and almost got into a sword duel. All because he left Indiana, so let that be a lesson to you.
In 1900 Lincoln’s son, Todd, gave $1,000 to take care of his grandmother’s Indiana grave. Spencer County officials gave another $800, and bought 16 acres around the gravesite. That place is now the Lincoln Boyhood National Memorial. I understand there’s also a monument for Abe in Washington.
https://mailchi.mp/200abd2041ac/ten-y...
Don't forget to subscribe, and in return I'll try to be entertaining. And no, I don't sell my e-mail list to anyone, although I suppose the NSA already has it.
Meanwhile, since then we've (Emily is invaluable) had ten more works published. One of them is Hoosier Hysterical: How the West Became the Midwest Without Moving At All. I'm highlighting it because today it appears on the Fussy Librarian website, which you'll find at https://www.thefussylibrarian.com/
You can get it at the same price on the website or Amazon (it's illustrated and everything!) at just $2.99 as an e-book and $10.00 in paperback. You could even hand me the cash and I'll hand you a book--I won't tell.
It's a little silly, but I like to see how many I can sell in a short period of time. I have a theory that if you sell two books on Amazon within an hour, you'll end up in the top ten, and selling ten in that time gives you the ability to brag about being a best seller. Nobody really understands their algorithm, so why not?
If you choose to accept that experiment, the link is here:
https://www.amazon.com/Hoosier-Hyster...
Or, as usual, you can buy it direct from us here:
http://www.markrhunter.com/
It's well know, of course, that Hoosier Hysterical is among the top ten humorous Indiana history and trivia books ever written, so far this decade. And to prove it, below is a new excerpt from the book, one which I assume is quite funny. Although as I write this I haven't picked it out, yet, so I could be wrong.
INDIANA FACTS:
“He’s Our President! No, He’s Ours!”
Three states can lay claim to Abraham Lincoln. You could say he was born in Kentucky, grew up in Indiana, and did all his adult stuff as an Illinois resident.
Well, you can say it if you want—who am I to stop you? It’s a free country, partially thanks to Abe.
A lot of the stuff you hear about Abe Lincoln is, surprisingly, true. His family got to America in 1637, and Thomas Lincoln’s father, the original Abraham, moved his family to Kentucky in 1782. So it took them almost 150 years to reach the Bluegrass State and produce little Abe, but hey—travel took longer back then.
Unfortunately, four years after they arrived Grandpa Abe Lincoln was killed by American Indians, because, after all, he stepped on their proverbial lawn. But Thomas grew up, married Nancy Hanks, and bought a farm near Hodgenville. Hodgenville is south of Louisville along the Lincoln Parkway, although it’s safe to assume the highway didn’t exist at the time.
Just like in the stories, Abraham Lincoln was born in a one-room log cabin, and later attended school in a log schoolhouse. They laid a lot of logs back then.
In 1816—the same year Indiana became a state—the Lincoln family crossed the Ohio River and settled in Indiana. Abe was six, so we Hoosiers can claim some of his formative years.
And formative they were. At age seven he shot a wild turkey, which upset him so much he never hunted again. It was February, after all, and with no way to keep the turkey until next Thanksgiving, it was wasted.
The next year he got kicked in the head by a horse, and for a time everyone thought he was dead. Personally, that would have put me back on to shooting animals. That same year his mother did die, permanently, from a medical condition called milk sickness.
Like Lincoln, milk sickness was uniquely American—this is the only continent it happened on. It came when cows ate a plant called white snakeroot, and wouldn’t you think the name alone would keep the cows away from it? That’s why learning to read is so important. Today milk sickness is almost unheard of, so we use fast cars to control the population.
Lincoln didn’t attend school much, but he developed a love for reading and would borrow books whenever he could. This was because they had no electricity for his PlayStation. You can’t power a videogame console with candles, but you can sure as heck read by them.
He also got to travel a bit, something many people never did. In 1828 he helped crew a flatboat down the Mississippi, and got his first taste of slavery when he saw a slave auction in progress. During the same trip seven black men tried to rob the flatboat, which could be called ironic. After he fought them off Lincoln didn’t hold a grudge.
Then, in 1830, the Lincoln family moved 200 miles, into Illinois. Abraham Lincoln was never heard from again.
Okay, not really. In fact, that same year Lincoln made his first speech, which urged navigation improvements on the Sangamon River, near Decatur. Over the next several years he read, enlisted in the military, read, ran a business into the ground, read, became a postmaster, got elected to the state legislature, and realized he’d read so much he could start studying law.
So it all worked out pretty well for him.
Okay, there were bumps along the way. He had bouts of depression, lost an election, was unlucky in love, and almost got into a sword duel. All because he left Indiana, so let that be a lesson to you.
In 1900 Lincoln’s son, Todd, gave $1,000 to take care of his grandmother’s Indiana grave. Spencer County officials gave another $800, and bought 16 acres around the gravesite. That place is now the Lincoln Boyhood National Memorial. I understand there’s also a monument for Abe in Washington.
September 26, 2021
book review: Putting Out Old Flames, by Allyson Charles
Some books just shout out for me to read them. In this case, my main attraction to Putting Out Old Flames was the number of parallels between it and my own first novel, Storm Chaser. Both have male protagonists named Chance who are also firefighters (although mine is a volunteer); both have characters who, like me, are emergency dispatchers; both are set in small Midwest towns (mine in northern Indiana, this one in Michigan). They even both climax with a desperate car ride.
Both are also romances (mine's a romantic comedy). It's a good thing to keep in mind, because no matter how good Putting Out Old Flames is--and it is good--it remains in the romance genre. If you don't like romances and are determined to remain a non-fan, then this obviously isn't for you. If you do, then follow the link for the requisite quirky characters and steamy sex scenes.
https://www.amazon.com/Putting-Out-Ol...
Jane Willoughby is our heroine, 911 dispatcher and confirmed single since her high school boyfriend broke up with her--via greeting card. Novelty greeting card. Jane has been put in charge of organizing a charity fireman's ball, and she discovers the hard way that her partner in the job is Pineville's new Assistant Fire Chief, Chance McGovern, who doesn't really seem all that sorry for the horrible way they parted.
The old attraction is there, but Jane is still, and justifiably, angry with her former lover. Chance has just survived a rocky divorce, and is trying to find some stability for himself and his four year old son. They're both older and wiser, and the town is actively rooting for them. But she needs to learn to forgive, and he needs to apologize--a LOT. Of course, complications ensue, among them Chance's ex-wife and sister, and Jane's rule-breaking hippie mother.
https://images-na.ssl-images-amazon.c...
It's a fun story, if sometimes frustrating (Apologize, already!), and worth the read. For those wondering, Allyson doesn't make any major mistakes in her portrayal of 911 dispatcher or firefighters, and for that I'm thankful. Jane doesn't seem as stressed as I am on the job, though.
