James Hauenstein's Blog, page 83
January 25, 2018
The Fuhrer's Medallion - Chapter Two - Jim Hauenstein
The Fuhrer's Medallion
SATURDAY, JUNE 22nd12:36 p.m. “Mikkel, get in here, I want you to watch this TV show with
me.” Wilhelm shouts from the front porch. “Its about Adolf Hitler!
Mikkel is happy for the distraction. Grateful to put down the half
empty metal bucket and small hand shovel, getting away from
those annoying little biting horseflies. Before strolling up the five
steps onto the front porch, he looks around the mostly dirt yard,
telling himself that it is clean enough and heads into the house,
stepping to his left into the living room.
“You have to watch this program about Nazis and Adolf Hitler!”
Wilhelm tells him. Mikkel, a man of few words unless enraged in a fight,
acknowledges Willie with a simple nod. Wilhelm becomes so excited about watching something new on
the life of AdolfHitler that he actually runs into the kitchen to grab
a couple of beers, acting as if he might miss something in the
process, even though he had recorded the show earlier. Standing in front of the refrigerator, he can clearly hear the
opening theme song to the PBS program he wants to watch,
wishing now that he had never taught Mikkel how to use the
remote. Grandma Kiel's grandson always saves television programs, on
his Cable's DigitalVideo Recorder, when any channel broadcast
stories about Skinheads, White Power, Neo Nazis, The Third
Reich, or Adolf Hitler. It is his way of justifying, in his mind,the violent existence he lives in. Idolizing these stories of what
he believes are of great men, of great achievements, and of great
things still to come for the white race. Recording and admiring
these people, even when he knows the TV Producers are definitely
biased against these men and their past deeds. In Wilhelm's mind, and he will often tell anyone who will take
the time to listen,the World is afraid of glorifying any occurrence
that commemorates the pure Aryan Race. The World is fearful
of these events, that could inspire his white brethren to band
together today. He knows, the World as a whole, is frightened to
confirm, in anyway, their superiority as a Race. The real truth behind Wilhelm needing reassurance by the
violence these people portray is the need to overcome his own fear.
The fear of failure, fear of humility, fear of being left out, or left
alone. He feels inside that he isn’t smart enough, physical enough,
or attractive enough to be liked by his peers. All he can remember from his youth is the constant fear he felt
from people, his Grandmother, and for a short time, from his
abusive Father. Until he himself snapped one day at school, after a bunch of
heckling kids wouldn't stop and he punched an older student in the
mouth, who he thought was the leader of the group. He quickly
became aware of the fact, that in this fight and his many fights to
come, with a surprise assault on his adversaries, few of the kidsever fight back. Fights are never the drawn out battles you see in
the movies, they are often finished by one or two punches, and the
winner is usually the one who punches first! The unexpected and sudden respect he received from his peers
and the fright he saw in some of their eyes, gave him an
exhilarating feel to life. He realized, at a young age, that his quick
violent reactions to unbearable and embarrassing situations in life,
is his way to hide his own crippling fear. Violence would become
his shield against anyone ever finding out how fragile he really is
inside. With all the instant respect he thought he had gained, he still
couldn't hide from the fact that he always felt alone in the world.
He never put two and two together that he alienated any chance of
a true friendship or relationship by his violence. Grandma Kiel
and Mikkel Schmidt are the only people in his life and those twoalways seem to push him around! Mikkel is already seated, holding the remote, centered on the
davenport when Wilhelm brings back the two cans of beer. He sits
down next to Schmidt and starts to tell him, “I recorded this
program early this morning.” He hears a grunt from Mikkel. Willie thinks to acknowledge
that he is listening, but if he would have listened closely, it is to
say the expression, yeah right! Mickey knows “early this morning” for Willie means waking
up at ten thirty. “It is the first time I ever saw a TV show about Adolf Hitler
wearing a medallion, or the first time I ever heard of it.” Willie
is trying to express the excitement he feels. “What are you talking about?” Mikkel queries. “All we are
going to see is something about a Nazi medallion?” “No, it’s a medallion worn by Adolf Hitler.” Wilhelm explains. “And you think we should watch this?” Wilhelm, clearly frustrated now by Mikkel’s queries blurts
out, “Just watch the damn show and we'll talk about it later.” He
pushes the volume button up on the remote control to drown out
anymore questions that might come out of Mikkel's mouth. A Hip-Pop theme song is blaring out its ending lyrics on the
flat screen TV's speakers, a little louder than would be
accustomed to most functional families. But, being dysfunctional
are the boy's trademark. Wilhelm jumps to his feet once again, excited as a child, and
loudly proclaims. “I’ll get us a couple of more beers, so we won't be interrupted
during the show!” The rhythmic beat of the theme song almost choreographs his
excitement as he bounces his way into the kitchen once more. Mikkel, barely turning his head, yells, “Bring me my eggs
and bacon from this morning!” Willie returns only with a can of beer in each hand,
reaching out to give one to Mikkel. “Where's my eggs?” Mikkel questions while swiping a can
of beer from Wilhelm’s hand. “You can eat later. I just want to get to the story about
Adolf Hitler.” Wilhelm says ignoring Mikkel's glaring eyes. Sitting next to his roommate, Wilhelm fast forwards to the
beginning of the story he has been waiting all day to see.
Pushing the play button, you see a fiftyish looking female
announcer on the television screen and hear her prepping the
story. “Our last story investigates what maybe a rare Nazi Ceremonial
Medallion that could have been worn by Adolf Hitler.” Says
Gwendolyn Connors, one of four Investigators and the Narrator
on this particular segment of the PBS program, “Historical
Investigation.” There is a pause in Gwendolyn's narration as standard stock
footage of Nazis marching by and saluting Adolf Hitler is
displayed on the TV screen for visual effect. She continues,
“Hitler’s terrifying rise to power came in a few short years in the
Nineteen-Thirties.” Another pause for dramatic effect as more
video footage is shown. “Much of his success was due in part, to
his masterful use of propaganda. The manipulation of words and
images to win the hearts and minds of the German people.
Thousands of documentaries, newsreels, and short films were
made to glorify Hitler and the Third Reich. Today, any new
discovery of this period is an important opportunity to delve into
the minds and motivations of Adolf Hitler and his followers in the
Nazi Party. Now Mary Russell from Oceanside California wants
us to investigate a Nazi Medallion that was brought back from
Germany by her Grandfather that has been stored in a family's
chest, with other old war mementos, for more than sixty-eight
years.” A young beautiful Caucasian woman with definite Filipino
facial features, short cropped black hair, and proudly wearing her
dress blues of The U.S. Marine Corps appears on the TV screen.
She is standing in front of a small, two story, turquoise colored,
two bedroom home. With the typical one large picture window to
the right of the entrance way and the two, split down the middle,
single size windows with decorative washboard wood paneling
along each side to, geometrically, balance the surface features of
the front of the house. “My Grandfather, Staff Sergeant Andrew James Russell, sent
home memorabilia after the fall of Berlin while he was stationed
in South-West Germany during the allied occupation.” Mary says
to the TV camera, trying to explain her story while holding up the
ribbon artifact for all to see. “When I was a young girl in the nineteen-nineties, World War II
was still in the hearts and minds of the Veterans still alive from
that Great War. My Grandfather and his buddies from the 78th
Infantry Division would have reunions and I would hear their
stories on how the battles back then were so much different than
the type of fighting that goes on today. On occasion, he would
bring out his chest full of War memorabilia and tell me what each
piece meant to him. My Grandpa always brought this medallion
out last, relating his memories on how he came to possess it and
why he thought it was important.” The scene switches from the out of doors, in front of the house,
to the two women sitting comfortably at a small oak dining room
table inside Mary's Kitchen. As the camera pans the eating area's
longest wall, the television audience can see that it is full of
photographs of different family members. Dressed in the changing
military uniforms of the United States from different eras and
different branches of the arm forces, to other photos of Filipino
freedom fighters from World War Two. The camera again faces Gwendolyn Connors as she asks,
“Can you tell us the story on how your Grandfather came to
possess this Nazi artifact and why he felt it was so important?” Focusing the camera on both women now, Mary replies,
“After V-E day, Staff Sergeant Russell was assigned patrol duty
along the Rhine River in the area that borders Germany and
Switzerland. He and his men had to cover an eighty kilometer
area, or just about fifty miles. He was told by his commanding
officer that there had been reports of German dissidents crossing
the river in this area to get entryway into the small village of
Rekingen, Switzerland. Before the war, the township already
boasted of having many German ancestral families living in the
area! My Grandfather told me that there was only one incident that
he and his men came across. It was with an older gentleman who
came hiking out of the woods and was surprised to see them
patrolling along the river here!” Mary takes a short breath as Gwendolyn slightly bobs her head
up and down in confirmation that she is paying attention. Mary
straightens herself vertically in her chair as she continues, “As it
turns out this man didn't have any identity papers on him so he was
searched. Once the Medallion was found and he knew his captures
were going to confiscate it, without a weapon, this German
attacked my Grandfather and was shot in the process.” Mary picks up the artifact off the table in front of them and
looks at it for a moment, then gazing past Gwendolyn, as if she
was gazing into the past, recites, “Grandfather always said there
has to be more to this Medallion than meets the eye. Its not on any
list of medals the Germans gave out during or after World War One
or Two. Not militarily or for civilians. My Grandfather had it
appraised and found it has little value except to maybe a collector.” Mary pauses again, staring straight through Gwendolyn's black
rim glasses focusing into her faded green eyes and says, “Against
all odds this German fought ferociously, giving up his life, for a
piece of jewelry which has no value!” A hint of the expression why, shows on Mary's face! Mrs. Connors seizes the opportunity to lean over, putting her
elbows on the table, capturing Miss Russell and the television's
audience attention by asking, “And why do you believe Adolf
Hitler wore this medallion?” “That, I have to take the word of my Grandfather.” Mary
answers. “He mentioned a few times to me that he himself had
seen captured video footage, back in the mid nineteen-forties, of
Adolf Hitler wearing it during one of his retreats. The video he saw
was taken before the war had started. Sometime in the middle to
late nineteen-thirties he believed.”
While the two tatted skinheads were transfixed on the television
screen, Grandma Kiel reaches from behind the couch, in between
both, to grab the TV remote off the middle cushion, turning off the
TV set right at this point in the story. Both men jump to their feet,
turning around to face, what they expected was a double barrel
shotgun. But were astonished by the calmness in the elderly
woman. Standing there, quiet, with the remote control in her hand,
Willie's Grandmother starts slowing turning away from the two,
deep in thought. Looking for something forgotten, a thought or
memory from her past. A reminiscence that needs to be brought back
from the depths of a lifetime full of positive andneglected experiences. “Wilhelm?” the Matriarch peacefully asks her Grandson,
“I want you find out if that is the girl's real name.” She was talking
with such clarity. Something inside of her was influencing her
thoughts, her speech. The two boys could see it in her.It isn't from putting her teeth in today, it is something else. “I also
want you to find out if she does live in Oceanside and where
exactly. Do you understand me?”Tossing the remote to him gently instead of the usual overhand fast
pitch. “Mikkel, I want you to come up stairs with me. I need you to
help me reach a book in the second bedroom.” “Grandma, are you feeling alright?” Her Grandson asks. “Ya Grandma Kiel, are you OK?” Mikkel questions immediately
after Willie. Now it was the two relatives looking at Mikkel with
astonishment. Neither of them ever realized that he actually
thought about or cared for someone other than himself. “Boy, you two are some dumb asses sometimes.” The spark
came back into Grandma Kiel's voice.“Do you want me to start yelling at you two again? Is that the way
you like it?” Mikkel and Wilhelm look at each other dumbfounded. They can
now clearly hear, that their concerns are misplaced. “Just do what I tell you to do or do I have to get out my
shotgun?” The crescendo rising in each of her spoken words!
