Dispelling Some Parts of Reality

Photo by James Wheeler on Pexels.com

Dispelling Some Parts of Reality

BR Chitwood

*

       A Confirmation for Gobbledygook!

Hear me well, naysayers, if your ears are picking up thundering TV trumpet sounds in a false and rah-rah-rah background of joyfully pious, feigned sanity and truth. Yes, of course, my words might titillate, amuse, even, confuse you but they fly in the same wind as that rah-rah-rah TV stuff.

Occasionally, the weather reports are maybe accurate. Our sports events are accurately reported. There is a chance that, while our citizens slept, our US population grew larger and considerably more dangerous with the influx of illegal aliens and cartel members. The count of illegal crossings on our border to the South is now in the millions. Our good and caring government put many of these immigrants on buses and sent them off into cities and states across the United States to establish new and better lives…all free, of course, paid – courtesy of US tax payers.  

The House and The Senate apparently play high-stakes poker in their secret hideaways, too busy with rhetoric and bull shit to dig into ‘The Constitution of the United States’ to find solution, to just maybe awaken the ‘Supreme Court’ to action.

The House reps are all dancing to the tunes of ‘Marxist Socialist Creeps’ that want this thing we call Democracy (Freedom, Liberty, and The Pursuit of Happiness) to fade away.

Ah, the leaders, the Wizards of Mumbling and incompetence, before our very eyes, ears, shake us to our core with their brazen incompetence, and steal an election there is no way in hell they could have won.

AND, here’s the thing, these virtual truths by an Appalachian liberty-loving American will not see the light of day…but I’m a little guy with no big audience, just an aching heart and memory of faithful freedom pals in graves all over the world.

Yeah, sure, I know, this is the United States, land of the free, home of the Brave, where free speech is acknowledged …

WHERE THE HELL DID OUR COUNTRY GO? WHERE DID THE GIFTS OF OUR NATION’S FATHERS GO?

If you listen carefully, you can hear Military graveyards trembling in anger and dismay.

Perhaps we are past remedies with the evil purveyors of far-left power now wearing their smiles and clown outfits laced with thievery, the ‘lobby libbers’ paying their ever-faithful government friends to sway this way or that way, funding perhaps the biggest ‘Presidential Election Fraud’ ever to be in the land of our ‘Iffy-Free’ nation. If it was not ‘PEF’ there will be no Moon, no Stars, no Clouds in our skies – just scary blackness. (Just a metaphorical dab of my whimsical side).

Remember, this is just a country boy’s ‘patriotism’ showing a very ugly side…an eighty-eight years-old country boy! But, please, help me to understand WHY summer riots? WHY ‘Critical Race Theory’(CRT)? WHY boy/girl transgender swaps? WHY ‘Defunding Police’? WHY arresting and immediately releasing criminals? WHY deserting our Israel friends and being cozy with China, Iran, Russia, AND, WHAT HAPPENS now in Afghanistan? The huge WHY? WHY are two idiots running our country and allowing millions of illegal aliens to be bused to cities across our country – AND, we pick up the tab, spending trillions of dollars? The BIG MAN has been in Government for near-fifty years, has not distinguished himself in any way – unless you wish to include his plagiarism. He has a Delaware home worth many millions, more millions in the ‘teens’ he doesn’t bother reporting to the IRS because of special-type documents. His son, Hunter, through some devious means is a millionaire and a new ‘artist’ commanding huge amounts of money for his work.

Okay, it is fairly obvious who I am – check the age again, where my political loyalties are, and WHY Marxist dogma across the board will get us to where Cuba is today. Marx and other bored college professors wrote about Marxism and how it should touch about every aspect of our lives. It is all about POWER for the Elites. I am NOT a RACIST and do not believe in the BLM, Anarchists, and the misguided themes of their movements.

