Old, infirm, and considerably disfigured, it's evident that some things are hopelessly lost in life's rear view mirror. I'll never twirl and take a girl tightly in my arms again while we dance, which I did brilliantly in bars and supper clubs, my partner and I applauded by other guests. I miss dancing. Some days I find it difficult to walk without using a cane.
I miss sexual prowess, svengali-like magnetism, and almost infinite endurance at age 32. It was all downhill after a brief season of masculine magic. Seems unfair that peak enjoyment only persists a year or so, took a very long time to achieve and sagged so abruptly. Later in life, sex became mechanical and complicated, then a dry echo of manhood, lost forever.
I miss driving a powerful car, confidently and effortlessly. Over a year ago I sold the Dodge, partly because I could no longer afford it, but also because I no longer trusted myself behind the wheel at highway speed or in competitive city traffic. My favorite car was Clare's white Monte Carlo, flying over curvy river roads, age 28. Second favorite was a thundering Volvo roadster, driving on the wrong side of the road in Australia, age 31.
I miss directing pro crews and talented cast. Ten years was too little. I miss multitrack mixing and cutting visual poetry, behind the beat, around the beat, a gasp of surprise. I miss Mizars and Redheads, C-stands and spun diffusion, the smell of hot black barndoors on a 2K fresnel, the thrill of sharply dimensional three-point light in a tight close-up.
Soon I will miss writing.
.
Wednesday, February 19, 2020
Sunday, February 2, 2020
Trump
Obama appointees and career civil servants at the National Security Council, CIA, and State Department have done everything in their power to sabotage and oust President Trump. The national news media, particularly the New York Times, Washington Post, NPR, and CNN have promoted every leak and every scathing Democrat attack into another indictment of Trump and his "base" of 63 million supporters, who are mocked as easily-led rubes. We've been told repeatedly that Trump cheated in 2016, and he will collude with foreign adversaries to cheat in 2020. Trump has been compared to Adolph Hitler and accused of lining his pockets with taxpayer money, obstructing Congress, and telling thousands of lies.
A few items are less well known. Antifa and black rioters will disrupt the Democrat National Convention in Milwaukee. Tens of thousands of Bernie supporters pray daily that Trump will die. It may not be possible to conduct an orderly general election in November. Re-election of President Trump will be decried as electoral fraud. We are on the cusp of civil war.
A few items are less well known. Antifa and black rioters will disrupt the Democrat National Convention in Milwaukee. Tens of thousands of Bernie supporters pray daily that Trump will die. It may not be possible to conduct an orderly general election in November. Re-election of President Trump will be decried as electoral fraud. We are on the cusp of civil war.
The Ballad of Wolf and Rex
There must be some kind of way out of here
said the Joker to the Thief
There's too much confusion
I can't get no relief
Businessmen they drink my wine
plowmen dig my earth
Every one along the line
nobody of it is worth
No reason to get excited
the Thief he kindly spoke
There are many here among us
who feel that life is but a joke
But you and I we've been through that
and this is not our fate
So let us not talk falsely now
the hour's getting late
Honored by his friendship, exasperated by his manipulation, grateful in a thousand ways that Rex tolerated and defended me, admired and published my work, he flew me to Costa Rica and gave me a status unequaled in the Gulch that Rex built at enormous personal risk.
He gave his life to advance the cause of liberty, totally deaf to the rule of law. Paradoxically, it could have saved him. Among hundreds of crystal clear recollections, none was as sharp as Rex firing from the hip, one two three rounds in the compound after dark. Lord knows what the neighbors thought. Our next door neighbor was the concrete-walled Russian Consulate. The baroque Belgian Embassy across the street probably went on high alert. We had a tighter perimeter than they did. Gunfire in the diplomatic quarter was frequent, usually something disagreeable and dangerous. Rex handed me the gun and I held it at arm's length like a duelist, plugged a tree to feel what the trigger and recoil were like, swept my jacket aside and stuck it behind my back.