(I received this book as an Advanced Reading Copy, in exchange for an honest review. Believe me, if I didn't like it--you'd know!)
http://markrhunter.com/
https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B0058CL6OO
https://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/&quo... R Hunter"
Both are also romances (mine's a romantic comedy). It's a good thing to keep in mind, because no matter how good Putting Out Old Flames is--and it is good--it remains in the romance genre. If you don't like romances and are determined to remain a non-fan, then this obviously isn't for you. If you do, then follow the link for the requisite quirky characters and steamy sex scenes.
https://www.amazon.com/Putting-Out-Ol...
Jane Willoughby is our heroine, 911 dispatcher and confirmed single since her high school boyfriend broke up with her--via greeting card. Novelty greeting card. Jane has been put in charge of organizing a charity fireman's ball, and she discovers the hard way that her partner in the job is Pineville's new Assistant Fire Chief, Chance McGovern, who doesn't really seem all that sorry for the horrible way they parted.
The old attraction is there, but Jane is still, and justifiably, angry with her former lover. Chance has just survived a rocky divorce, and is trying to find some stability for himself and his four year old son. They're both older and wiser, and the town is actively rooting for them. But she needs to learn to forgive, and he needs to apologize--a LOT. Of course, complications ensue, among them Chance's ex-wife and sister, and Jane's rule-breaking hippie mother.
https://images-na.ssl-images-amazon.c...
It's a fun story, if sometimes frustrating (Apologize, already!), and worth the read. For those wondering, Allyson doesn't make any major mistakes in her portrayal of 911 dispatcher or firefighters, and for that I'm thankful. Jane doesn't seem as stressed as I am on the job, though.
(I received this book as an Advanced Reading Copy, in exchange for an honest review. Believe me, if I didn't like it--you'd know!)
http://markrhunter.com/
https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B0058CL6OO
https://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/&quo... R Hunter"
September 22, 2021
I Think I Seed a Fruit Tree
So, remember those two trees that were growing up in the middle of my lilac bushes? I'd pretty much decided to cut them down and try to save the ancient lilacs, but for one last opinion I did some research to determine just what kind of trees they are.
One's a cherry tree. The other is some kind of apple tree, possibly crabapple. I have fruit trees!
The seeds were possibly deposited by birds, as birds will do--we have a lot of birds, what with the bigger trees around our house. There were two cherry trees on the property, but they died out a long time ago--I suppose it's possible they dug up a seed when my sewer line was replaced five or six years back, but that seems like a stretch.
It's hard to tell how long they've been hiding there, growing in the lilacs--I'm not much of a landscaper, and should have been trimming those lilac bushes every year. Now I'm of mixed feelings again, and I've decided to wait until spring to decide which I should keep--I doubt they'll all grow happily together.
The fact that my vacation is over, the chainsaw blade needs sharpened, the weather has turned crappy, and I have no more desire to be outside anyway has nothing to do with it.
http://markrhunter.com/
https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B0058CL6OO
https://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/&quo... R Hunter"
One's a cherry tree. The other is some kind of apple tree, possibly crabapple. I have fruit trees!
The seeds were possibly deposited by birds, as birds will do--we have a lot of birds, what with the bigger trees around our house. There were two cherry trees on the property, but they died out a long time ago--I suppose it's possible they dug up a seed when my sewer line was replaced five or six years back, but that seems like a stretch.
It's hard to tell how long they've been hiding there, growing in the lilacs--I'm not much of a landscaper, and should have been trimming those lilac bushes every year. Now I'm of mixed feelings again, and I've decided to wait until spring to decide which I should keep--I doubt they'll all grow happily together.
The fact that my vacation is over, the chainsaw blade needs sharpened, the weather has turned crappy, and I have no more desire to be outside anyway has nothing to do with it.
http://markrhunter.com/
https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B0058CL6OO
https://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/&quo... R Hunter"
September 16, 2021
Vacation, Time To Get Away ... Or Not
Vacation often conjures images of relaxing on a beach, climbing mountains, or visiting places you've never been. Here, in the time of COVID, you can still very much do that. Start with the Travel Channel.
In fact, just go on down the channels, and once you've sorted through the paid programming you might see several places you've never been before. As I write this, part of my attention is on ancient Egypt. You think I could afford a plane ticket for that?
September has long been a big vacation month for us, because after Labor Day my wife's job goes down to weekends only, which means we can go places on weekdays. Well, we could. It's how we've been to National Parks, checked out Kansas and Oklahoma, and saw a total eclipse in Missouri.
My current novel in progress involves a road trip, with transportation that has all the bells and whistles.
But as a virus works its way through the Greek alphabet, you have to wonder if it's not time to catch up on all those books piled by the bed. And couch. And under the bathroom sink. And in six bookcases around the house.
I mean, the next COVID variant is Epsilon, and I'm pretty sure the Epsilon Variant already killed off several red shirts in the original Star Trek series. I have red shirts. Coincidence?
I'm not sure I want to go anywhere until Omega has passed by, and that character isn't scheduled to appear in the Marvel Cinematic Universe until 2027.
Oh, crap ... there really is one! I was just joking.
So I made up a list of things we might do at home during our vacation. I divided them into three categories: Outside stuff, inside stuff, and writing stuff. Yes, it is possible to write outside: I did much of the rough draft of Images of America: Albion and Noble County with a laptop, sitting on various benches around Pokagon State Park.
I figured in good weather we could trim those bushes that, it turns out, don't trim themselves, and don't think I didn't give them a good few years to try. We could also clean out the car, something I try to do at least as often as I trim the bushes.
Inside, we have a plan to move our office, put new flooring in the kitchen, and find out what that rustling sound is in the back of the cupboard. Last time I cleaned the cupboard, I found a can of soup that was gratefully accepted by the Museum of Ancient Foods.
The writing includes the fun stuff--two manuscripts I need to polish a little. It also includes the un-fun stuff: submitting those novels to agents and publishers, getting back on the promotion wagon, formatting a photo book we've been working on for three years, and finding out what's making that rustling sound in the back of my lower left desk drawer. All I know for sure is that my dog refuses to go near it.
How much of this will we get done? Well, I had ideas for day trips, where we could stop, enjoy the scenery while holding our breaths, and then smear on sanitizer. But then my wife hurt her knee, and her friend gave me an electric chain saw (unrelated), which I actually managed to get working. That led to one full day putting my back into yard work, followed by several more days putting my back on ice. Oh, well--we're also behind on our TV show watching. So how much will we get done?
Less than planned.
But it's a vacation, so what the heck.
http://markrhunter.com/
https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B0058CL6OO
https://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/&quo... R Hunter"
In fact, just go on down the channels, and once you've sorted through the paid programming you might see several places you've never been before. As I write this, part of my attention is on ancient Egypt. You think I could afford a plane ticket for that?
September has long been a big vacation month for us, because after Labor Day my wife's job goes down to weekends only, which means we can go places on weekdays. Well, we could. It's how we've been to National Parks, checked out Kansas and Oklahoma, and saw a total eclipse in Missouri.
My current novel in progress involves a road trip, with transportation that has all the bells and whistles.
But as a virus works its way through the Greek alphabet, you have to wonder if it's not time to catch up on all those books piled by the bed. And couch. And under the bathroom sink. And in six bookcases around the house.