For narrative clarity and excellence, please read Mark Levin’s NEW BOOK: ***** AMERICAN MARXISM *****

If the country goes the way of some of the things mentioned above, I’m good with the boat ride to Hades… Otherwise, I’ll stick around until 2038.

BR Chitwood – 7/12/21

My personal Website & Blog:

‘Author’s Mission: Finding Me Through Writing’

https://www.brchitwood.com

---

Bewildered Nation

    A Bewildered Nation

BR Chitwood

*

As a bewildered child I could not have known the word, ‘Confusion’, nor any word that defined my state of being. ‘Fear’ was there along with the body tremors and tears, the displacement, the whirl of movement, the sharp and ugly words uttered in the anger of the times, bodies attacking bodies in the fading flicker of kerosene lamps. No, not a constant force in those early years of my youth and yearning to be in the light. It seemed always dark and shadowy, always awaiting the clouds to gather for another storm.

Along with bewilderment and fear there was within my genetic make-up a tendency toward cowardice – and it was easily defined by my eyes, the quivering of my body, and my pitiful voice of surrender…an easy, choice-prey for the bully building his noisy audience of smiling ‘tag-along’ buddies…

After a few shoves put me on the ground, a few sympathetic voices from the gathered crowd would come: “Let him up! He doesn’t want to fight you…recess is over.”

My emotions, my mind, were in a frenzy as I took my seat at the small desk in the back of ‘home room’, and, in that quiet contemplative place, the teacher’s voice a soft and barely audible hum in my ears, my mind did to me what the bully had intended to do – ‘beat me up’… Why was I built this way? Why did my body reject me in those danger moments, sending the waves of doom through the brain and paralyzing any impulse to react to a bully not a lot bigger than I?

There was no corner to hide in. I would be forever known as a sissified little boy, afraid to defend himself. In those moments, I loathed my life and the awkward embarrassment I brought to it.

Friendships that came helped me gain some degree of empowerment. High School football was a major source of encouragement. The body contact nature of the sport awakened a part of my small degree of gridiron talent. Not that I would ever be a bully or close friend with a bully but their bloated egos no longer lingered long in my mind. Our genetic networks carry all of our truths and secrets – good and bad.

Our lives are filled with all the emotions, our loves, our hatreds, our industry, our desires, our capacity for or ‘lack of’ positive energy, and a generous supply of kindness. It is my belief that few of us are Saintly Gifted, empowered by some spiritual gifts of goodness that keep us unselfish and mercifully steadfast in solving crippling and societal issues.,

How we bring our inheritance of virtuous and unvirtuous qualities to adulthood, the pros and cons of our beliefs, determine the good and evil forces that bond and move us toward the good and evil sides… Rather superfluous, to be sure, but so, too, are birth and death.

From an historical perspective we must be coming close to some final determination about our relatively short stint as a democracy…do we stay Free and Sovereign as our Constitutional patriots envisioned, endowed by a loving God to defy negative voices that would destroy all for which our historical documents pledged for us?

With all the universal diversity, the spread of our rapidly growing knowledge, the gaps in personal intelligence, the riots, political parties that appear to seek power and give glib analyses to match their Masters’ dictates. Can America and the World survive if an elite few dictate how we must live?

It is my opinion that the 2021 Presidential election was farcical and without precedent in the annals of history, notwithstanding the awful World Pandemic and some major Cities’ and States’ manipulations.

Our Southern border, once secured, is now open and allowing hundreds of thousands of immigrants into the United States, many of whom are bused and sent all over our country, good people along with child molesters and killers.

I’m just one voice.

Perhaps you won’t like what I’m writing.

Perhaps I’ll be censored.

There are times when a weak voice like mine speaks and few will read what I have written, but I felt the need to put down these thoughts. I love my country and pray we can solve our issues.

B R Chitwood – July 5, 2021

brchitwood.com

The Party’s Over

©The Party’s Over

By BR Chitwood

*

Friday nights became a weekly

ritual at my apartment in the

Lovely ‘Spanish Gardens’ –

My drinking pals were there with 

‘Lady prizes’ of the evening, plus

Some Male and female loners…

They usually matched up quickly.