If you have occasion to fire a Makarov, it pulls to the left.
.
said the Joker to the Thief
There's too much confusion
I can't get no relief
Businessmen they drink my wine
plowmen dig my earth
Every one along the line
nobody of it is worth
No reason to get excited
the Thief he kindly spoke
There are many here among us
who feel that life is but a joke
But you and I we've been through that
and this is not our fate
So let us not talk falsely now
the hour's getting late
Honored by his friendship, exasperated by his manipulation, grateful in a thousand ways that Rex tolerated and defended me, admired and published my work, he flew me to Costa Rica and gave me a status unequaled in the Gulch that Rex built at enormous personal risk.
He gave his life to advance the cause of liberty, totally deaf to the rule of law. Paradoxically, it could have saved him. Among hundreds of crystal clear recollections, none was as sharp as Rex firing from the hip, one two three rounds in the compound after dark. Lord knows what the neighbors thought. Our next door neighbor was the concrete-walled Russian Consulate. The baroque Belgian Embassy across the street probably went on high alert. We had a tighter perimeter than they did. Gunfire in the diplomatic quarter was frequent, usually something disagreeable and dangerous. Rex handed me the gun and I held it at arm's length like a duelist, plugged a tree to feel what the trigger and recoil were like, swept my jacket aside and stuck it behind my back.
If you have occasion to fire a Makarov, it pulls to the left.
.
Saturday, January 25, 2020
Blood shift
Krautzer and I never spoke to each other. He got up and, armed with a flask of coffee and a pack of cigarettes, I sat down to sign in. It was already a busy night, four units in action, which I monitored a few minutes before I took over. I hated weekends.
"Seven polecat," the radio said.
"Seven," I acknowledged.
"Maintenance arrived at 3355 Union. Situation quiet."
I glanced at the map that was evoked by his transmission. No reason to take chances. "Seven polecat remain on scene and cover. I'll relieve you as quick as I can."
"Seven copy," he replied.
I lifted the cover and touched the All Channel button. "Twenty-one oh one, R.A.C.C."
Coffee would have to wait. "Night units to district loops. Day shift dismissed, except Seven polecat, Nine alpha, Center one and Center two. Nine alpha, report your status."
"Waiting for P.D., 6300 block of Farleigh. Request backup."
The nearest unit had just saddled up. "Sharp five, 6300 block of Fairleigh, code 2. Meet Nine alpha on Tac 1."
"Sharp five wilco."
The mess downtown bothered me. "Center one, what's the situation?"
"We're still tied up with P.D. and directing traffic."
Shit. "Can you release Center two?"
"Uh ... okay. Maybe ten minutes or so. Center one."
The customer board yelped at me.
"Nine strong, silent alarm at Western Supply, 601 South River, code 1."
He acknowledged, and I debated sending a second car, but resisted the impulse. Nine strong had enough firepower to deal with whatever the situation might be, and if the shot locator tripped, I could get another unit on scene fairly quick. I called the customer, told him not to respond until we had control of whatever was happening, and had to hang up abruptly.
"...backup! Officer down!"
The shot locator flashed red at 3355 Union. I vectored the drone: "Armed support to 3355 Union. Be advised civilian maintenance people on scene." Policy dictated that I had to report a shooting incident to the cops. Not now. "Six buster, six falcon, 3355 Union, code three." They acknowledged in turn. I briefed the EMS dispatcher, requested that he deploy two units to a safe position, 35th and Lafayette, until I signaled on their tactical channel to proceed. The shot locator was rattling, five or six map jogs. I described the situation to the drone operator, ordered him to take out the brick building and adjacent vacant lot at 3367 Union, be aware that two District Six units were converging, code three, use stun shots, and be damn careful not to hit our people or nonactors by mistake.
