9-11 Never Forget!!!

We are coming up on the 17th anniversary of the 9/11/01 attacks on the United States by four sets of al-Queda hijackers…

These images were burned into our consciousness that day…

American Airlines Flight 11, and United Flight 175 hit the two towers at the WTC.

American Flight 77 hit the Pentagon.

And United Flight 93 (destined for Washington, DC) crashed in Shanksville, PA after fighting between the hijackers and the passengers.


We used to hear the term “defining moment” thrown around a lot, about the attack, but not so much anymore… I actually heard a millennial last week asking what the big deal was with 9-11. It’s obvious the education system is downplaying the whole thing, and I walked off before I said what I thought of his lack of education.

Being a ‘bit older, I also remember a few others, President Kennedy being shot in Dallas, Martin Luther King being shot in Memphis, Neil Armstrong’s first step on the moon…

On 9/11, I was in my office at the University when I got a call from one of the University pilots who is a retired Marine; he told me to “get to a TV, somebody just hit New York with an airplane!”

I finally found one in a conference room upstairs and turned it on, as it happened it was on CNN…

Others started to wonder in to see why I was ‘violating’ University policy, and the pilot called me back, about that time.  I do remember something to the effect of “a terrible accident has occured” being said on TV about the time the pilot saying this wasn’t an accident, it was an airliner and something bad was going down.

As we talked, the second airplane hit the second tower, and we agreed about the fact that America was under attack, but at that point we had no idea who had done it…  Anger was the prevalent feeling, and frustration, since there wasn’t anything we could directly do for those folks…

About a half an hour later, I was called into a meeting with law enforcement about securing/protecting facilities and infrastructure; we were interrupted by the announcement that the Pentagon had been hit, and the tone of the meeting changed from what if, to we need to prepare NOW!  I also remember driving back to my office and hearing about Shanksville and UA 93 during that time. We set our emergency response plan into effect, sending folks home and going into a 24 hour response cycle.

I stayed at work, coordinating with various folks, but I noticed a lot of my co-workers were in shock that anyone would attack America, much less why attack us…  I wasn’t shocked, I was PISSED…

The few of us that were ex-military tended to not say anything after the first couple of arguments, since we had a significantly different perspective. We knew the military had been placed on elevated alert, and folks were either airborne or sitting in cockpits on strip alert…

In the days that followed, I didn’t get a lot of sleep; watched a lot of coverage.  When the list of casualties came out, I found out I’d lost three good friends in the Pentagon, CAPT Larry Getzfred, Jack Punches, CAPT USN (Ret), and AW1 Joe Pycior. They had all been in the Navy watch center. I wrote to Navy Personnel volunteering for recall to active duty.  Sadly, I wasn’t recalled…

Why did I post these pictures?  Because they are REALITY… Not sugarcoated, apologized for, sanitized talking points, or spun by whomever.  We, the USA were attacked on our home soil by terrorists who are STILL determined to bring America to her knees, since we are the “Great Satan”…  17 years later, the terrorists are still after us…

Old Ironsides will fire rounds and play taps based on the timeline of the attacks today. Link HERE.

Take a knee…

The original author is Stanislaus “Stan” Drew, a Christian author and proud American who, according to the Christian Index, wrote the guest op-ed last year while a member of Palm Springs Baptist Church in Palm Springs, Florida – after San Francisco 49er Colin Kaepernick first began his protests during the National Anthem. Mr. Drew is retired and currently lives in Crescent City, Florida.

His words ring true to any veteran. Just sayin…

©Stanislaus Drew 8/24/17

Take a little trip to Valley Forge in January. If you don’t know where that is, just Google it from the sidelines. Hold a musket ball in your fingers and imagine it piercing your flesh and breaking a bone or two. There won’t be a doctor or trainer to assist you until after the battle, so just wait your turn.Take your cleats and socks off to get a real experience. Then take a knee.

Then, take one at the beach in Normandy where man after American man stormed the beach, even as the one in front of him was shot to pieces…the very sea stained with American blood. The only blockers most had were the dead bodies in front of them, riddled with bullets from enemy fire.

Take a knee in the sweat soaked jungles of Vietnam. from Khe San to Saigon…Anywhere will do. Americans died in all those jungles.There was no playbook that told them what was next, but they knew what flag they represented When they came home, they were protested as well..and spit on for reasons only cowards know.