I mean, the next COVID variant is Epsilon, and I'm pretty sure the Epsilon Variant already killed off several red shirts in the original Star Trek series. I have red shirts. Coincidence?
I'm not sure I want to go anywhere until Omega has passed by, and that character isn't scheduled to appear in the Marvel Cinematic Universe until 2027.
Oh, crap ... there really is one! I was just joking.
So I made up a list of things we might do at home during our vacation. I divided them into three categories: Outside stuff, inside stuff, and writing stuff. Yes, it is possible to write outside: I did much of the rough draft of Images of America: Albion and Noble County with a laptop, sitting on various benches around Pokagon State Park.
I figured in good weather we could trim those bushes that, it turns out, don't trim themselves, and don't think I didn't give them a good few years to try. We could also clean out the car, something I try to do at least as often as I trim the bushes.
Inside, we have a plan to move our office, put new flooring in the kitchen, and find out what that rustling sound is in the back of the cupboard. Last time I cleaned the cupboard, I found a can of soup that was gratefully accepted by the Museum of Ancient Foods.
The writing includes the fun stuff--two manuscripts I need to polish a little. It also includes the un-fun stuff: submitting those novels to agents and publishers, getting back on the promotion wagon, formatting a photo book we've been working on for three years, and finding out what's making that rustling sound in the back of my lower left desk drawer. All I know for sure is that my dog refuses to go near it.
How much of this will we get done? Well, I had ideas for day trips, where we could stop, enjoy the scenery while holding our breaths, and then smear on sanitizer. But then my wife hurt her knee, and her friend gave me an electric chain saw (unrelated), which I actually managed to get working. That led to one full day putting my back into yard work, followed by several more days putting my back on ice. Oh, well--we're also behind on our TV show watching. So how much will we get done?
Less than planned.
But it's a vacation, so what the heck.
http://markrhunter.com/
https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B0058CL6OO
https://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/&quo... R Hunter"
September 11, 2021
The Heroes of 9/11
Much as I tried, I couldn't write anything new this year to memorialize the events of 9/11.
I was so heartsick over our horribly bungled and costly withdrawal from Afghanistan, I found myself unable to say anything that wouldn't just attract pointless political arguing. Oh, I found words--I'd even go so far to say they were eloquent. But despite the obvious connection, writing about it now would only take away from remembrance of the terrorist attacks.
So I deleted the whole thing, thus saving the internet another corner of hate throwing and name calling. Instead, I'm reprinting here the column I wrote for the 10th anniversary of 9/11. Sadly, I didn't need to make many changes.
-----------------------------------------------------------------
I've mentioned before that I’m uncomfortable using the word “hero”. Like many words, it’s overused and clichéd. What is a hero? Not a sports star. Being tough doesn’t make a hero. Not a skydiver. That may make you brave, but not heroic.
Ronald Bucca was a member of the 101st Airborne, then served in the Special Forces and Green Berets while on active duty in the army. He became a New York City firefighter in 1978, and on September 11, 2001, became the only FDNY fire marshal ever killed in the line of duty.
Does somebody become a hero when they take on a dangerous occupation? I don’t know … the flagger who controls traffic during road construction has an especially dangerous job, but I don’t know if you’d call it heroic. You could even argue that a firefighter or police officer doesn’t automatically become a hero the moment he puts on the badge. Maybe – potential hero?
But then, isn’t everyone a potential hero?
Steve DeChiaro is a businessman, and was just entering the Pentagon for a meeting when the building was struck by an airplane. No one would have blamed him for saving himself; he had no legal responsibility to act. Certainly he never thought he’d end up winning the Defense Department’s highest civilian award, the Medal of Valor, for his actions in rescuing and treating people that day.
Sometimes, maybe, a hero is just someone who overcomes their fear and acts – not on a lark, but to do something important, something vital.
Tom Burnett was the vice president of a medical devices company. He found himself on United Airlines Flight 93, and after his plane was hijacked he learned, in a cell phone call to his wife, of the attacks on the World Trade Center. He didn’t know for sure what the hijackers were planning, but it must have quickly become clear they also wanted to kill.
Burnett must have also known that an attempt to take the plane back would likely be fatal … but that if it failed, they still might keep the hijackers from taking a large number of civilians on the ground with them.
Sometimes being a hero is a matter of relativity. A firefighter might do something on a day to day basis that others see as heroic, while he just calls it another day on the job. But others wouldn’t normally expect to see a crisis, beyond a paper jam in the copy machine.
Welles Crowther was an equities trader. The biggest risk for him on the job was a paper cut, or a coffee burn. He was on the 104th floor of the South Tower when the first plane hit.
Witnesses described how Crowther, a former volunteer firefighter, took control, organized people, and got dozens out of the building before it collapsed.
Sometimes it’s the call of duty, of course.
Moira Smith, a 13 year veteran of the NYPD, had already been decorated for heroism. It’s hardly surprising that she headed into the World Trade Center to rescue people, and became the only female member of the force killed that day.
Her daughter would be 22 now. I hope people tell her about her mom.
Or … maybe heroism just runs in the family?
Eric Moreland was a George Washington University student at the time, but also a volunteer firefighter and paramedic. As often happens to off duty emergency personnel, he was just happening by when an airplane crashed into the Pentagon.
Moreland, at great risk, charged into the burning building and carried injured people to safety. Then he stayed to help remove the dead. Then he drove all the way to New York to help out at the world Trade Center.
Moreland’s grandfather, Lt. Col. Conway Jones, was one of the famous Tuskegee Airmen of World War II. His father flew 80 combat missions in Vietnam.
Whether it runs in the family or not, some people are just born to serve.
Special Agent Leonard Hatton fought crime as an FBI agent, fought fires as a volunteer, and fought for freedom as a US Marine. He reported the second plan crashing into the south Tower – not from inside the World Trade Center, but from the roof of a nearby hotel. Then he went in. What else could he do? He died that day, but if he’d turned his back on the call for help, he wouldn’t have been able to live with himself.
There will always be some who suffer for their service.
Jim Ryan survived, but was still a victim of 9/11. A New York City firefighter, he came back to the WTC site again and again, for months. He helped search for survivors, then victims, and as time went by there was nothing left but to search out bits of what were once people.
What else could he do? Over three hundred of his brother firefighters were there.
The cancer diagnosis came in 2006. His lungs finally failed him on Christmas, 2009. He was 48, and died on the same day that someone else grabbed the headlines by trying to bring down another plane, with a chemical bomb strapped to his leg.
On September 11, 2001, 341 FDNY firefighters and 2 Fire Department paramedics were killed; 23 NYPD officers died, along with 37 Port Authority PD officers and 8 private EMS medics.
On 9/11 at least 200 people, faced with the horrors of burning to death, jumped from the Twin Towers. Among the almost 3,000 who died in the four sites linked in the attack were citizens of over 70 nations. I don’t know how many of those people qualified as heroes. A lot of them, certainly. And just as certainly, the dead from that day are only a fraction of the victims.