The clock was running and I had to notify the police. I scanned the directory for Southwest, identified myself, described the activity, and suggested that they delay responding until we had control of the situation. The station commander was pissed off, aware of what we were doing, monitoring my dispatch channel. No point in apologizing. I disconnected abruptly
.
With the drone on location, I started getting fuzzy bodycam relays, one of them an unmoving cockeyed image of the pavement. Officer down. Tactical chatter among the others and then a series of flash bang shots to take out a knot of gang bangers.
"Six buster, Seven polecat, say your situtation."
"This is falcon. Two men down. Buster and Ritchie from polecat are holding a perimeter. We need EMS, right now, god damn it!"
I released the medics to roll, sickened by what had happened. Eight hours to go, and in the first fifteen minutes of my shift I had two men down and three units out of action. When the cops showed up, they'd pour molasses over everything. Might be more than a few bangers wounded, blinded, or deceased. I had to call Legal.
A few seconds to light a cigarette, unscrew my thermos and pour a cup of coffee.
.
"Seven polecat," the radio said.
"Seven," I acknowledged.
"Maintenance arrived at 3355 Union. Situation quiet."
I glanced at the map that was evoked by his transmission. No reason to take chances. "Seven polecat remain on scene and cover. I'll relieve you as quick as I can."
"Seven copy," he replied.
I lifted the cover and touched the All Channel button. "Twenty-one oh one, R.A.C.C."
Coffee would have to wait. "Night units to district loops. Day shift dismissed, except Seven polecat, Nine alpha, Center one and Center two. Nine alpha, report your status."
"Waiting for P.D., 6300 block of Farleigh. Request backup."
The nearest unit had just saddled up. "Sharp five, 6300 block of Fairleigh, code 2. Meet Nine alpha on Tac 1."
"Sharp five wilco."
The mess downtown bothered me. "Center one, what's the situation?"
"We're still tied up with P.D. and directing traffic."
Shit. "Can you release Center two?"
"Uh ... okay. Maybe ten minutes or so. Center one."
The customer board yelped at me.
"Nine strong, silent alarm at Western Supply, 601 South River, code 1."
He acknowledged, and I debated sending a second car, but resisted the impulse. Nine strong had enough firepower to deal with whatever the situation might be, and if the shot locator tripped, I could get another unit on scene fairly quick. I called the customer, told him not to respond until we had control of whatever was happening, and had to hang up abruptly.
"...backup! Officer down!"
The shot locator flashed red at 3355 Union. I vectored the drone: "Armed support to 3355 Union. Be advised civilian maintenance people on scene." Policy dictated that I had to report a shooting incident to the cops. Not now. "Six buster, six falcon, 3355 Union, code three." They acknowledged in turn. I briefed the EMS dispatcher, requested that he deploy two units to a safe position, 35th and Lafayette, until I signaled on their tactical channel to proceed. The shot locator was rattling, five or six map jogs. I described the situation to the drone operator, ordered him to take out the brick building and adjacent vacant lot at 3367 Union, be aware that two District Six units were converging, code three, use stun shots, and be damn careful not to hit our people or nonactors by mistake.
The clock was running and I had to notify the police. I scanned the directory for Southwest, identified myself, described the activity, and suggested that they delay responding until we had control of the situation. The station commander was pissed off, aware of what we were doing, monitoring my dispatch channel. No point in apologizing. I disconnected abruptly
.
With the drone on location, I started getting fuzzy bodycam relays, one of them an unmoving cockeyed image of the pavement. Officer down. Tactical chatter among the others and then a series of flash bang shots to take out a knot of gang bangers.
"Six buster, Seven polecat, say your situtation."
"This is falcon. Two men down. Buster and Ritchie from polecat are holding a perimeter. We need EMS, right now, god damn it!"
I released the medics to roll, sickened by what had happened. Eight hours to go, and in the first fifteen minutes of my shift I had two men down and three units out of action. When the cops showed up, they'd pour molasses over everything. Might be more than a few bangers wounded, blinded, or deceased. I had to call Legal.