Take another knee in the blood drenched sands of Fallujah in 110 degree heat..Wear your Kevlar helmet and battle dress…Your number won’t be printed on it unless your number is up! You’ll need to stay hydrated but there won’t be anyone to squirt Gatorade into your mouth. You’re on your own.

There’s a lot of places to take a knee. Americans have given their lives all over the world. When you use the banner under which they fought as a source for your displeasure, you dishonor the memories of those who bled for the very freedoms you have. That’s what the red stripes mean. They represent the blood of those who spilled a sea of it defending your liberty.

While you’re on your knee, pray for those that came before you, not on a manicured lawn striped and printed with numbers to announce every inch of ground taken…but on nameless hills and bloodied beaches and sweltering forests and bitter cold mountains…every inch marked by an American life lost serving that flag you protest.

No cheerleaders, no announcers, no coaches, no fans…just American men and women…delivering the real fight against those who chose to harm us…blazing a path so you would have the right to “take a knee.”

You haven’t an inkling what it took to get you where you are…but your “protest” is duly noted. Not only is it disgraceful to a nation of real heroes, it serves the purpose of pointing to your ingratitude for those who chose to defend you under that banner that will still wave long after your jersey is retired…

If you really feel the need to take a knee, come with me to church on Sunday and we’ll both kneel before Almighty God. We’ll thank him for preserving this country for as long as He has. We’ll beg forgiveness for our ingratitude for all He has provided us. We’ll appeal to Him for understanding and wisdom. We’ll pray for liberty and justice for all…because He is the one who provides those things.

But there will be no protest. There will only be gratitude for His provision and a plea for His continued grace and mercy on the land of the free and the home of the brave. It goes like this…

GOD BLESS AMERICA!

Thank you, Mr. Drew!

Nine Line has a shirt out that ‘fits’ my thoughts… HERE.

Nike’s SJW stance…

Lots of ‘hype’ surrounding this, the left is saying it’s positive, and ‘numbers are up’

BUT…

The real numbers don’t show that.

Nike’s Favorability Drops by Double Digits: Before the announcement, Nike had a net +69 favorable impression among consumers; it has now declined 34 points to +35 favorable.

No Boost Among Key Demos: Among younger generations, Nike users, African Americans, and other key demographics, Nike’s favorability declined rather than improved.

Purchasing Consideration Also Down: Before the announcement, 49 percent of Americans said they were absolutely certain or very likely to buy Nike products. That figure is down to 39 percent now.

The Effect on the NFL Seems Small, For Now: Forty percent of consumers said Nike’s campaign does not make them more or less likely to watch/attend NFL games — 21 percent said more likely and 26 percent said less likely (14 percent didn’t know).

From Morning Consult, HERE.

Also a lot of counter memes are showing up, but I still think Ramirez hit a home run, as he usually does, with this one. This one actually supports those who really DO make the sacrifices…

And yes Nike, you blew it IMHO… We veterans may be old, and out of shape, but WE have money and influence with our children and grandchildren, and WE buy Christmas presents.

Sigh…

This…

Wouldn’t be a teacher today for all the tea in China… Nope…

This is what happens when kids never fail due to helicopter parents and participation trophies.

THESE were our ‘participation’ trophies back in the day, and those who are serving today.

 

 

Rimworld snippet…

All the usual caveats… 🙂

Comments appreciated!

Hunting

Fargo had gotten a rush order for the fabber at the palace after the needle gun attack on site three. Four days later, Boykin picked up McDougal along with his gear, along with the newly manufactured repulsor modules. They went to each site with Mac modifying the sonics to allow them to enter and exit between two units, and emplacing the repulsors. They checked them with rocks, and he tuned each one to ensure they were high enough to prevent anyone shooting down into the sites from the nearest rooftops. All of the troops wanted to know what was happening with the search for the killer, but Fargo couldn’t give them any more details than what he’d passed earlier. Every Ghorka was less than happy, and there was a lot of under the breath grumbling, but nothing he could hear well enough to call anyone out on. He reiterated that both the GalPat Det and planet security were poring through databases to try to get a match, but without success.

Jiri called him to the side at site four, “Fargo, I’m not sure how much longer I can keep the guys from going hunting on their own. They’re pretty sure they can shake some answers out of the people out here.”

