In the old days when computers were still confined to a desk and cell phones had antennas and flipped open, you could use your mother’s maiden name as a password for America OnLine®, and it would be secure. But now your password needs to contain 20 characters, including numbers, special characters, at least one upper case letter, at least one lower case letter, a Greek symbol, your star sign, the secret coordinates of Alderaan (Princess Leia knows), and the feathers of a rare golden eagle. Even then, it will only take a computer hacker five minutes to break into your Facebook account and sell all your FarmVille animals as he charges several luxury cars to your Visa®.
Not that the average person makes it hard for hackers. Every year, various groups compile a list of the most common passwords. And when I say ‘most common,’ I mean millions of people use them even now. If your password is on this list, hang your head in shame—and go change your password immediately.
10 Most Common Passwords of 2014
List compiled by SplashData
1. 123456 (Okay, this is just lazy.)
2. password (You thought it was cute, eh? You and 40 million other people agree.)
3. 12345 (Even lazier than #1.)
4. 12345678 (Sigh. You’re not even trying. Why don’t you write us a check?)
5. qwerty (Another sigh.)
6. 123456789 (Yeah, adding the nine really made #4 secure.)
7. 1234 (You deserve to be hacked.)
8. letmein (Tryharderidiot.)
9. abc123 (Seriously?)
10. 111111 (I want to slap you. Hard.)
According to security expects, hackers can get into more than half of the sites in the world just by using the top twenty passwords. You can find other lists on the Internet and generally gather the proof that humanity is doomed due to terminal stupidity if Congress hasn’t already convinced you.
The bad news is that you can’t secure your sites with even with a hard password. They have computer programs that will eventually brute force their way into your account if they’re really motivated. All you can do is make it harder for the hackers so that maybe they will move onto another victim. This is similar to out-running your companions when being chased by a bear or throwing A1 sauce onto the other missionaries when confronted by hungry cannibals. (There are few things more dangerous than a thin cannibal, and almost all of them are in Hollywood or Congress.)
Some websites have moved to a two-step authentication process where you use a password and answer a question or they text a code to your cell phone. Other sites are even using fingerprint scanners for the second step. This sounds complicated, but not to worry. Most people do not enable two-step authentication because they think it takes too much time, it’s too hard, they’re lazy, they want to lose all their money, or they fell out of the stupid tree and hit every branch on the way down.
Of course, if we lived in a better world, hackers wouldn’t be so common and our accounts and websites would be safe. I’d also like a dragon steed, a magic sword, and a castle on a beautiful island. All are equally likely.
You can use password managers, such as LastPass or RoboForm Desktop, to alleviate some of your security concerns. Those are programs that will supply you with long, long, long passwords that you can never remember and hopefully discourage hackers who like easier targets. The password manager keeps track of those hideously long passwords for you, and all you have to do is remember the password for your manager. Have you tried 1234?
(Copyright 2015 by Stephen B. Bagley. From the forthcoming book Floozy Returns.)
Monday, July 27, 2015
Sunday, July 26, 2015
"How Great Thou Art"
After "Amazing Grace," my next favorite hymn is "How Great Thou Art." I like it simple, just a singer and quiet music celebrating the grandeur of God's many creations and infinite mercies. What's your favorite hymn?
Saturday, July 25, 2015
A Few Peeves to Pet
I am beginning to think that English should be taught to the American people as a second language. We’re not doing well with it being taught as our first. I know many foreign people who can speak English better than your average high school senior. For that matter, I’ve heard of a couple of trained apes and an African Gray Parrot that can, too. My point is that grammar and spelling are not language arts these days; they’re lost arts.
After making the above statement, I realize I open myself up to critics who will gleefully catch every grammar and spelling mistake I make and who will call and write to point the mistakes out. To them I can only say with the utmost sincerity, “Get a life.”
Don’t think I’m a ruler-on-the-knuckles strict grammarian, either. In fact, I am baffled constantly by commas (what Elena has just slipped into on All My Children), colons (long, squishy things in our bodies), and semi-colons (long, squishy things in the bodies of truckers), and I spell only with the aid of several dictionaries and any nearby person who I can ask when I’m unable to look the word up because I can’t even begin to spell it. I am not an English maven. So if the average person is writing and speaking worse than me, then it’s easy to see our language has deteriorated.
One of my biggest peeves is people writing “it’s” for the possessive of “it.” The possessive of “it” is “its”; “it’s” is the contraction for “it is.” In other words, it’s “its” for when “it” is possessive, and it’s “it’s” for “it is.” Got it?
And while we’re correcting things, “their” is the possessive of “they.” “They’re” is the contraction for “they are.” When people confuse them, I think they’re losing their minds.
People who freely interchange “ideal” and “idea” also bother me. “Ideal” is a perfect condition; “idea” is a thought, a notion. I think it would be an ideal world if people would get the idea to watch their usage of “ideal” and “idea.” (I’m told that, in Boston, it’s pronounced “idear.” Why?)
You know, another peeve I have is with people who, you know, say, “You know” all the time. If I already know it, why tell me again? Of course, I don’t find “you know” half as annoying as people who pepper their speech with “like” an inordinate amount of times. Some horrible day I’m going to meet a person who will say, “Like, the trip, you know, it was, like, really cool, you know.” And I will kill him on the spot.
I’m also tired of the amount of obscenity in movies lately. I don’t know if it’s because screenwriters lack a large vocabulary or they think we do. I do have a theory, though. I think they’re getting paid by the word. For example, I recently watched a movie in which the following was an actual speech: “If you obscenity1 obscenity2 think I’m obscenity1 going to obscenity2 give that obscenity3 obscenity4 obscenity5 Franklin the obscenity1 obscenity2 book, you’re obscenity1 crazy, you obscenity3 obscenity5!” If you cut the obscenities, you only have 13 words; with the obscenities, you have 25. The math is obvious.
Of course, there are people in the world who do use a lot of obscenities. I worked in a brick-yard one summer between college semesters and discovered a variety of new words and ways to use to them. I thought my education in foul language was over, but then I became involved in the theater and discovered a new level of language. And when I thought I couldn’t learn any more, I became involved in politics and discovered true obscenity. However, unless a movie is about brick-yards, theater folk, or politicians, the screenwriters should be able to leave out most of the foul language and still be fairly true to life.
Another benefit of cutting back on the obscenities would be they could be saved for situations that truly call for them. In the above movie, the main character got out of bed, stubbed his toe, and said, “Obscenity1 it to obscenity2 obscenity6.” Later in the movie, he learned his wife and children had been killed by mobsters who had blown up his house, the CIA wanted him dead, he had a heart condition that could cause him to drop dead at any moment, and his dog had died. He said, “Obscenity1 it to obscenity2 obscenity6.” I immediately wondered what he had hit his foot on.
Another problem I currently have really isn’t a sign of sliding language; it’s a sign of changing times. Basically, I remain confused about Miss, Mrs., and Ms. I often write to editors that I don’t know well. About half of them are women. What is their proper address? (And their phone numbers; I’m lonely.) For men, the sign of respect is to use Mr., which works even with the editors who have owed me money for a couple of years (Dear Mr. Scumbag). And it used to be that you could use Miss with any woman and let her correct you if she wished. Ms. came along, and everything’s changed.
A lot of women feel that Miss and Mrs. is a method by which men keep them as second-class citizen, denoting that their marriage status is more important than them as people. They prefer Ms. Another group of women feel that Ms. is used only by strident feminists who wish to destroy the American family; they prefer Miss or Mrs. What I think is that women should get together and vote: Ms. or Miss and Mrs.
At present, I have only two options: call the editor’s secretary and ask if the editor prefers Mrs. or Miss or Ms. (which I don’t like doing ever since I called one secretary who frostily told me that her boss was happily married and didn’t need me hitting on her) or use her full name as in Dear Jane Smith (which is what I do even though it bothers me because I feel I’m not showing proper respect to a person who could buy my book and make me rich and famous if I am properly subservient and fawn a lot).
I could go on and on, but I think I’ve proved my point. Remember my point? You weren’t paying attention, were you? Daydreaming again? How would you like a ruler across your knuckles? Answer me! And you there, raise your hand when you want to ask a question!
(Copyright 2015 by Stephen B. Bagley. All rights reserved. From the book Floozy and Other Stories, available on Amazon, Barnes and Noble, BooksAMillion, and other online retailers.)
After making the above statement, I realize I open myself up to critics who will gleefully catch every grammar and spelling mistake I make and who will call and write to point the mistakes out. To them I can only say with the utmost sincerity, “Get a life.”
Don’t think I’m a ruler-on-the-knuckles strict grammarian, either. In fact, I am baffled constantly by commas (what Elena has just slipped into on All My Children), colons (long, squishy things in our bodies), and semi-colons (long, squishy things in the bodies of truckers), and I spell only with the aid of several dictionaries and any nearby person who I can ask when I’m unable to look the word up because I can’t even begin to spell it. I am not an English maven. So if the average person is writing and speaking worse than me, then it’s easy to see our language has deteriorated.
One of my biggest peeves is people writing “it’s” for the possessive of “it.” The possessive of “it” is “its”; “it’s” is the contraction for “it is.” In other words, it’s “its” for when “it” is possessive, and it’s “it’s” for “it is.” Got it?
And while we’re correcting things, “their” is the possessive of “they.” “They’re” is the contraction for “they are.” When people confuse them, I think they’re losing their minds.
People who freely interchange “ideal” and “idea” also bother me. “Ideal” is a perfect condition; “idea” is a thought, a notion. I think it would be an ideal world if people would get the idea to watch their usage of “ideal” and “idea.” (I’m told that, in Boston, it’s pronounced “idear.” Why?)
You know, another peeve I have is with people who, you know, say, “You know” all the time. If I already know it, why tell me again? Of course, I don’t find “you know” half as annoying as people who pepper their speech with “like” an inordinate amount of times. Some horrible day I’m going to meet a person who will say, “Like, the trip, you know, it was, like, really cool, you know.” And I will kill him on the spot.
I’m also tired of the amount of obscenity in movies lately. I don’t know if it’s because screenwriters lack a large vocabulary or they think we do. I do have a theory, though. I think they’re getting paid by the word. For example, I recently watched a movie in which the following was an actual speech: “If you obscenity1 obscenity2 think I’m obscenity1 going to obscenity2 give that obscenity3 obscenity4 obscenity5 Franklin the obscenity1 obscenity2 book, you’re obscenity1 crazy, you obscenity3 obscenity5!” If you cut the obscenities, you only have 13 words; with the obscenities, you have 25. The math is obvious.
Of course, there are people in the world who do use a lot of obscenities. I worked in a brick-yard one summer between college semesters and discovered a variety of new words and ways to use to them. I thought my education in foul language was over, but then I became involved in the theater and discovered a new level of language. And when I thought I couldn’t learn any more, I became involved in politics and discovered true obscenity. However, unless a movie is about brick-yards, theater folk, or politicians, the screenwriters should be able to leave out most of the foul language and still be fairly true to life.
