What do Republicans look like?

=====================================

The Eight Sentences:

Ridge continued, “Of course it’s a depression -- caused by the Republicans -- they're ruining the country. If I see one in a crosswalk, I’ll run him over.”

Franklin York, still on the lookout for opportunities to stir up trouble asked, “How do you recognize them, George? What do Republicans look like?”

Ridge sneered in silent reply. 

York asked, “What does that look mean?”

Fishinghawk, ever the linguist, answered, “He’s flipping you off with his eyes.”

Reverend Tommy Pritchett smiled and asked, “Yeah, George. Do Republicans look anything like Methodists?”

The Setup

The members of  The Presidents Club enjoy teasing each other. They can dish it out ruthlessly and they can take it, too. 

They're a nice fit for each other and constantly on guard for a slip of the tongue they can exploit. 

They often surprise me with their smart ass remarks and clever rejoinders. 

What next?

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 Check out their work, too. 

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 Snippett group. 

Hokies and Aggies

The eight sentences:

“Well, that, and anything the Aggie band plays.”

“The Strategic Air Command March?” she asked.

Gregg’s face broke into a smile and his eyebrows raised without conscious effort on his part, “You’re a fan? Thought you were a loyal Irish girl.”   

“I’m a fan of great marching bands. I live in South Bend now, and wear this cap for PR, but I’m a Virginia Tech girl -- I marched in their band when I was in school.”

“Just what is a ‘Hokie?’”

“Tell me what an ‘Aggie’ is, and I’ll tell you what a ‘Hokie’ is.”

“Why don’t we have this conversation over dinner and drinks?”

The set up:

      The speakers are Jerry Gregg, one of the late Julian Thibaut's security men. He's a Texas Aggie.

      He's conversing with Erin O'Hara, the pilot of a King Air of which he is the only passenger. She is wearing a Notre Dame baseball cap. 

      Just before this snippett, she had asked him about his music preferences.

Lagnaippe (something extra you didn't expect):

If you enjoy watching precision marching, here's a treat. The nationally famous "Fightin' Texas Aggie Band." The entire show is fantastic, but if you want to skip ahead to hear the Strategic Air Command march, move the cursor to the 4:53 mark.

What next?

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Join us here at Weekend Writing Warriors. The same 

link will take you to the work of dozens of talented writers.

 Check out their work, too. 

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Guest blogger: Wayne Parris -- The Story Behind the Image

Our guest blogger is professional photographer, Wayne Parris. He tells me he as been involved with photography for so long it's hard to remember when he started. Maybe he grew up with a camera in his hands. He attended Asheville-Buncombe Technical College, and after receiving an Associate’s Degree in Criminal Justice, he decided to join the US Army as a Blackhawk helicopter crew chief.  Wayne spent twelve years in the U.S. Army.  He is currently a commercial pilot, which also allows time for his
photography business.
His article today tells the story behind one of his best-selling images and
begins a series of "The story behind the image" blogs.

Image credit: Wayne Parris Photography  
Image info: ISO1600, F-8, SS 1/100sec, Canon 7d, Lens,Canon 100-400mm @ 250mm

A quiet walk through the woods often results in unexpected photo ops.

A thicket of small pine trees separated me from a creek that moved through the woods like a skilled hunter -- quiet and relentless.  

I heard an unfamiliar sound.

It wasn’t the sound water makes on the rocks.

I crawled through the pines and took care to protect my camera equipment.

What I would find?  

As I reached the creek, I discovered a Black Bear moving rocks and looking for food—probably looking for salamanders and spring lizards.  

The creek was narrow and shrouded in Mountain Laurels.  

The only thing I could see of the bear was her rear.  She turned and looked at me, then went right back to foraging for food.  

She wasn’t threatened by my presence.

I always keep this rule in mind when photographing wild animals:  

If the animal alters its behavior in any way, I’m too close.  

If an animal feels threatened, it will get spooked and run, leaving the photographer with nothing but a wish for more patience.

Patience is key.  

I have spent as much as an hour waiting for an animal to do what I wanted it to do.  I’ll touch on that in a later blog.

If I crossed the creek, I could get a better photo.  (When photographing bears, if you don’t see the colors on the face, you just see a big, black blob with very little

detail.)  

I visualized where I was going to cross the creek, climb the hill on

the other side, and get the shot.

Then, I spotted a cub resting on a log.  I pointed my camera and was

able to see that he was looking at me.   

Don’t get between a mother and her cub.

I decided not to cross the creek and stay right where I was.  

I set up my tripod and adjusted my focus.  

I kept glancing back at momma bear to make sure she was still okay with me being there.  She was still moving rocks around under the laurels.  

I clicked off a series of images and stood there for a minute reflecting on what I had just seen.  As always, I said a little “Thank you”to the animals for letting me spend some one-on-one time with them.

When I first saw this image, I thought the little cub had a sore on its front leg.  

It wasn’t until I ordered a 16x20 canvas wrap that I discovered that it had one of the rear feet underneath itself, and what I had thought was a sore was actually the claws on the hind foot.

You can find more of Wayne’s work at WayneParrisPhotography.com, or “LIKE” his

page on Facebook.

Friends of Global Progress

The eight sentences:

Image credit: northernbellediaries.com

“The Council is more like a Medusa than it is a single snake. You cannot stop us by simply killing one or even two.”