Every now and then some short sighted person will suggest we stop obsessing so much about 9/11, that we “let it go”. After all, it’s been twenty years, right?
They’re wrong. They’ll always be wrong. Ten times twenty years, they’ll be wrong. Not only because we must keep this from happening again, but because heroes vanish too quickly, in the flotsam and jetsam of pop culture and the concerns of everyday life. Their memory goes too quickly, just as they do.
Be inspired by their stories. Saddened. Enraged. But never forget.
I was so heartsick over our horribly bungled and costly withdrawal from Afghanistan, I found myself unable to say anything that wouldn't just attract pointless political arguing. Oh, I found words--I'd even go so far to say they were eloquent. But despite the obvious connection, writing about it now would only take away from remembrance of the terrorist attacks.
So I deleted the whole thing, thus saving the internet another corner of hate throwing and name calling. Instead, I'm reprinting here the column I wrote for the 10th anniversary of 9/11. Sadly, I didn't need to make many changes.
-----------------------------------------------------------------
I've mentioned before that I’m uncomfortable using the word “hero”. Like many words, it’s overused and clichéd. What is a hero? Not a sports star. Being tough doesn’t make a hero. Not a skydiver. That may make you brave, but not heroic.
Ronald Bucca was a member of the 101st Airborne, then served in the Special Forces and Green Berets while on active duty in the army. He became a New York City firefighter in 1978, and on September 11, 2001, became the only FDNY fire marshal ever killed in the line of duty.
Does somebody become a hero when they take on a dangerous occupation? I don’t know … the flagger who controls traffic during road construction has an especially dangerous job, but I don’t know if you’d call it heroic. You could even argue that a firefighter or police officer doesn’t automatically become a hero the moment he puts on the badge. Maybe – potential hero?
But then, isn’t everyone a potential hero?
Steve DeChiaro is a businessman, and was just entering the Pentagon for a meeting when the building was struck by an airplane. No one would have blamed him for saving himself; he had no legal responsibility to act. Certainly he never thought he’d end up winning the Defense Department’s highest civilian award, the Medal of Valor, for his actions in rescuing and treating people that day.
Sometimes, maybe, a hero is just someone who overcomes their fear and acts – not on a lark, but to do something important, something vital.
Tom Burnett was the vice president of a medical devices company. He found himself on United Airlines Flight 93, and after his plane was hijacked he learned, in a cell phone call to his wife, of the attacks on the World Trade Center. He didn’t know for sure what the hijackers were planning, but it must have quickly become clear they also wanted to kill.
Burnett must have also known that an attempt to take the plane back would likely be fatal … but that if it failed, they still might keep the hijackers from taking a large number of civilians on the ground with them.
Sometimes being a hero is a matter of relativity. A firefighter might do something on a day to day basis that others see as heroic, while he just calls it another day on the job. But others wouldn’t normally expect to see a crisis, beyond a paper jam in the copy machine.
Welles Crowther was an equities trader. The biggest risk for him on the job was a paper cut, or a coffee burn. He was on the 104th floor of the South Tower when the first plane hit.
Witnesses described how Crowther, a former volunteer firefighter, took control, organized people, and got dozens out of the building before it collapsed.
Sometimes it’s the call of duty, of course.
Moira Smith, a 13 year veteran of the NYPD, had already been decorated for heroism. It’s hardly surprising that she headed into the World Trade Center to rescue people, and became the only female member of the force killed that day.
Her daughter would be 22 now. I hope people tell her about her mom.
Or … maybe heroism just runs in the family?
Eric Moreland was a George Washington University student at the time, but also a volunteer firefighter and paramedic. As often happens to off duty emergency personnel, he was just happening by when an airplane crashed into the Pentagon.
Moreland, at great risk, charged into the burning building and carried injured people to safety. Then he stayed to help remove the dead. Then he drove all the way to New York to help out at the world Trade Center.
Moreland’s grandfather, Lt. Col. Conway Jones, was one of the famous Tuskegee Airmen of World War II. His father flew 80 combat missions in Vietnam.
Whether it runs in the family or not, some people are just born to serve.
Special Agent Leonard Hatton fought crime as an FBI agent, fought fires as a volunteer, and fought for freedom as a US Marine. He reported the second plan crashing into the south Tower – not from inside the World Trade Center, but from the roof of a nearby hotel. Then he went in. What else could he do? He died that day, but if he’d turned his back on the call for help, he wouldn’t have been able to live with himself.
There will always be some who suffer for their service.
Jim Ryan survived, but was still a victim of 9/11. A New York City firefighter, he came back to the WTC site again and again, for months. He helped search for survivors, then victims, and as time went by there was nothing left but to search out bits of what were once people.
What else could he do? Over three hundred of his brother firefighters were there.
The cancer diagnosis came in 2006. His lungs finally failed him on Christmas, 2009. He was 48, and died on the same day that someone else grabbed the headlines by trying to bring down another plane, with a chemical bomb strapped to his leg.
On September 11, 2001, 341 FDNY firefighters and 2 Fire Department paramedics were killed; 23 NYPD officers died, along with 37 Port Authority PD officers and 8 private EMS medics.
On 9/11 at least 200 people, faced with the horrors of burning to death, jumped from the Twin Towers. Among the almost 3,000 who died in the four sites linked in the attack were citizens of over 70 nations. I don’t know how many of those people qualified as heroes. A lot of them, certainly. And just as certainly, the dead from that day are only a fraction of the victims.
Every now and then some short sighted person will suggest we stop obsessing so much about 9/11, that we “let it go”. After all, it’s been twenty years, right?
They’re wrong. They’ll always be wrong. Ten times twenty years, they’ll be wrong. Not only because we must keep this from happening again, but because heroes vanish too quickly, in the flotsam and jetsam of pop culture and the concerns of everyday life. Their memory goes too quickly, just as they do.
Be inspired by their stories. Saddened. Enraged. But never forget.
September 4, 2021
How Long Should a Novel Be? No, Really?
Writing instructors, editors, publishers, they all say the same thing: When writing a piece of fiction, start at the beginning; go to the end; then stop.
Don't pad it. Don't be too sparse. Just make your story as long as it needs to be, no longer. It's good advice.
It's also wrong.
I got lucky with my early books, because my publishers weren't that picky about word count. My novels tended to weight in at around 55,000 words, which sounds like a lot, but it's at the lower edge for fiction. The first science fiction novel I tried to sell clocked in at around 62,000 words. I reevaluated it, added some new and expanded scenes, and got it up to 68,000. That was it. The whole story.
Now, Fahrenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury is only 46,000 words long ... but that's Ray Bradbury. Stephen King wrote The Stand, which is half a million words and thus far over the norm for any book. But he's frakking Stephen King. Believe me, a new author will get nowhere by whining that, well, George R.R. Martin and J.K. Rowling write long!
"When millions of people know you by your initials, get back to us."
Many publishers won't even glance at your work if you don't go through a literary agent, so although they aren't strictly necessary, they can be great door openers. But after Beowulf: In Harm's Way got several rejections, one agent decided to level with me:
"I'm afraid this isn't right for me, but beyond that I'm also concerned that your word count of 68,000 is on the low end for Science Fiction."