Another benefit of cutting back on the obscenities would be they could be saved for situations that truly call for them. In the above movie, the main character got out of bed, stubbed his toe, and said, “Obscenity1 it to obscenity2 obscenity6.” Later in the movie, he learned his wife and children had been killed by mobsters who had blown up his house, the CIA wanted him dead, he had a heart condition that could cause him to drop dead at any moment, and his dog had died. He said, “Obscenity1 it to obscenity2 obscenity6.” I immediately wondered what he had hit his foot on.
Another problem I currently have really isn’t a sign of sliding language; it’s a sign of changing times. Basically, I remain confused about Miss, Mrs., and Ms. I often write to editors that I don’t know well. About half of them are women. What is their proper address? (And their phone numbers; I’m lonely.) For men, the sign of respect is to use Mr., which works even with the editors who have owed me money for a couple of years (Dear Mr. Scumbag). And it used to be that you could use Miss with any woman and let her correct you if she wished. Ms. came along, and everything’s changed.
A lot of women feel that Miss and Mrs. is a method by which men keep them as second-class citizen, denoting that their marriage status is more important than them as people. They prefer Ms. Another group of women feel that Ms. is used only by strident feminists who wish to destroy the American family; they prefer Miss or Mrs. What I think is that women should get together and vote: Ms. or Miss and Mrs.
At present, I have only two options: call the editor’s secretary and ask if the editor prefers Mrs. or Miss or Ms. (which I don’t like doing ever since I called one secretary who frostily told me that her boss was happily married and didn’t need me hitting on her) or use her full name as in Dear Jane Smith (which is what I do even though it bothers me because I feel I’m not showing proper respect to a person who could buy my book and make me rich and famous if I am properly subservient and fawn a lot).
I could go on and on, but I think I’ve proved my point. Remember my point? You weren’t paying attention, were you? Daydreaming again? How would you like a ruler across your knuckles? Answer me! And you there, raise your hand when you want to ask a question!
(Copyright 2015 by Stephen B. Bagley. All rights reserved. From the book Floozy and Other Stories, available on Amazon, Barnes and Noble, BooksAMillion, and other online retailers.)
Friday, July 24, 2015
Vitamin C?
Apparently -- and this will probably shock you as much as it did me -- coffee is not the C in Vitamin C. In fact, coffee isn't even a vitamin. Does that seem right?
Sometimes the world just doesn't make any sense.
Sometimes the world just doesn't make any sense.
Thursday, July 23, 2015
Post Person, Look and See ...
So I have a cell phone, a home phone with four cordless receivers, a digital answering machine with four mailboxes, email with several different accounts, four blogs, Facebook, Twitter, and a shoe phone. Okay, that’s not true. I only have three blogs. My point is that I’m connected to a ridiculous degree. The CIA isn’t as well connected as I am.
And I’m not sure I want to be that connected. There’s a lot to be said for being disconnected. I was thinking about that while on vacation a few years back because my office called and emailed me several times a day. If the only way they could reach me was by regular mail, they might have attempted to solve those little problems themselves instead of whining to me. Like I can do anything about the building being on fire. Or would want to after having paid the arsonist all that money.
I’ve always liked letters. They seem more special than email or a phone call. You know the sender put some effort into a letter. And money, too. If USPS keeps raising the cost of stamps, they will eventually price themselves out of the market. You’d think this would cut down on the amount of junk mail we receive, but fortunately USPS has special rates for bulk mailers so we will continue to receive those amazing 2-for-1 offers from our local mortuaries.
Despite all the thousands of offers I’ve received in the mail over the years, I’ve never bought a thing. I confess I do like reading about the amazing things that Vitamin E enriched cactus pulp cream can do for the unsightly blemishes on my skin, but I’ve never sent off for any of their incredible products. You can tell they know that, too, by the increasing frantic tone of their mailings: “This product will change your life. It will make you into a more successful person. WAIT! It will also grow back your hair and make you RICH! Don’t throw this away! Rich, rich, RICH! Are you listening to what we’re saying?! No, no, no! Please, let us help you get the women of your dreams! Would we lie to you?”
Overseas, sending a letter already costs $2 or more in our currency. Some countries charge as much as $10 a letter. A Christmas card IS the gift over there. But fortunately their postal services also offer a bulk rate for junk mailers so that their citizens can receive amazing 2-for-1 offers from their local yak retailers. Let me tell you, if my office had to pay $10 per email or cell call, they would leave me alone.
Supposedly email is putting regular mail out of business here in the United States. Why find an envelope, pen, paper, and stamp when you can type a few words about your dramatic life and email them to everyone who has the misfortune of being in your address book?
Junk mailers naturally understand the savings that email provides and spam the public vigorously. Today, for instance, I received four emails about enhancing my male … ahem … equipment, five about investment opportunities in Nigeria, two about Amazing Medical Breakthroughs (acne and PMS), and a simply heartrending one about this little girl who is dying from a horrible nameless disease and only needs to receive 1,000,000 emails and then Microsoft will give her the money she needs to pay for her last wish: a date with One Direction. If I don’t respond to that one, apparently Jesus won’t love me anymore, which is odd since I didn’t even know He was into teen pop music. Live and learn, I always say, although several people have told me that’s annoying, particularly at funerals.
Of course, you might suggest that I ditch the cell phone, unplug the answering machine, cancel the Internet accounts, and buy a new pair of shoes. But what if some beautiful movie star – such as Nicole Kidman – needs me to rewrite her script? She would be heartbroken, simply devastated, when she couldn’t reach me. For Nicole, I’ll stay connected.
(Copyright 2015 by Stephen B. Bagley. From the book Floozy and Other Stories available at Amazon, Barnes & Noble, BooksAMillion, and other online retailers.)
And I’m not sure I want to be that connected. There’s a lot to be said for being disconnected. I was thinking about that while on vacation a few years back because my office called and emailed me several times a day. If the only way they could reach me was by regular mail, they might have attempted to solve those little problems themselves instead of whining to me. Like I can do anything about the building being on fire. Or would want to after having paid the arsonist all that money.
I’ve always liked letters. They seem more special than email or a phone call. You know the sender put some effort into a letter. And money, too. If USPS keeps raising the cost of stamps, they will eventually price themselves out of the market. You’d think this would cut down on the amount of junk mail we receive, but fortunately USPS has special rates for bulk mailers so we will continue to receive those amazing 2-for-1 offers from our local mortuaries.
Despite all the thousands of offers I’ve received in the mail over the years, I’ve never bought a thing. I confess I do like reading about the amazing things that Vitamin E enriched cactus pulp cream can do for the unsightly blemishes on my skin, but I’ve never sent off for any of their incredible products. You can tell they know that, too, by the increasing frantic tone of their mailings: “This product will change your life. It will make you into a more successful person. WAIT! It will also grow back your hair and make you RICH! Don’t throw this away! Rich, rich, RICH! Are you listening to what we’re saying?! No, no, no! Please, let us help you get the women of your dreams! Would we lie to you?”
Overseas, sending a letter already costs $2 or more in our currency. Some countries charge as much as $10 a letter. A Christmas card IS the gift over there. But fortunately their postal services also offer a bulk rate for junk mailers so that their citizens can receive amazing 2-for-1 offers from their local yak retailers. Let me tell you, if my office had to pay $10 per email or cell call, they would leave me alone.
Supposedly email is putting regular mail out of business here in the United States. Why find an envelope, pen, paper, and stamp when you can type a few words about your dramatic life and email them to everyone who has the misfortune of being in your address book?
Junk mailers naturally understand the savings that email provides and spam the public vigorously. Today, for instance, I received four emails about enhancing my male … ahem … equipment, five about investment opportunities in Nigeria, two about Amazing Medical Breakthroughs (acne and PMS), and a simply heartrending one about this little girl who is dying from a horrible nameless disease and only needs to receive 1,000,000 emails and then Microsoft will give her the money she needs to pay for her last wish: a date with One Direction. If I don’t respond to that one, apparently Jesus won’t love me anymore, which is odd since I didn’t even know He was into teen pop music. Live and learn, I always say, although several people have told me that’s annoying, particularly at funerals.
Of course, you might suggest that I ditch the cell phone, unplug the answering machine, cancel the Internet accounts, and buy a new pair of shoes. But what if some beautiful movie star – such as Nicole Kidman – needs me to rewrite her script? She would be heartbroken, simply devastated, when she couldn’t reach me. For Nicole, I’ll stay connected.
(Copyright 2015 by Stephen B. Bagley. From the book Floozy and Other Stories available at Amazon, Barnes & Noble, BooksAMillion, and other online retailers.)
Wednesday, July 22, 2015
Unsent letter
Dear Internet,
Sorry. I'm out of outrage today. Check back tomorrow. Or next week. I'm dealing with real problems right now, and I just can't spare the emotional energy. Now, don't think I'm not impressed by all the drama -- really, you outdo yourself at times, particularly with hand-wringing and wild suppositions, and no one broad-jumps to conclusions like you do -- but don't you ever get tired of it? Think of all things you could get done if you didn't go around hyperventilating all the time. You could finally find that cure for ringworm that civilization so desperately needs. It's something to consider, don't you think?
Sincerely,
Me
Sorry. I'm out of outrage today. Check back tomorrow. Or next week. I'm dealing with real problems right now, and I just can't spare the emotional energy. Now, don't think I'm not impressed by all the drama -- really, you outdo yourself at times, particularly with hand-wringing and wild suppositions, and no one broad-jumps to conclusions like you do -- but don't you ever get tired of it? Think of all things you could get done if you didn't go around hyperventilating all the time. You could finally find that cure for ringworm that civilization so desperately needs. It's something to consider, don't you think?
Sincerely,
Me
Tuesday, July 21, 2015
Laser Razor
Through no fault of my own, I finally purchased a three-blade razor. For years I had used a two-blade razor, and I had been perfectly satisfied with its performance. It cut my beard, left my face smooth, and spent the rest of its time quietly in the bathroom drawer. What more could I want or need from a razor?
But recently, after twenty years of daily use, my two-blade razor handle broke, and not a single store in town had one. Instead they had triple-blade and even four-blade razors. Shaving technology had taken a huge jump and left me behind. The modern razors use “monofiber handles” and “laser polished steel” and even “titanium structured bases.” NASA has nothing up on razor companies.
According to the box in which it came, my new triple-blade razor will “deliver a shave as smooth as a baby’s bottom.” Not being around babies that much, I didn’t even know their bottoms needed shaving. It does explain why they cry so much.
The new multi-bladed razors promise “a super smooth face that women will love to touch.” Apparently they will wander up on the street and stroke your face. That seem sort of forward. I mean, shouldn't we exchange names first?
And the cost was amazing. And by "amazing," I mean unbelievably expensive. For that cost, a beautiful woman should show up and shave you. And clean your bathroom. Maybe make you dinner before telling you that you're not communicating and she wants a mink coat.
I examined a four-bladed razor during my shopping. They had four blades stacked on top of each in a configuration that reminded me of pictures of World War I biplanes. It also weighed a ton. It might be a way to combine exercise and shaving, but it seemed dangerous to me.