At party’s end I was alone.

While soft Frank Sinatra ballads

Floated among the low lights

And polluted air of booze and smoke

I lazily reclined on the sofa,

Allowing my mind to wander

Down its normal paths of

Romantic memories of pretty faces,

Love affairs in Time’s vacuum.

As I stared at the shadowy ceiling

It came clearly vivid to me…

Stark, plain as the mind can

Render and a ‘hobo heart’ can

Pump its Romantic sadness…

No matter the attempts to

Rebuke the world for my failings,

I was a man ignoring his destiny…

‘His destiny’? I smiled at my hubris…

An author who wrote of his small

Accomplishments, his Loves, his idiocy,

His books, his poetry, were to bring

A new name to literature – my name!

‘His Destiny’? Really! ‘His Destiny’?

A fool at the journey’s beginning – 

An enlightened fool at journey’s end!

*

BR Chitwood – June 28, 2021

Website/Blog: https://brchitwood.com

https://Twitter.com  – @brchitwood

https://facebook.com/billyray.chitwood

Brutal Brevity

BR Chitwood

1. – Flash Fiction –

Jean and I were driving to the Napa, California Wine Country, enjoying light conversation, taped music, and an occasional soft touch of endearment via hands or lips. It was our first weekend trip together after a few initial dinner dates and exploratory love episodes. It was a happy sunny Saturday, a clear blue sky, and the promise of taking our relationship to perhaps a more permanent stage. We were a couple filled with the desire to know if we were a true match.

We stopped for a Red Light in a small town. In the light’s left-turn lane, a couple were vividly angry about something, and the man began to throw hard punches at the woman.

Without thinking, I yelled at the man: “Hey, knock it off, Man!”

The man turned quickly and glared angrily at me: “Shut your face, ass-hole!” He turned off his ignition, opened his driver-side door and started to round his car to get to mine.

Jean was scared as I started to get out of the car: “Don’t get involved, please…this could end up badly. Just drive off. Go through the light. No cars are coming either way. Please, don’t fight this guy. He may have a gun – or, a knife. Hurry, please, drive through the light.”

Just as the madman reached for my outside door handle, I sped away and through the light. I could not see the other car in my rearview after turning onto our road route to Napa. Jean and I sat silent for some time.

Jean finally spoke: “I’m sorry, BR, I hate violence. I know you wanted to help the woman, but it’s likely the action you did take cooled him down…”

“I hope so, Jean. That lady was crying, her face already bruised and wet with her tears. I just… Oh, never mind. Hopefully, it was just a spat that will be forgotten soon, and they will have ‘whatever it was about’ out of their system.”

We listened to our musical tapes without a lot of talking the rest of the way into Napa, and I kept checking my rearview mirror for the madman.

The weekend was lovely enough, but there was something hanging in the air that kept it from being all we wanted it to be.

Jean and I saw each other a few more times, but something went missing that we could never quite get back.

*

Flash Fiction from a true event, by:

BR Chitwood – June 19 2021

Visit my personal Website/Blog – View synopses of my 21 books, 375 blog posts, poetry, and Flash Fiction:

https://www.brchitwood.com

Author’s Vision – Writing to Discover Me!

https://www.twitter.com @brchitwood)

https://www.facebook.com/billyray.chitwood

https://facebook.com/billyray.chitwood

Why Am I Writing?

Br Chitwood

Back in the days when I was rocking and rolling, acting, doing television commercials, film work, even live plays on stage, living in a world I could never have imagined, a horrible murder caused me to turn to writing…

An actress friend of mine was brutally murdered and went missing for two weeks. Her name was Catherine Gibbs (book name – not real name) a ladyresponsible for my fun and frivolity in the acting world. When Cathy’s body was found in the NE desert area of North Phoenix on a record heat day in August, there was little left for the police and forensic people to go on. The heat of August made her unrecognizable.

