Dear Mole: Bon Anniversaire!

Whether we employ philosophy, humor or barbaric yawps of self-righteous indignation, it’s all just noise. Distraction. A source of temporary comfort, perhaps, but pragmatically impotent. That’s just fine with me. In fact, I wouldn’t have it any other way.

If you know of a better way to pass the time amidst this vast American Confederacy of Dunces, I’m all ears.

Covid has ensured that Thanksgiving is a wash this year, which is also just fine with me.

So here’s a little Christmas cheer instead:

Fa La La La La,


Dear Mudge: Happy Anniversary

I don’t know about you, but I for one could not have predicted any of the last 12 months. Not an ounce of it. I look back at our epistolary exchange and wonder, how did we even survive, given the edge of existence we meandered along.

Wishing you twelve more wonderful months of existential crisis and questioning our place in the cosmos.

Say hi to Jesse.


[Rust is kicking my ass. I did manage to code up Conway’s Game of Death (Life for many of you). It’s wicked fast and entertaining to watch all those little virtual critters spawn, live and die. Hmm, sounds familiar.]

More pics from my artist friend

Had to share, especially the raid…

The story, as I’ve mentioned, is a continuation of my first novel. It’s called Red into the Sea, (the first was called Blue across the Sea). And yeah, in my delusional euphoria after finishing the first book I planed a whole color scheme series… Silly me.

This is Simon who holds a dying Emily. Due to her death, and the circumstances, he gets twisted with revenge and becomes “Synoc” leader of the Reno Reds.

Later, Synoc and his band of brigands raid, murder and burn the town of Cordero, their goal to steal child slaves.

And the village was saved

The pall has lifted.
The ugly shroud of Orangina has peel away.
The sword of rationality has pierced the hideous beast and left it golfing in denial.

About Damn Time!

I’m reminded of the lyrics from a Jim Stafford song, one I memorized as a teenager.
Here are the pertinent parts:
One day brought the rain and the rain stayed on
And the swamp water overflowed
Skeeters and the fever grabbed the town like a fist
(The swam overflowed indeed! Fully of criminals hired by Drumpf)

There came an unseen caller on a town where hope run dry

And the whole town took a sip
(of sanity)

Fever went away and the very next day the skies again were blue
(As well as the rest of the country. Yay, Democracy!)

Said don’t come lookin’ again.
(Oh, they will. The Rabid-Right can’t help itself.)

Yay Us! Mudge, @fifteencurmudgeon, you get to keep on livin’, aren’t you happy? Jesse, give the team a woof!

Writer’s Log: 2336 a lull

SepSceneWriMo was a success. And rather entertaining, aside from the heart attack, cough, cough.

And then in October a few stories dribbled forth, gonorrhea of the mind.

And now November and the unpleasantness that has first bludgeoned and then strangulated the country. Yuck!

Not to mention this new job and the fact that I’m like, “uhhhh, I fergetted how ta progrum. Cain you hep me figgur out what the hell this’um means?”

use std::thread;
use std::time::Duration;
fn simulated_expensive_calculation(intensity: u32) -> u32 {
    let expensive_closure = |num| { 
        println!("calculating slowly..."); 

But, what about writing? Well, my Indonesian artist friend emailed me, distraught. It seemed he was at wits-end regarding some life decision. “Moi? You want to know /my/ opinion? Well, sure.” Turns out he’d applied for a job at the Ministry of Communication (5000 applicants, 500 jobs) and was in financial straights without it. So, I sent him some money (to have him draw some illustrations for a novel I’ll prolly never finish) and waited.

He created a nice picture and informed me he’d gotten the job. Whew, was he happy. Now I’ve got to buckle down and get back writing on this followup novel of mine.

Veren the trickster after he duped some ruffians in flooded Reno, Nevada. (He’s got dreadlocks and is pretty much an urchin/orphan.)