He sighed, “Do the best you can. If somebody goes out, at least give me a heads up, that way if the shit hits the impeller, I can try to save their dumb asses.”

“Will do. But you know as well as I do the geeks have already hacked the local systems and are digging through them on their own.”

“I’m hoping to hear back from Captain Jace. I sent it up to him too. Maybe Liz can pull something out. She’s an intel type.

“Let’s hope so. Where are you headed next?”

“Back to the Palace. I’ve got a meeting with the senior TBT rep. He’s offered to give us back door access to their systems. Problem is, I don’t have anyone that can actually execute on that.”

“What about GalPat?”

Fargo looked at him, “Would you give them access?”

Jiri wouldn’t meet his eyes for a second, “No, I guess not. I…”

“I’m going to see if I can get Liz hooked in. Maybe…” He glanced over to see Boykin signaling him, “Looks like we’re ready. Check in at seventeen like normal. As soon as I have something, I’ll get it out.”

Jiri nodded as he turned away and headed for the shuttle’s ramp.

***

Fargo stared at the emails on his datacomp and snarled, “This isn’t going to end well.” Jace had sent them encrypted to his personal account rather that his official account and Fargo knew if these had gotten in the system, there would have been hell to pay.

The first said that when he searched the world’s database, it finally popped out a 96% correlation with one Smallwell, Eric a div ago. All of the other correlations were less than 40%, and most were even lower. Jace had started a worm running in Endine’s TBT system, looking for any mail, vid, audio, or stills from any system on the planet. He also ran a check on all of the Ferret uploads from Nicole, and found three audio correlations over 65 days of data, and also found vid correlations from the Canyon feeder site’s data. That was enough for Jace to decide to act.

His email said he had carefully crafted an innocuous seeming message that apparently issued from the GalPat detachment’s own system, advising the Endine director and chief of security that a ‘watch’ should be placed for Smallwell, Eric, with a detain if found. He said he had inserted the proper documentation and enhanced photo into the GalPat det’s system, and tagged it to send right at the end of the shift in three divs with a detain and question warrant.

Basically, the second said there were at least two plots ongoing, based on the recordings from the Ferrets Nicole had emplaced. In one that Jace had attached, the person identified as Eric Smallwell had bragged to the other five young people at the table how he’d killed Shanni and Lev from behind, and maybe this would motivate the rebels to get more aggressive. He had also laughed that they would never catch him, and if they did, he’d get off.

The other plot Jace had identified was much more nebulous, and involved a much older group of men, most of whom were first families, according to Jace. Perez, Archer, Smallwell, Hartsorn, and Eggleston were apparently all large landholders and raised the majority of food stuffs and protein animals for the world. Their conversation was elliptic, even in the supposedly private room, and hinted at what could be a takeover of the world, if Jace’s analysis was right. Apparently only the Smallwell and Archer families were involved in both plots, which was rather interesting. He’d also said not to pass anything to the GalPat det, it was being addressed via a different avenue, so he must be sending it as a RIG dataset to HQ GalPat. That was scary, if the local GalPat det wasn’t to be trusted.

Fargo shook his head, I already don’t trust them, why am I even thinking that. Are these two plots connected? If so how… if not… Are they at cross purposes? Third generation wanting what? To go back to the pre power days? Do all these landholders have their own power generation? They must, considering the size of their holdings. Nuclear? Probably, since they only date back ninety something years…

Grayson walked in yawning, “You ready for chow, boss?”

“Is it that time already?”

“Eighteen, straight up. It’s some kind of noodle dish. Spicy noodles and mystery meat. The warrant took one sniff and went to the salad.” Grayson belched, “Ohhh, gonna pay for that later tonight.”

Fargo shook his head, “Okay, here’s the latest. All sites quiet at sixteen, three had a few rock throwers earlier, but they bounced. Four had a delegation from Archer come up and want to apologize for Shanni and Lev’s deaths. According to Jiri, they were the business leaders and owners of the restaurant. He was polite, and turned them away without allowing them inside the perimeter. Nothing from one and two.”

“So you’re saying tonight is either going to be boring as shit, or it’s going to blow up in my face, right?”

“Not going to jinx you. What will be, will be. Remember, put the forward to my comp on at all balls, when you secure the watch.”