In a four-blade razor, the first blade pulls the whisker up and cuts it off, then the second blade cuts the whisker at a lower point before the hair can pull back, and then the third blade cuts the whisker off at the root while the fourth blade digs deep into the bone and threatens your face if it EVER even thinks about growing whiskers again in your lifetime.
You’d think that the shaving companies would be content with this, but right now, they’re working on a five-blade razor in their laboratories. It will split the atoms of your whiskers to give you a closer shave.
On the drawing board are plans for a six-blade and even a seven-blade razor. They will be so sharp that you will have to be licensed with the FBI, CIA, NRA, and the Red Cross to own one. They will be capable of cutting a hole in the space-time continuum!
You think I’m kidding about that, but a group of scientists have actually modified a laser to give shaves. It delivers a close shave (to the six-thousandth of an inch) and only costs a little over a million dollars. But with mass production, the price will surely drop to a couple of hundred thousand. I can’t wait. A word of caution: You definitely don’t want to cough while you’re using it or you’ll make an ash of yourself.
This leads us – well, me – to consider those laboring scientists. They went to college for at least eight years to get that Ph.D. in engineering or physics or thermodynamics. They probably figured they would be investigating the secrets of the universe, but instead they’re working in a secret shaving laboratory. They must be wondering what that college degree is really worth.
A friend of mine says we’re spoiled these days. He’s old enough to recall shaving with a long-handled straight razor. He said it delivered a close, clean shave, but you lost a lot of time making out your will each morning and then receiving the necessary blood transfusions afterwards. He says his face looks like a road map, and that’s why he has a beard.
Anyway, I now have a triple-blade razor. When you women see me and have the overwhelming desire to rub your hands on my face, please wash your hands first. Particularly during flu season.
(Copyright 2015 by Stephen B. Bagley. From the book Floozy and Other Stories available on Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and other retailers.)
But recently, after twenty years of daily use, my two-blade razor handle broke, and not a single store in town had one. Instead they had triple-blade and even four-blade razors. Shaving technology had taken a huge jump and left me behind. The modern razors use “monofiber handles” and “laser polished steel” and even “titanium structured bases.” NASA has nothing up on razor companies.
According to the box in which it came, my new triple-blade razor will “deliver a shave as smooth as a baby’s bottom.” Not being around babies that much, I didn’t even know their bottoms needed shaving. It does explain why they cry so much.
The new multi-bladed razors promise “a super smooth face that women will love to touch.” Apparently they will wander up on the street and stroke your face. That seem sort of forward. I mean, shouldn't we exchange names first?
And the cost was amazing. And by "amazing," I mean unbelievably expensive. For that cost, a beautiful woman should show up and shave you. And clean your bathroom. Maybe make you dinner before telling you that you're not communicating and she wants a mink coat.
I examined a four-bladed razor during my shopping. They had four blades stacked on top of each in a configuration that reminded me of pictures of World War I biplanes. It also weighed a ton. It might be a way to combine exercise and shaving, but it seemed dangerous to me.
In a four-blade razor, the first blade pulls the whisker up and cuts it off, then the second blade cuts the whisker at a lower point before the hair can pull back, and then the third blade cuts the whisker off at the root while the fourth blade digs deep into the bone and threatens your face if it EVER even thinks about growing whiskers again in your lifetime.
You’d think that the shaving companies would be content with this, but right now, they’re working on a five-blade razor in their laboratories. It will split the atoms of your whiskers to give you a closer shave.
On the drawing board are plans for a six-blade and even a seven-blade razor. They will be so sharp that you will have to be licensed with the FBI, CIA, NRA, and the Red Cross to own one. They will be capable of cutting a hole in the space-time continuum!
You think I’m kidding about that, but a group of scientists have actually modified a laser to give shaves. It delivers a close shave (to the six-thousandth of an inch) and only costs a little over a million dollars. But with mass production, the price will surely drop to a couple of hundred thousand. I can’t wait. A word of caution: You definitely don’t want to cough while you’re using it or you’ll make an ash of yourself.
This leads us – well, me – to consider those laboring scientists. They went to college for at least eight years to get that Ph.D. in engineering or physics or thermodynamics. They probably figured they would be investigating the secrets of the universe, but instead they’re working in a secret shaving laboratory. They must be wondering what that college degree is really worth.
A friend of mine says we’re spoiled these days. He’s old enough to recall shaving with a long-handled straight razor. He said it delivered a close, clean shave, but you lost a lot of time making out your will each morning and then receiving the necessary blood transfusions afterwards. He says his face looks like a road map, and that’s why he has a beard.
Anyway, I now have a triple-blade razor. When you women see me and have the overwhelming desire to rub your hands on my face, please wash your hands first. Particularly during flu season.
(Copyright 2015 by Stephen B. Bagley. From the book Floozy and Other Stories available on Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and other retailers.)
Monday, July 20, 2015
Mormons AKA LDS
(Sometimes I'm just in a mood to offend everyone...)
Mormons are a cult. That's what all the major Protestant denominations say. Same goes for the Catholics. No one likes the Mormons. Not in our neighborhood, people said when the Mormons wanted to build a temple in Oklahoma City a few years back. The Mormons did, and so far riots haven't happened. They still could, though. Stay alert.
Mormons are a cult. Say the word with me. "Cult." Conjures up images of dark rituals and bloody knives, mass suicides, and vicious murders. (Although to be fair, "Congress" does that to me, too.) You just know that Tabernacle choir is up to something as they give those sinister Christmas concerts.
Mormons are a cult. But they're a peculiar cult. They support having a strong families fanatically. They preach the Ten Commandments. They care for their members and keep them off of welfare. They practice a conservative approach to finances and tell their members to keep a year's supply of food and water for emergencies. In case of a zombie attack, find your Mormons. They got food.
Mormons are a cult. My fellow Baptists say so. You'd think the Mormons would preach against all the other faiths considering what the other faiths say about them. And the Mormons -- like all other faiths -- believe they have a lock on heaven, but they're very vocal in supporting the rights of people to worship in any faith. The Mormons have been attacked so much that they have a live and let live attitude toward other religions. Except during that pesky Mormon Militia era. And sometimes they use bribery and blackmail to make you vote for things that would make Satan blush ... no, wait, that's Congress again.
Mormons are a cult. A rich cult, some say. The church is very conservative in its spending. It invests its tithes in various corporations and then takes those earnings and invests them back in their programs. It also helps that they don't pay salaries to their leaders. That's right. It doesn't pay its preachers or those missionaries who you see on bikes or going door to door. That's one of the reasons I don't turn on my water sprinkler when I see them. Anymore.
Mormons are a cult. Knowledgeable people say so because the Mormons accept other books as being inspired by God, not just the Bible. The main one is the Book of Mormon, which is the account of Jesus ministering to the people of the Americas, supposedly interpreted by Joseph Smith from plates of gold. That always interests people, except the plates were lost so don't go digging up Utah. Unless you just like to dig. Whatever makes you happy.
Mormons are a cult. Actually they prefer to be called Latter-Day Saints now. The whole title of their church is The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints. It's easier just to say LDS. They would actually like to be called Christians, but let's not get crazy.
Mormons are a cult. They used to have multiple wives, but they did away with that in 1890. Oh, there are still some who practice it and call themselves Mormons just as there are people who bury their neighbors in the backyard and call themselves Methodists.
Mormons are a cult. But they're a large cult. They have 6.2 million members in America and 14.7 million worldwide. According to the National Council of Churches, they are the second fastest growing church in the U.S. Naturally you're going to find some jerks in a church that size. Maybe even some evil people. Don't send me your stories about Mormons attacking you, although I will accept stories about alien abductions unless they involve probing. Don't want to hear about probing, okay?
Mormons are a cult. They pay taxes, raise families (not always large despite the stereotype), help their neighbors, pray a lot, work a lot, laugh a lot, and generally behave like decent people should.
Mormons are a cult, aren't they?
Copyright 2015 by Stephen B. Bagley. All rights reserved.
Mormons are a cult. That's what all the major Protestant denominations say. Same goes for the Catholics. No one likes the Mormons. Not in our neighborhood, people said when the Mormons wanted to build a temple in Oklahoma City a few years back. The Mormons did, and so far riots haven't happened. They still could, though. Stay alert.
Mormons are a cult. Say the word with me. "Cult." Conjures up images of dark rituals and bloody knives, mass suicides, and vicious murders. (Although to be fair, "Congress" does that to me, too.) You just know that Tabernacle choir is up to something as they give those sinister Christmas concerts.
Mormons are a cult. But they're a peculiar cult. They support having a strong families fanatically. They preach the Ten Commandments. They care for their members and keep them off of welfare. They practice a conservative approach to finances and tell their members to keep a year's supply of food and water for emergencies. In case of a zombie attack, find your Mormons. They got food.
Mormons are a cult. My fellow Baptists say so. You'd think the Mormons would preach against all the other faiths considering what the other faiths say about them. And the Mormons -- like all other faiths -- believe they have a lock on heaven, but they're very vocal in supporting the rights of people to worship in any faith. The Mormons have been attacked so much that they have a live and let live attitude toward other religions. Except during that pesky Mormon Militia era. And sometimes they use bribery and blackmail to make you vote for things that would make Satan blush ... no, wait, that's Congress again.
Mormons are a cult. A rich cult, some say. The church is very conservative in its spending. It invests its tithes in various corporations and then takes those earnings and invests them back in their programs. It also helps that they don't pay salaries to their leaders. That's right. It doesn't pay its preachers or those missionaries who you see on bikes or going door to door. That's one of the reasons I don't turn on my water sprinkler when I see them. Anymore.
Mormons are a cult. Knowledgeable people say so because the Mormons accept other books as being inspired by God, not just the Bible. The main one is the Book of Mormon, which is the account of Jesus ministering to the people of the Americas, supposedly interpreted by Joseph Smith from plates of gold. That always interests people, except the plates were lost so don't go digging up Utah. Unless you just like to dig. Whatever makes you happy.
Mormons are a cult. Actually they prefer to be called Latter-Day Saints now. The whole title of their church is The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints. It's easier just to say LDS. They would actually like to be called Christians, but let's not get crazy.
Mormons are a cult. They used to have multiple wives, but they did away with that in 1890. Oh, there are still some who practice it and call themselves Mormons just as there are people who bury their neighbors in the backyard and call themselves Methodists.
Mormons are a cult. But they're a large cult. They have 6.2 million members in America and 14.7 million worldwide. According to the National Council of Churches, they are the second fastest growing church in the U.S. Naturally you're going to find some jerks in a church that size. Maybe even some evil people. Don't send me your stories about Mormons attacking you, although I will accept stories about alien abductions unless they involve probing. Don't want to hear about probing, okay?
Mormons are a cult. They pay taxes, raise families (not always large despite the stereotype), help their neighbors, pray a lot, work a lot, laugh a lot, and generally behave like decent people should.
Mormons are a cult, aren't they?
Copyright 2015 by Stephen B. Bagley. All rights reserved.
Sunday, July 19, 2015
Shopping channels
People wonder why I watch shopping channels sometimes. Easy answer: They are filled with enthusiastic and upbeat people ALL THE TIME.