According to my research, people in publishing think the right word count for a science fiction novel is around 80-120,000 words. It varies for other genres: For instance, romance novels can commonly be as low as 50-55,000 words, which is how I got away with my romantic comedies. But it's possible some of the agent rejections for Beowulf: In Harm's Way were as much because of its length as anything else.
This really rubbed me the wrong way. We get lectured over and over: Never pad your story! It should be as long as it needs to be, and no more! Cut the fat! So if the story is perfect at 68,000 words ... what the heck?
I struggled with this for some time: If I wanted my story to come out at the low end of the proper length, I'd have to add at least 12,000 words. Of course, I could self publish it at whatever length I wanted, but I really wanted this story to have a chance with a big publisher, and even be the beginning of a series. But ... 12,000 words ...
Luckily, a solution was already right there, on my hard drive.
When my first novel, Storm Chaser, was picked up by a publisher, I thought it would be fun to promote it by writing short stories about the characters, to give away as a way to get readers interested. My publisher jumped on that, and the collected stories became my second book, the collection Storm Chaser Shorts. I liked writing about the characters so much that I'd already decided to do the same with Beowulf: In Harm's Way. In fact, I'd already written five short stories in that universe.
Three of them were fun but silly little pieces that I didn't feel belonged in the novel's narrative. The other two were longer, and took place at the beginning of the story. They became chapters one and two, and I wrote a prologue that led right into them. (Prologues are another controversy. I like 'em, if they have a point.) By the time I'd added some connective material and looked through the manuscript for thin areas that could be expanded ...
Ta Da! 84,000 words, and none of it padding. I don't think.
I can't really complain, because after I put it all together, revised, polished, and read it again ... the manuscript was better than the shorter version. (Well, I think so. What do I know? I should ask some beta readers to check it out.)
How do you feel about word counts? Do you care, or is a long book intimidating, or does a short one seem too lightweight? It seems strange to me that novels seem to be getting longer, even as potential readers are accused of having shorter attention spans.
http://markrhunter.com/
https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B0058CL6OO
https://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/&quo... R Hunter"
Don't pad it. Don't be too sparse. Just make your story as long as it needs to be, no longer. It's good advice.
It's also wrong.
I got lucky with my early books, because my publishers weren't that picky about word count. My novels tended to weight in at around 55,000 words, which sounds like a lot, but it's at the lower edge for fiction. The first science fiction novel I tried to sell clocked in at around 62,000 words. I reevaluated it, added some new and expanded scenes, and got it up to 68,000. That was it. The whole story.
Now, Fahrenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury is only 46,000 words long ... but that's Ray Bradbury. Stephen King wrote The Stand, which is half a million words and thus far over the norm for any book. But he's frakking Stephen King. Believe me, a new author will get nowhere by whining that, well, George R.R. Martin and J.K. Rowling write long!
"When millions of people know you by your initials, get back to us."
Many publishers won't even glance at your work if you don't go through a literary agent, so although they aren't strictly necessary, they can be great door openers. But after Beowulf: In Harm's Way got several rejections, one agent decided to level with me:
"I'm afraid this isn't right for me, but beyond that I'm also concerned that your word count of 68,000 is on the low end for Science Fiction."
According to my research, people in publishing think the right word count for a science fiction novel is around 80-120,000 words. It varies for other genres: For instance, romance novels can commonly be as low as 50-55,000 words, which is how I got away with my romantic comedies. But it's possible some of the agent rejections for Beowulf: In Harm's Way were as much because of its length as anything else.
This really rubbed me the wrong way. We get lectured over and over: Never pad your story! It should be as long as it needs to be, and no more! Cut the fat! So if the story is perfect at 68,000 words ... what the heck?
I struggled with this for some time: If I wanted my story to come out at the low end of the proper length, I'd have to add at least 12,000 words. Of course, I could self publish it at whatever length I wanted, but I really wanted this story to have a chance with a big publisher, and even be the beginning of a series. But ... 12,000 words ...
Luckily, a solution was already right there, on my hard drive.
When my first novel, Storm Chaser, was picked up by a publisher, I thought it would be fun to promote it by writing short stories about the characters, to give away as a way to get readers interested. My publisher jumped on that, and the collected stories became my second book, the collection Storm Chaser Shorts. I liked writing about the characters so much that I'd already decided to do the same with Beowulf: In Harm's Way. In fact, I'd already written five short stories in that universe.
Three of them were fun but silly little pieces that I didn't feel belonged in the novel's narrative. The other two were longer, and took place at the beginning of the story. They became chapters one and two, and I wrote a prologue that led right into them. (Prologues are another controversy. I like 'em, if they have a point.) By the time I'd added some connective material and looked through the manuscript for thin areas that could be expanded ...
Ta Da! 84,000 words, and none of it padding. I don't think.
I can't really complain, because after I put it all together, revised, polished, and read it again ... the manuscript was better than the shorter version. (Well, I think so. What do I know? I should ask some beta readers to check it out.)
How do you feel about word counts? Do you care, or is a long book intimidating, or does a short one seem too lightweight? It seems strange to me that novels seem to be getting longer, even as potential readers are accused of having shorter attention spans.
http://markrhunter.com/
https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B0058CL6OO
https://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/&quo... R Hunter"
August 30, 2021
movie review: The Suicide Squad
Okay, let's get this out of the way right now: "The Suicide Squad" is not--I repeat, NOT--a movie for kids.
Most movies based on comics try to entertain adults while also being watchable by their kids. (If you're one of the snobbish who automatically label these flicks "kid movies", you came to the wrong place.)
Not this one. We're talking about a sex scene, a moment of graphic nudity, and an overwhelming amount of graphic, graphic violence. I knew this going in, and it's nothing worse than I see on the various "Walking Dead" shows, but it still startled me. Maybe it's because I watch "Walking Dead" for the characters, and could happily do without the worst of the onscreen gore.
Okay, so that's out of the way. "The Suicide Squad" is a great movie, and if you can handle the gore I'd highly recommend it. Unless you're a movie snob.
The idea behind the movie and it's kinda/sorta related previous version is that if you have a suicide mission, why risk beloved superheroes? Instead, the shady Task Force X recruits villains--mostly of the third rate variety. If they survive, they get decades taken off their sentences. If they try to run away, head of Task Force X Amanda Waller (Viola Davis, being suitably nasty), pushes a button and their head blows off.
We open with a team headed to a small island country, where they're dropped near the beach and things go immediately sideways. Then we got back in time, to see another team recruited at the same time, for the same mission: To destroy a top secret science project that's now in the hands of the island's new dictator.
Things go sideways for them, too, as happens on suicide missions. The survivors must face down the island's military to accomplish their job--which turns out to be something more than what they were told.
"The Suicide Squad" has, yes, those great effects and action, but if you're going to like the movie, it's for the characters. Here Idris Elba as reluctant leader Bloodsport, and Margot Robbie as the sanity-averse Harley Quinn, excel. Beyond that the heart of the movie comes from Daniela Melchior as Ratcatcher 2 (guess what her super power is?), and David Dastmalchian as--wait for it--Pokda-Dot Man. Both have their backstories explored enough to be sympathetic characters.