“Yowza, boss. Have a good night.”

***

Nicole clocked out, chatting with Raymondo and the other staff as they walked to the corner. When they turned away from the others, he finally said, “You were prowling like a damn cat tonight. What’s going on?”

Nicole shrugged, “Not sure. I just feel antsy. I’ve been here almost three months, I think it’s about time for me to move on. I do have a real job to go back to, and this sabbatical has been almost six months long. The only decent wine on the planet is from Abruzzi, and I’m not sure they could produce enough to make it worth Star Lines time to order it.”

Raymondo nodded in the pale light coming off the street lamps, “You’ve been pushing it pretty hard, and I’m hearing their sales have gone up about twenty percent. Perez isn’t happy with that or with you. He talked again to night to Mr. DuMaurier about firing you.” Otto overheard it. But Otto is liking the chance to play with more Italian cooking too. I swear his heritage must be more Italian than German.”

Nicole laughed, “One more reason for me to look at leaving, sooner rather than later. With Otto, anyone from Old Earth is a polyglot by now, simply due to travel over the last what, five hundred years? Much less when you throw in the genie mods.”

“Point. But still, the name and physical characteristics…”

“But who knows what genie’d DNA went into his family when? Granted his coloring and build are Central Euro, not Mediterranean Euro if Italian was the primary. Maybe there’s an Italian grandmother somewhere in the family tree.”

At the next corner, they parted ways and Nicole hitched her backpack up to a more comfortable position as she walked slowly toward the Women’s Hotel. A half block later, as the crossed the mouth of the last alley, she heard movement and started to run, until she was struck by a charge from a stun pistol. She slumped to the ground, unconscious, scraping the side of her face and one arm on the rough surface of the sidewalk.

A grav car slid to a halt as two men lifted her limp body into the back of the car, with one retrieving the backpack and throwing it in on top of her, and slamming the hatch just before the car sped away.

Two hundred miles above them, the satellite Captain Jace had placed in geosync orbit picked up the voltage change across Nicole’s wrist comp and pinged an alert to the Hyderabad.  Jace took one look at the feed, did a pingback for vitals, and waited impatiently for almost a seg before it came back, indicating probable unconsciousness and movement.

Fargo was regretting the noodle choice as he rolled over in the bunk, trying to decide if a trip to the fresher was worth it. Suddenly his wrist comp and data comp both blared an emergency alert tone, yanking him out of his misery. He jerked upright, slapping at the wrist comp even as he reached for the data comp. He read the alert and pinged both Grayson and Boykin with emergency pings, SR SGT LEVESQUE TAKEN RESP TO SHUTTLE FOR IMMED TRACK/RECOVER.

Pulling on his shipsuit, he debated notifying the GalPat det, but the earlier warning stopped him, We take care of our own. We’ll get her back, one way or another. Five segs later, he waited impatiently as Boykin ran a fast preflight and Grayson trotted through the aft hatch, “What the fuck, Captain?”

“Somebody grabbed the senior sergeant. Apparently stunned into unconsciousness. In some type of vehicle, almost to the port.”

“Where’s the GalPat response team?”

“Haven’t notified them, not going to.”

Grayson started to say something, then looked at Fargo. He shook his head, then said, “We take care of our own, right?”

He nodded as Boykin pounded up the ramp, “Close the ramp and strap in, autostart sequence is almost complete. As soon as I strap in, we’re lifting. Captain, feed me tracking data as soon as you get it.”

Grayson scrambled for the ramp controls as Fargo squirted the track data to her comps. They both flopped into seats and had just finished strapping in, when the G load hit as she took them vertical. She unloaded the G at 30,000 feet, causing their stomachs to try to come out of their throats, and Fargo glanced down at his comp, “Shit. Apparently dumped both her comps. Getting an intermittent track on her chip now. He yelled up to the cockpit, “WO, can you follow that track?”

She clicked the PA, “Not directly, but I’m trying to match it to radtrack, IFF, or IR on any skimmers, liteflyers, or shuttles heading in that direction. Three possibles. Stable for now. How do you want to proceed?”