Think about it. Your Facebook and Twitter feeds probably have many bad things on it -- death, political fighting, diet suggestions that make a death march look like fun, recipes with enough fat to lubricate a diesel engine, etc. But none of that show up on a shopping channel.
In fact, if those people mention a problem -- like not enough storage space for your shopping bags or your hair is so unruly that it's actually causing riots in the streets -- they only do so to tell you the solution.
A solution they will offer you.
Sometimes with Easy Payments and Easy Credit Terms.
Think about it. Your Facebook and Twitter feeds probably have many bad things on it -- death, political fighting, diet suggestions that make a death march look like fun, recipes with enough fat to lubricate a diesel engine, etc. But none of that show up on a shopping channel.
In fact, if those people mention a problem -- like not enough storage space for your shopping bags or your hair is so unruly that it's actually causing riots in the streets -- they only do so to tell you the solution.
A solution they will offer you.
Sometimes with Easy Payments and Easy Credit Terms.
Saturday, July 18, 2015
Unsent Letter
Dear Medical Team,
So ... you gave me the first medicine to treat a problem, a second medicine to treat the side effects of the first medicine, and now a third medicine to treat the side effects of the second medicine... I'm beginning to sense a disturbing trend here.
Did you ever hear the legend of Ouroboros? No, it's not in the Affordable Health Care Act. Never mind.
Concerned,
Me
So ... you gave me the first medicine to treat a problem, a second medicine to treat the side effects of the first medicine, and now a third medicine to treat the side effects of the second medicine... I'm beginning to sense a disturbing trend here.
Did you ever hear the legend of Ouroboros? No, it's not in the Affordable Health Care Act. Never mind.
Concerned,
Me
Friday, July 17, 2015
Great Quote
"It is not the critic who counts ... not the man who points out how the strong man stumbled, or where the doer of deeds could have done better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena; whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs and comes short again and again; who knows the great enthusiasms, the great devotions and spends himself in a worthy course; who, at the best, knows in the end the triumph of great achievement, and who, at worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly; so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who know neither victory or defeat."
-Theodore Roosevelt
-Theodore Roosevelt
Thursday, July 16, 2015
PTM: Contentment
Preaching To Myself: Never ever in the Bible does God claim that you have to be successful before He loves you. We've bought into a lie sold to us by our materialistic, advertiser controlled society that if we have a new car, a new TV, a new computer, a new purse, a new dress, a new suit, new designer shoes ... if we have the best the world has to offer ... that those things will make us happy. God cares nothing for those things. He cares about us. This is not an excuse to be lazy, but rather a reason for being content with what we have.
1 Timothy 6:6-11 ESV: "Now there is great gain in godliness with contentment, for we brought nothing into the world, and we cannot take anything out of the world. But if we have food and clothing, with these we will be content. But those who desire to be rich fall into temptation, into a snare, into many senseless and harmful desires that plunge people into ruin and destruction. For the love of money is a root of all kinds of evils. It is through this craving that some have wandered away from the faith and pierced themselves with many pangs."
1 Timothy 6:6-11 ESV: "Now there is great gain in godliness with contentment, for we brought nothing into the world, and we cannot take anything out of the world. But if we have food and clothing, with these we will be content. But those who desire to be rich fall into temptation, into a snare, into many senseless and harmful desires that plunge people into ruin and destruction. For the love of money is a root of all kinds of evils. It is through this craving that some have wandered away from the faith and pierced themselves with many pangs."
Wednesday, July 15, 2015
Places I'd Rather Be
Places I'd Rather Be
On a beach --
No, on a beach with white sand --
Wait, on a beach with white sand and the only sound the ocean --
Hey, on a beach with white sand and the only sound the ocean and a tall cold fruity drink in my hand --
Yes, on a beach with white sand and the only sound the ocean and a tall cold fruity drink in my hand as I lounge in the shade beneath palm trees and you walk toward me, smiling, the sun glistening on your wet skin as you rise out of the waves ...
In your arms.
Copyright 2015 by Stephen B. Bagley
On a beach --
No, on a beach with white sand --
Wait, on a beach with white sand and the only sound the ocean --
Hey, on a beach with white sand and the only sound the ocean and a tall cold fruity drink in my hand --
Yes, on a beach with white sand and the only sound the ocean and a tall cold fruity drink in my hand as I lounge in the shade beneath palm trees and you walk toward me, smiling, the sun glistening on your wet skin as you rise out of the waves ...
In your arms.
Copyright 2015 by Stephen B. Bagley
Tuesday, July 14, 2015
This and That
This and That
I've been thinking of friends
and how they come and go
and how I enjoy knowing
you
I've been thinking of games
and how we all play them
and how no one ever
wins
I've been thinking of love
and how it's a bastard
and how it's what we live
for
I've been thinking of the future
and how it keeps coming
and how we try to hold it
off
I've been thinking of joy
and how it likes to surprise
and how all the old cliches are
true
But mostly I've been thinking
how life isn't perfect but good
and how I love it and love
you
Copyright 2015 by Stephen B. Bagley
I've been thinking of friends
and how they come and go
and how I enjoy knowing
you
I've been thinking of games
and how we all play them
and how no one ever
wins
I've been thinking of love
and how it's a bastard
and how it's what we live
for
I've been thinking of the future
and how it keeps coming
and how we try to hold it
off
I've been thinking of joy
and how it likes to surprise
and how all the old cliches are
true
But mostly I've been thinking
how life isn't perfect but good
and how I love it and love
you
Copyright 2015 by Stephen B. Bagley
Monday, July 13, 2015
No Such Thing
A friend visited my house today to check on me. Looking around, he said, "Stephen, you have too many books." When he woke up with a terrible headache, I helped him to his car. He was stumbling and confused, but I'm sure that will pass in time. #nosuchthingastoomanybooks
Sunday, July 12, 2015
Depressing
Sometimes humanity just depresses the living daylights out of me. A friend of mine is gay. Her daughter is seven. Recently, she found out that her daughter wasn't being invited to a birthday party because her lifestyle. She called the woman who at least was embarrassed but still said that she didn't want children exposed to my friend. My friend offered to just drop her daughter off, but no go. So ... there you go.
Now before you rail against Christians, the woman giving the party doesn't attend any church nor claim any particular religion. She just doesn't like gay people. More than that, she fears that somehow a child of seven would influence her children to ... do what? Become gay? Be more friendly to gay people? I don't understand.
So ... yeah ... some people just make me despair of us ever growing up as a species.
Now before you rail against Christians, the woman giving the party doesn't attend any church nor claim any particular religion. She just doesn't like gay people. More than that, she fears that somehow a child of seven would influence her children to ... do what? Become gay? Be more friendly to gay people? I don't understand.
So ... yeah ... some people just make me despair of us ever growing up as a species.
Saturday, July 11, 2015
Walking Among The Dead
One day, a few weeks ago, I walked among the dead.
Not my dead.
Strangers in an old cemetery a few miles from my house.
Thought I might take photos...that the setting sun might illuminate a particular stone or give a halo to an old weathered angel.
Instead I just carried my camera and walked among the rows of graves. Stopping to read a date or name. My feet crunched old brown leaves. The few trees were leafing out. A row of bedraggled evergreens stood guard along one side of the cemetery.
And I thought about life and how it goes so fast. How we can't hold our dead no matter how much we try, no matter how much we cry, they slip away when we're not looking.
I thought about those who have left us and how I miss them. My grandparents, my parents, aunts and uncles, cousins ... my baby brother ... My mother was so sharp, so smart, she would see right through your soul, and my father loved to laugh and loved to make me laugh. All those losses. Is that why we're ready to go at the end of our lives? Do the losses pile on until our spirit is ready to fly, to escape the burdens of sorrow? Or maybe we're ready to meet them again. Maybe we're tired of not being with them. Maybe we're tired of this earth.
I sat down in an old concrete bench beside a budding tree.
Across the rows, I heard a mockingbird and saw a robin. I watched a lonely cloud make its way across the pale blue sky. And I felt the stillness settle into me, the quiet calm that I call peace for the lack of a better word. I stopped thinking for a while, stopping imagining, stopped remembering.
For a few moments, the horizon held me. That beckoning sky. The endless heavens beyond.
Then I took a deep breath of the cool wind. I smiled for no particular reason other than it felt better than not smiling. I stood, walked back to my car, and drove back to my life.
Not my dead.
Strangers in an old cemetery a few miles from my house.
Thought I might take photos...that the setting sun might illuminate a particular stone or give a halo to an old weathered angel.
Instead I just carried my camera and walked among the rows of graves. Stopping to read a date or name. My feet crunched old brown leaves. The few trees were leafing out. A row of bedraggled evergreens stood guard along one side of the cemetery.
And I thought about life and how it goes so fast. How we can't hold our dead no matter how much we try, no matter how much we cry, they slip away when we're not looking.
I thought about those who have left us and how I miss them. My grandparents, my parents, aunts and uncles, cousins ... my baby brother ... My mother was so sharp, so smart, she would see right through your soul, and my father loved to laugh and loved to make me laugh. All those losses. Is that why we're ready to go at the end of our lives? Do the losses pile on until our spirit is ready to fly, to escape the burdens of sorrow? Or maybe we're ready to meet them again. Maybe we're tired of not being with them. Maybe we're tired of this earth.
I sat down in an old concrete bench beside a budding tree.
Across the rows, I heard a mockingbird and saw a robin. I watched a lonely cloud make its way across the pale blue sky. And I felt the stillness settle into me, the quiet calm that I call peace for the lack of a better word. I stopped thinking for a while, stopping imagining, stopped remembering.
For a few moments, the horizon held me. That beckoning sky. The endless heavens beyond.
Then I took a deep breath of the cool wind. I smiled for no particular reason other than it felt better than not smiling. I stood, walked back to my car, and drove back to my life.
Friday, July 10, 2015
Unsent Letter
Dear Driver in the Black Truck,
Riding my bumper in traffic in no way makes me go faster. I couldn't even if I wanted to go over the speed limit because there were three cars in front of me. It does occur to me that perhaps your truck was making advances on my car; if so, inform the nasty brute that my car is a respectable church-going Baptist and isn't that type of car.
Sincerely,
Me
Riding my bumper in traffic in no way makes me go faster. I couldn't even if I wanted to go over the speed limit because there were three cars in front of me. It does occur to me that perhaps your truck was making advances on my car; if so, inform the nasty brute that my car is a respectable church-going Baptist and isn't that type of car.
Sincerely,
Me
Thursday, July 09, 2015
The Thrill Is Gone
A few days back, a friend took me to task for my distaste for coarse language in books, plays, TV shows and movies. He said, "That's how people talk now." His point being that authors were simply being realistic.
Maybe so. My point was that coarse language bores me. That's right. Not offends as much as simply bores. Even his discussion with me about it made me secretly sigh because I've heard that "It's realistic" ad nauseam.
I've been involved in journalism and theater most of my life. Both are filled with salty people that never found a swear word that they didn't make their lifelong friend. I can remember being shocked and maybe even impressed by the vulgarity. That was 30 years ago. I've heard it, read it, seen it on stage and on the movie screen.