The Suicide Squads are made up of real DC Comics characters, but the third rate ones--the ones Robin could take down without Batman's help. As such, almost any of them could be killed off at any moment, and many are, so once we're invested we end up on the edge of our seats. It's to the credit of everyone involved that we're left caring about, and rooting for, our "heroes". (By the way, the Big Bad in this movie was, in the comics, the Justice League's first villain.)
My score:
Entertainment value: 3 1/2 out of 4 stars. I had trouble getting past some of the more graphic violence, of which there was much, but as movies based on comic books go this was one of the better ones. And graphic or not, I can watch Harley Quinn's fighting moves all day long.
Oscar Potential: 2 out of 4 stars. I don't know ... maybe. The Academy does seem to like violent flicks, after all, and shouldn't there be an Oscar for fight choreography? But I doubt it will get a "Joker" level of critical acclaim.
(By the way, this was our first trip back to an indoor theater in two years ... we went at noon, and there were only two other people in the theater. This is one of those movies better appreciated on the big screen.)
http://markrhunter.com/
https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B0058CL6OO
https://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/&quo... R Hunter"
Most movies based on comics try to entertain adults while also being watchable by their kids. (If you're one of the snobbish who automatically label these flicks "kid movies", you came to the wrong place.)
Not this one. We're talking about a sex scene, a moment of graphic nudity, and an overwhelming amount of graphic, graphic violence. I knew this going in, and it's nothing worse than I see on the various "Walking Dead" shows, but it still startled me. Maybe it's because I watch "Walking Dead" for the characters, and could happily do without the worst of the onscreen gore.
Okay, so that's out of the way. "The Suicide Squad" is a great movie, and if you can handle the gore I'd highly recommend it. Unless you're a movie snob.
The idea behind the movie and it's kinda/sorta related previous version is that if you have a suicide mission, why risk beloved superheroes? Instead, the shady Task Force X recruits villains--mostly of the third rate variety. If they survive, they get decades taken off their sentences. If they try to run away, head of Task Force X Amanda Waller (Viola Davis, being suitably nasty), pushes a button and their head blows off.
We open with a team headed to a small island country, where they're dropped near the beach and things go immediately sideways. Then we got back in time, to see another team recruited at the same time, for the same mission: To destroy a top secret science project that's now in the hands of the island's new dictator.
Things go sideways for them, too, as happens on suicide missions. The survivors must face down the island's military to accomplish their job--which turns out to be something more than what they were told.
"The Suicide Squad" has, yes, those great effects and action, but if you're going to like the movie, it's for the characters. Here Idris Elba as reluctant leader Bloodsport, and Margot Robbie as the sanity-averse Harley Quinn, excel. Beyond that the heart of the movie comes from Daniela Melchior as Ratcatcher 2 (guess what her super power is?), and David Dastmalchian as--wait for it--Pokda-Dot Man. Both have their backstories explored enough to be sympathetic characters.
The Suicide Squads are made up of real DC Comics characters, but the third rate ones--the ones Robin could take down without Batman's help. As such, almost any of them could be killed off at any moment, and many are, so once we're invested we end up on the edge of our seats. It's to the credit of everyone involved that we're left caring about, and rooting for, our "heroes". (By the way, the Big Bad in this movie was, in the comics, the Justice League's first villain.)
My score:
Entertainment value: 3 1/2 out of 4 stars. I had trouble getting past some of the more graphic violence, of which there was much, but as movies based on comic books go this was one of the better ones. And graphic or not, I can watch Harley Quinn's fighting moves all day long.
Oscar Potential: 2 out of 4 stars. I don't know ... maybe. The Academy does seem to like violent flicks, after all, and shouldn't there be an Oscar for fight choreography? But I doubt it will get a "Joker" level of critical acclaim.
(By the way, this was our first trip back to an indoor theater in two years ... we went at noon, and there were only two other people in the theater. This is one of those movies better appreciated on the big screen.)
http://markrhunter.com/
https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B0058CL6OO
https://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/&quo... R Hunter"
August 25, 2021
Yard Work for the Beat Down
I'm not as active as a volunteer firefighter as I used to be, because over the years my body has been beat down pretty good ... by doing yard work.
Other than a couple of back injuries, I've never really been hurt on that hazardous job. Firefighting, I mean. Yard work, now that's the task that leaves me moaning on the ground, and not in a good way.
With firefighting, you wear tons of protective gear, which changes the most likely medical problems to heat stroke and heart attacks. With yard work, you wear shorts and a tank top, and in some cases hold a can of beer. In addition, with firefighting you tend to have the topic of safety going on in your mind:
"Say, I'm in zero visibility, crawling over a burned out floor, shoving a metal pike into the ceiling when I don't know if the electricity is still on." It's just an example. I've never pulled a ceiling while crawling on the floor, so don't sweat it.
When I'm doing yard work, I have other topics on my mind:
"I wonder how long I could let this grow before the lawn police arrest me?"
But the biggest reason for this seeming paradox is that fire just doesn't give a darn about me, while Mother Nature hates me.
Oh, yeah. Mother Nature is a vindictive bit ... being. She hears me complain. I complain a lot.
"It's too cold." "I hate bugs." "That's not rain: It's a cloud of pollen!"
Once, as I was mowing in the front yard, one of our trees bent down and beaned me with a limb. It had nothing to do with me not paying attention. It's also the only time in my adult life that I did a full somersault.
But recently I learned a new twist: My furniture is in cahoots with Mother Nature. Much of it is wood, after all, an increasingly expensive resource that doesn't just grow on trees. I'm always shoving furniture around, banging into it, and of course sitting on it. This axes of evil (see what I did, there?) recently tried hard to do me in.
I was mowing in the back yard, near the lilacs I've horribly neglected. If you were a lilac and your caretaker doesn't trim you or keep other trees from growing up in the middle of you, wouldn't you be upset? I don't know, either.
As I pushed the mower around one of the bushes, it reached it's driest, deadest branch out and clobbered me in the arm.
The above photo is my arm, just so you know. Now that I think of it, maybe this is what the far side of my forearm always looks like--I usually can't see it. But no, my wife takes great joy in pouring peroxide on my fresh wounds, and when they're old I don't scream like that.
The very next day, I noticed the TV remote was missing. (Just hang on, it's connected.) No big deal: It can always be found by sweeping a hand between the cushion and the inside of the couch's side. We put it on the arm, it slides down, and Bob's your uncle.
(That's just an expression: I don't mean to offend anyone who actually has an Uncle Bob.)
Now, the couch is only a few years old, and we really like it. It has two recliners, something that's always seemed like rich luxury to me, but boy, am I glad for them--especially on bad back days. But when you recline and unrecline and plop down on something all the time, there's bound to be some wear and tear.
As near as I can tell, a nail popped loose and just hung there, between the side and the cushion. Waiting. For me.