Fargo realized he hadn’t thought that far ahead, and slumped, Shit. We never actually discussed this. What the… He glanced at Grayson and saw that he had the issue sidearm, and he was startled to realize that somewhere along the way, he’d also put his on. Pistols against what? What other… looking at the forward end of the bay, he saw three sets of armor racked. “One of those yours, Grayson?” He pointed at them.

“Yes, sir. The one on the right. Warrant Jiri’s is on the left, yours is in the middle.”

“I don’t know what we’re walking into, but pistols aren’t going to be my method of choice.”

“Didn’t the colonel say something about not using armor?”

“He did, but I don’t give a shit. I know you’ve done an airdrop before, feel up to another one?”

Grayson grinned, “A HALO, hell yes!”

“Let me go talk to the warrant. But I’d start suiting up.”

He got up and climbed into the cockpit, noting that Boykin had reconfigured one display to show three different views of sensors. Before he could ask, she glanced at him, “This is probably the vehicle. It’s approximating the chip track in both course and speed. The other two diverged a while back. According to the trackline, the only thing out this way is the Perez compound.” She pointed to her nav screen, and a blinking object, “Big enough field for a shuttle. At these speeds, be there in fifteen segs. How do you want to play this?”

“I’m thinking airdrop us in armor. From altitude. You could overwatch and take care of anything we don’t see.”

“Good enough. You’ll have to go off the ramp on my call. I’m darkship, emcon anyway, so at forty k, nobody will hear or see me. That would give you… a… call it four seg drop. If they are landing there, I can kick you out while they are on approach, and you’ll land about the same time they do.”

“Sounds like a plan. I’ll go suit up.”

“You’ve got nine segs then I open the hatch.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Fargo bolted down the ladder and started stripping off his greys as he hit the deck. He saw Grayson already had his suit kneeled, and was in the process of climbing in, smiling from ear to ear. He finished stripping, threw his clothes, boots, and pistol belt into a storage compartment above the seats. Scrambling across the decking, he knelt his armor, hoping to hell there was an undersuit in it. If not, it was going to be a bit uncomfortable, to put it mildly.

Thankfully, there was an undersuit sitting on the pads. He quickly wiggled into it, then mounted the armor. Sliding in, he hit the hatch closure and felt the momentary disorientation as his mind and the AI connected. “Good evening, Captain.”

“Cindy, emergency BIT, combat drop in… four segs.”

“Captain that is not recommended.”

“Troop in danger, emergency drop required. Connect to ship’s AI, please.”

“Emergency BIT in progress, connecting.”

“You up, Grayson?”

“Yes, sir. Up and BIT good.”

“WO?”

“Five by. Skimmer is descending and slowing. IR shows a hot shuttle on the ground at the location. Estimated track for skimmer puts it landing adjacent to the shuttle.”

“Shit. What kind of shuttle?”

“Unknown. Depressurizing now, releasing clamps. Ramp in one seg.”

“Copy.” He slewed his view to see the clamps retract on Grayson’s armor. “You’re free, Grayson.”

“You too, sir. Lead on.”

He thought for a second, “Grayson I want you to go full stealth. I’m going to land no stealth directly in front of them. I’m going to free fall to minimum altitude then full braking.”

“Aye, aye, sir. I’ll land offset to your right as you face them.”

Fargo started slowly shuffling aft as the ramp cracked open and slowly went to full down. He got in position, called up the ship’s feed in his HUD, and felt Grayson come up next to him. “In position, WO.”

“Go in five, four, three, two, one, now!”

Fargo fell off the ramp, automatically swinging slightly right to make sure he separated from Grayson, visually verified the separation, and concentrated on the landing pad below him, saying a quick prayer, “Deity, keep Nicole safe, and let us rescue her without harm, if it be your will.”

Cindy said, “BIT complete. All systems nominal. Stealth?”

“Negative, Cindy. Deploy laser as soon as we land.”

“Will do. Full power?”

“Yes.”

Two minutes later, Cindy said, “Switching to onboard cameras. Eighteen thousand feet to go. ETA one seg, thirty three.”

“WO, you got us?”

“Roger, high cover in place. High prob shuttle is Trader. And it’s hot. Skimmer ETA one seg.”

“Copy. Grayson?”

“Copy.”