We, Cathy’s sad gals and pals, were busy missing our good friend but also playing detective on the case. We knew some of the men who dated Carmen, and there was one she preferred over the rest. She was hopeful of marriage and family. That man and several other men were given ‘lie detector’ tests and all passed.

The method used to kill Cathy I hesitate to give the gruesome details of what the detectives and forensic people compiled from what slim evidence they had.

At least, one of Cathy’s friends wrote a book about the case.

Some time later I wrote my own book about the murder, a fictional account of what possibly happened that long-ago night some fifty-odd years ago. The title of the book is: An Arizona Tragedy – A Bailey Crane Mystery #1.

There are six books in the series, 1-6, each book having kernels of truth in them. If the reader has further interest in these books, please find them on my Website/Blog:

https://brchitwood.com

(Under ‘All my Books’) – Synopses and BUY SITES given.)

In all, I’ve written 21 books, many of which are based on true events – e.g.,

Mama’s Madness – Amazon

Stranger Abduction – Amazon

(For the other books, see my Website/Blog)

*

In writing, I found an outlet for exposing to myself WHO I am – at least, to the extent that is possible. The reader can find me there on and between the lines of what I write.

In ending this short post, let me wish you good reading and a very good life.

*

BR Chitwood – Author -June 14, 2021

Author’s Mission – Writing to Discover Me

Somewhere A Lesson

Somewhere A Lesson

By BR Chitwood

By 10:00AM I was sated with Jenny’s steak and eggs  and ready for some serious beach time across the road from her sidewalk café in Santa Monica…it became a ‘ritual thing’ some six months back when I moved into Marina del Rey a few blocks east to taste the merry and often contrary life of a divorced male, still lying awake at night much too long evaluating those years brought by an insecure and troubled child and young-adult childhood. It was likely even seasoned psychiatrists would feign a ‘too busy’ schedule to ‘work me in’.

A ‘thought’ that tip-toed often into my emotional network, ‘I was loving every damned minute of my new freedom’…well, not every minute, but enough so that the ‘old me’ of my thirty years of living would not give one selfish minute to considering another legal ‘I do’ affair.

So, sated, along with some time-worn good jesting with familiar customers – mostly, over my casual attire (swim suit, jazzy tee-shirt, and white tennis shoes) – plus, some ‘life of the idle’ remarks that were good-natured and jokingly sent, I left the café.

As I crossed the street westward toward the sand and Pacific Ocean, I noticed a group of four kids in their early teens in some sort of lively debate and shoving action. When I stepped onto the sidewalk one of the youngsters accidentally crashed into me. Actually, shoved into me by one of the teens.

“Whoa,” says I, “what’s the ruckus, guys?”

I noticed the smaller kid who fell into me was the smaller of the group…it took me only a tick or two to notice the leader of this pack – you know the type: half-closed eyes, twisting his face into what he considered a menacing position, stood in a defiant stance, legs parted, hands rolled into fists, trying for all the world to look mad and mean.

I put my hand on the smaller kid’s shoulder, looked at the ‘defiant one’, and asked: “What’s your name, fellow?”

“What’s it to you? This is none of your business. Butt out.”

I took my own defiant stance. “I should slap the crap out of you, kid, so keep your mouth shut while I talk…”

The big kid started to open his mouth, and I moved forward one step closer to him. He did not speak.

“Okay, guys, what’s going on? Why is this kid being shoved around?”

The big kid started again to talk, and I moved within two feet of him with my eyes wide and glaring. He looked to the ground and did not speak.

Again, I asked, “What’s going on? Why the shoving. It looks like all three of you are against this kid. Why? Give me your names.” My cold stare reached them all.

The two smaller kids gave me their names – Danny and Sol. The shoved kid offered his name as well – Chaney.

