I have lived in Metuchen, NJ, all my life. I have been married to my wife Patricia since 1977. I am a former newspaper editor and reporter. I was also the owner-operator of my own small business for several years. I wrote various novels and short stories published during 1980s and 1990s. I am a long-time student of judo and Japanese swordsmanship (kenjutsu). I also play chess, basketball, and military and sports simulations.
You’d think two cats–two, mind you–would be more than a match for any squirrel. But watch what happens in this video. Hint: the squirrel has absolutely no fear of these cats. This refutes the old adage, “There are old squirrels and there are bold squirrels, but there are no old, bold squirrels.”
I’ll never get over the thrill I experience when a story I’m writing takes on a life of its own and pulls me along with it.
It’s going to be tricky, putting the book into a coherent whole, but I’m sure the Lord will guide me. Like, waddaya know! Suddenly I have a pre-climax that not only leads into the double climax of the story, but also ties the two together. I never expected that, although it’s not the first time it’s happened. The story unfolds and I just write it down! How cool is that?
I’m already working on a second chapter of the pre-climax, with another chapter waiting in the wings. It’s really going to mess up my legal pads–but once I’ve got all the pieces written, I’ll be able to put them together as they should be.
Meanwhile… who knew Wytt had a streak of clairvoyance in him?
Blimey! The next time I do this, it’ll be October!
G’day, this is Byron the Quokka with another weekend’s worth of glorious TV brought to you by the sages at Quokka University. If there’s not a game of Clue going in your neighborhood, these shows are the next best thing.
5:45 P.M. Ch. 41 TALK LIKE ELMER FUDD!–Educational
John Gielgud’s family and friends seriously considered having him put away while he was doing this series for Josip P. Broz’s People’s Public Television. Once he got started talking like Elmer Fudd, he couldn’t stop! For a good while there, it endangered his career. Featured guests: Anthony Quinn, Irene Ryan.
6 P.M. Ch. 08 UNCONTROLLED RAVING ABOUT SPORTS–Sports
Caspar Hoojah does himself an injury as he overreacts to this week’s news in sports! Last week he jumped out his studio’s second-floor window because the Yankees got yanked. This week, who knows? The walls of his studio have since been padded: we’ll see if that keeps him out of the hospital. With R.D. Laing and his orchestra.
Ch. 16 MOVIE–Steamy Jungle Romance
In “Steaming Jungle Passion” (1996), Prof. Gargle (Leonard Bernstein) leads an expedition into the Amazon rain forest in search of Batboy (Frank Buttocks)–only to discover a long-lost city of maniacs ruled by fantastically beautiful women, all of whom want the professor and will do anything to get him! Boobah: Ellen Burstyn. Crowd of lunatics: the June Taylor Dancers. Song: “Itchy Jungle Disease”
6:30 P.M. Ch. 12 CTHULHU & CO.–Cartoons
Inspired by the horror tales of H. P. Lovecraft, these cartoons are guaranteed to freak you out! Many viewers require long-term psychiatric therapy after just one or two exposures. Others, we regret to say, join disreputable cults. Host: Uncle Jack Torrance. Puppets: Beto O’Rourke, Elizabeth Warren.
Ch. 52 “YOUR MOVE, STUPID!”–Game Show
Can you play Monopoly, poker, checkers, and Candy Land at the same time? Our celebrity contestants will try to do just that, rushing from table to table as the overhead Monster Clock ticks away… Raul Castro this week puts his title on the line against The Dixie Chicks, Dan Rather, and Barney Rubble. Host: a disembodied head floating in a jar, we don’t know whose.
Well, mates, there you go! Maybe you should record some of these, in case Q.U. ever has to open its doors and start teaching courses. But for the time being, it’s party time!
Jambo. You are about to see a little “pet store chameleon” (a green anole, actually: not a real chameleon) decide he’s in the mood for love. He’ll try to attract the female by showing his dewlap and doing a lot of head-bobbing.
These same gestures are also used to threaten rivals.
Head-bobbing intrigues me because so many unrelated lizards, thousands of miles apart geographically, do it–and for the same reasons: courtship, threat, defense of territory. This is an aspect of lizard life that has no way of being preserved in any fossil record. Which in turn is a reminder that we don’t know an awful lot about animals–especially prehistoric ones.
None of my lizards ever head-bobbed at me. I must be a nice guy.
Oddly enough, real chameleons don’t head-bob.
I know some of you have bearded dragons. Do they eventually give up head-bobbing–or do they always find some occasion for it?
All around the country lately, members of local school boards have been resigning–mostly because, they say, the public is so mean to them! And the public meetings are getting loud, chaotic, and nasty. Who needs it?
Gee, how ungrateful can the public get? Here are all these Educators plying the public’s children with Critical Race Theory, socialism, and Transgender–and the public doesn’t like it??? Say it ain’t so, Joe!
Rather than honor the public’s wishes in any way, some school boards have taken to meeting at undisclosed locations–so the proles can’t show up and protest. Dagnabit! Don’t these peasants realize we’re changin’ the world? Why don’t they just shut up and let us do it?