This is,Not A Book In Favor Of Neo-NazisOr What Hitler Did.Read Each Chapter As They Come OutAnd You Will See That I Am Not Condoning Their Actions.Jim Hauenstein,
And,
“The Nazis learned as much from American Gangster Organizations, as their propaganda was learned from American Business Publicity.”
- Hannah Arendt, -
That is my story and I am sticking to it!
Like what you reading?
Sign up as a Follower,
or Set up my Blog
as your Homepage
on your Web-browser,
or Leave a Comment,
or a Suggestion,
and I will answer you in a Post.
Thanks for reading.
If you are reading this on a
Cell-Phone,below this story you will see aLinkwhere it says;View Web Version.To truly get the full benefit of myBlog,I suggest you view the web version.You will just have to expand the page to be able to read it.Thanks again.
SATURDAY, JUNE 22nd12:36 p.m. “Mikkel, get in here, I want you to watch this TV show with
me.” Wilhelm shouts from the front porch. “Its about Adolf Hitler!
Mikkel is happy for the distraction. Grateful to put down the half
empty metal bucket and small hand shovel, getting away from
those annoying little biting horseflies. Before strolling up the five
steps onto the front porch, he looks around the mostly dirt yard,
telling himself that it is clean enough and heads into the house,
stepping to his left into the living room.
“You have to watch this program about Nazis and Adolf Hitler!”
Wilhelm tells him. Mikkel, a man of few words unless enraged in a fight,
acknowledges Willie with a simple nod. Wilhelm becomes so excited about watching something new on
the life of AdolfHitler that he actually runs into the kitchen to grab
a couple of beers, acting as if he might miss something in the
process, even though he had recorded the show earlier. Standing in front of the refrigerator, he can clearly hear the
opening theme song to the PBS program he wants to watch,
wishing now that he had never taught Mikkel how to use the
remote. Grandma Kiel's grandson always saves television programs, on
his Cable's DigitalVideo Recorder, when any channel broadcast
stories about Skinheads, White Power, Neo Nazis, The Third
Reich, or Adolf Hitler. It is his way of justifying, in his mind,the violent existence he lives in. Idolizing these stories of what
he believes are of great men, of great achievements, and of great
things still to come for the white race. Recording and admiring
these people, even when he knows the TV Producers are definitely
biased against these men and their past deeds. In Wilhelm's mind, and he will often tell anyone who will take
the time to listen,the World is afraid of glorifying any occurrence
that commemorates the pure Aryan Race. The World is fearful
of these events, that could inspire his white brethren to band
together today. He knows, the World as a whole, is frightened to
confirm, in anyway, their superiority as a Race. The real truth behind Wilhelm needing reassurance by the
violence these people portray is the need to overcome his own fear.
The fear of failure, fear of humility, fear of being left out, or left
alone. He feels inside that he isn’t smart enough, physical enough,
or attractive enough to be liked by his peers. All he can remember from his youth is the constant fear he felt
from people, his Grandmother, and for a short time, from his
abusive Father. Until he himself snapped one day at school, after a bunch of
heckling kids wouldn't stop and he punched an older student in the
mouth, who he thought was the leader of the group. He quickly
became aware of the fact, that in this fight and his many fights to
come, with a surprise assault on his adversaries, few of the kidsever fight back. Fights are never the drawn out battles you see in
the movies, they are often finished by one or two punches, and the
winner is usually the one who punches first! The unexpected and sudden respect he received from his peers
and the fright he saw in some of their eyes, gave him an
exhilarating feel to life. He realized, at a young age, that his quick
violent reactions to unbearable and embarrassing situations in life,
is his way to hide his own crippling fear. Violence would become
his shield against anyone ever finding out how fragile he really is
inside. With all the instant respect he thought he had gained, he still
couldn't hide from the fact that he always felt alone in the world.
He never put two and two together that he alienated any chance of
a true friendship or relationship by his violence. Grandma Kiel
and Mikkel Schmidt are the only people in his life and those twoalways seem to push him around! Mikkel is already seated, holding the remote, centered on the
davenport when Wilhelm brings back the two cans of beer. He sits
down next to Schmidt and starts to tell him, “I recorded this
program early this morning.” He hears a grunt from Mikkel. Willie thinks to acknowledge
that he is listening, but if he would have listened closely, it is to
say the expression, yeah right! Mickey knows “early this morning” for Willie means waking
up at ten thirty. “It is the first time I ever saw a TV show about Adolf Hitler
wearing a medallion, or the first time I ever heard of it.” Willie
is trying to express the excitement he feels. “What are you talking about?” Mikkel queries. “All we are
going to see is something about a Nazi medallion?” “No, it’s a medallion worn by Adolf Hitler.” Wilhelm explains. “And you think we should watch this?” Wilhelm, clearly frustrated now by Mikkel’s queries blurts
out, “Just watch the damn show and we'll talk about it later.” He
pushes the volume button up on the remote control to drown out
anymore questions that might come out of Mikkel's mouth. A Hip-Pop theme song is blaring out its ending lyrics on the
flat screen TV's speakers, a little louder than would be
accustomed to most functional families. But, being dysfunctional
are the boy's trademark. Wilhelm jumps to his feet once again, excited as a child, and
loudly proclaims. “I’ll get us a couple of more beers, so we won't be interrupted
during the show!” The rhythmic beat of the theme song almost choreographs his
excitement as he bounces his way into the kitchen once more. Mikkel, barely turning his head, yells, “Bring me my eggs
and bacon from this morning!” Willie returns only with a can of beer in each hand,
reaching out to give one to Mikkel. “Where's my eggs?” Mikkel questions while swiping a can
of beer from Wilhelm’s hand. “You can eat later. I just want to get to the story about
Adolf Hitler.” Wilhelm says ignoring Mikkel's glaring eyes. Sitting next to his roommate, Wilhelm fast forwards to the
beginning of the story he has been waiting all day to see.
Pushing the play button, you see a fiftyish looking female
announcer on the television screen and hear her prepping the
story. “Our last story investigates what maybe a rare Nazi Ceremonial
Medallion that could have been worn by Adolf Hitler.” Says
Gwendolyn Connors, one of four Investigators and the Narrator
on this particular segment of the PBS program, “Historical
Investigation.” There is a pause in Gwendolyn's narration as standard stock
footage of Nazis marching by and saluting Adolf Hitler is
displayed on the TV screen for visual effect. She continues,
“Hitler’s terrifying rise to power came in a few short years in the
Nineteen-Thirties.” Another pause for dramatic effect as more
video footage is shown. “Much of his success was due in part, to
his masterful use of propaganda. The manipulation of words and
images to win the hearts and minds of the German people.
Thousands of documentaries, newsreels, and short films were
made to glorify Hitler and the Third Reich. Today, any new
discovery of this period is an important opportunity to delve into
the minds and motivations of Adolf Hitler and his followers in the
Nazi Party. Now Mary Russell from Oceanside California wants
us to investigate a Nazi Medallion that was brought back from
Germany by her Grandfather that has been stored in a family's
chest, with other old war mementos, for more than sixty-eight
years.” A young beautiful Caucasian woman with definite Filipino
facial features, short cropped black hair, and proudly wearing her
dress blues of The U.S. Marine Corps appears on the TV screen.
She is standing in front of a small, two story, turquoise colored,
two bedroom home. With the typical one large picture window to
the right of the entrance way and the two, split down the middle,
single size windows with decorative washboard wood paneling
along each side to, geometrically, balance the surface features of
the front of the house. “My Grandfather, Staff Sergeant Andrew James Russell, sent
home memorabilia after the fall of Berlin while he was stationed
in South-West Germany during the allied occupation.” Mary says
to the TV camera, trying to explain her story while holding up the
ribbon artifact for all to see. “When I was a young girl in the nineteen-nineties, World War II
was still in the hearts and minds of the Veterans still alive from
that Great War. My Grandfather and his buddies from the 78th
Infantry Division would have reunions and I would hear their
stories on how the battles back then were so much different than
the type of fighting that goes on today. On occasion, he would
bring out his chest full of War memorabilia and tell me what each
piece meant to him. My Grandpa always brought this medallion
out last, relating his memories on how he came to possess it and
why he thought it was important.” The scene switches from the out of doors, in front of the house,
to the two women sitting comfortably at a small oak dining room
table inside Mary's Kitchen. As the camera pans the eating area's
longest wall, the television audience can see that it is full of
photographs of different family members. Dressed in the changing
military uniforms of the United States from different eras and
different branches of the arm forces, to other photos of Filipino
freedom fighters from World War Two. The camera again faces Gwendolyn Connors as she asks,
“Can you tell us the story on how your Grandfather came to
possess this Nazi artifact and why he felt it was so important?” Focusing the camera on both women now, Mary replies,
“After V-E day, Staff Sergeant Russell was assigned patrol duty
along the Rhine River in the area that borders Germany and
Switzerland. He and his men had to cover an eighty kilometer
area, or just about fifty miles. He was told by his commanding
officer that there had been reports of German dissidents crossing
the river in this area to get entryway into the small village of
Rekingen, Switzerland. Before the war, the township already
boasted of having many German ancestral families living in the
area! My Grandfather told me that there was only one incident that
he and his men came across. It was with an older gentleman who
came hiking out of the woods and was surprised to see them
patrolling along the river here!” Mary takes a short breath as Gwendolyn slightly bobs her head
up and down in confirmation that she is paying attention. Mary
straightens herself vertically in her chair as she continues, “As it
turns out this man didn't have any identity papers on him so he was
searched. Once the Medallion was found and he knew his captures
were going to confiscate it, without a weapon, this German
attacked my Grandfather and was shot in the process.” Mary picks up the artifact off the table in front of them and
looks at it for a moment, then gazing past Gwendolyn, as if she
was gazing into the past, recites, “Grandfather always said there
has to be more to this Medallion than meets the eye. Its not on any
list of medals the Germans gave out during or after World War One
or Two. Not militarily or for civilians. My Grandfather had it
appraised and found it has little value except to maybe a collector.” Mary pauses again, staring straight through Gwendolyn's black
rim glasses focusing into her faded green eyes and says, “Against
all odds this German fought ferociously, giving up his life, for a
piece of jewelry which has no value!” A hint of the expression why, shows on Mary's face! Mrs. Connors seizes the opportunity to lean over, putting her
elbows on the table, capturing Miss Russell and the television's
audience attention by asking, “And why do you believe Adolf
Hitler wore this medallion?” “That, I have to take the word of my Grandfather.” Mary
answers. “He mentioned a few times to me that he himself had
seen captured video footage, back in the mid nineteen-forties, of
Adolf Hitler wearing it during one of his retreats. The video he saw
was taken before the war had started. Sometime in the middle to
late nineteen-thirties he believed.”