“What’s your name, big guy?”

“I don’t have to give you my name. You’re not the police…”

“You know that for sure? Give me your name, ‘Big Shot’, or you just might find yourself in a lot of trouble.”

The big kid lowered his head, looked off toward the ocean just as a police siren was heard off in the distance.

He lowered his eyes and spoke: “My name is Oscar, okay?”

“Look, guys, I spent a lot of my childhood around bullies who liked to tell others what to do and get them into a lot of trouble. I’ve got a feeling Oscar here is a bully – he’s bigger, feels that buys him special rights, like, picking on smaller guys and being known as the ‘big wheel’. It’s a matter of time when these ‘bully-guys’ will not be around to torment others…they go on to become criminals and spend years in dark prisons, away from anyone who could or would love them.

“So, look, guys, don’t treat people like you would not like to be treated…here’s the plan: Oscar, you take off, think about what I’ve said here – it’s just as easy, Oscar, to win friends with kindness as with ‘bully behavior’. I just hope you get that sooner than later. Your life will be much better…go on, take off, but don’t bother these guys again. I live here and will be looking out for any troublemakers.”

Oscar turned and walked away, went a short way, then ran full speed southward down the sidewalk.

“You guys okay now?” I asked.

Each in turn seemed relieved and would eventually head eastward and home.

After the boys left, I stood watching them while they were still in sight, and, for some reason a memory I own from my own teenage life came to me.

*

[NOTE: one of my fictional novels – Hammer’s Holy Grail – which, like most of my fictional books, contain some factually accurate content…brought to my mind the scene below…

The scene in the book deals with an encounter where my Mom, a cousin, his sister, and I are visiting my Dad in his hotel room to tell him about my sister, age sixteen, eloping with an Army Corporal. Mom and Dad, divorced for some years, with Dad an absentee father we seldom saw for the most part… Suffice it here, but that was a scene I shall never forget. If you want to read more, the book is available on Amazon Kindle and Paperback.]

*

I did live in Marina del Rey, did have breakfast at a small café in Santa Monica, and the following aforementioned scene did occur – both, really, and in Hammer’s Holy Grail.

*

Dad’s hotel room was large but there was not enough chair-seating for all of us. My club-footed Cousin sat in a chair, and his sister sat in a matching chair next to him. Mom sat on the big king-sized bed, and I sat on an uncomfortable radiator by a window some ten feet across from my Mom.

Dad finished his phone call, walked around the room, smiling, looking us over. He knew something was amiss.

“Something’s going on, so let me in on it.”

Dad came to the big dresser and mirror across from the bed and leaned against the top.

Mom was cowed at the pillow-end of the bed, her hands wrapped into each other, her face a pitiful chalky white looking very nervous and scared…she had known a number of times of Dad’s beatings of her and my sister…

Finally, Mom spoke in a soft, terse voice: “Bobbie Jean ran off and married an Army fellow…” Tears came and poured down her face, and her lips tried to form words but could not. She bent her head to her bosom, her hands shaking with terrible stress.

All was quiet in the hotel room for some few seconds.

Dad’s eyes turned into squinted monster eyes. He walked one way, then, another, finally walked to Mom, hovered above her for some seconds, then, with an open hand slapped her so hard on her left cheek, the force of his blow throwing her into the headboard of the bed.

On my uncomfortable radiator grills I was a jumble of nerves, frightened as I had always been in those tense moments when Mom and Sis were beaten, but, not this time. Oh, there was the usual partial paralysis, but also a sudden mix of anger as I looked at my trembling mother on the bed.

As terrified as I was, something moved me, and I dashed with tears streaming from my eyes off the radiator and tackled my Dad onto the lower part of the bed, and swung my fists at him as hard as I could…

For whatever reason, my tackle and my blows had an immediate effect on Dad…surely, they could not have hurt him so very much – although I was then much bigger, playing football, and much stronger than when he beat her years before.