Remember Die Hard? Good action movie. Great story, good acting, appropriate language for the people portrayed. It was a big hit. Remember Die Hard 2? Not so good a movie. And much more bad language. The screenwriters knew the writing was weak, the plot plain stupid. They tried to punch it up. What they forgot is that a word can only shock you so many times. I got bored in DH2 and started to count the number of times they used the Fword. I lost track around 50. By that time, the word had lost its meaning. It didn't convey intensity or pain. By overuse, they had diluted its power.
When I see coarse language used extensively, I think the writer was lazy. The writer didn't stretch, didn't attempt to find new ways of expressing his/her thoughts. Oh, there are exceptions to that. I've read several short stories, poems, and novels and seen a few movies and plays where the dramatic content called for it, and it worked. Most of the time it doesn't. (Another tired and over-used character in movies: the foul-mouthed kid. Stopped being funny after the first 100 times we saw it. Give it a rest.)
I think about coarse language that way I think about fart jokes. At 13 they're funny, but you're supposed to grow out of it.
I get accused of being old fashioned about this. But really I'm not. I'm just jaded. I look for writing that uses language in new and exciting ways. Where the writer has put out some effort.
Playwright and author Jean Kerr said in Penny Candy: "I do not like to hear the most explicit four-letter words spoken from the stage because I number among my acquaintance persons of such candor and quick temper that, for me, the thrill is gone."
I'm with her. The thrill is gone.
Maybe so. My point was that coarse language bores me. That's right. Not offends as much as simply bores. Even his discussion with me about it made me secretly sigh because I've heard that "It's realistic" ad nauseam.
I've been involved in journalism and theater most of my life. Both are filled with salty people that never found a swear word that they didn't make their lifelong friend. I can remember being shocked and maybe even impressed by the vulgarity. That was 30 years ago. I've heard it, read it, seen it on stage and on the movie screen.
Remember Die Hard? Good action movie. Great story, good acting, appropriate language for the people portrayed. It was a big hit. Remember Die Hard 2? Not so good a movie. And much more bad language. The screenwriters knew the writing was weak, the plot plain stupid. They tried to punch it up. What they forgot is that a word can only shock you so many times. I got bored in DH2 and started to count the number of times they used the Fword. I lost track around 50. By that time, the word had lost its meaning. It didn't convey intensity or pain. By overuse, they had diluted its power.
When I see coarse language used extensively, I think the writer was lazy. The writer didn't stretch, didn't attempt to find new ways of expressing his/her thoughts. Oh, there are exceptions to that. I've read several short stories, poems, and novels and seen a few movies and plays where the dramatic content called for it, and it worked. Most of the time it doesn't. (Another tired and over-used character in movies: the foul-mouthed kid. Stopped being funny after the first 100 times we saw it. Give it a rest.)
I think about coarse language that way I think about fart jokes. At 13 they're funny, but you're supposed to grow out of it.
I get accused of being old fashioned about this. But really I'm not. I'm just jaded. I look for writing that uses language in new and exciting ways. Where the writer has put out some effort.
Playwright and author Jean Kerr said in Penny Candy: "I do not like to hear the most explicit four-letter words spoken from the stage because I number among my acquaintance persons of such candor and quick temper that, for me, the thrill is gone."
I'm with her. The thrill is gone.
Wednesday, July 08, 2015
Darkness
Darkness
Do you know that I once held your life in my hands?
For a sweet moment, I thought about closing my fingers
I thought about my hand curling into a fist
I thought about you
You now think you were in control
You think you had the power to decide
I gave you that sop to your tattered pride
I thought about you
Now you tell your friends about your escape
You congratulate yourself. They pat your back
And my hand on its own makes that fist
when I think about you
And my teeth ache, my pulse pounds,
I want to tear my chest gaping open
And let all the burning darkness out
if you trouble my thoughts
Because I know the truth, the lies you told
the story of your life, the rot beneath the smile
The whispered pleadings in the night
you thought no one knew
You will never understand why I walked away
You think you still hold my heart, not realizing
that mercy is not the same as indifference
I thought about you then, but never again.
Copyright 2015 by Stephen B. Bagley
Do you know that I once held your life in my hands?
For a sweet moment, I thought about closing my fingers
I thought about my hand curling into a fist
I thought about you
You now think you were in control
You think you had the power to decide
I gave you that sop to your tattered pride
I thought about you
Now you tell your friends about your escape
You congratulate yourself. They pat your back
And my hand on its own makes that fist
when I think about you
And my teeth ache, my pulse pounds,
I want to tear my chest gaping open
And let all the burning darkness out
if you trouble my thoughts
Because I know the truth, the lies you told
the story of your life, the rot beneath the smile
The whispered pleadings in the night
you thought no one knew
You will never understand why I walked away
You think you still hold my heart, not realizing
that mercy is not the same as indifference
I thought about you then, but never again.
Copyright 2015 by Stephen B. Bagley
Tuesday, July 07, 2015
PTM: Going On
Preaching To Myself: You cannot undo your past. You cannot change what hurt you. You can only go on from where you are. No, it's not easy. It's terribly hard, but if you want to be happy, if you want to live a fulfilled and meaningful life, you cannot squat in your past, reliving each hurt and using them as an excuse for never going forward. The world will leave you behind. This life is not a dress rehearsal; there are no do-overs.
Take a deep breath. Take another one. And then take the first step forward. It will be hard, but it will get easier. God will be there right beside you. Sometimes pushing you, sometimes dragging you (as my friend Jolene said), but He will be there.
Take a deep breath. Take another one. And then take the first step forward. It will be hard, but it will get easier. God will be there right beside you. Sometimes pushing you, sometimes dragging you (as my friend Jolene said), but He will be there.
Monday, July 06, 2015
Sideways
Sometimes to go forward, you have to step sideways. That's a bit of wisdom that has served me well throughout the years. Over the past few days, I've been trying to figure out how to apply to my life right now. How to deflect the current problems so that I can attack them from a different direction. To use a cliche, to think outside the box. So far I've not really come up with anything, but I think a solution is lurking out there. I can almost feel it, catch a glimpse of it out of the corner of my mind.
I'm trying to not force the solution out of hiding. My experience has been that the more I push, the more something will stubbornly elude me. It's better, for me, to approach a problem almost like play or a game. To turn it around in my mind, see all the angles, and then attempt to find one more. Most times it works. I hope it does this time.
How do you approach problem solving? Do you take a straight ahead path or do you wander around a bit but finally arrive at where you were going? Let me know how you do it. I'm always willing to learn something new.
I'm trying to not force the solution out of hiding. My experience has been that the more I push, the more something will stubbornly elude me. It's better, for me, to approach a problem almost like play or a game. To turn it around in my mind, see all the angles, and then attempt to find one more. Most times it works. I hope it does this time.
How do you approach problem solving? Do you take a straight ahead path or do you wander around a bit but finally arrive at where you were going? Let me know how you do it. I'm always willing to learn something new.
Sunday, July 05, 2015
Empty
Why it happens, I don't know. How some people end up empty. What causes that huge hole in their souls. When need is all they've learned. And they need all the time.
When they look at me with that hunger in their eyes, I just want to pound the earth. How many times am I expected to give, to bite my tongue, to bury my anger, to suffer quietly and pat their shoulders? Where is the point that I finally break and start dealing out what I've been dealt? Why do I have to be the good guy all the time?
I know this entry doesn't make any sense, particularly since it doesn't apply to anyone who reads this blog. Tomorrow I will make sense. Promise. I'm just frustrated tonight and overloaded. Tonight I dined on bitterness and regret, and the meal isn't sitting easy. Ignore me. I'm a whiney hiney. A good night's sleep, and I will be ready to jump back into the fray. I'm the original bump-n-go boy, remember?
And let me answer my own question before I go: I try to be the good guy because I choose to try. Because darkness is too easy. Because I want to stand for something more however outdated and dumb that is. Because it's a losing battle, but someone has to fight it. It might as well be me. But my lord sometimes ... sometimes I'd like to walk away and disappear over a far hill.
I don't think I'd look back.
When they look at me with that hunger in their eyes, I just want to pound the earth. How many times am I expected to give, to bite my tongue, to bury my anger, to suffer quietly and pat their shoulders? Where is the point that I finally break and start dealing out what I've been dealt? Why do I have to be the good guy all the time?
I know this entry doesn't make any sense, particularly since it doesn't apply to anyone who reads this blog. Tomorrow I will make sense. Promise. I'm just frustrated tonight and overloaded. Tonight I dined on bitterness and regret, and the meal isn't sitting easy. Ignore me. I'm a whiney hiney. A good night's sleep, and I will be ready to jump back into the fray. I'm the original bump-n-go boy, remember?
And let me answer my own question before I go: I try to be the good guy because I choose to try. Because darkness is too easy. Because I want to stand for something more however outdated and dumb that is. Because it's a losing battle, but someone has to fight it. It might as well be me. But my lord sometimes ... sometimes I'd like to walk away and disappear over a far hill.
I don't think I'd look back.
Saturday, July 04, 2015
Happy Fourth of July!
Yes, we have problems as a nation -- and what nation since the dawn of time has not? -- but I'm proud to be an American, blessed to live in this diverse and amazing nation, humbled by the sacrifices of those who have given their lives to keep us free, and excited when looking forward to our future. The naysayers and political pundits like to highlight our shortcomings, conveniently ignoring our past successes and our continuing accomplishments. We truly have changed the face of the world, and although we have made grievous mistakes, we have also been an unrelenting force for freedom and liberty. God has blessed us immensely, and may He continue to do so! Happy Fourth of July!
Friday, July 03, 2015
Frustration
Few things in life are more frustrating than watching someone you love suffer. Particularly when they're making the bad decisions that lead to their suffering, and they won't take advice from anyone. You can't stop them, you can't help, you can only watch.
Sometimes you wish you didn't love them. Or at least not hear about their mistakes. But it's like watching a train wreck; you can't turn away. And you can't turn off your heart. So you get to suffer along with them.
I think the only reason people ever become parents is because they simply don't know any better. Or they do, but they think, it won't happen to me. My kid will be different.
And sometimes they're right. Their kids are different. Their kids avoid all these pitfalls and snares and make it to adulthood. I rejoice with them. But sometimes, the kids don't.
All I can say any parent going through this, may God keep and bless you. And pray that our loved ones make through with their fingers and toes intact with minimal scarring. The old saying goes that you can't find any atheists in foxholes when the bullets are flying overhead. I'm not sure if you can find any parents that are, either.
Sometimes you wish you didn't love them. Or at least not hear about their mistakes. But it's like watching a train wreck; you can't turn away. And you can't turn off your heart. So you get to suffer along with them.
I think the only reason people ever become parents is because they simply don't know any better. Or they do, but they think, it won't happen to me. My kid will be different.
And sometimes they're right. Their kids are different. Their kids avoid all these pitfalls and snares and make it to adulthood. I rejoice with them. But sometimes, the kids don't.