While the two tatted skinheads were transfixed on the television
screen, Grandma Kiel reaches from behind the couch, in between
both, to grab the TV remote off the middle cushion, turning off the
TV set right at this point in the story. Both men jump to their feet,
turning around to face, what they expected was a double barrel
shotgun. But were astonished by the calmness in the elderly
woman. Standing there, quiet, with the remote control in her hand,
Willie's Grandmother starts slowing turning away from the two,
deep in thought. Looking for something forgotten, a thought or
memory from her past. A reminiscence that needs to be brought back
from the depths of a lifetime full of positive andneglected experiences. “Wilhelm?” the Matriarch peacefully asks her Grandson,
“I want you find out if that is the girl's real name.” She was talking
with such clarity. Something inside of her was influencing her
thoughts, her speech. The two boys could see it in her.It isn't from putting her teeth in today, it is something else. “I also
want you to find out if she does live in Oceanside and where
exactly. Do you understand me?”Tossing the remote to him gently instead of the usual overhand fast
pitch. “Mikkel, I want you to come up stairs with me. I need you to
help me reach a book in the second bedroom.” “Grandma, are you feeling alright?” Her Grandson asks. “Ya Grandma Kiel, are you OK?” Mikkel questions immediately
after Willie. Now it was the two relatives looking at Mikkel with
astonishment. Neither of them ever realized that he actually
thought about or cared for someone other than himself. “Boy, you two are some dumb asses sometimes.” The spark
came back into Grandma Kiel's voice.“Do you want me to start yelling at you two again? Is that the way
you like it?” Mikkel and Wilhelm look at each other dumbfounded. They can
now clearly hear, that their concerns are misplaced. “Just do what I tell you to do or do I have to get out my
shotgun?” The crescendo rising in each of her spoken words!
This is,Not A Book In Favor Of Neo-NazisOr What Hitler Did.Read Each Chapter As They Come OutAnd You Will See That I Am Not Condoning Their Actions.Jim Hauenstein,And,
“The Nazis learned as much from American Gangster Organizations, as their propaganda was learned from American Business Publicity.”
- Hannah Arendt, -
That is my story and I am sticking to it!
Like what you reading?
Sign up as a Follower,
or Set up my Blog
as your Homepage
on your Web-browser,
or Leave a Comment,
or a Suggestion,
and I will answer you in a Post.
Thanks for reading.
If you are reading this on a
Cell-Phone,below this story you will see aLinkwhere it says;View Web Version.To truly get the full benefit of myBlog,I suggest you view the web version.You will just have to expand the page to be able to read it.Thanks again.
January 23, 2018
All Around Us
You say a revolution is coming,because people are no longer caring.
All around us,pessimism is filling up our air,you're warning me to beware.
You're telling me people are no longer good,
even the ones in your neighborhood.
All around us,
evil is filling up our streets,
and kindness is obsolete.
I see the world differently,
I do see people being friendly.
All around us,
helping the homeless get a new start,
giving love, straight from their heart.
It is not the world becoming a hater, it is your mind becoming the traitor.
All around us,
I see happiness in people's eyes,
the ones who never listen to the lies.
Associate yourself with those who are negative,
in life, you will never see the positive.
All around us,
haters love you when you hate,
and misery loves you when you relate.
Surround yourself with characters who are positive.
Where they show love and are supportive. All around us,
there is so much to be enjoyed
let your cynicism be destroyed.
It's your happiness and attitude,
you will need to exude.All around us,
you will find, the really dogmatic truth is,
that happiness is a practiced ascesis.
This is,
Really Believing That Happiness Is In The Way You Think,
And Who You Associate With.
Surround Yourself With The Right Positive People.
Jim Hauenstein,
And,
“Attitude is a choice. Happiness is a choice. Optimism is a choice. Kindness is a choice. Giving is a choice. Respect is a choice. Whatever choice you make, makes you. Choose wisely.”
- Roy T. Bennett, -
That is my story and I am sticking to it!
Like what you reading?
Sign up as a Follower,
or Set up my Blog
as your Homepage
on your Web-browser,
or Leave a Comment,
or a Suggestion,
and I will answer you in a Post.
Thanks for reading.
If you are reading this on a
Cell-Phone,below this story you will see aLinkwhere it says;View Web Version.To truly get the full benefit of myBlog,I suggest you view the web version.You will just have to expand the page to be able to read it.Thanks again.
All around us,pessimism is filling up our air,you're warning me to beware.
You're telling me people are no longer good,
even the ones in your neighborhood.
All around us,
evil is filling up our streets,
and kindness is obsolete.
I see the world differently,
I do see people being friendly.
All around us,
helping the homeless get a new start,
giving love, straight from their heart.
It is not the world becoming a hater, it is your mind becoming the traitor.
All around us,
I see happiness in people's eyes,
the ones who never listen to the lies.
Associate yourself with those who are negative,
in life, you will never see the positive.
All around us,
haters love you when you hate,
and misery loves you when you relate.
Surround yourself with characters who are positive.
Where they show love and are supportive. All around us,
there is so much to be enjoyed
let your cynicism be destroyed.
It's your happiness and attitude,
you will need to exude.All around us,
you will find, the really dogmatic truth is,
that happiness is a practiced ascesis.
This is,
Really Believing That Happiness Is In The Way You Think,
And Who You Associate With.
Surround Yourself With The Right Positive People.
Jim Hauenstein,
And,
“Attitude is a choice. Happiness is a choice. Optimism is a choice. Kindness is a choice. Giving is a choice. Respect is a choice. Whatever choice you make, makes you. Choose wisely.”
- Roy T. Bennett, -
That is my story and I am sticking to it!
Like what you reading?
Sign up as a Follower,
or Set up my Blog
as your Homepage
on your Web-browser,
or Leave a Comment,
or a Suggestion,
and I will answer you in a Post.
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Cell-Phone,below this story you will see aLinkwhere it says;View Web Version.To truly get the full benefit of myBlog,I suggest you view the web version.You will just have to expand the page to be able to read it.Thanks again.
January 22, 2018
The Fuhrer's Medallion By Jim Hauenstein
The Fuhrer's Medallion This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to another person. If you would like to share this book with someone else, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. This eBook is a work of fiction. The use of Historical Figures, Political Organizations, Religious Groups, Medical Institutions, Locations and Events are not necessarily depicted accurately, but from the imagination of the Author. Any other resemblance to people used in the story, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. These other characters, places, events, and locales are product of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.
This eBook is dedicated to my Father. A person I still look up to today, even though I'm taller. A man who loves a good mystery and as it turns out, I have been his biggest puzzle throughout the years. I believe he feels that he has finally figured me out, so let us see if I still have a few surprises up my sleeve with this manuscript. Love ya Dad!
I would also like to thank a very special individual who passed away in 2012, Mister Jeffery Keyes. During those dark days, where a lot of people would give up hope because of becoming handicapped, you always found it in your heart the time to push me forward with my writings, encouraging me to always stay positive in life, and you always talked about doing new things in your future as if nothing was wrong with you. I miss our daily conversations about music, science, and our lives. Thank you my friend for being part of my life. I know we have talked about the “After Life” extensively, and I do believe as you, that energy can't be destroyed. So I'm sure you are in a better place today, watching over me, like the good friend you have always been for the last forty years.
The Fuhrer's Medallion
SATURDAY, JUNE 22nd10:30 a.m.
Sitting slouched on a dog haired covered three cushioned couch, drinking his first beer of the day, Wilhelm Kiel recites his usual verse after taking that initial swig. “Ah, the breakfast of champions!”He is seated there surfing through the cable channels, his daily unemployed occupation, when he finally comes across a story on the local PBS channel that looks kind of interesting. He presses the record button on the remote control while yelling, “Mickey, get in here. You need to watch this!”Mickey is actually Mikkel Bernard Schmidt. A six foot five, two hundred sixty-five pound, clean shaven, chest like a barrel, Germanic skin head. He especially does not like being called Mickey, the nickname given to him by his five foot eleven, one hundred ninety pound, beer swigging roommate. Mikkelhas repeatedly tried to hammer this point to Wilhelm, but now is as good a time as any to remind him of this fact.He isn't particularly fond of the name because of a famous Mouse, whose billboards are strewn in every direction, in and around a two hundred mile radius outside the Greater Los Angeles area. He associates the name as someone who is afraid, timid, or weak. And Mikkelknows he isn't weak, he is a man, not a mouse. A blond, blue eyed, pure Scandinavian color of a man. With the fine jaw line and perfect cheek bones, he admires about himself daily, which would have included him, in an earlier time, into “The Perfect Race!”This reflection he has about himself and the state of his life always makes him feel as if he was born too late. If only he could have been there to help his beloved Fuhrer, he thinks to himself, surely things would have turned out differently.So today, he is bound and determined to prove what his pure breeding can bring to the local chapter of the “White Power” movement! Nothing is going to get in his way or change his mind. Not even Wilhelm Kiel, the roommate who is always getting under his skin by his blatant disregard for Mikkel's wishes.Wilhelm has a nickname of his own, Willie. Given to him by Mikkel and it stems from the pure act of childish revenge. Yet, the revenge he plans on inflicting today will taste the sweetest of all.Willie doesn't have the same ambitions Mikkel has. He is just happy that a group of individuals accept him for what he is and that they never ask him to do too much. He just likes to drink beer all day.After a moment of quiet contemplation, Mikkel lets his anger reach its boiling point. Suddenly, you can hear themilitary boots he wears stomping on the kitchen’s old cracked linoleum floor. With each Earth quake like stomp, the fattened cock roaches inside, outside, behind, and underneath the kitchen cabinets, scurry in the opposite direction of every percussive step. His massive legs are almost goose-stepping as they pound their way towards the worn away varnish of the wood floor in the living room.Dressed in only fatigue pants and boots, due in part to the lack of household funds to operate the central air conditioning, Mikkel starts breathing heavily to puff out his chest even further. He is bound and determined to loosen a few of the teeth Willie still owns with the frying pan he has just grab off the gas stove.After rounding out of the kitchen, barging his way though a short corridor, and turning into the living area, he screams, “Willie you asshole, I had it wit you!”This was all the warning Wilhelm needs to squirm his way from the oncoming blow. Willie knows from experience, and he had the scars to prove it, that Mikkel always bellows a few words of warning to freeze his intended victims before he lays a hand on them. He knows that Mikkel is into seeing the fright in someone’s eyes as much as he is into the beating itself. Willie ducks to his left from his sitting position in the center of the davenport away from the oncoming menace. Narrowly missing, getting clobbered by the two handed tennis like stroke Mikkel uses to swing the skillet. Knocking over an already rocky metal TV tray in his path that carries his three empty beer cans from the night before and the fresh cold one from this morning.The pan comes flat upon the cushioned backrest of the couch, shooting up a cloud of dust and dog hairs, obscuring Mikkel’s vision just long enough for Willie to have a two step jump for his escape.As the small cloud starts to settle, the former owners of those hairs, both German Shepherds, begin growling and barking as spectators, not daring to intrude or succumb to a swift kick to their chest cavities.