Dad calmed down so quickly that I thought I really might have hurt him…but it was his eyes that told me differently. He looked into my face with a sorrow I cannot describe, like, maybe he had destroyed a part of something most important in his life.

That was the ending of hostility, and I don’t remember when my breathing came back to normalcy, but I was happy that day was over and my Mom was calm again.

We all knew there would be no more rage and spousal abuse.

There were always reasons behind actions taken by someone…I loved my Mom. I loved my Dad. However, there were times when reality could place you smack in the middle of a scary and ugly movie.

Such is life – the Good, the Bad, and the Ugly!

*

BR Chitwood – August 11, 2020

*

Please preview my books: (Most of them inspired by true crimes in real life – and, preview my Memoirs):

http://billyraychitwood.com

Please follow my Blog, “Soul’s Music”:

http://brchitwood.com

Please follow me on https://twitter.com/brchitwood

Mood Shifts of a Romantic

 

-Poetic Thoughts by BR Chitwood-

*

The mirror shows six days without a shave,

My beard grows long and white…

Lips smiling inanely at the ruddy face as

Thoughts so long I’ve known come to me…

With the same silly youthful flow…

So much I could have hoped to give our world

Save for the pursuit of Love and Romance –

It became the ‘all that mattered’ focus

Of a foolish, soulful ‘Quest’…

 But, then, fools such as I must exist

To Confound the minds of wizards.

*

BR Chitwood – August 1, 2020

Please preview my books:

http://billyraychitwood.com

Please follow my blog:

http://brchitwood.com

Please follow me on Twitter:

https://twitter.com/brchitwood

Freedom, Liberty, and Other Observations

©Freedom, Liberty and Other Observations

-Fact or Fiction-

By BR Chitwood

Only a few of us know and it once seemed there was no earthly reason for anyone to know, not that large numbers of people during these evil days would believe, or, maybe care to believe.

However, having been years in the military, attending Classified and Non-Classified Briefings, all the way up to a ‘personal clearance’ of Top Secret data I shall ask for your patience while I give you here in these few pages one of those aforementioned Briefings that will serve you better in understanding the world of Large Governments, the reasons behind their operations.

Who am I?

Why am I writing all of this down for the world to read? Back there in those young titillating years of youth, it was all so mysterious, so fulfilling to be part of ‘something’ monumental, so important, so necessary for  our country’s readiness and safety, so incredibly ‘cloak and dagger’ that those of us participating had to sign some scary ‘legal do not do this and that’ documents that, violated, promised fines and long prison terms for infidelity, if not the possibility of death.

 With the details I write about here, all true, certainly scary enough, you can understand my great pride in serving this wonderful country.

Beautiful and Wonderful, but with some of its parts needing replaced, oiled, and repaired!

Why?

Why, indeed?

Because it is time for the world to know some of the truths and fictions under which they live.

Who am I to tell you these truths? Just a patriot, and, it is ‘my truth as I see it’!

Part of me is a kid who grew up in poverty-stricken Appalachia, somehow surviving a bitter, harsh, and ugly home environment and the aftermath of The Great Depression.

Another part of me? A man hungry for family, love, some stability, and a few pieces of the American Dream. Some of that part I partially fulfilled, family, few pieces of the Dream: college degree, kids to love and cherish, some small, modest business successes.

Finally, in the Military World, with a myriad of testing, I would be placed bewilderingly into a position that would involve USA National Security, and, after months of FBI ‘life-checks’, I achieved a coveted Top- Secret Clearance and began a second phase of schooling.

Without sharing with the readers details of my varied duties in several duty locations, I was privy to some very interesting covert projects, educational and nefarious programs that whetted my appetite and excitement.

This is the extent of personal background information. Now follows what I consider the meat of this thesis.

This small exposé will only focus on one aspect of a government educational program that in some ways staggered me, the Causes and Effects ramifications entailed therein, and the C&E of street violence.