I swept my hand down there, just like I always do. What happens when something suddenly stabs into your hand? You withdraw your hand, don't you? Which I did, but the nail had already embedded itself into my finger. I'm pretty sure it bounced off the inside of a fingernail.
I'll spare you the photos.
Have you ever bled so much that you couldn't stop it even with pressure, elevation, and cold? It was just a finger, for crying out loud, which is exactly how I cried. Out loud. Luckily no one was home, but that meant I had to do the peroxide thing myself, and it's not nearly as much fun that way.
Two injuries in two days, on the same arm. And what swung that nail out to grab me? That's right: the couch's wooden frame. I got even by bleeding on it, but still. Also, I hurt my back again jumping halfway across the living room while waving my hand wildly, and later I had to clean up that blood.
Luckily I'm used to cleaning up my own blood.
Don't doubt the connection: The truth is out there ... and in there. Mother Nature is out to get me, and there's nowhere to hide. Today the couch--tomorrow the bed.
There's a thought to sleep on.
http://markrhunter.com/
https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B0058CL6OO
https://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/&quo... R Hunter"
Other than a couple of back injuries, I've never really been hurt on that hazardous job. Firefighting, I mean. Yard work, now that's the task that leaves me moaning on the ground, and not in a good way.
With firefighting, you wear tons of protective gear, which changes the most likely medical problems to heat stroke and heart attacks. With yard work, you wear shorts and a tank top, and in some cases hold a can of beer. In addition, with firefighting you tend to have the topic of safety going on in your mind:
"Say, I'm in zero visibility, crawling over a burned out floor, shoving a metal pike into the ceiling when I don't know if the electricity is still on." It's just an example. I've never pulled a ceiling while crawling on the floor, so don't sweat it.
When I'm doing yard work, I have other topics on my mind:
"I wonder how long I could let this grow before the lawn police arrest me?"
But the biggest reason for this seeming paradox is that fire just doesn't give a darn about me, while Mother Nature hates me.
Oh, yeah. Mother Nature is a vindictive bit ... being. She hears me complain. I complain a lot.
"It's too cold." "I hate bugs." "That's not rain: It's a cloud of pollen!"
Once, as I was mowing in the front yard, one of our trees bent down and beaned me with a limb. It had nothing to do with me not paying attention. It's also the only time in my adult life that I did a full somersault.
But recently I learned a new twist: My furniture is in cahoots with Mother Nature. Much of it is wood, after all, an increasingly expensive resource that doesn't just grow on trees. I'm always shoving furniture around, banging into it, and of course sitting on it. This axes of evil (see what I did, there?) recently tried hard to do me in.
I was mowing in the back yard, near the lilacs I've horribly neglected. If you were a lilac and your caretaker doesn't trim you or keep other trees from growing up in the middle of you, wouldn't you be upset? I don't know, either.
As I pushed the mower around one of the bushes, it reached it's driest, deadest branch out and clobbered me in the arm.
The above photo is my arm, just so you know. Now that I think of it, maybe this is what the far side of my forearm always looks like--I usually can't see it. But no, my wife takes great joy in pouring peroxide on my fresh wounds, and when they're old I don't scream like that.
The very next day, I noticed the TV remote was missing. (Just hang on, it's connected.) No big deal: It can always be found by sweeping a hand between the cushion and the inside of the couch's side. We put it on the arm, it slides down, and Bob's your uncle.
(That's just an expression: I don't mean to offend anyone who actually has an Uncle Bob.)
Now, the couch is only a few years old, and we really like it. It has two recliners, something that's always seemed like rich luxury to me, but boy, am I glad for them--especially on bad back days. But when you recline and unrecline and plop down on something all the time, there's bound to be some wear and tear.
As near as I can tell, a nail popped loose and just hung there, between the side and the cushion. Waiting. For me.
I swept my hand down there, just like I always do. What happens when something suddenly stabs into your hand? You withdraw your hand, don't you? Which I did, but the nail had already embedded itself into my finger. I'm pretty sure it bounced off the inside of a fingernail.
I'll spare you the photos.
Have you ever bled so much that you couldn't stop it even with pressure, elevation, and cold? It was just a finger, for crying out loud, which is exactly how I cried. Out loud. Luckily no one was home, but that meant I had to do the peroxide thing myself, and it's not nearly as much fun that way.
Two injuries in two days, on the same arm. And what swung that nail out to grab me? That's right: the couch's wooden frame. I got even by bleeding on it, but still. Also, I hurt my back again jumping halfway across the living room while waving my hand wildly, and later I had to clean up that blood.
Luckily I'm used to cleaning up my own blood.
Don't doubt the connection: The truth is out there ... and in there. Mother Nature is out to get me, and there's nowhere to hide. Today the couch--tomorrow the bed.
There's a thought to sleep on.
http://markrhunter.com/
https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B0058CL6OO
https://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/&quo... R Hunter"
August 21, 2021
movie reviews: Free Guy and Jungle Cruise
Since I'm reviewing two movies at once (we went to the drive-in), I'm going to keep this short.
Stop laughing, I am.
After watching "Free Guy" and "Jungle Cruise" back to back, it became obvious to me why Ryan Reynolds and Dwayne Johnson have been on such a winning streak of late: They both decided to embrace the silly. Armed with comic timing and a wink at the audience, both men are well aware they've been dropped into universes that shouldn't be taken too seriously.
What that means, of course, is that you either love them or hate them. I love the fun.
In "Free Guy" Reynolds is Guy, which is as much a name as he gets because he's just an NPC--a Non Playable Character--in a popular video game. Every morning he gets up, grabs a coffee, and dodges explosions on the way to his job at the bank, which gets robbed several times a day. He thinks nothing of it, until one day he's entranced by a woman who's one of the sunglasses-wearing elite, the cool people who have no routine and simply do what they please.
Soon Guy's world is shaken when he discovers the elite are video game players, and he's merely one of those background characters whose only role is to be victim, supply items, or simply fill up space. He finds himself falling for the player (Jodie Comer), who's trying to correct an injustice in real life, and they both end up racing to save the fictional world before it's destroyed by its owner--who's ready to go with an entirely new version.
It's been done before, sort of--the first example that comes to mind is "The Lego Movie". Here it's done with new twists, style, great effects, humor--and heart, something Reynolds excels at. It doesn't hurt that there are some awesome cameos, including one by Reynolds' real-life wife. (And another by Dwayne Johnson.)
"Jungle Cruise" is based on Disney's Jungle Cruise, thus the name. The plot? Well, it's the same plot as that wonderful Brendan Fraser movie, "The Mummy". An uncouth adventurer in the early 20th Century is hired to take a female British researcher and her unadventurous brother into a dangerous wilderness, where they encounter supernatural threats.
Which just goes to show you, the exact same idea can lead to completely different stories.
Johnson demonstrates a deft comic timing here, with a talented fellow cast including the real star of the movie, Emily Blunt. His character has been going up and down the Amazon in a small river boat for years and pretty much has everything figured out, until he's nonplussed by Blunt's ... well, bluntness, not to mention smarts. This being Disney, the movie has both the humor and action parts down, and the stakes are high as our heroes search for a plant that might save thousands of lives in the trenches of World War I.