“God Mickey this is important!” Wilhelm squeaks as he heads his way towards the front door. He figures if he can get outside, there will be enough room to maneuver. Adding to that, Mikkel’s weight and heavy boots, these additional factors will help tire him out sooner.“I want to tell you something about Hitler!”These last words are barely audible as the thrown skillet comes crashing onto an over decorated, swap meet purchased, cheap ceramic lamp which shatters louder than his pleading words.As Wilhelm closes in on the front door he sees his opportunity to slow down Mikkel’s assault. A metal softball bat lying upright next to the door to ward off unwelcome solicitors.Grabbing it with both hands he swings it around, lifting it high above his head to do an ax like blow upon his assailant’s cranium. Mikkel doesn’t hesitate though, even with Willie now having a weapon of his own, he keeps on coming.Until they both hear that distinctive metal clasp!The two men immediately recognize the sound of the harden steel of a break action, side by side ten gauge shotgun clasping together. An audible noise, usually only heard, just after the gun has been loaded. They recognize the fresh odor of gun oil, which now tickles their noses almost simultaneously. A sent, which drifts down from above them, hitching a ride along side a cool breeze.That draft of cold air originates from the Master Bedroom's opened doorway, which holds the only windowed air conditioner. Coming down to warn them along a flight of steps, that lead to the three upstairs bedrooms, all occupied or used by the home's owner.Halting their battle, which now seems like child’s play compared to the danger looming above, both men turn to look up towards the top of the stairwell. The only staircase in the house which enables access to those second floor rooms occupied by the matron, Grandma Kiel and all the worldly possessions she still cares about.The two stand there, perilously close to one another, watching as the elderly woman aims both barrels in their direction. She slowly uses two arthritic fingers to squeeze the gun's triggers.She knows by experience that if you point the shotgun at the lowest point of your targeting area and slowly lift the barrels of the weapon up with your left hand while squeezing those triggers with your right, when the hammers hit the shotgun shells, the backlash of physical energy from the recoil will dissipate more with the upward movement of the side by side, instead of the full force pressing squarely against her shoulder.Before her sclerotic fingers can force enough pressure to finish their squeezing, Wilhelm drops his bat and dives to his right, heading into an unfurnished dinning room. While Mikkel, taking a cue from Willie, dives left for the protection of the couch, as both barrels rain rock salt against the heavily dog scratched oak door and cedar panels inserted along side the wall. Rectangular slots that once housed small stained glass windows which have been blasted away years before.“Grand-ma-ma, what was that for?” her Grandson whines, while getting up on one knee in the empty room.The gun toting sixty-six year old Matriarch of the house is a toothless, filter-less, Camel smoking dowager who never dresses properly except for a multilayered pink nighty and a sky blue house coat which she adorns daily in the home the local skinheads call “The Club House.” Used monthly for the local chapter of the White Power Movement's local meetings.The Club House is recessed far enough from other homes and passing motorists out on Mission Road, the main thoroughfare leading into The City of Fallbrook, that any of the occasional gunfire, loud drunken yelling, and heavy metal rock music being blasted during their gatherings never seems to be heard by anyone. The front of the house is hidden from travelers by the scattering of uncut native California foliage and a row of eighty year old Eucalyptus trees that border the front of the property.Surrounding the north and east sides of the fifteen acre parcel of land are avocado trees, grown on the property to supplement Grandma Kiel's Social Security income. On the west side are the mounds of stone boulders the San Diego County locals like to call mountains. Not like the tree infested mountains of the Appalachians in Eastern United States or the dry desert types of the southern Rockies, just pushed around mounds of rock from the last ice age, formed thousands of years before.The closet neighbor to the Kiel household is at least twenty-eight acres away which would account for the seldom recorded complaint at the Sheriff’s Department or the City of Fallbrook Police Department. A township best known as the “Avocado Capital of the World” and home to one of the best publicized chapters of any White Supremacist Group in California during the Nineteen-Nineties.Now with the economy of the State going down the toilet once again and unemployment rising to its highest levels since the Depression, the area again sees an influx of disenchanted white youths coming into town, who are looking for answers. The perfect ingredients for the rise in power of Carl Hostetler. Grandma Kiel's friend since he became of age.He has just enough charisma and youthful looks to organize the prejudices of these young people, bringing, once again, the rise of the Neo-Nazi Party into the town of Fallbrook.“I told you boys ta stop with all tha' raucous in my house!” Grandma Kiel gums, not having the time to put in her teeth.The two could have certainly over powered the old lady at any time, but Grandma Kiel has a quick German temper and that deep raunchy cigarette laden voice that still belts out commands with authority. And these boys, boys because of the lack of an education for one and maturity for the other, fall in line when she gives them an order.“Mickey, git outside n pick up all the dog crap in da yard!” Grandma Kiel orders, “You know there's a meetin’ tomorrow, na' git go-in!”Mikkel knows it will be useless to argue with her so he heads towards the front door, slightly side stepping into the dinning room area just far enough so he can give Wilhelm a good shove, sprawling him back onto the wooden floor.“Willie, git up off the floor ya lazy bum and git to printin’ out our new pamphlets for the meetin’ tomorrow.”Since Wilhelm's father was imprisoned for the killing of a migrant worker, he had been raised since the early nineties by his Grandmother and brought up in a household based solely on the virtues of the Aryan race. He didn’t know his mother but was always told she was a coward of a woman that had left when he was just an infant. He always knew his Grandmother as a head strong woman that demanded complete submission to her commands or you would end up on the wrong side of the shotgun pulling rock salt out of your ass. Rumor has it, a couple of fellows that used to bunked in the Club House during the Nineteen Eighties might not have been so lucky when shot with the rock salt Grandma Kiel had used. The legend goes, if you are close enough to the gun when the salt hits you, you have little chance of survival! It will tear away flesh, right to the bone!Nothing has ever been proven, but with her temper you don’t want to be the next one to find out.As the boys go about there business, Grandma Kiel turns from the top of the stairway to return to the air conditioned comfort of her bedroom. Bringing out her cleaning kit to work on the shotgun. Remembering what Carl Hostetler had always told her. “The salt will ruin the riffling inside the barrels without proper cleaning. If left alone, the small particles and scratches left by the salt would eventually eat the barrel from the inside out. Exploding one day when regular buckshot was used!”What the hell did he know, she thought. This was her father's shotgun and he always used rock salt on those ungrateful migrant workers when they came around asking for a little bit more money to feed their family’s.“That's what's wrong with these inferior races!” He would say, “Give them a days work, with a days pay, and they ask for more! If they can't feed those little rats of theirs, why don't they stop breeding like rats!”It brought a toothless smile to her face thinking about her father and the good old days, when nobody cared on how many of those Mexicans you killed. Look at today, her son Johan is behind bars for chopping a hand off of one those filthy Mexicans when he caught him stealing. Isn't that what the Bible says people used to do to thieves, chop off their hands when they stole something? How could my son have known that the wetback would bleed to death! This is,Not A Book In Favor Of Neo-NazisOr What Hitler Did.Read Each Chapter As They Come OutAnd You Will See That I Am Not Condoning Their Actions.Jim Hauenstein,
And,
“The Nazis learned as much from American Gangster Organizations, as their propaganda was learned from American Business Publicity.”
- Hannah Arendt, -
That is my story and I am sticking to it!
Like what you reading?
Sign up as a Follower,
or Set up my Blog
as your Homepage
on your Web-browser,
or Leave a Comment,
or a Suggestion,
and I will answer you in a Post.
Thanks for reading.
If you are reading this on a
Cell-Phone,below this story you will see aLinkwhere it says;View Web Version.To truly get the full benefit of myBlog,I suggest you view the web version.You will just have to expand the page to be able to read it.Thanks again.
This eBook is dedicated to my Father. A person I still look up to today, even though I'm taller. A man who loves a good mystery and as it turns out, I have been his biggest puzzle throughout the years. I believe he feels that he has finally figured me out, so let us see if I still have a few surprises up my sleeve with this manuscript. Love ya Dad!
I would also like to thank a very special individual who passed away in 2012, Mister Jeffery Keyes. During those dark days, where a lot of people would give up hope because of becoming handicapped, you always found it in your heart the time to push me forward with my writings, encouraging me to always stay positive in life, and you always talked about doing new things in your future as if nothing was wrong with you. I miss our daily conversations about music, science, and our lives. Thank you my friend for being part of my life. I know we have talked about the “After Life” extensively, and I do believe as you, that energy can't be destroyed. So I'm sure you are in a better place today, watching over me, like the good friend you have always been for the last forty years.
The Fuhrer's Medallion
SATURDAY, JUNE 22nd10:30 a.m.