***

No one needs from me history lessons, so let me be as succinct as I can without stretching believability too far.

You watch your televisions, and, if you watch the best channel for news, Fox News (now, you really know me, and hate me if you must!), you know what is happening in our own United States of America… Some of our ‘Lib brothers and sisters of Congress’ say it’s all made up.

A trio of policemen in Minneapolis, Minnesota arrests a man, cuffs him, and one of the cops puts him on the ground and keeps pumping his knee into a most vulnerable part of the man’s neck. The other two cops are busy doing other odd duties while the handcuffed man dies from the knee-pumping cop. (While it might not matter to anyone reading this, I’m still angry as hell with those cops. There is simply no valid excuse for their behavior.)

We are all seeing the after effects of these errant cops, but, then, loonies need very little reason to act otherwise – likely because they’re being paid good money by some big benefactors to cause all the beatings, riots, killings, lootings our televisions entertain us with each night, those ‘big money’ people who  want a different USA.

Some of our citizens do not want our old used-up Democracy, Freedom and Liberty, The Rule of Law, Bill of Rights, et al… all beautifully framed by some of the greatest patriots this country has known, men and women whose spilled blood is mixed with the ink on the documents. ‘They want to venture into the Socialist-way, a la Venezuela, Cuba, negating the price paid by millions of America’s youth that never had a chance at their American Dreams… For most Americans there is disbelief that some of our elected ‘public servants’ have opened wide our democracy doors to ‘big money interests’ who see better and faster ways to rip our country apart.

There are times when the world has a surreal feel to it…like, “Where did my country go? Why are we giving way to the anarchists, the looters, the killers, the haters?

It is an election year, and election years bring out the ‘looney left’ haters of President Donald J. Trump. Sure, like many Movers and Shakers, people who can get things done, our President can say too much at times, open mouth and insert foot, but he has also done more for our country than any other president in our history. A businessman, he came at a time when a prior two-term president changed the face of our democracy and bowed and curtsied to every leader in the world. Yes, I’ll take your poll: Barack Obama was the worst president in our history.

For this old hillbilly cast-off, the world is made up of people with different levels of intelligence and common sense. I am not the so-called ‘brightest light in the room’, nor am I the dimmest. There is so much I do not know and wished I knew, and, with the years adding up it will not get a lot better for me.

What I do know is this: the world is made up of ‘Governments’ – most of which are not democracies, but some form of ‘Authoritarian President’ (a la Venezuela-Socialism), Kings Queens, Despots, Ministers, Absolute Ruler (a la N. Korea).

What I do know is that nations of the world have their low IQs, high IQs, Rich, Poor.

What I do know is that nations of the world have their criminals and law-abiding citizens.

Diversity is everywhere. How do the nations of the world stop crime, get rid of poverty, handle all the diversity?

When I was in the military I heard of a ‘Smart Pill’ to make the Low-IQs smarter, pills to control raging sexual desires, pills to control all kinds of crime and diseases.

Perhaps to the extent these ‘pills’ and other scientific and technological advances can prove to establish some major controls, and/or have made a difference in some of our areas where crime emanates and destroys, there is so much we cannot know.

We also know there are those who enjoy their lives as they are – the doctors along with the criminals and evil-doers, so it most likely will become that our categorical areas of crime, evil doers, and/or quality leadership of nations will be on the fringe of our understanding.

At this moment in our American History, we face a crucial election in 90+ days. My hope is that we in America can remember the tens of millions of lives given for the causes of freedom, liberty, and belief systems which are given to us by a Higher Power! The price for what we are and can be is and was Steep.

We will soon beat the Covid-19 Evil, and, hopefully fill our nation with happy dwellers of peace and prosperity…and I am proud to say I shall be voting once again for Donald J. Trump in November.