All I can say any parent going through this, may God keep and bless you. And pray that our loved ones make through with their fingers and toes intact with minimal scarring. The old saying goes that you can't find any atheists in foxholes when the bullets are flying overhead. I'm not sure if you can find any parents that are, either.
Thursday, July 02, 2015
PTM: Malice Attributed
Preaching To Myself: One of the worse thing we do as humans is to attribute malice toward us in the actions of other people even though they're probably not even thinking about us or the impact of their actions on us. What I'm saying is that we need to give each other a break or at least the benefit of a doubt.
Forgive their mistakes because we certainly need forgiveness for ours. Think how much better this world, our lives, and our relationships would be if we could forgive others easily and freely and they could do the same for us. It would be a new world.
Forgive their mistakes because we certainly need forgiveness for ours. Think how much better this world, our lives, and our relationships would be if we could forgive others easily and freely and they could do the same for us. It would be a new world.
Wednesday, July 01, 2015
A Simple Way
A friend of mine was saying that "harassment" and "discrimination" had a moving meaning. Perhaps so in the courts, but I can tell you a simple way for you to tell if you're harassing or discriminating against someone: If you really wouldn't mind if you were treated in the exact same fashion as you're treating that person, then the odds are good you are behaving in a decent manner. But if you wouldn't like it, then the odds are good that you're being a jerk. Cut it out.
This is just another way of saying what Jesus said in the Gospel of Mark, Chapter 12. Pay particular attention to verse 31.
"28 And one of the scribes came, and having heard them reasoning together, and perceiving that he had answered them well, asked him, Which is the first commandment of all?
"29 And Jesus answered him, The first of all the commandments is, Hear, O Israel; The Lord our God is one Lord:
"30 And thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy mind, and with all thy strength: this is the first commandment.
"31 And the second is like, namely this, Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself. There is none other commandment greater than these."
This is just another way of saying what Jesus said in the Gospel of Mark, Chapter 12. Pay particular attention to verse 31.
"28 And one of the scribes came, and having heard them reasoning together, and perceiving that he had answered them well, asked him, Which is the first commandment of all?
"29 And Jesus answered him, The first of all the commandments is, Hear, O Israel; The Lord our God is one Lord:
"30 And thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy mind, and with all thy strength: this is the first commandment.
"31 And the second is like, namely this, Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself. There is none other commandment greater than these."
Saturday, May 30, 2015
Short Stories for the Kindle
Over the past few weeks, I've been putting short stories up on Amazon for the Kindle devices and app. (More are coming.) Here is some info about each story and the link to purchase. (Click on the title to be taken to the story on Amazon.) Enjoy!
Duel in the Sky
In a futuristic sports dome, wind duelists battle for the ultimate prize: their lives. Includes bonus story, "Garage."
Grave Matters
Justina Grave, Knight of the Trivarutham, tangles with new, more powerful revenants and their bloodthirsty master, and discovers an unsettling truth about their origins.
The first Justina Grave Mystery.
Grave Concerns
A blood shaman invades Tulsa, and Justina Grave, Knight of the Trivarutham, is standing in his way.
The second Justina Grave Mystery.
An Unattended Death
Who left Aaron Brody out in the woods to die of a drug overdose? What does his dealer girlfriend know? And why does Daniel Bias, radio advertising salesman, stick his nose in where it doesn't belong? Daniel's investigation leads him to places he has never gone before, including the infamous Stuttering Rooster, the best gentleman's club in western Oklahoma. If Daniel's smart mouth doesn't get him killed, his questions might.
The first Daniel Bias mystery.
In a futuristic sports dome, wind duelists battle for the ultimate prize: their lives. Includes bonus story, "Garage."
Justina Grave, Knight of the Trivarutham, tangles with new, more powerful revenants and their bloodthirsty master, and discovers an unsettling truth about their origins.
The first Justina Grave Mystery.
A blood shaman invades Tulsa, and Justina Grave, Knight of the Trivarutham, is standing in his way.
The second Justina Grave Mystery.
Who left Aaron Brody out in the woods to die of a drug overdose? What does his dealer girlfriend know? And why does Daniel Bias, radio advertising salesman, stick his nose in where it doesn't belong? Daniel's investigation leads him to places he has never gone before, including the infamous Stuttering Rooster, the best gentleman's club in western Oklahoma. If Daniel's smart mouth doesn't get him killed, his questions might.
The first Daniel Bias mystery.
Friday, April 24, 2015
BSF launches for Kindle!
Blackbirds Second Flight now available for your Kindle!
Enjoy these dark fantasies:
A writer challenges her murderous muse.
Dragons and riders stage a daring rescue.
Gangsters face off over the world's fate.
Warriors duel to their deaths in the sky.
A dad battles ghosts to save his daughter.
The sidhe never forget nor forgive.
It's Malone's way, or the fur will fly.
A shaman invades Tulsa on a killing hunt.
And much more!
Kindle version!
Print versions!
Wednesday, April 08, 2015
Monday, March 30, 2015
Blackbirds Second Flight On Sale NOW!
March 30, 2015
MANY RIVERS HARBOR PUBLISHES NEW FANTASY ANTHOLOGY
ADA, OKLAHOMA—Many Rivers Harbor announces the publication of Blackbirds Second Flight, an anthology of thrilling fantasy stories and chilling poems by new and established writers. The book is on sale now at Amazon, Barnes and Noble, Lulu, and other online retailers.
“We're proud to publish Blackbirds Second Flight,” said Kyra Childers, MRH associate editor. “This book follows last year's Blackbirds First Flight and features fantasy stories and poems with a dark twist.”
Childers said the book offers short stories that continue several characters' lives after their appearance in Blackbirds First Flight. "Both Stephen (Bagley) and Wendy (Blanton) return to characters first seen in last year's anthology. Stephen gives us another story about monster hunter Justina Grave, and Wendy tells us about another man's encounter with the powerful fairy Maeve."
The book retails for $12. For more information on Blackbirds Second Flight, readers can visit blackbirdsflights.blogspot.com.
The book features works from Stephen B. Bagley, Wendy Blanton, Gail Henderson, Ken Lewis, Jean Schara, and Heath Stallcup.
Stephen B. Bagley wrote Tales from Bethlehem, Murder by Dewey Decimal, Murder by the Acre, Floozy and Other Stories, and EndlesS. His works have appeared in Blackbirds First Flight, Creations 2014, Creations 2013, Creations 2012, ByLine Magazine, Free Star, Nautilus Magazine, OKMagazine, and other publications. He graduated from Oklahoma State University with a Bachelor of Science in Journalism. He is a member of Oklahoma Writers Federation, Inc.
Wendy Blanton published three fantasy novels, The Dragon’s Lady, Rogue Pawn, and Sword and Scabbard under the pen name Elizabeth Joy with co-author Scott Carman. She has a Bachelor of Applied Science in Business Management from the University of Mount Olive and served in active duty for the United States Air Force for eight years. She is an apprentice bard and tells Celtic folk tales at Scottish Highland Games and other venues.
Gail Henderson collaborated with noted Oklahoma photographer Michael Duncan to produce Bare, a book of poetry and photography. Red Bird Woman, a collection of her poetry, was published in 2013. Her work has appeared in Blackbirds First Flight, Creations 2014, Creations 2013, Creations 2012, and ByLine Magazine. She holds a Masters of Education in English and Social Studies from East Central University. She is a member of Oklahoma Writers Federation, Inc.
Ken Lewis's articles, memoirs, short stories, and poems appeared in Creations 2014, Creations 2013, and Creations 2012. He graduated from East Central University, Ada, Oklahoma, with a Bachelor of Science in Medical Technology, with a major in Biology and a minor in Chemistry. He is also a graduate of the Long Ridge Writers Group, Danbury, Connecticut. He is an amateur astronomer and is currently involved in a global effort to gather visual information of double stars. He enjoys handcycling and has completed numerous marathons.
Jean Schara retired from a 28-year career in the United States Air Force in 2008 and took up residence in Texas. She is a graduate of the University of Maryland University College with a Bachelor of Arts in Professional Writing and of the Troy State University with a Master of Science in Adult Education. She has had several book reviews published in the Air Power Journal and several articles published in Vision: A Resource for Writers.
Heath Stallcup was born in Salinas, California, and relocated to Tupelo, Oklahoma, in his teen years. He joined the US Navy and was stationed in Charleston, South Carolina, and Bangor, Washington, shortly after junior college. After his second tour, he attended East Central University, Ada, Oklahoma, where he obtained Bachelor of Science degrees in Biology and Chemistry. He then served ten years with the State of Oklahoma as a Compliance and Enforcement Officer while moonlighting nights and weekends with his local sheriff’s office. He lives in Oklahoma with his wife and three of his seven children. His books include Whispers, Caldera, Forneus Corson, and the continuing Monster Squad series: Return of the Phoenix, Full Moon Rising, Coalition of the Damned, Blood Apocalypse, Homecoming, and Wayward Son.
MANY RIVERS HARBOR PUBLISHES NEW FANTASY ANTHOLOGY
ADA, OKLAHOMA—Many Rivers Harbor announces the publication of Blackbirds Second Flight, an anthology of thrilling fantasy stories and chilling poems by new and established writers. The book is on sale now at Amazon, Barnes and Noble, Lulu, and other online retailers.“We're proud to publish Blackbirds Second Flight,” said Kyra Childers, MRH associate editor. “This book follows last year's Blackbirds First Flight and features fantasy stories and poems with a dark twist.”
Childers said the book offers short stories that continue several characters' lives after their appearance in Blackbirds First Flight. "Both Stephen (Bagley) and Wendy (Blanton) return to characters first seen in last year's anthology. Stephen gives us another story about monster hunter Justina Grave, and Wendy tells us about another man's encounter with the powerful fairy Maeve."
The book retails for $12. For more information on Blackbirds Second Flight, readers can visit blackbirdsflights.blogspot.com.
The book features works from Stephen B. Bagley, Wendy Blanton, Gail Henderson, Ken Lewis, Jean Schara, and Heath Stallcup.
Stephen B. Bagley wrote Tales from Bethlehem, Murder by Dewey Decimal, Murder by the Acre, Floozy and Other Stories, and EndlesS. His works have appeared in Blackbirds First Flight, Creations 2014, Creations 2013, Creations 2012, ByLine Magazine, Free Star, Nautilus Magazine, OKMagazine, and other publications. He graduated from Oklahoma State University with a Bachelor of Science in Journalism. He is a member of Oklahoma Writers Federation, Inc.
Wendy Blanton published three fantasy novels, The Dragon’s Lady, Rogue Pawn, and Sword and Scabbard under the pen name Elizabeth Joy with co-author Scott Carman. She has a Bachelor of Applied Science in Business Management from the University of Mount Olive and served in active duty for the United States Air Force for eight years. She is an apprentice bard and tells Celtic folk tales at Scottish Highland Games and other venues.