Sitting slouched on a dog haired covered three cushioned couch, drinking his first beer of the day, Wilhelm Kiel recites his usual verse after taking that initial swig. “Ah, the breakfast of champions!”He is seated there surfing through the cable channels, his daily unemployed occupation, when he finally comes across a story on the local PBS channel that looks kind of interesting. He presses the record button on the remote control while yelling, “Mickey, get in here. You need to watch this!”Mickey is actually Mikkel Bernard Schmidt. A six foot five, two hundred sixty-five pound, clean shaven, chest like a barrel, Germanic skin head. He especially does not like being called Mickey, the nickname given to him by his five foot eleven, one hundred ninety pound, beer swigging roommate. Mikkelhas repeatedly tried to hammer this point to Wilhelm, but now is as good a time as any to remind him of this fact.He isn't particularly fond of the name because of a famous Mouse, whose billboards are strewn in every direction, in and around a two hundred mile radius outside the Greater Los Angeles area. He associates the name as someone who is afraid, timid, or weak. And Mikkelknows he isn't weak, he is a man, not a mouse. A blond, blue eyed, pure Scandinavian color of a man. With the fine jaw line and perfect cheek bones, he admires about himself daily, which would have included him, in an earlier time, into “The Perfect Race!”This reflection he has about himself and the state of his life always makes him feel as if he was born too late. If only he could have been there to help his beloved Fuhrer, he thinks to himself, surely things would have turned out differently.So today, he is bound and determined to prove what his pure breeding can bring to the local chapter of the “White Power” movement! Nothing is going to get in his way or change his mind. Not even Wilhelm Kiel, the roommate who is always getting under his skin by his blatant disregard for Mikkel's wishes.Wilhelm has a nickname of his own, Willie. Given to him by Mikkel and it stems from the pure act of childish revenge. Yet, the revenge he plans on inflicting today will taste the sweetest of all.Willie doesn't have the same ambitions Mikkel has. He is just happy that a group of individuals accept him for what he is and that they never ask him to do too much. He just likes to drink beer all day.After a moment of quiet contemplation, Mikkel lets his anger reach its boiling point. Suddenly, you can hear themilitary boots he wears stomping on the kitchen’s old cracked linoleum floor. With each Earth quake like stomp, the fattened cock roaches inside, outside, behind, and underneath the kitchen cabinets, scurry in the opposite direction of every percussive step. His massive legs are almost goose-stepping as they pound their way towards the worn away varnish of the wood floor in the living room.Dressed in only fatigue pants and boots, due in part to the lack of household funds to operate the central air conditioning, Mikkel starts breathing heavily to puff out his chest even further. He is bound and determined to loosen a few of the teeth Willie still owns with the frying pan he has just grab off the gas stove.After rounding out of the kitchen, barging his way though a short corridor, and turning into the living area, he screams, “Willie you asshole, I had it wit you!”This was all the warning Wilhelm needs to squirm his way from the oncoming blow. Willie knows from experience, and he had the scars to prove it, that Mikkel always bellows a few words of warning to freeze his intended victims before he lays a hand on them. He knows that Mikkel is into seeing the fright in someone’s eyes as much as he is into the beating itself. Willie ducks to his left from his sitting position in the center of the davenport away from the oncoming menace. Narrowly missing, getting clobbered by the two handed tennis like stroke Mikkel uses to swing the skillet. Knocking over an already rocky metal TV tray in his path that carries his three empty beer cans from the night before and the fresh cold one from this morning.The pan comes flat upon the cushioned backrest of the couch, shooting up a cloud of dust and dog hairs, obscuring Mikkel’s vision just long enough for Willie to have a two step jump for his escape.As the small cloud starts to settle, the former owners of those hairs, both German Shepherds, begin growling and barking as spectators, not daring to intrude or succumb to a swift kick to their chest cavities.“God Mickey this is important!” Wilhelm squeaks as he heads his way towards the front door. He figures if he can get outside, there will be enough room to maneuver. Adding to that, Mikkel’s weight and heavy boots, these additional factors will help tire him out sooner.“I want to tell you something about Hitler!”These last words are barely audible as the thrown skillet comes crashing onto an over decorated, swap meet purchased, cheap ceramic lamp which shatters louder than his pleading words.As Wilhelm closes in on the front door he sees his opportunity to slow down Mikkel’s assault. A metal softball bat lying upright next to the door to ward off unwelcome solicitors.Grabbing it with both hands he swings it around, lifting it high above his head to do an ax like blow upon his assailant’s cranium. Mikkel doesn’t hesitate though, even with Willie now having a weapon of his own, he keeps on coming.Until they both hear that distinctive metal clasp!The two men immediately recognize the sound of the harden steel of a break action, side by side ten gauge shotgun clasping together. An audible noise, usually only heard, just after the gun has been loaded. They recognize the fresh odor of gun oil, which now tickles their noses almost simultaneously. A sent, which drifts down from above them, hitching a ride along side a cool breeze.That draft of cold air originates from the Master Bedroom's opened doorway, which holds the only windowed air conditioner. Coming down to warn them along a flight of steps, that lead to the three upstairs bedrooms, all occupied or used by the home's owner.Halting their battle, which now seems like child’s play compared to the danger looming above, both men turn to look up towards the top of the stairwell. The only staircase in the house which enables access to those second floor rooms occupied by the matron, Grandma Kiel and all the worldly possessions she still cares about.The two stand there, perilously close to one another, watching as the elderly woman aims both barrels in their direction. She slowly uses two arthritic fingers to squeeze the gun's triggers.She knows by experience that if you point the shotgun at the lowest point of your targeting area and slowly lift the barrels of the weapon up with your left hand while squeezing those triggers with your right, when the hammers hit the shotgun shells, the backlash of physical energy from the recoil will dissipate more with the upward movement of the side by side, instead of the full force pressing squarely against her shoulder.Before her sclerotic fingers can force enough pressure to finish their squeezing, Wilhelm drops his bat and dives to his right, heading into an unfurnished dinning room. While Mikkel, taking a cue from Willie, dives left for the protection of the couch, as both barrels rain rock salt against the heavily dog scratched oak door and cedar panels inserted along side the wall. Rectangular slots that once housed small stained glass windows which have been blasted away years before.“Grand-ma-ma, what was that for?” her Grandson whines, while getting up on one knee in the empty room.The gun toting sixty-six year old Matriarch of the house is a toothless, filter-less, Camel smoking dowager who never dresses properly except for a multilayered pink nighty and a sky blue house coat which she adorns daily in the home the local skinheads call “The Club House.” Used monthly for the local chapter of the White Power Movement's local meetings.The Club House is recessed far enough from other homes and passing motorists out on Mission Road, the main thoroughfare leading into The City of Fallbrook, that any of the occasional gunfire, loud drunken yelling, and heavy metal rock music being blasted during their gatherings never seems to be heard by anyone. The front of the house is hidden from travelers by the scattering of uncut native California foliage and a row of eighty year old Eucalyptus trees that border the front of the property.Surrounding the north and east sides of the fifteen acre parcel of land are avocado trees, grown on the property to supplement Grandma Kiel's Social Security income. On the west side are the mounds of stone boulders the San Diego County locals like to call mountains. Not like the tree infested mountains of the Appalachians in Eastern United States or the dry desert types of the southern Rockies, just pushed around mounds of rock from the last ice age, formed thousands of years before.The closet neighbor to the Kiel household is at least twenty-eight acres away which would account for the seldom recorded complaint at the Sheriff’s Department or the City of Fallbrook Police Department. A township best known as the “Avocado Capital of the World” and home to one of the best publicized chapters of any White Supremacist Group in California during the Nineteen-Nineties.Now with the economy of the State going down the toilet once again and unemployment rising to its highest levels since the Depression, the area again sees an influx of disenchanted white youths coming into town, who are looking for answers. The perfect ingredients for the rise in power of Carl Hostetler. Grandma Kiel's friend since he became of age.He has just enough charisma and youthful looks to organize the prejudices of these young people, bringing, once again, the rise of the Neo-Nazi Party into the town of Fallbrook.“I told you boys ta stop with all tha' raucous in my house!” Grandma Kiel gums, not having the time to put in her teeth.The two could have certainly over powered the old lady at any time, but Grandma Kiel has a quick German temper and that deep raunchy cigarette laden voice that still belts out commands with authority. And these boys, boys because of the lack of an education for one and maturity for the other, fall in line when she gives them an order.“Mickey, git outside n pick up all the dog crap in da yard!” Grandma Kiel orders, “You know there's a meetin’ tomorrow, na' git go-in!”Mikkel knows it will be useless to argue with her so he heads towards the front door, slightly side stepping into the dinning room area just far enough so he can give Wilhelm a good shove, sprawling him back onto the wooden floor.“Willie, git up off the floor ya lazy bum and git to printin’ out our new pamphlets for the meetin’ tomorrow.”Since Wilhelm's father was imprisoned for the killing of a migrant worker, he had been raised since the early nineties by his Grandmother and brought up in a household based solely on the virtues of the Aryan race. He didn’t know his mother but was always told she was a coward of a woman that had left when he was just an infant. He always knew his Grandmother as a head strong woman that demanded complete submission to her commands or you would end up on the wrong side of the shotgun pulling rock salt out of your ass. Rumor has it, a couple of fellows that used to bunked in the Club House during the Nineteen Eighties might not have been so lucky when shot with the rock salt Grandma Kiel had used. The legend goes, if you are close enough to the gun when the salt hits you, you have little chance of survival! It will tear away flesh, right to the bone!Nothing has ever been proven, but with her temper you don’t want to be the next one to find out.As the boys go about there business, Grandma Kiel turns from the top of the stairway to return to the air conditioned comfort of her bedroom. Bringing out her cleaning kit to work on the shotgun. Remembering what Carl Hostetler had always told her. “The salt will ruin the riffling inside the barrels without proper cleaning. If left alone, the small particles and scratches left by the salt would eventually eat the barrel from the inside out. Exploding one day when regular buckshot was used!”What the hell did he know, she thought. This was her father's shotgun and he always used rock salt on those ungrateful migrant workers when they came around asking for a little bit more money to feed their family’s.“That's what's wrong with these inferior races!” He would say, “Give them a days work, with a days pay, and they ask for more! If they can't feed those little rats of theirs, why don't they stop breeding like rats!”It brought a toothless smile to her face thinking about her father and the good old days, when nobody cared on how many of those Mexicans you killed. Look at today, her son Johan is behind bars for chopping a hand off of one those filthy Mexicans when he caught him stealing. Isn't that what the Bible says people used to do to thieves, chop off their hands when they stole something? How could my son have known that the wetback would bleed to death!
This is,Not A Book In Favor Of Neo-NazisOr What Hitler Did.Read Each Chapter As They Come OutAnd You Will See That I Am Not Condoning Their Actions.Jim Hauenstein,And,
“The Nazis learned as much from American Gangster Organizations, as their propaganda was learned from American Business Publicity.”
- Hannah Arendt, -
That is my story and I am sticking to it!
Like what you reading?
Sign up as a Follower,
or Set up my Blog
as your Homepage
on your Web-browser,
or Leave a Comment,
or a Suggestion,
and I will answer you in a Post.
Thanks for reading.
If you are reading this on a
Cell-Phone,below this story you will see aLinkwhere it says;View Web Version.To truly get the full benefit of myBlog,I suggest you view the web version.You will just have to expand the page to be able to read it.Thanks again.
January 21, 2018
Internationally Commenting
It is official.People inIndiaare reading some of my material.I can truly say that,"My Blog is International."Well,I was saying that before,becauseFranceandRussiaalways show strong numbers each month,as far as viewership goes.But,I believe people fromIndiareally do read myPosts.Even though they are always trying to sell something when theyComment.Now,at least,they are following my instructions.Case in point.My latestCommentator,kingrani,only has aGoogle Blog Accountso he can leave messages on otherGoogle Blogswithout having to sign in asAnonymousorUnknown.In this way,hopefully the message he is leaving on someone'sBlogwill be taken seriously,and hisSpam,I mean"Advertisement,"will be left up by theBlog's Owner.Another curious fact that might show he is reading my material,is that heCommentedon aPostdatedMonday, June 12th, 2017,calledThe Five Best Posts Of May, 2017.Not on my latestPostwhere the viewership is always at its peak.I am sure he knows this,so,
maybe he is counting on me to do hisAdvertisingfor him,
like I did withAppachi Rice on myPostlastSundaytitled,Commenting On A Comment.Well,kingraniwrote,kingrani January 17, 2018 at 10:32 PMI have read your article, it is very informative and helpful for me.I admire the valuable information you offer in your articles. Thanks for posting it..
Flipkarthdfcoffer.in
Flipkart Citi bank offersWikipedia says that
"Flipkart is an electronic commerce company headquartered in Bengaluru, India. It was founded in October 2007 by Sachin Bansal and Binny Bansal. Flipkart has launched its own product range under the name DigiFlip with products including tablets, USB flash drives, and laptop bags. As of April 2017, the company was valued at $11.6 billion."
This is,Selling Someone's Products For Them,
Again, Jim Hauenstein,
Do You Think Someone Could Pay Me For Doing This? And,“India is not, as people keep calling it, an underdeveloped country, but rather, in the context of its history and cultural heritage, a highly developed one in an advanced state of decay.”
- Shashi Tharoor -
That is my story and I am sticking to it!
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Sign up as a Follower,
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Thanks for reading.
If you are reading this on a
Cell-Phone,below this story you will see aLinkwhere it says;View Web Version.To truly get the full benefit of myBlog,I suggest you view the web version.You will just have to expand the page to be able to read it.Thanks again.
maybe he is counting on me to do hisAdvertisingfor him,
like I did withAppachi Rice on myPostlastSundaytitled,Commenting On A Comment.Well,kingraniwrote,kingrani January 17, 2018 at 10:32 PMI have read your article, it is very informative and helpful for me.I admire the valuable information you offer in your articles. Thanks for posting it..