A few seconds to light a cigarette, unscrew my thermos and pour a cup of coffee.
.
Keeping the flame
Historically, liberty required courage and self-sacrifice, Minutemen standing guard, Marines ready to deploy, ships at sea, submarines, Air Force silos and bombers to deter aggression. It takes a special sort of hero to patrol our highways, streets, and ports. I admire them -- brave, strong, clear-eyed defenders of peaceful American civilian life. We do a terrible disservice to ourselves and our innocent children, if we fail to stand up for liberty and its defenders. They are few in number, 1 million LEOs and 2 million soldiers, sailors, and airmen. 99% of us are civilians. Only 12% of Americans are legal gun owners capable of engaging a threat, if they're in the right place at the right time and adequately trained for battle.
I carried a gun a couple years in Central America, never liked it. The work I do is challenging, and at times I distrusted myself to have a lethal weapon nearby. I bought an air pistol to deal with critters, and it looks like a Ruger 9mm to impress the neighbors, but peace and freedom have to be guarded by others. My job is to defend liberty with words, often explicitly, but in fiction as well. Imagined stories are important, to show why armed men and women have to fight for freedom and justice. It's a controversial concept, often misunderstood by lunatic criminals and communists who feel entitled to kill. That's why my nonfiction work addresses the rule of law. No one has a right to kill, unless it's in self-defense and there's no immediate existential alternative to save life in an emergency.
Keeping the flame in literature is, in fact, more important than keeping the peace by force, because lawmen, military, and armed civilians need intellectual moral support. Morality is controversial and often misinterpreted. It has nothing to do with God or Allah. The supreme value in a free society is liberty. The highest virtue is courage. Having less of it than other people, I lacked enough physical courage to defend liberty by devoting my life to military service or sworn law enforcement. I did what I could, writing about justice and creating stories about courage, a crystal clear personal issue, because I know what it means to face danger alone. Our overseas troops are hamstrung by terms of engagement and prosecutorial military law. LEOs are hobbled by procedure and judicial due process. An individual cop or soldier on patrol is in terrible peril, if attacked by a murderous enemy gang. Courage is the moral power to face death, to rely on one's experience and talent, to fight evil with clarity and valiant resolve as a defender of civilian liberty.
http://www.wolfdevoon.net
.
I carried a gun a couple years in Central America, never liked it. The work I do is challenging, and at times I distrusted myself to have a lethal weapon nearby. I bought an air pistol to deal with critters, and it looks like a Ruger 9mm to impress the neighbors, but peace and freedom have to be guarded by others. My job is to defend liberty with words, often explicitly, but in fiction as well. Imagined stories are important, to show why armed men and women have to fight for freedom and justice. It's a controversial concept, often misunderstood by lunatic criminals and communists who feel entitled to kill. That's why my nonfiction work addresses the rule of law. No one has a right to kill, unless it's in self-defense and there's no immediate existential alternative to save life in an emergency.
Keeping the flame in literature is, in fact, more important than keeping the peace by force, because lawmen, military, and armed civilians need intellectual moral support. Morality is controversial and often misinterpreted. It has nothing to do with God or Allah. The supreme value in a free society is liberty. The highest virtue is courage. Having less of it than other people, I lacked enough physical courage to defend liberty by devoting my life to military service or sworn law enforcement. I did what I could, writing about justice and creating stories about courage, a crystal clear personal issue, because I know what it means to face danger alone. Our overseas troops are hamstrung by terms of engagement and prosecutorial military law. LEOs are hobbled by procedure and judicial due process. An individual cop or soldier on patrol is in terrible peril, if attacked by a murderous enemy gang. Courage is the moral power to face death, to rely on one's experience and talent, to fight evil with clarity and valiant resolve as a defender of civilian liberty.
http://www.wolfdevoon.net
.
Thursday, January 16, 2020
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