Gail Henderson collaborated with noted Oklahoma photographer Michael Duncan to produce Bare, a book of poetry and photography. Red Bird Woman, a collection of her poetry, was published in 2013. Her work has appeared in Blackbirds First Flight, Creations 2014, Creations 2013, Creations 2012, and ByLine Magazine. She holds a Masters of Education in English and Social Studies from East Central University. She is a member of Oklahoma Writers Federation, Inc.
Ken Lewis's articles, memoirs, short stories, and poems appeared in Creations 2014, Creations 2013, and Creations 2012. He graduated from East Central University, Ada, Oklahoma, with a Bachelor of Science in Medical Technology, with a major in Biology and a minor in Chemistry. He is also a graduate of the Long Ridge Writers Group, Danbury, Connecticut. He is an amateur astronomer and is currently involved in a global effort to gather visual information of double stars. He enjoys handcycling and has completed numerous marathons.
Jean Schara retired from a 28-year career in the United States Air Force in 2008 and took up residence in Texas. She is a graduate of the University of Maryland University College with a Bachelor of Arts in Professional Writing and of the Troy State University with a Master of Science in Adult Education. She has had several book reviews published in the Air Power Journal and several articles published in Vision: A Resource for Writers.
Heath Stallcup was born in Salinas, California, and relocated to Tupelo, Oklahoma, in his teen years. He joined the US Navy and was stationed in Charleston, South Carolina, and Bangor, Washington, shortly after junior college. After his second tour, he attended East Central University, Ada, Oklahoma, where he obtained Bachelor of Science degrees in Biology and Chemistry. He then served ten years with the State of Oklahoma as a Compliance and Enforcement Officer while moonlighting nights and weekends with his local sheriff’s office. He lives in Oklahoma with his wife and three of his seven children. His books include Whispers, Caldera, Forneus Corson, and the continuing Monster Squad series: Return of the Phoenix, Full Moon Rising, Coalition of the Damned, Blood Apocalypse, Homecoming, and Wayward Son.
Sunday, March 22, 2015
BSF book trailer!
Book trailer for the new dark anthology Blackbirds Second Flight from Many Rivers Harbor. BSF features dark fantasy stories from Stephen B. Bagley, Wendy Blanton, Gail Henderson, Ken Lewis, Jean Schara, and Heath Stallcup.
Friday, March 13, 2015
Video Chat!
The first Many Rivers Harbor Video Chat. A few minutes of fun and information about the new anthology "Blackbirds Second Flight" with authors Stephen B. Bagley, Wendy Blanton, and Jean Schara in which they discuss their short stories, feral cats, murderous muses, fairies, dragons, and a few other oddities they didn't expect.
Friday, February 27, 2015
Friday, February 20, 2015
We be dissing
By Stephen B. Bagley
With my various physical aliments, I find myself spending more time that I’d like in doctors’ waiting rooms. They’re uniformly dreary places, filled with unsavory people who are deliberately coughing their germs my direction because they’re mean. Of course, I wear a mask during flu season, although I've learned to remove it when entering banks. They’re touchy about masks at banks.
The only good thing about waiting rooms is that I get to read a lot of magazines that I would never read otherwise and probably shouldn't. I confess that I gravitate toward the more trashy ones about terrible people. You know, Cosmopolitan, Entertainment Weekly, Tiger Beat, People, US Weekly, and the U.S. Congressional Record.
You may disapprove—I’ll let you this one time—but I have learned things I would have never known. For instance, are you aware that Taylor Swift and Katy Perry are in a feud? Apparently Katy hired away some dancers from Taylor’s tour. Taylor could have paid the dancers more, but in that way lies madness. If you pay the dancers more, the backup singers are going to be in line right behind them, and the next thing you know, you’re having to pay a living wage to your entire stage crew.
No, Taylor handled this in the devastating way that pop princesses do: Taylor is going to “dis” Katy in her next song. When Katy heard about this—probably from Tiger Beat, which follows celebrity feuds with the fervor and attention that network news should show when covering world events —she let it be known that she will dis Taylor on her next album. You can tell from all the dissing going on that they’re on the edge of meeting in a dark alley and trying to off each other with their sharpened People’s Choice Awards.
I’m going to bet on Taylor in the brawl, by the way. She’s got those long legs and long arms, giving her the reach on short-armed Katy. Also, Taylor looks all athletic and fit, while Katy has a faintly dissipated look about her. And after the fight is over, Taylor will write a Grammy-winning song about it.
You’re probably wondering what “dis” means. According to such honored authorities as the online urban dictionaries, it carries the meanings of: “dislike, disown, disaffirm, distrust, disembowel, discount, disbar.” Wow. Think of all the spelling that saves you. Although the “disembowel” bothers me. Someone could say they’re going to dis you, and you’re expecting them to discount or disown you, and instead, they’re swinging a sword at your midsection. That has to be disconcerting. Even disorienting. Are you disliking all the dis-s yet?
All the magazines are carrying this story, so you know it has to be true. I don’t know how they stay in business reporting the same news, but somehow they do. I’m told they are fiercely competitive about getting the story first, so much so that they actually have to publish the stories before the events depicted in the stories happen. In less enlightened times, this used to be called “lying,” but if Taylor and Katy aren't dissing each other yet, the magazines know they will eventually. And if not, well, you shouldn't be reading the trash they print, anyway.
Copyright 2015. Excerpt from A Little Floozy by Stephen B. Bagley. All rights reserved. Copying prohibited. Thank you for reading.
Tuesday, February 10, 2015
Sunday, February 08, 2015
Wednesday, February 04, 2015
Sunday, January 04, 2015
Wednesday, December 31, 2014
Happy New Year!
Turn Does The Year
By Stephen B. Bagley
the old year turns
either onto a new path
or onto the same
with only minor changes
we raise a cup or not
as it may be hoping it will
even as we realize
it might not be as hoped
in this heartbeat
between then and now
and what comes after
drink deep the bittersweet
we are promised nothing
but we plan and plan
and if the fates be kind
some plans will bloom
we cannot make promises
we might not keep
even though we will try
and cry and laugh and run
dance with me or
love with me maybe
pray with me perhaps
kiss sweet lips now
think of what we leave
behind walk toward what
is before us hold my hand
as the old year turns new
(Copyright 2015. All rights reserved.)
By Stephen B. Bagley
the old year turns
either onto a new path
or onto the same
with only minor changes
we raise a cup or not
as it may be hoping it will
even as we realize
it might not be as hoped
in this heartbeat
between then and now
and what comes after
drink deep the bittersweet
we are promised nothing
but we plan and plan
and if the fates be kind
some plans will bloom
we cannot make promises
we might not keep
even though we will try
and cry and laugh and run
dance with me or
love with me maybe
pray with me perhaps
kiss sweet lips now
think of what we leave
behind walk toward what
is before us hold my hand
as the old year turns new
(Copyright 2015. All rights reserved.)
Sunday, December 28, 2014
Contributing to the heat death of the universe
Was watching a show on the Discovery Science Channel -- can't tell you which one because I didn't pay attention -- but the scientist on it talked about how every living thing contributes to entropy, how being alive is a constant journey toward disorder and how using the energy we do is an infinitely small contributor to the eventual heat death of the universe. Yeah, happy stuff. I think I switched over to watch a movie at that point. Probably Guardians of the Galaxy, which I enjoyed greatly.
Later, over a hot cup of chai latte, I begin to think about what the scientist said. We do contribute to disorder by being alive. We have our own personal carbon footprint. Energy is used by our gadgets, cars, machines, buildings ... we build a debt up by simply being alive. It's mostly a factor of our current technology; four thousand years ago, we lived short lives. Our impact was less; we simply didn't survive long enough to have much of a footprint.
We can reduce our carbon footprint by doing easy things: Take public transportation when available, don't use plastic when we can avoid it, use recyclable plastic when we can, use more glass and paper containers, change the air filters in our heaters and air conditioners, take our own bags to the store, weatherstrip our houses and buildings, and so on. I'm sure you can think of several things that are fairly easy to do. Naturally, we won't see much of a impact, particularly if no one else does any of these items. But in a huge group, it's amazing how much energy we can save.
But will anyone do them? Some of them are not particularly convenient. Some of them take more time. And in the short run, more money. I do carry my own canvas bags to use; they're cheap and sturdy. We do change the air filters. Our house has nice windows. We don't have access to public transportation here. We probably keep our thermostat too high in the winter and too low in the summer. And so on. It's hard to work up enthusiasm about results when they're dependent on so many people.
Not much point to this. Just where my mind has been wandering. Next week, I'll be talking about my plans for 2015. This week, a couple of visits to the doctor. Actually, doctors. House cleaning. Chores. Planning.
Have a great week and a Happy New Year!
Later, over a hot cup of chai latte, I begin to think about what the scientist said. We do contribute to disorder by being alive. We have our own personal carbon footprint. Energy is used by our gadgets, cars, machines, buildings ... we build a debt up by simply being alive. It's mostly a factor of our current technology; four thousand years ago, we lived short lives. Our impact was less; we simply didn't survive long enough to have much of a footprint.
We can reduce our carbon footprint by doing easy things: Take public transportation when available, don't use plastic when we can avoid it, use recyclable plastic when we can, use more glass and paper containers, change the air filters in our heaters and air conditioners, take our own bags to the store, weatherstrip our houses and buildings, and so on. I'm sure you can think of several things that are fairly easy to do. Naturally, we won't see much of a impact, particularly if no one else does any of these items. But in a huge group, it's amazing how much energy we can save.
But will anyone do them? Some of them are not particularly convenient. Some of them take more time. And in the short run, more money. I do carry my own canvas bags to use; they're cheap and sturdy. We do change the air filters. Our house has nice windows. We don't have access to public transportation here. We probably keep our thermostat too high in the winter and too low in the summer. And so on. It's hard to work up enthusiasm about results when they're dependent on so many people.
Not much point to this. Just where my mind has been wandering. Next week, I'll be talking about my plans for 2015. This week, a couple of visits to the doctor. Actually, doctors. House cleaning. Chores. Planning.
Have a great week and a Happy New Year!
Friday, December 19, 2014
Books for Christmas and after!
Anthology - Enjoy chilling poems and dark tales in this collection from Stephen B. Bagley, Kent Bass, Wendy Blanton, Gail Henderson, Jean Schara, & Tamara Siler Jones.
Buy on Amazon
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By Stephen B. Bagley
Poetry - Enjoy more than 50 sensual & moving poems, including the award winning "Non-Communion," "Torrent," & "Endless."
Buy on Amazon
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By Stephen B. Bagley
Humor - Laugh at these hilarious tales from the author's decidedly different life.
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By Stephen B. Bagley
Mystery - Who killed the librarian? Who's next to die and why? 1st in Measurements of Murder series.
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By Stephen B. Bagley
Mystery - Who killed the ladies man? Bernard, Lisa & the chief are back! New expanded edition. 2nd in Measurements of Murder series.
Buy on Lulu
Buy on Amazon
By Stephen B. Bagley
Mystery - Who killed the ladies man? Bernard, Lisa & the chief are back! 2nd in Measurements of Murder series.
Buy on Amazon
Buy on Barnes & Noble
By Stephen B. Bagley
Inspirational - Have you ever wondered about everyone else in Bethlehem on the night of the Nativity? These charming and touching Tales will tell you their stories.