Flipkarthdfcoffer.in
Flipkart Citi bank offersWikipedia says that
"Flipkart is an electronic commerce company headquartered in Bengaluru, India. It was founded in October 2007 by Sachin Bansal and Binny Bansal. Flipkart has launched its own product range under the name DigiFlip with products including tablets, USB flash drives, and laptop bags. As of April 2017, the company was valued at $11.6 billion." This is,Selling Someone's Products For Them,Again, Jim Hauenstein,
Do You Think Someone Could Pay Me For Doing This? And,“India is not, as people keep calling it, an underdeveloped country, but rather, in the context of its history and cultural heritage, a highly developed one in an advanced state of decay.”
- Shashi Tharoor -
That is my story and I am sticking to it!
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Sign up as a Follower,
or Set up my Blog
as your Homepage
on your Web-browser,
or Leave a Comment,
or a Suggestion,
and I will answer you in a Post.
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If you are reading this on a
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January 20, 2018
Again, Two True Americans
I believe these stories are as poignant today,
as they were on
June 10th, 2015.
Here is a repeat performance of my
Post
Two True Americans.
*****
I heard a wonderful story last night on
ABC's Nightline.
The story was about
Dan Price.CEO
and founder of
"Gravity Payments"
in
Seattle.What this man did recently,
was cut his salary from 1 million dollars a year,
to $70,000.00 a year!All because he wanted to find a way for his 149 employees to receive a pay raise this year.Everyone who works for
Gravity Payments
now has an annual salary of $70,000.00.Dan Price
started the company in 2004
and now feels,
to help his company grow larger,
and to be more competitive in the future,
it all starts with having a strong employee base who believe in the company they are working for.
Finally,
someone who sees that a
Financially Secure
makes a
Happy
and dedicated
Workforce.
***** Also on the program was
Nick Hanauer.
Who is a
Venture Capitalist.He is part of the 1% of elite rich
Americans.He predicts,
that if the top 1% don't turn this trend around,
of the
Rich Getting Richer,
and everyone else
Getting Poorer,
we will eventual end up in a
World
of a only having a
Two Class System.
Which I have
Commented On
in this
Blog
many times.To summarize his belief,
this country will eventually turn into a
Police State.
He believes a two class system can only lead to three things for this country.
Violence against the
Rich Elitists,
a
Police State,
and eventually a
Revolution
against the existing
Government.Now,
if only the rest of the
1%
would come to their senses like he has,
and the
Republicans
would stop fighting to get rid of
President Obama's Healthcare Plan,
and
Corporations
in this country would voluntarily raise their
Employee Pay Scale
so we can have a
Healthier
and
Happier Work Force,
then this country can once again call itself,
"The Land Of The Free!"Because I'm not the only one storing up
Ammunition,
Weapons,
Explosives,
and
Food
to put an end to this discrepancy!Or am I?
This is,
Actually,
I No Longer Condone Violence As An Option.
But I Do Know People Who Do.
Jim Hauenstein,
And,
“The world is administered by rich but it is constructed by the poor.”
- Amit Kalantri, -
That is my story and I am sticking to it!
Like what you reading?
Sign up as a Follower,
or Set up my Blog
as your Homepage
on your Web-browser,
or Leave a Comment,
or a Suggestion,
and I will answer you in a Post.
Thanks for reading.
If you are reading this on a
Cell-Phone,below this story you will see aLinkwhere it says;View Web Version.To truly get the full benefit of myBlog,I suggest you view the web version.You will just have to expand the page to be able to read it.Thanks again.
as they were on
June 10th, 2015.
Here is a repeat performance of my
Post
Two True Americans.
*****
I heard a wonderful story last night on
ABC's Nightline.
The story was about
Dan Price.CEO
and founder of
"Gravity Payments"
in
Seattle.What this man did recently,
was cut his salary from 1 million dollars a year,
to $70,000.00 a year!All because he wanted to find a way for his 149 employees to receive a pay raise this year.Everyone who works for
Gravity Payments
now has an annual salary of $70,000.00.Dan Price
started the company in 2004
and now feels,
to help his company grow larger,
and to be more competitive in the future,
it all starts with having a strong employee base who believe in the company they are working for.
Finally,
someone who sees that a
Financially Secure
makes a
Happy
and dedicated
Workforce.
***** Also on the program was
Nick Hanauer.
Who is a
Venture Capitalist.He is part of the 1% of elite rich
Americans.He predicts,
that if the top 1% don't turn this trend around,
of the
Rich Getting Richer,
and everyone else
Getting Poorer,
we will eventual end up in a
World
of a only having a
Two Class System.
Which I have
Commented On
in this
Blog
many times.To summarize his belief,
this country will eventually turn into a
Police State.
He believes a two class system can only lead to three things for this country.
Violence against the
Rich Elitists,
a
Police State,
and eventually a
Revolution
against the existing
Government.Now,
if only the rest of the
1%
would come to their senses like he has,
and the
Republicans
would stop fighting to get rid of
President Obama's Healthcare Plan,
and
Corporations
in this country would voluntarily raise their
Employee Pay Scale
so we can have a
Healthier
and
Happier Work Force,
then this country can once again call itself,
"The Land Of The Free!"Because I'm not the only one storing up
Ammunition,
Weapons,
Explosives,
and
Food
to put an end to this discrepancy!Or am I?
This is,
Actually,
I No Longer Condone Violence As An Option.
But I Do Know People Who Do.
Jim Hauenstein,
And,
“The world is administered by rich but it is constructed by the poor.”
- Amit Kalantri, -
That is my story and I am sticking to it!
Like what you reading?
Sign up as a Follower,
or Set up my Blog
as your Homepage
on your Web-browser,
or Leave a Comment,
or a Suggestion,
and I will answer you in a Post.
Thanks for reading.
If you are reading this on a
Cell-Phone,below this story you will see aLinkwhere it says;View Web Version.To truly get the full benefit of myBlog,I suggest you view the web version.You will just have to expand the page to be able to read it.Thanks again.
January 19, 2018
The Man From Mars - Episode Thirty Four
"Well, that was unexpected." Ponleak was saying, while he straighten up from his hovering, bent over position. "I don't believe I have ever seen that kind of reaction to the reveries of past lives the amulet shows its new possessor?"
I was about to ask him what he meant by that, but I was still being pinned down by Tiny. He wasn't shaking me any longer, to wake me up from my dream, still, he had both of his big paws on me. Pushing down on my shoulders. Pressing me firmly on the floor and keeping me from getting up.
"Tiny," says Ponleak flatly. "I believe we are not in any danger any longer. Please allow Mister Johnson to get up off the floor."
Now I had two questions that I was curious about hearing the answers too! But I asked three.
"What do you mean? That kind of reaction? And what do you mean by, you are no longer in danger?"
Questions kept popping up in my head, but those were the only ones I asked while trying to get from under Tiny's grasp.
Ponleak waits until I get up off the floor and back on my feet, then says to me, "Tiny told me, that when you two were on the bus, when you would start to dream about my past life, you always fell asleep. I took this to be a safety precaution, by your brain, so you wouldn't have sensory overload. If stimuli was hitting your brain while conscious, and the amulet was placing you in a whole new world, where you believed that you were actually there and living the part, your mind, to put it mildly, could have cracked. Your brain actually anticipated this to happen, so it put you to sleep so you wouldn't have sensory overload."
"So, you are saying, that my brain isn't as developed as yours?"
"The human brain will be, someday, but no, it is not quite there yet." He says. "What usually happens to a new recipient of the amulet is, they start to see, and live the lives, of each of its former owners. With the last individual first, going backwards until they reach the original owner. With you for some reason, the amulet saw it fit to jump from me, to the original owner. The being who created the device."
That is when I noticed the room. The upheaval of everything. The best way to describe it would be, that gravity itself had disappeared for a second. Like the room was floating in outer space for a moment, then the gravitation pull on everything made them come crashing down.
Shards of glass were everywhere. Chairs overturned. A couch on its side, with its cushions lying about. A Paul Cézanne painting, I assume a priceless one, with a whole in its middle due to the shade-less lamp sticking through it. It seemed to me that the damage in the room was complete.
"Is that what you meant when you said, you are no longer in danger?" I paused to take a deep breath. "I caused all of this?"
"Yes George." Ponleak tells me. "Still, the amulet felt it necessary to jump you straight back to its original creator. To see whom they were. But, it hasn't given you enough time to harness its power yet. To know how to control it. When to turn it on and off as it were. It must mean something. Something important."
"You mean, you don't know?"
"I am not all knowing. And besides, when I was in possession of the amulet, I never saw any previous owner jump back to see its creator so quickly. You are the first."
"Why me, do you think? Do you think we might be in some danger?"
This is,An Actual Paul Cézanne Painting,Jim Hauenstein,
And,
“A work of art which did not begin in emotion is not art.”
- Paul Cézanne -
That is my story and I am sticking to it!
Like what you reading?
Sign up as a Follower,
or Set up my Blog
as your Homepage
on your Web-browser,
or Leave a Comment,
or a Suggestion,
and I will answer you in a Post.
Thanks for reading.
If you are reading this on a
Cell-Phone,below this story you will see aLinkwhere it says;View Web Version.To truly get the full benefit of myBlog,I suggest you view the web version.You will just have to expand the page to be able to read it.Thanks again.
I was about to ask him what he meant by that, but I was still being pinned down by Tiny. He wasn't shaking me any longer, to wake me up from my dream, still, he had both of his big paws on me. Pushing down on my shoulders. Pressing me firmly on the floor and keeping me from getting up.
"Tiny," says Ponleak flatly. "I believe we are not in any danger any longer. Please allow Mister Johnson to get up off the floor."
Now I had two questions that I was curious about hearing the answers too! But I asked three.
"What do you mean? That kind of reaction? And what do you mean by, you are no longer in danger?"
Questions kept popping up in my head, but those were the only ones I asked while trying to get from under Tiny's grasp.
Ponleak waits until I get up off the floor and back on my feet, then says to me, "Tiny told me, that when you two were on the bus, when you would start to dream about my past life, you always fell asleep. I took this to be a safety precaution, by your brain, so you wouldn't have sensory overload. If stimuli was hitting your brain while conscious, and the amulet was placing you in a whole new world, where you believed that you were actually there and living the part, your mind, to put it mildly, could have cracked. Your brain actually anticipated this to happen, so it put you to sleep so you wouldn't have sensory overload."
"So, you are saying, that my brain isn't as developed as yours?"
"The human brain will be, someday, but no, it is not quite there yet." He says. "What usually happens to a new recipient of the amulet is, they start to see, and live the lives, of each of its former owners. With the last individual first, going backwards until they reach the original owner. With you for some reason, the amulet saw it fit to jump from me, to the original owner. The being who created the device."
That is when I noticed the room. The upheaval of everything. The best way to describe it would be, that gravity itself had disappeared for a second. Like the room was floating in outer space for a moment, then the gravitation pull on everything made them come crashing down.
Shards of glass were everywhere. Chairs overturned. A couch on its side, with its cushions lying about. A Paul Cézanne painting, I assume a priceless one, with a whole in its middle due to the shade-less lamp sticking through it. It seemed to me that the damage in the room was complete.