BR Chitwood – August 1, 2020

Please preview my books:

http://billyraychitwood.com

Please follow my Blog:

http://brchitwood.com

Please follow me on Twitter:

https://twitter.com/brchitwood

The Devil’s Time

-Photo Image by: Pedro Lastra – Unsplash.com-

-A Poem By BR Chitwood-

***

No machine, no vaccination,

Can launch us back in time.

No Hypnotist can erase your mind

Of that clinging primeval slime.

You are here of your own craving,

Desires of your nights and days

Without doubt densely depraving.

Though Biological Sciences seek

Cures and advances in ageing,

Your chances appear most weak.

Today, so much of our world wants

Rebellion, violence, and Anarchy.

Therein the Devil lives and taunts.

***

A Poem by: BR Chitwood – 7-28-20

Please preview my books:

http://billyraychitwood.com

Please follow my Blog:

http://brchitwood.com

Please follow me on Twitter:

https://twitter.com/brchitwood

Murphy – The Baby Sitter

Fiction

By BR Chitwood

“Your first night, Murphy, want a quick ‘Q and A’? asked Brian Headley.”

“Really, Brian, that’s a bit insulting, don’t you think?”

“That was not in my mind when I asked, Murphy. Cheri and I are just making sure we’ve covered all the bases. Don’t get feisty with me.”

“Yeah, Murphy, added Rob Drawly, father of Brittany, same with Piper nd me.”

“I am ‘all the bases’, and I’ve covered everything with all of you…several times. Brian, Cheri, and, Rob, you and Piper, go to your yearly weekend ritual in New York. The children will be fine. I know all there is to know about their likes, dislikes, the food they love and hate, their favorite games…and they already love me. I love them, each and every one – Jordon (the kid who would be King), Camille and Bonnie (who will be famous movie stars and dancers). Now, please, get out of here and leave me with my ‘Charges’!” Murphy did not smile but his voice was frisky and playful.

After a few chuckles and raised eyebrows, the parents looked quickly upon their sleeping children and were gone.

***

After some listed duties, Murphy settled in the den next to the children’s bedrooms, turned on the television – near-muted because his ear-pieces had dual listening capabilities: the children could not hear the television speakers but TV volume defaulted with any crying or needs of the children. Murphy was able to hear their gentle in-and-out breathing with the ‘state of the art’ ear devices.

The TV and den light went off at the prescribed setting time, and all was quiet in the 3000 square-foot house. As the den light brought darkness and stillness to the entire house, Murphy went silent as well…his keen hearing still able to pick-up the sounds of the children.

***

At 3:10 AM, Murphy heard a distant sound, like broken glass falling to the hardwood floor in the entry hall. The children were still asleep…only the ears of Murphy could isolate the sounds.

Murphy immediately deployed an unseen varnish-like spray-substance on the entry walls and the hardwood floor a few steps from the front door. He heard the door opening, heard the shuffling of feet for only a few seconds. After some minutes passed, Murphy heard two sets of grumbling voices.

Murphy dialed a pre-set police telephone number, gave them a required validation code for house equipped as was this one for Brian and Cheri Headley…a similar pre-set requirement was also in place for Rob and Piper.

***

Within a flash of some moments, the police arrived at the Headley residence and found two terribly distraught would-be robbers rooted to the hardwood floor…two sets of shoes stuck to and occupied a space…two sets of socks stuck to and occupied another space…and blood was coming from bare feet in another space.

Murphy magically made the sticky liquid disappear from the hardwood floor, restored within seconds its original finish, and miraculously replaced the glass at the entry…

Murphy watched the police take the unlucky robbers away.

At no time before, during, and after this incident did the children awaken.

The police shook their heads and waved at the strange-looking robot called Murphy.

Flash Fiction by: BR Chitwood – 7-27-2020

Please preview my books:

http://billyraychitwood.com

Please follow my blog:

http://brchitwood.com

Please follow me on Twitter:

https://twitter.com/brchitwood