All is, of course, not what it seems. If the action gets a bit improbable ... well, it's a summer Disney flick, so there you go. As Johnson's character says, "Who brings a submarine up the Amazon?" Actually, that quote pretty much sums up the tone of the whole movie.
My score on both films:
Entertainment value: 4 out of 4 M&Ms. They're summer popcorn movies--if you want your popcorn with lots of laughs, over the top action, and dazzling effects, these are two great examples. (Actually, "Free Guy" has the advantage of being mostly in a video game, where over the top action is all too likely.)
Oscar Potential: 2 out of 4 M&Ms. They don't give out Oscars for "Most Fun Movie". Maybe they should.
http://markrhunter.com/
https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B0058CL6OO
https://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/&quo... R Hunter"
Stop laughing, I am.
After watching "Free Guy" and "Jungle Cruise" back to back, it became obvious to me why Ryan Reynolds and Dwayne Johnson have been on such a winning streak of late: They both decided to embrace the silly. Armed with comic timing and a wink at the audience, both men are well aware they've been dropped into universes that shouldn't be taken too seriously.
What that means, of course, is that you either love them or hate them. I love the fun.
In "Free Guy" Reynolds is Guy, which is as much a name as he gets because he's just an NPC--a Non Playable Character--in a popular video game. Every morning he gets up, grabs a coffee, and dodges explosions on the way to his job at the bank, which gets robbed several times a day. He thinks nothing of it, until one day he's entranced by a woman who's one of the sunglasses-wearing elite, the cool people who have no routine and simply do what they please.
Soon Guy's world is shaken when he discovers the elite are video game players, and he's merely one of those background characters whose only role is to be victim, supply items, or simply fill up space. He finds himself falling for the player (Jodie Comer), who's trying to correct an injustice in real life, and they both end up racing to save the fictional world before it's destroyed by its owner--who's ready to go with an entirely new version.
It's been done before, sort of--the first example that comes to mind is "The Lego Movie". Here it's done with new twists, style, great effects, humor--and heart, something Reynolds excels at. It doesn't hurt that there are some awesome cameos, including one by Reynolds' real-life wife. (And another by Dwayne Johnson.)
"Jungle Cruise" is based on Disney's Jungle Cruise, thus the name. The plot? Well, it's the same plot as that wonderful Brendan Fraser movie, "The Mummy". An uncouth adventurer in the early 20th Century is hired to take a female British researcher and her unadventurous brother into a dangerous wilderness, where they encounter supernatural threats.
Which just goes to show you, the exact same idea can lead to completely different stories.
Johnson demonstrates a deft comic timing here, with a talented fellow cast including the real star of the movie, Emily Blunt. His character has been going up and down the Amazon in a small river boat for years and pretty much has everything figured out, until he's nonplussed by Blunt's ... well, bluntness, not to mention smarts. This being Disney, the movie has both the humor and action parts down, and the stakes are high as our heroes search for a plant that might save thousands of lives in the trenches of World War I.
All is, of course, not what it seems. If the action gets a bit improbable ... well, it's a summer Disney flick, so there you go. As Johnson's character says, "Who brings a submarine up the Amazon?" Actually, that quote pretty much sums up the tone of the whole movie.
My score on both films:
Entertainment value: 4 out of 4 M&Ms. They're summer popcorn movies--if you want your popcorn with lots of laughs, over the top action, and dazzling effects, these are two great examples. (Actually, "Free Guy" has the advantage of being mostly in a video game, where over the top action is all too likely.)
Oscar Potential: 2 out of 4 M&Ms. They don't give out Oscars for "Most Fun Movie". Maybe they should.
http://markrhunter.com/
https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B0058CL6OO
https://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/&quo... R Hunter"
August 11, 2021
book review: Sod's Law, by Roger Lawrence
Arnold Pratt is ... well ... lazy. By night he's a security guard, keeping watch while building owners are gone. His big nightly decision is usually whether to fit in a short nap before, or after coffee. His clients are ... peculiar. But that's okay with Arnold, a homebody by day who's basically sleeping his way through life.
Ah, but Arnold lives in the U.K., where they have something called Sod's Law. Here in America we call it Murphy's Law: If something can go wrong, it will. Despite his best efforts to be invisible, Arnold soon finds himself on the run from different police agencies, not to mention the national government, and accused of committing a double murder he didn't even know happened. Soon everyone around him is either dying or trying to kill him, and poor Arnold gets more and more battered as he tries to figure out who he can trust.
https://www.amazon.com/Sods-Law-Roger...
Arnold is oddly passive as he pinballs through life, and it isn't until late in the novel that we find out there's a reason for it. At first he seems like a lazy bum with no redeeming qualities, but he does love his family, and tries his best to protect the properties he's charged with guarding. Nothing that happens to him is really his fault, but it's fun watching him try to muddle through the minor and major disasters until, deciding he's over being a punching bag, Arnold starts taking matters into his own hands.
It was a fun read, although I got confused a few times when new scenes started without a break. There didn't seem to be much about Arnold to cheer for, and I wish we'd found out earlier that his lack of emotional response had a cause. Just the same, I enjoyed puzzling out the mysteries, not to mention the sometimes bizarre people we encounter along the way. Many of these people end up being way more than they appear, and those reveals are a large part of the fun.
I should warn that there might be some head-scratching moments for people who don't live in England, but they're not hard to figure through. Although the story starts off a bit slowly, in the end Sod's Law is a fun ride.
http://markrhunter.com/
https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B0058CL6OO
https://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/&quo... R Hunter"
Ah, but Arnold lives in the U.K., where they have something called Sod's Law. Here in America we call it Murphy's Law: If something can go wrong, it will. Despite his best efforts to be invisible, Arnold soon finds himself on the run from different police agencies, not to mention the national government, and accused of committing a double murder he didn't even know happened. Soon everyone around him is either dying or trying to kill him, and poor Arnold gets more and more battered as he tries to figure out who he can trust.
https://www.amazon.com/Sods-Law-Roger...
Arnold is oddly passive as he pinballs through life, and it isn't until late in the novel that we find out there's a reason for it. At first he seems like a lazy bum with no redeeming qualities, but he does love his family, and tries his best to protect the properties he's charged with guarding. Nothing that happens to him is really his fault, but it's fun watching him try to muddle through the minor and major disasters until, deciding he's over being a punching bag, Arnold starts taking matters into his own hands.
It was a fun read, although I got confused a few times when new scenes started without a break. There didn't seem to be much about Arnold to cheer for, and I wish we'd found out earlier that his lack of emotional response had a cause. Just the same, I enjoyed puzzling out the mysteries, not to mention the sometimes bizarre people we encounter along the way. Many of these people end up being way more than they appear, and those reveals are a large part of the fun.
I should warn that there might be some head-scratching moments for people who don't live in England, but they're not hard to figure through. Although the story starts off a bit slowly, in the end Sod's Law is a fun ride.
http://markrhunter.com/
https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B0058CL6OO
https://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/&quo... R Hunter"