"Is that what you meant when you said, you are no longer in danger?" I paused to take a deep breath. "I caused all of this?"
"Yes George." Ponleak tells me. "Still, the amulet felt it necessary to jump you straight back to its original creator. To see whom they were. But, it hasn't given you enough time to harness its power yet. To know how to control it. When to turn it on and off as it were. It must mean something. Something important."
"You mean, you don't know?"
"I am not all knowing. And besides, when I was in possession of the amulet, I never saw any previous owner jump back to see its creator so quickly. You are the first."
"Why me, do you think? Do you think we might be in some danger?"
This is,An Actual Paul Cézanne Painting,Jim Hauenstein,And,
“A work of art which did not begin in emotion is not art.”
- Paul Cézanne -
That is my story and I am sticking to it!
Like what you reading?
Sign up as a Follower,
or Set up my Blog
as your Homepage
on your Web-browser,
or Leave a Comment,
or a Suggestion,
and I will answer you in a Post.
Thanks for reading.
If you are reading this on a
Cell-Phone,below this story you will see aLinkwhere it says;View Web Version.To truly get the full benefit of myBlog,I suggest you view the web version.You will just have to expand the page to be able to read it.Thanks again.
January 17, 2018
Marriage Proposal
"Okay, Mister Alfred Union and Miss Holly Wedlock. Tell me exactly what kind of prenuptial agreement you two are looking for?" Asks their marriage councilor slash lawyer, Burt Honeygut. "A five year marriage? Ten years? Or are you two infatuated enough with each other that you are looking for the deluxe package of a twenty-five year agreement?"
It is the year 2110. Before you can get married, both parties have to draw up an agreeable prenuptial, and sign it. It is the law, set in place by the World Government in the year 2075. To unload, an already overburdened court system, of the many divorce cases that plagued society in the late twenty-first century.
The prenuptial not only secures the rights to previously owned real estate, assets, and investments to each individual, it will also equally divide any future holdings the couple might accrue while living together in matrimony.
The World Government deemed it necessary to enact the law due to the fact that, in the year 2075, ninety-three percent of all marriages ended in divorce.
A Government study, done at the time before the law was enacted, found that since human beings now live to the ripe old age of one hundred and fifty, people no longer felt it necessary to stay wedded to a single person or felt any congruency towards each other over a long period of time.
"Henceforth," declared the World Government after the results of the study were turned in. "All marriages will be considered as a business proposal between two people and a contract of marriage will be needed to be in place before any couple can be wed."
People no longer felt a long lasting love for just one other person. You could still have a relationship with your former spouses, after the contract or prenuptial expired. And most often people did. Yet, it is more likely a Holiday get-together of the day would look like a family reunion of formally wed couples, with their children present, those formally wed couples with their new spouses, and their children present, with former spouses of the formally wed couple and their new mates bringing along their children to the festivities.
The Government study came to the conclusion that when early homo-sapiens married for life, it was out of necessity of perpetuating the species. When human beings only lived until the age of thirty-five, forty, or even sixty years old, their love for each other lasted a lifetime. But living today, until one hundred and fifty years old or longer, a marriage may have started out with as much of love as any human being has felt for another, but time wears and erodes that need for a long lasting relationship. The phrase, "I still love you, but I am not in love with you!" Became the mantra of all married couples.
"Okay," says Burt Honeygut again. "What kind of contract are you two looking for?"
Alfred and Holly look at each other and Holly shacks her head yes. Then Alfred looks back at their lawyer and says, "We would like six, twenty-five year contracts in place, back to back. We want our marriage to last our lifetime."
Honeygut sat their with his mouth open, thinking. Gets his wits about and says, "It has never been done before. I'm not even sure if it is legal or not?"
The lawyer sat at his desk, looking down at some papers, while tapping his pencil on the wooden top. He looks up smiling and says to the couple, "We are going to make history!"
This is,I Believe In The Sanctity Of Marriage,Jim Hauenstein,
And,
“It is not a lack of love, but a lack of friendship that makes an unhappy marriage.”
- Friedrich Nietzsche -
That is my story and I am sticking to it!
Like what you reading?
Sign up as a Follower,
or Set up my Blog
as your Homepage
on your Web-browser,
or Leave a Comment,
or a Suggestion,
and I will answer you in a Post.
Thanks for reading.
If you are reading this on a
Cell-Phone,below this story you will see aLinkwhere it says;View Web Version.To truly get the full benefit of myBlog,I suggest you view the web version.You will just have to expand the page to be able to read it.Thanks again.
It is the year 2110. Before you can get married, both parties have to draw up an agreeable prenuptial, and sign it. It is the law, set in place by the World Government in the year 2075. To unload, an already overburdened court system, of the many divorce cases that plagued society in the late twenty-first century.The prenuptial not only secures the rights to previously owned real estate, assets, and investments to each individual, it will also equally divide any future holdings the couple might accrue while living together in matrimony.
The World Government deemed it necessary to enact the law due to the fact that, in the year 2075, ninety-three percent of all marriages ended in divorce.
A Government study, done at the time before the law was enacted, found that since human beings now live to the ripe old age of one hundred and fifty, people no longer felt it necessary to stay wedded to a single person or felt any congruency towards each other over a long period of time.
"Henceforth," declared the World Government after the results of the study were turned in. "All marriages will be considered as a business proposal between two people and a contract of marriage will be needed to be in place before any couple can be wed."
People no longer felt a long lasting love for just one other person. You could still have a relationship with your former spouses, after the contract or prenuptial expired. And most often people did. Yet, it is more likely a Holiday get-together of the day would look like a family reunion of formally wed couples, with their children present, those formally wed couples with their new spouses, and their children present, with former spouses of the formally wed couple and their new mates bringing along their children to the festivities.
The Government study came to the conclusion that when early homo-sapiens married for life, it was out of necessity of perpetuating the species. When human beings only lived until the age of thirty-five, forty, or even sixty years old, their love for each other lasted a lifetime. But living today, until one hundred and fifty years old or longer, a marriage may have started out with as much of love as any human being has felt for another, but time wears and erodes that need for a long lasting relationship. The phrase, "I still love you, but I am not in love with you!" Became the mantra of all married couples.
"Okay," says Burt Honeygut again. "What kind of contract are you two looking for?"
Alfred and Holly look at each other and Holly shacks her head yes. Then Alfred looks back at their lawyer and says, "We would like six, twenty-five year contracts in place, back to back. We want our marriage to last our lifetime."
Honeygut sat their with his mouth open, thinking. Gets his wits about and says, "It has never been done before. I'm not even sure if it is legal or not?"
The lawyer sat at his desk, looking down at some papers, while tapping his pencil on the wooden top. He looks up smiling and says to the couple, "We are going to make history!"
This is,I Believe In The Sanctity Of Marriage,Jim Hauenstein,
And,
“It is not a lack of love, but a lack of friendship that makes an unhappy marriage.”
- Friedrich Nietzsche -
That is my story and I am sticking to it!
Like what you reading?
Sign up as a Follower,
or Set up my Blog
as your Homepage
on your Web-browser,
or Leave a Comment,
or a Suggestion,
and I will answer you in a Post.
Thanks for reading.
If you are reading this on a
Cell-Phone,below this story you will see aLinkwhere it says;View Web Version.To truly get the full benefit of myBlog,I suggest you view the web version.You will just have to expand the page to be able to read it.Thanks again.
January 16, 2018
The Five Best Posts Of November, 2017
Always wallowing in my ownEgomania,I find it pleasing,or,by the definition ofEgomania,I find it necessary,to look back at those months gown byand find out whichPostswere read the most.So,without any further confusing explanation,here areThe Five Best Posts Of November, 2017!Yeah!
The Fifth Best Post Of November, 2017 Is;Come On, Be Happy Is a story about my neighbor, which I originally wrote about in my Post Be Happy. Let us just say, he is the kind of guy, that if you park on the street in front of his house, he asks you to move, because according to him, that is his spot, and nobody can park there but him. Even though he doesn't have a car that he can park there. He parks his car in his driveway. He is never happy about anyone or anything.
The Fourth Best Post Of November Is; Sciencing The $#!# Out Of The Day First off, I did not make up the word Sciencing. But I wish I did. Most spell-checkers will tell you it is not a word. Yet, I am not the only one using it. What I like to do on occasion is, write about some of the interesting scientific articles I have been reading of late. And by the numbers, it looks as if you do too!
The Third Best Post Is;You May Be Wondering My explanation of why there was such a lull in posting any Posts on my Blog. To make a long story short, first my computer went down, then my son's. The only reason I was able to write this Post was the fact that you can get online at your local library.
The Second Best Post Is;The Pink Pilferer My interpretation of a pirate spaceship in the future. How Selenium, the female pirate compares her timeline to that of the Old Wild West Days during the 1800s in the United States. Her companion Ru44. An android which takes care of her and her spacecraft, The Pink Pilferer.
AndThe Number One Post Of November, 2017 Is;Terra A story I thought up while driving in my car when I was listening to the song "Drops Of Jupiter" by the band called "Train." It is a story where I give a personality to each planet in our solar system and how they relate to our planet called Terra. How I am friends with Terra and hope to keep her safe in the future.
This is,So Happy That Two Of My Stories Are The Top Two Picks Of The Month,Jim Hauenstein,
And,
“Tweet others the way you want to be tweeted.”
- Germany Kent -
That is my story and I am sticking to it!
Like what you reading?
Sign up as a Follower,
or Set up my Blog
as your Homepage
on your Web-browser,
or Leave a Comment,
or a Suggestion,
and I will answer you in a Post.
Thanks for reading.
If you are reading this on a
Cell-Phone,below this story you will see aLinkwhere it says;View Web Version.To truly get the full benefit of myBlog,I suggest you view the web version.You will just have to expand the page to be able to read it.Thanks again.
The Fifth Best Post Of November, 2017 Is;Come On, Be Happy Is a story about my neighbor, which I originally wrote about in my Post Be Happy. Let us just say, he is the kind of guy, that if you park on the street in front of his house, he asks you to move, because according to him, that is his spot, and nobody can park there but him. Even though he doesn't have a car that he can park there. He parks his car in his driveway. He is never happy about anyone or anything.
The Fourth Best Post Of November Is; Sciencing The $#!# Out Of The Day First off, I did not make up the word Sciencing. But I wish I did. Most spell-checkers will tell you it is not a word. Yet, I am not the only one using it. What I like to do on occasion is, write about some of the interesting scientific articles I have been reading of late. And by the numbers, it looks as if you do too!
The Third Best Post Is;You May Be Wondering My explanation of why there was such a lull in posting any Posts on my Blog. To make a long story short, first my computer went down, then my son's. The only reason I was able to write this Post was the fact that you can get online at your local library.
The Second Best Post Is;The Pink Pilferer My interpretation of a pirate spaceship in the future. How Selenium, the female pirate compares her timeline to that of the Old Wild West Days during the 1800s in the United States. Her companion Ru44. An android which takes care of her and her spacecraft, The Pink Pilferer.
AndThe Number One Post Of November, 2017 Is;Terra A story I thought up while driving in my car when I was listening to the song "Drops Of Jupiter" by the band called "Train." It is a story where I give a personality to each planet in our solar system and how they relate to our planet called Terra. How I am friends with Terra and hope to keep her safe in the future.