The seg felt like a div, until the armor finally kicked on the anti-grav, punishing Fargo with six Gs as it rapidly slowed the suit from about 170 miles per hour to ten feet per second. He saw Nicole being drug out of the skimmer by two men, with a small older man following them. He felt the laser deploy, and saw the carat pop on in his HUD as he concentrated on landing and staying upright. He saw the men looking up, and he assumed they heard the armor.

The old man grabbed Nicole around the throat, pulling something from his pocket, as the other two pulled weapons from under their jackets. The armor crashed down, splattering the rock that made up the landing pad, as he put the laser cursor on the man’s head. He keyed the external speaker. “Release the woman.”

The old man cackled, “You’re gonna be in so much trouble. Armor isn’t allowed. Besides, by the time you can get out of that, I can do anything I want with her. You move, I kill the puta.

Fargo projected, lightly touching Nicole’s mind. It seemed fuzzy for lack of a better term. “Nicole, can you hear me?”

I… Ethan? Wha…”

      “You’ve been stunned, I need you to drop, be a dead weight.”

      “Now? M’kay.”

      He saw her sag, but the carat never moved from the man’s head as he triggered the laser. The head exploded and the body and Nicole slumped to the ground together.

“Nicole! Nic, answer me, oh Deity, please answer me.”

      “M’cold. And wet. My… head…”

Grayson and Boykin both said, “Shuttle is lifting.”

Fargo glanced over, then back at the two men, now frozen with their hands halfway up, “Drop your weapons and prone out, now!”

They did so, and he said, “Grayson, clear the skimmer.”

Grayson walked over, rapped gently, well as gently as one could in armor, on the cockpit, and he heard Grayson order someone out. Another man came out trembling and with a wet spot in his crotch, as he went prone as soon as he was on the ground.

“Cover me, getting out.”

Just as he started to pop the hatch, he heard Boykin say calmly, “Shuttle is confirmed Trader. And it’s firing on me.”

Fargo smiled ferally, “Take it.”

“Rog.”

He quickly dismounted, moved the weapons well away from the two men, and rushed to Nicole, gathering her in his arms.

She looked up at him muzzily, “Wha happened? Where?”

“You got stunned and kidnapped. We rescued you.”

“M’kay. Don’t feel so good. Tired. Thank you later.”

Fargo smiled softly, “You’re alive, that’s what counts. I didn’t lose you.”

“Not gonna happen.”

A boom interrupted him and he looked up to see an explosion and a trail of fire heading toward the horizon. He heard Grayson’s PA, “The warrant got the kill. She’ll ground in five. Give me a thumbs up if the chief is okay.”

Fargo gave him a thumbs up, and sat down, cradling Nicole until Boykin landed.

 

TBT…

I wonder how many of today’s generation would have any clue to what some of these are… sigh

My uncle had one of these in his store…

This one is pretty easy…

 

This one is pretty easy too…

Not so much, but still easy…

 

And this one will confuse the hell out of them…

Enjoy your week and all those ‘modern’ things… Some of which DO make our lives easier, but others who’s planned obsolescence tends to bite us in the ass on a routine basis… Oh yeah, and NOTHING here required a battery to work… 😀

Book promos…

Ladies day!

First up is Holly Chism’s short story collection

As always, click on the cover to go the Amazon page.

The blurb-

Look closer. The things that you’re assuming you’re seeing? May not be what you think. Is that really a mouse, or is it a Brownie? Is that really an owl? Is that polished gemstone a stone…or an egg?

We take so many things for granted. Some of them may be harmless, but many are a lot less so. I wonder how many people ignore red flags every day, because they only see what they expect to see?

This collection takes what’s “normal” and asks “What if it’s something more?”

Alma Boykin’s Daughter of the Pearl

The blurb-

Count Chang wants glory. Leesan dreams of marrying. Neither can foresee the power that awaits them—or the danger.

Cloud-dancers use magic to keep the world in balance. But the Great Northern River ails, and strange, twisted and evil things move across the land. The humans along the river cannot see the danger, but the Great Sky Emperor does. He grows angry. His wrath will remake the world and none of the cloud-dancers want that.

Count Chang hears a rumor of a Chosen One living far to the south, the only human able to heal the river. Instead he finds a corrupted naga and Leesan, the unwanted third daughter. Valueless, cursed, ignorant, Leesan would be better off dead, or so her father’s mother insists. Instead Chang claims her and takes her north, to train the gifts she unknowingly carries.