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Monday, December 15, 2014
Smart phones or another horror of modern life
By Stephen B. Bagley
Excerpted from A Little Floozy.
The perfect Christmas gift this year—according to numerous ads on TV and online—is apparently a “smart” phone. Or a smart phone upgrade. I don’t have a smart phone; my phone just makes and receives calls. It’s a dumb phone. And I’m happy about that.
Many people think it’s strange that I don’t like the smart phones. Well, they think other things are strange, too, but we’re not going to talk about those. It’s strange, they say, that I love computers, robots, lasers, telescopes, cameras, anything with lots of buttons and lights, and rockets, but dislike smart phones.
But I do. I find smart phones annoying. Their screens are tiny. Their buttons are small. They make weird noises, and people use them to post embarrassing and/or naughty pictures online. Worse, people use them to “text” each other. “Text” is not a verb. You can’t “text” someone just as you can’t “font” or “comma” or “semicolon” someone. Or you shouldn’t if you have any respect for the English language.
I have been told the smart phones are little computers, but they are not! You cannot use a smart phone to break the encryption on a secret government site... not that you should do that under any circumstances. The FBI knows—or will when they read this—that I am not doing that and certainly not encouraging anyone to do that again. (Agent McHenry, how are those nervous hives? Hope they’re cleared up by now.)
The most annoying thing about smart phones—well, the second most annoying thing about them—is how it lets people look things up. They “Google®” it. (“Google” is also not a verb, but that may be a fight I will have to concede.) I have an awesome brain filled with millions of interesting and often strange facts. Say, for instance, you wonder how Genghis Khan died. I can tell you both stories: how supposedly he fell from his horse and died from internal injuries, or how supposedly a captured princess did something terrible to him with a knife and he never recovered. But do you ask me? No. You just “Google” it with your phone. My brain is loaded with all these wonderful items, but you instead use your smart phone. A pox on it!
Of course, my brain is faster than you looking it up, but once in a rare, rare, rare instance, I might possibly remember wrong. I might tell you that Khan died in July when he really died August 18, 1227. July, August, it was in the summer, okay? You didn’t know. If it hadn’t been for your phone, I could have told you that he died in January 1220 by eating undercooked badger and you would have believed it. The thing is I don’t understand why you’re so interested in Genghis Khan anyway. It’s weird. Get a life.
The actual most annoying thing about smart phones is how people will be talking to you and they get a text and then they interrupt talking to you to carry on a conversation with someone else—thus implying I am not as interesting as the other person they are “texting” to. This is insulting, and I find throwing silverware at them immediately makes them pay attention to me again, as they should. Knives are particularly effective. (Once again, just kidding Agent McHenry. I am not violating my parole with weapons, depending on how you define “weapons” since I think we’re all agreed that lasers, rockets, and firearms are not under that definition, but rather under the heading of “good, clean fun” or “party favors.”)
A friend pointed out that maybe all this texting nonsense is the universe getting revenge on me for not paying attention to other people when they are talking. He said a few more things, but I wasn’t listening. If you aren’t interesting enough to keep my attention, then the problem is with you. You need to up your game. Talk about a subject I’m interested in—for instance, my general brilliance and sweet humility—and I will hang on your every word and might even quote you.
People use their smart phones all the time everywhere. Weddings, funerals, church, even during the Sacred Rituals of the Poached Warthog Lodge, it doesn’t matter. The smart phone is ubiquitous. (This is a real word. You might not know it since it’s not often used by those who send texts. Too many letters, I guess.)
The other Sunday morning while sitting on the balcony at church—which I do because it seems to make my minister less nervous—I looked out over the congregation and noticed a man using his phone to text in church. Fortunately I had my binoculars with me and could easily see he was talking to a friend about going out to eat after the service. You will be proud to know that I did the only thing a decent, God-fearing man could do. I took the collection plate, flung it like a Frisbee® and bounced it off his head. He was so surprised. And unconscious for about twenty minutes.
I think the height of the balcony may have added to the force of the throw, but it could have been an angel, too. At least, that was my defense in front of the deacon board. They were overwhelmed by my piercing logic and silenced by my wise words. They sat there quietly with the oddest expression on their faces. They looked...frightened. It was quite strange and offsetting.
I may visit another church for a while. For some reason, I have started to receive a lot of brochures for other churches, several in other towns and one in another state. Curious timing.
I actually have a phone that could be smart if I was willing to pay the data charges. AT&T® telemarketers are baffled by my refusal to add anything extra to my phone. They often call me with offers of many “gigs” of data for a monthly payment that I would only need to sell my neighbor’s car to afford.
“You can read books on it,” the telemarketer says.
“The screen is too small,” I say.
“You can watch movies,” he says.
“If the screen is too small for books, how is it large enough to watch a movie?”
“On YouTube, you can find thousands of videos to enjoy,” he says.
“I’ve seen enough videos of grumpy cats and falling people,” I say.
Then he makes a fatal mistake. “You can Facebook,” he says. “You can Twitter. You can—”
“Facebook and Twitter aren’t verbs, you uneducated batweasel skunkface,” I explain kindly.
I then launch into a fascinating discussion about how we must protect the English language from the barbarians of textspeak. Somehow we get cut off, and I have to call him back to finish. Twice. You’d think they would have better service than that, but perhaps he’s using a dumb phone. He should upgrade. I’m told it’s the perfect Christmas gift.
(Copyright 2014 by Stephen B. Bagley. All rights reserved. Thanks for reading!)
Saturday, November 01, 2014
Available now at Amazon, Barnes & Noble
Enjoy stories and poems from authors
Stephen B. Bagley, Kent Bass, Wendy Blanton,
Gail Henderson, Jean Schara, and Tamara Siler Jones
in this dark, thrilling anthology!
Click here to buy Blackbirds First Flight at Barnes & Noble!
Click here to buy Blackbirds First Flight at Lulu!
Learn more at Blackbirds Flights.
Blackbirds First Flight
Click here to buy Blackbirds First Flight at Lulu!
Learn more at Blackbirds Flights.
Blackbirds First Flight
- An unhappy wife can't decide what to do about her boorish husband until an uneaten meal gives her a dark idea.
- Something is raising zombies in Tulsa, and Justina Grave is the only one who can stop it.
- When a fat farm promises to make Edyth thin again, her dream comes true. She will never be fat again--or safe.
- Hopping a freight train can be a cheap way to travel. Unless you pick the wrong boxcar.
- One kiss gives Francois immortality, but at a cost he doesn't see coming.
- A woman warrior must choose her fate as the Romans ravage her land.
- Stalked by terrible creatures seeking vengeance, a band of robbers runs for their lives in medieval France.
This anthology will lead you into dark, twisted places filled with mystery and delight.
Tuesday, October 28, 2014
Library hosts book signing for "Blackbirds First Flight"
Bagley, Blanton, Henderson, and Schara will sign copies of the book at the signing. The book will also be on sale at that time for the special price of $10.
“‘Blackbirds First Flight’ is an anthology of stories and poetry with a dark, sensual twist,” said Pru Simmons, Many River Harbor associate editor. “The stories run the gambit from thrilling Gothic adventure to modern urban fantasy to fantastic encounters with the macabre. The poetry is uniformly excellent and tells dark stories of its own, many related to mythology.”
Simmons said the book might become an annual anthology. “We have had many inquiries about the book and its theme,” she said. “We definitely think there is an interest in dark, twisty fantasy that tells a satisfying story and follows traditional narrative arcs. We hope there will be another flight next year.”
“Gail (Henderson) and I are excited to actually meet some of the other authors,” Bagley said. “Wendy (Blanton) is flying in from Chicago, and Jean (Schara) is driving up from Texas. This is the first time we’ll all be in the same town.”
Stephen B. Bagley wrote “Tales from Bethlehem,” “Murder by Dewey Decimal,” “Murder by the Acre,” “Floozy & Other Stories,” and “EndlesS.” His works have appeared in “Creations 2014,” “Creations 2013,” “Creations 2012,” “ByLine Magazine,” “Free Star,” “Nautilus Magazine,” “OKMagazine,” and other publications. He graduated from Oklahoma State University with a Bachelor of Science in Journalism. He is a member of Oklahoma Writers Federation, Inc. and Ada Writers.
Kent Bass enjoys writing Gothic action/adventure stories. He graduated from Oklahoma State University with a Bachelor of Science in Business and from the University of Oklahoma, with a Master of Science in Accountancy. He and his family live in Dallas, Texas, where he works for the nation’s leading tax software company. “Blackbirds First Flight” is his first publication.
Wendy Blanton published three fantasy novels, “The Dragon’s Lady,” “Rogue Pawn,” and “Sword and Scabbard” under the pen name Elizabeth Joy with co-author Scott Carman. She has a Bachelor of Applied Science in Business Management from the University of Mount Olive and served in active duty for the United States Air Force for eight years. She is an apprentice bard and tells Celtic folk tales at Scottish Highland Games and other venues.
Gail Henderson collaborated with noted Oklahoma photographer Michael Duncan to produce “Bare,” a book of poetry and photography. “Red Bird Woman,” a collection of her poetry, was published in 2013. Her work has appeared in “Creations 2014,” “Creations 2013,” “Creations 2012,” and “ByLine Magazine.” She holds a Masters of Education in English and Social Studies from East Central University. She is a member of Oklahoma Writers Federation, Inc. and Ada Writers.
Tamara Siler Jones is a wife, mom, writer, quilter, and cat-wrangler from rural Iowa. She has three novels in print/eBook (“Ghosts in the Snow,” winner of the Compton Crook Award for best first novel of the year in the Science Fiction/Fantasy/Horror genre; “Threads of Malice”; and “Valley of the Soul”; all published by Bantam Books), one book (“SPORE”) under contract with Samhain Publishing for release next summer; one book (“Morgan’s Run”) being marketed in New York, three novels in progress, and a screenplay in first draft.
Jean Schara retired from a 28-year career in the United States Air Force in 2008 and took up residence in Texas. She is a graduate of the University of Maryland University College with a Bachelor of Arts in Professional Writing and of the Troy State University with a Master of Science in Adult Education. She has had several book reviews published in the “Air Power Journal” and several articles published in “Vision: A Resource for Writers.”
“Blackbirds First Flight” is available from Amazon.com, Lulu.com, and other online retailers and in downtown Ada at Karen’s Art & Framing, Inc., 108 East Main.
For more information, visit Blackbirds Flights.
Tuesday, October 21, 2014
Wednesday, October 01, 2014
Blackbirds First Flight on sale now!
Blackbirds First Flight is officially on sale now! This brand new anthology features dark, twisty short stories and poems from Stephen B. Bagley, Kent Bass, Wendy Blanton, Gail Henderson, Jean Schara, and Tamara Siler Jones. To buy the book from Lulu.com, go here: Blackbirds First Flight. Get free mail shipping or 50% off ground shipping on your order by using coupon code: GMF14. (Offer ends Oct. 6 at 11:59 PM. Offer cannot be combined with other offers.)
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