This is,So Happy That Two Of My Stories Are The Top Two Picks Of The Month,Jim Hauenstein,And,
“Tweet others the way you want to be tweeted.”
- Germany Kent -
That is my story and I am sticking to it!
Like what you reading?
Sign up as a Follower,
or Set up my Blog
as your Homepage
on your Web-browser,
or Leave a Comment,
or a Suggestion,
and I will answer you in a Post.
Thanks for reading.
If you are reading this on a
Cell-Phone,below this story you will see aLinkwhere it says;View Web Version.To truly get the full benefit of myBlog,I suggest you view the web version.You will just have to expand the page to be able to read it.Thanks again.
January 14, 2018
Commenting On A Comment
I am trying to makeSundaysmy day to give aShout-Outfor those who sign up as aFollowerand toCommenton someone'sCommentthat they might have left on one of myPosts.Or,
if the need arises,
answer any questions they might have asked.On myPostThe Dates Have Been Omitted To Protect The Children,Appachi Ricewrites Appachi Rice January 9, 2018 at 12:19 AMNice Post. Thanks for sharing...
Here is someone who follows direction.Instead of blatantly advertising his product,heCommentedon my story.Now,if you think this person is anAmerican Indianfrom southwesternUnited States,check your spelling.This person is anIndian,but,from the country ofIndia.This person is selling Appachi RiceIndian Rice | Rice Suppliers in India | South India RiceI don't mind thisPersonselling his product through hisComment.At least he did what I asked.He read my storyandCommentedon it. Besides,it looks like the product is pretty good!
This is,See,They Did What I AskedAnd Now I Am Doing Their Advertisement For Them,Jim Hauenstein,
And,
“Smiles, rainbows and a grain of rice. I could survive on that!”
- Anthony T. Hincks -
That is my story and I am sticking to it!
Like what you reading?
Sign up as a Follower,
or Set up my Blog
as your Homepage
on your Web-browser,
or Leave a Comment,
or a Suggestion,
and I will answer you in a Post.
Thanks for reading.
If you are reading this on a
Cell-Phone,below this story you will see aLinkwhere it says;View Web Version.To truly get the full benefit of myBlog,I suggest you view the web version.You will just have to expand the page to be able to read it.Thanks again.
if the need arises,
answer any questions they might have asked.On myPostThe Dates Have Been Omitted To Protect The Children,Appachi Ricewrites Appachi Rice January 9, 2018 at 12:19 AMNice Post. Thanks for sharing...
Here is someone who follows direction.Instead of blatantly advertising his product,heCommentedon my story.Now,if you think this person is anAmerican Indianfrom southwesternUnited States,check your spelling.This person is anIndian,but,from the country ofIndia.This person is selling Appachi RiceIndian Rice | Rice Suppliers in India | South India RiceI don't mind thisPersonselling his product through hisComment.At least he did what I asked.He read my storyandCommentedon it. Besides,it looks like the product is pretty good!
This is,See,They Did What I AskedAnd Now I Am Doing Their Advertisement For Them,Jim Hauenstein,And,
“Smiles, rainbows and a grain of rice. I could survive on that!”
- Anthony T. Hincks -
That is my story and I am sticking to it!
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January 13, 2018
The Man From Mars - Episode Thirty Three
I was a little flabbergasted. Officer Bopha seemed to me, in my dreams about Ponleak's life, to be one of his most reliable and devoted followers. I am stunned by Ponleak's remarks that he was the leader of the defectors.
"Why would Bopha turn against you?" I asked.
"Over the millennium, he became more and more disconcerted, about how to lead humanity, going into the future." Ponleak says. "He became convinced, over time, that an iron fist approach of ruling over homo sapiens was the best way and fastest way to move humans along in their development. As he and his followers see it, humans would take two steps forward in their evolutionary scale, then take one step back. Sometimes, and even I saw the backwards progress you humans would take, and it would be three steps back."
"So you are saying that Bopha would enslave us all, so he could move us along faster on our evolutionary scale?"
"Yes George." Ponleak tells me. "But I have preached since the beginning, that to do so, would lead this world into a two class system in economics and a select ruling class governing all."
He pauses for a moment. Staring into space, somewhere above all of our heads, as if he is looking back in time and says, "We would have made this world after our own image. We would have made another Atlantis, here on Earth."
"You say would have. But isn't that Bopha is still trying to do now?"
"You are right again Mister Johnson." Ponleak says to me with a smile. "Maybe that is why I chose you to carry the amulet? You have such an acute awareness for the obvious."
I sat their for a moment, sipping my drink, wondering if I had just been insulted.
"There is something else I need to warn you about, before we go any further about Bopha and his followers."
Great, I thought to myself. Something else I need to worry about. So I emptied my drink of its contents and waved the empty glass in Tiny's direction. So he would get the hint that I needed a refill.
He got up, made a gruffing sound when he got near me, but took the glass from my hands and went over to the bar to mix up another drink for me.
Ponleak waited until I had the glass in my hand, then continued, "The amulet has already shown you parts of my life. Because I was the last owner of the pendent. Soon, when it decides it is time, it will show you other past lives, of other former owners."
"You talk as if the amulet is alive." I say startled. "That it can make decisions on its own."
"The amulet is, in a sense, alive. It stores all the memories and emotions of all its former owners." He tells me. "It has the knack for displaying that information to its new owner, when it seems necessary."
"You are trying to tell me that the amulet can figure out what might be important to me when I come upon a crisis?" I ask incredulously.
"It is not only a powerful weapon, if called upon to do so, it is a library of knowledge. The knowledge of the beings who owned it before you."
I looked straight into Ponleak's eyes and ask, "Beings?"
"Yes. It does not originate on Atlantis." He says to me seriously. "It comes from another planet, another solar system. And like here on Earth, where it came to humanity from a world which destroyed itself, so too did the amulet come to Atlantis."
He pauses here, reminiscing again in his thoughts, before saying to me, "That is why my family became so powerful in Atlantis. As I have given it to you, my fiftieth forefather was given the amulet, from an otherworldly being."
Suddenly, I was being shaken by Tiny and hovered over by a concerned Ponleak, while he asked, "George? Are you Okay? George? Mister Johnson? Are you Okay?"
I must have passed out for a few minutes, maybe longer. I don't know. But it was long enough for Tiny and Ponleak to act worried about what was happening to me.
"George?" Ponleak asks me again. "Are you Okay. What happened to you?"
"I believe the amulet showed me the first person, or being, who ever owned the amulet!"
To Be Continued.....
Next Week.
This is,TwoBuckHowie,Are You Okay?
Am I Okay? Some Say That Is Debatable,Jim Hauenstein,
And,
"Do you ever wonder if there are people living on the third planet?"
"The third planet is incapable of supporting life," stated her husband patiently. "Our scientists have said there is far too much oxygen in the atmosphere."
- Ray Bradbury, -
That is my story and I am sticking to it!
Like what you reading?
Sign up as a Follower,
or Set up my Blog
as your Homepage
on your Web-browser,
or Leave a Comment,
or a Suggestion,
and I will answer you in a Post.
Thanks for reading.
If you are reading this on a
Cell-Phone,below this story you will see aLinkwhere it says;View Web Version.To truly get the full benefit of myBlog,I suggest you view the web version.You will just have to expand the page to be able to read it.Thanks again.
"Why would Bopha turn against you?" I asked.
"Over the millennium, he became more and more disconcerted, about how to lead humanity, going into the future." Ponleak says. "He became convinced, over time, that an iron fist approach of ruling over homo sapiens was the best way and fastest way to move humans along in their development. As he and his followers see it, humans would take two steps forward in their evolutionary scale, then take one step back. Sometimes, and even I saw the backwards progress you humans would take, and it would be three steps back."
"So you are saying that Bopha would enslave us all, so he could move us along faster on our evolutionary scale?"
"Yes George." Ponleak tells me. "But I have preached since the beginning, that to do so, would lead this world into a two class system in economics and a select ruling class governing all."
He pauses for a moment. Staring into space, somewhere above all of our heads, as if he is looking back in time and says, "We would have made this world after our own image. We would have made another Atlantis, here on Earth."
"You say would have. But isn't that Bopha is still trying to do now?"
"You are right again Mister Johnson." Ponleak says to me with a smile. "Maybe that is why I chose you to carry the amulet? You have such an acute awareness for the obvious."
I sat their for a moment, sipping my drink, wondering if I had just been insulted.
"There is something else I need to warn you about, before we go any further about Bopha and his followers."
Great, I thought to myself. Something else I need to worry about. So I emptied my drink of its contents and waved the empty glass in Tiny's direction. So he would get the hint that I needed a refill.
He got up, made a gruffing sound when he got near me, but took the glass from my hands and went over to the bar to mix up another drink for me.
Ponleak waited until I had the glass in my hand, then continued, "The amulet has already shown you parts of my life. Because I was the last owner of the pendent. Soon, when it decides it is time, it will show you other past lives, of other former owners."
"You talk as if the amulet is alive." I say startled. "That it can make decisions on its own."
"The amulet is, in a sense, alive. It stores all the memories and emotions of all its former owners." He tells me. "It has the knack for displaying that information to its new owner, when it seems necessary."
"You are trying to tell me that the amulet can figure out what might be important to me when I come upon a crisis?" I ask incredulously.
"It is not only a powerful weapon, if called upon to do so, it is a library of knowledge. The knowledge of the beings who owned it before you."
I looked straight into Ponleak's eyes and ask, "Beings?"
"Yes. It does not originate on Atlantis." He says to me seriously. "It comes from another planet, another solar system. And like here on Earth, where it came to humanity from a world which destroyed itself, so too did the amulet come to Atlantis."
He pauses here, reminiscing again in his thoughts, before saying to me, "That is why my family became so powerful in Atlantis. As I have given it to you, my fiftieth forefather was given the amulet, from an otherworldly being."
Suddenly, I was being shaken by Tiny and hovered over by a concerned Ponleak, while he asked, "George? Are you Okay? George? Mister Johnson? Are you Okay?"I must have passed out for a few minutes, maybe longer. I don't know. But it was long enough for Tiny and Ponleak to act worried about what was happening to me.
"George?" Ponleak asks me again. "Are you Okay. What happened to you?"
"I believe the amulet showed me the first person, or being, who ever owned the amulet!"
To Be Continued.....
Next Week.
This is,TwoBuckHowie,Are You Okay?
Am I Okay? Some Say That Is Debatable,Jim Hauenstein,
And,
"Do you ever wonder if there are people living on the third planet?"
"The third planet is incapable of supporting life," stated her husband patiently. "Our scientists have said there is far too much oxygen in the atmosphere."
- Ray Bradbury, -
That is my story and I am sticking to it!
Like what you reading?
Sign up as a Follower,
or Set up my Blog
as your Homepage
on your Web-browser,
or Leave a Comment,
or a Suggestion,
and I will answer you in a Post.
Thanks for reading.
If you are reading this on a
Cell-Phone,below this story you will see aLinkwhere it says;View Web Version.To truly get the full benefit of myBlog,I suggest you view the web version.You will just have to expand the page to be able to read it.Thanks again.