“She’s taken out three that we know of, and if she gets LaFrance and Hussein, that would be five. How many heads y’all got?”
“If she takes out those two, and if Kleinstein is either dead, in hiding, or for some other reason, incommunicado, we’re screwed. The internal factions would -- if they haven’t already -- begin to act autonomously. The result would be chaos. Miss Braun may have unwittingly played into their hands and broken up the organization -- stay tuned, Mr. Hixon, but don’t expect to hear about it on the nightly news.”

The setup:

   First speaker is Klaus Gershenfield, a member of the internatinoal conspiratorial organization, "Friends of Global Progress."

   John Hixon asks a question, and then Gershenfield's reply closes the snippett.

     

What next:

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The return of Star Braun

The eight sentences:

In an alley two blocks away from Vito and Nick’s, Star Braun tossed her iPhone onto the front seat of her metallic black Maserati Gran Turismo S.

The black ski mask slipped off over her head with ease.

She tossed it onto the passenger side seat.

Seconds later the black catsuit joined the mask.

She looked around once more to be sure she was still alone, then stepped with confidence into the black halter-top evening gown and red stiletto heels.

How often do you see a Maserati and a naked woman in an alley in Chicago, she asked herself. The question elicited a smile.

She watched herself in the rear view mirror as she fastened the Mikimoto pearl choker around her neck.

The back story:

Readers first met Star Braun in The Tourist Killer.

Her boss and lover was a victim of professional assassin, Claudia Barry.

Star's back.

She's mad.

She's killing people.

Will she be the spoiler? The trump card? or the wild card?

Notes on the image:

The eight sentences above come from a scene written several weeks ago.

It's surprising how difficult it was to find an image of a blonde model with blue eyes in a black halter evening gown with red stiletto heels.  

The model in the chosen image isn't blonde, but it's the closest I could find to my mental image of Star. Use your imagination.

Image credit: Alizeebridal.com

What next?

      Looking for more viewers, readers, and contacts?

Join us here at Weekend Writing Warriors. The same link will take you to the work of dozens of talented writers. Check out their work, too. 
     Here's the Facebook link for the Sunday Snippett group. 

Flying High with Helicopters

The eighth anniversary of hurricane Katrina is fast approaching.

My wife and I have many memories and stories about how the weather changed our lives. In several ways, Katrina was as significant for me as the JFK assassination. Kennedy’s death didn’t cause me to move away from my home state.

Katrina did.

One of the nightmarish memories of the storm involves events that occurred in the aftermath.

The levee system in New Orleans failed. In addition to storm refugees and evacuees, now flood victims were arriving in Baton Rouge. Not too far from our home.  The basketball arena on campus at LSU became a huge triage facility.  

The “whop-whop” sound of helicopters constantly arriving at Tiger Stadium was a daily reminder of the tragedy that changed thousands of lives. Our house was close enough to the flight path that we could easily hear the airborne deliveries.

More than once, I looked toward where the sound seemed to be coming from, only to discover they were behind me.

It reminded me of the opening scene from the movie M*A*S*H.

Fast forward to the 1:06 mark.

My near obsession with helicopters recently joined forces with my 19th childhood (who needs only two?) and I started building plastic models again.  Hadn’t tried that in over forty years.

Last summer, I got back into flying radio controlled aircraft. I’d flown airplanes while in college and this time it’s, you guessed it, helicopters. I spent as much time repairing them after crashes as I did with them in the air. So I purchased several pieces of equipment to help.  The lighted magnifying glass and the “extra hands” with alligator clips proved handy for both hobbies.

Here are a few photos of my first model in 40 years, a Bell H-13H. Once I get the decals on, it will be a “M*A*S*H” replica. I can hear the music now.

“Through early morning fog I see

visions of the things to be

the pains that are withheld for me

I realize and I can see...

that suicide is painless”

If you have the right tools, any job is easy!

Just getting started: frame and skids.

Motor on the frame.

 Frame with cockpit interior. I was impressed with the detail.

Notice you can see the foot pedals.

 Almost done. Just needs decals.

Next up, a B-24 Liberator. It played a significant role in every theatre of World War II and I'll be writing a blog soon on a book about it. The book is The Wild Blue - The Men and Boys Who Flew the B-24s Over Germany by Stephen E. Ambrose. Watch for it soon.

Just who are those guys in the Presidents Club?

The Eight Sentences:

“We got no secrets,” commented Reverend Pritchett.

Pointe continued, “The facts I’ve discovered may not be secrets in this room, but I suspect that they aren’t commonly known in your community. I’ll give you a few examples. 

Three of the eight men, I’m including Louie, whose real name I know, have concealed carry permits. Five of you have had run-ins with the IRS and one is still paying them off. You all know each other’s marital and employment status. I know your military histories and which of you have been checked out by the FBI. 

I also know that the most dangerous man in the room, except for myself and Louie, who has a sawed off shotgun behind the bar, is not the youngest member of your group.”

The Back Story:

        Gerald Pointe is in charge of security for billionaire Julian Thibaut who is about to visit the Louisville Tavern in a few days. In the snippet above, he shares with the regulars of the tavern(aka the "Presidents Club"), a portion of what he's learned about them.

News items:

       1. My first novel, The Tourist Killer, is now available on Barnes & Noble so you can read it with your NOOK.

      2. Starting Saturday, May 4, The Presidents Club increases in frequency. Three chapters a week will be presented on Sat, Sun, & Wed.

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