Chang detests the idea of marrying. Leesan cannot imagine a woman with value of her own. Together they must find the cause of the river’s ailment and heal it. Evil lurks in the land, and it will take all their power, trust, and strength to do their duty and save the world from the Great Sky Emperor’s wrath.

That is, if they can.

73, 000 words.

Next is Cyn Bagley’s novella Diamond Butterfly

The blurb-

It’s in the blood.

Someone is after Nova Tewa’s son and that someone is willing to kill to get the child. Nova is on the run in the middle of the a blizzard in the Sierra Nevada mountains. She will do anything to survive.

A novella in the EJ Hunter world.

And last but not least, Dorothy Grant’s Scaling the Rim

The blurb-

Never underestimate the power of a competent tech.

When Annika Danilova arrived at the edge of the colony’s crater to install a weather station, she knew the mission had been sabotaged from the start. The powers that be sent the wrong people, underequipped, and antagonized their supporting sometimes-allies. The mission was already slated for unmarked graves and an excuse for war…

But they hadn’t counted on Annika allying with the support staff, or the sheer determination of their leader, Captain Restin, to accomplish the mission. Together, they will overcome killing weather above and traitors within to fight for the control of the planet itself!

Old School EDC…

Old school EDC, going back to carrying a revolver, but I HATE breaking in a new leather holster…

Colt Cobra in Galco leather.  Bianchi speed strip loaded with Hornady Critical Duty.

And I got ‘chastised’ on FB for not boosting the signal for a Veteran Owned Business, so…

My little challenge coin… The top one was carried daily for a little over three years. So yes, they DO wear a bit. The bottom two show both sides of the coin.

These came from Warrior Chip, a VOB started by Gunnery Sergeant Donny Campbell, USMC Ret. who is the founder. Link to their site is HERE, and you can either design your own, or have them do it. Their costs are reasonable!

I paid with my own money for my chips, so there… 🙂

Labor or Labour Day…

US vs. Canada spelling… sigh…

Both countries celebrate it on the first Monday September as a tribute to the working men and women.

Who started Labor Day?

Like most cultural events, there is still some doubt over its origination. Some records show that Peter J. McGuire, general secretary of the Brotherhood of Carpenters and Joiners and a cofounder of the American Federation of Labor, was first in suggesting a day to honor working men and women.

However many believe that it was Matthew Maguire, a machinist, not Peter McGuire, who founded the holiday as recent research seems to support the contention that Matthew Maguire proposed the holiday in 1882 while serving as secretary of the Central Labor Union in New York.

Whoever the source was, what we do know is that the Central Labor Union adopted the Labor Day proposal and appointed a committee to plan a demonstration and picnic.

The First Labor Day

The first Labor Day holiday was celebrated on Tuesday, September 5, 1882, in New York City, in accordance with the plans of the Central Labor Union.

In 1884 the first Monday in September was selected as the holiday, and the Central Labor Union urged similar organizations in other cities to follow the example of New York and celebrate a “workingmen’s holiday” on that date. The idea spread with the growth of labor organizations, and in 1885 Labor Day was celebrated in many industrial centers of the country.

In the USA, governmental recognition first came through municipal ordinances passed during 1885 and 1886. The first state bill was introduced into the New York legislature, but the first to become law was passed by Oregon on February 21, 1887. By 1894, 23 other states had adopted the holiday in honor of workers, and on June 28 of that year, Congress passed an act making the first Monday in September of each year a legal holiday in the District of Columbia and the territories.

I remember growing up, we didn’t start school until AFTER Labor day, and we always got out in late May. Of course we also went to school from 8AM-4PM, seven periods a day. We had six classes, and a one hour study hall or PE/sport (if you played a sport, last period was always the ‘sport’, usually followed by one or more hours of ‘practice’).

Talking with a friend who is a teacher, apparently with the ‘new’ layouts, they only get about 80 hours of ‘dedicated’ instruction a semester now, of which they get ‘maybe’ 65-70 actual hours.  And we wonder why the kids can’t spell, read, or do simple math… sigh…

Anyhoo, enjoy your day off, unless you’re military, police, fire, EMS, hospital, and… and…

Quicky road trip…

So you get pictures!

BIG sky…

Sunset…

And that’s all folks…