The American people pay for every atom, every second, devoted to public “education.” For this they get laughed at and despised by “educators” who want to change their world for them.
This went on for years and years and years until finally The Great Pandemic, which forced millions of school-aged children to receive “remote learning” at home, revealed to parents what their children were being “taught.” And waddaya know? The parents didn’t like it! As in “Hold up, sunshine! Who the holy hell are you?”
I used to cover several local school boards in the 1970s. I remember when the New Jersey Dept. of Education, itself brand-new, sent a sweet young thing to the Matawan Board of Education to tell the members how it was gonna be from now on, with the state calling all the shots and the board just there to take the flak.What a snow job she hit them with! They hardly understood two minutes’ worth of her jargon. One of the members said, “I don’t like this! It sounds like one of those Russian five-year plans.”
The answer was simplicity itself. “Tee-hee! Tee-hee! Sometimes I forget you local people don’t speak Educationese! But don’t worry–we’ve got it all thought out.” All you plebs gotta do is rubber-stamp it!
Local school boards were supposed to represent the interests of the community they served. They were the custodians of the local school district.
But that was then, not now.
Unless you’re a stone lefty who goes along with all the garbage, your children don’t belong in public school. It’s a spiritually and intellectually toxic environment.
Gee, remember “#MeToo”? It sort of got quietly put away after it started to chow down on big-name leftid media figures, but its inane spirit is still with us. Sexual anarchy combines with hair-trigger “sexual policing” for a really tricky culture.
Eventually they’ll want to punish you for not having sex.
I never heard this one before this morning–Tennessee Ernie Ford, with the Jordanaires, singing One Day at a Time. There’s something warm and cozy about this worship song. Which means there’s a need for lots more like it.
[Editor’s Note: Yipes! I got so caught up in my book today, I completely lost track of the time and now I’m late. Almost forgot this week’s Joe Collidge. Don’t everybody howl forlornly at once.]
Whel, whoo cairs about that stopid guy And “his” stopid boock??? Heer at Collidge we got “moar” impotent things To Thinck abote!!!!
We jist fowned Out “fromb” Harverd and that is a Big Fantsy Unavoracity that nhow yiu “can has” A diffrint Gender evry Day!!!!! How grate “is” thatt??? And iff enyboddy Elsse thay get yore Pro-nown wrawng thay “are” “In” Big Trubble!!!!!!
I taiked alll themb Moth Hoarmoan shot to Tern me Into “a” wimmin and nhow It terns out I awlreddy Amb! a wimmin jist becose I saye so!!!!! In facked Harverd thay say yiu can Be “moar” Than one ginder at “the” Saimb Tyme!!!!!! Eevin gender thatt thay got “nl” naims foar Yet!!!
So i amb a “man” And aslo “a” wimmin and aslo sumb-thing Elsse!!!! Mayby i shood caul My Selff “a Schwoomin” oar “a Mumman!”!” And aslo mayby i better Stay Aweiyh fromb wautter or i mite Get pregganint!!!!! And iff yiu eet Rice Chex yiu mite “start” monstrewaiting!!!!! Is that Coool or watt???
This heer it “is” jist so Grate!!!!! Nhow we can Maik Up niew Pro-Nowns that no boddy thay evver herd Of “beafoar” and get themb punnished for Miss Gindering!!!! Didd yiu know “that” Miss Gindering it cain axully kill A Trans Person dedd??!! Thats watt thay say At Harverd!!! so it mussed be triu!!
Sow nhow i amb goingto Fyned Out “moar” Genders i can be,, thare Mussed “be” hunderds of themb Out Thare!!!!!!!!
Well! That little piece of The Witch Box that I woke up with today turned out to be a big piece.
Let me see if I can explain this to you. If you’re thinking of writing a novel of your own someday, you might find this interesting. Maybe even useful.
I had reached a point in the story where I was, in a word, stuck. Ahead of me lay unknown territory which I would have to cross to get to the double climax of the plot. How much territory, I had no idea. I didn’t want to pad the story (heaven forbid!), but I didn’t want to wind up with a short book, either.
And then, as I sat down to write this morning, the skies, as it were, opened.
I interrupted the ordinary writing of the story to jump ahead to a point just before the climax–and suddenly I had a nice big chunk of plot! I had an incident that shed light on everything that had to come next. A piece of the story that had to be told. So now I’m telling it.
The idea is to write this all up and then work backward to reach that point at which I’d interrupted the chronological flow of the story. In fact, I could then also work forward from that point, until the two plot streams met somewhere in the middle and joined into one.
I’ve never done this before, but it’s an exciting challenge, artistically. Sort of like solving a hard jigsaw puzzle by stopping work on one section and starting on another; and if I can bring those two sections together, I’ll have most of the puzzle finished.
I can only pray it works. But I’ve learned over the years to trust those bolts that come out of the blue: because I think they come from God.