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The Fire This Time, Part Three

novel "The Big Bang."  Click here to read Part One and Part Two.  The story concludes in Part Three, below.

What his eyes were seeing was so completely unexpected that his brain couldn’t makes sense of it.  He might as well have been looking at an elephant in a jaunty straw boater playing boogie-woogie on the piano.  That kind of thing just didn’t happen, not in any sane world.

His feet went slack on the pedals and the VW rolled slowly down the street toward the school, Whistler still trying to understand everything that was taking place before him.  Even as he looked away from the firing squad in the trucks, staring at the school in disbelief, he saw a window break as a chair flew through it and more smoke ribboned into the air.  Then a woman, a teacher he guessed, tumbled through the empty frame and onto the ground.  She sprang to her feet and reached back into the room.  She hauled out a small coughing kid, basically tossed the boy to one side and reached for another.  Her hair was smoking as she reeled another one of her students up onto the window frame.

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The Fire This Time, Part Two

 The Right-Wing Riot is proud to be serializing "The Fire This Time," Roy M. Griffis' prequel to his novel "The Big Bang."  Click here to read Part One.  The story continues in Part Two, below.

First he needed a plan, hell, even a clue, and it turned out that Mrs. Dominguez had provided that.  Looking for spare change to buy breakfast, he was digging through the wad of papers in a dirty briefcase on the Bug’s floor boards when he came across the document that his former manager had given him on his way out and down.  “Do You Think You have a Drinking Problem?” it asked him.

He’d spent nearly a year destroying himself (“suicide, one sip at a time” a guy in one of Those Rooms told him), and it took longer to rebuild a life.  That rebuilding got him a mercy deal on the trailer surrounded by friendly goats and noxious weeds.  He needed a job, though, and through the kind offices of another friend of a mutual friend named Bill W., he got a night job working security out at one of the big Indian Casinos on the east side of Tucson.  It was nearly 60 miles to drive, but he didn’t mind.  It was cooler at night, anyway, hardly any traffic on the I-10.  He’d do his rounds (as only one of a few token palefaces at the Apache-owned and run business), then he’d read a certain big book he always brought along.

It wasn’t an impressive life, as these things went, but beat the hell out of living in a car that was almost as old as he was.  And he might have stayed with the goats and the weeds and the little trailer for a long time except the Big Bang happened, and his world was once more grabbed by the ankles, hoisted upside down, and given really thorough shaking.

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The Fire This Time, Part One

The Right-Wing Riot is proud to be serializing "The Fire This Time," Roy M. Griffis' prequel to his novel "The Big Bang."  Part One is below.

 

The Fire This Time

It was just a little school.  Like a lot of places there in the Sonoran desert, it was a one story building from the 50’s, naturally build of cinder block, with a flat roof, all of it painted a remarkably less-than-festive flat white.  During the three years Whistler had lived in the vicinity of the school (calling the dwellings scattered over nearly ten miles of sand, scrub, saguaro cactus and every variety of pointy, pokey plantlife known to man a “neighborhood” seemed impossibly optimistic to him);  during that time he’d observed the little kids outside every spring painting murals on the longest wall, which faced the playground.

The bright, simplistic figures standing awkwardly and anatomically incorrectly on the big cement canvas were usually good for a chuckle as he drove by, unless the sun was jabbing those knitting needles of light in his sleep-deprived eyes.  On those mornings, nothing made him happy except the thought of fleeing the unrelenting glare of the desert daylight and retreating to the stuffy dark cocoon of the couch at the back of the trailer.

Still, even on his worst day, Whistler wouldn’t have wanted to see the little school burn, nor could he have imagined such a small structure would burn for so long.

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So, this is what being a published author looks like.

Okay...made it to NYC on Wednesday and . I was an hour and a half late to the the Book Launch Party, but that was fine (other than the fact I raced into the hotel room, threw my case and laptop on the bed and raced out, forgetting to change into my grown up shoes).

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(I’m in the red.  The gray shoes belong to another fashion threat, Clarke Wilson, husband to my co-conspirator Scary Smart Jamie K. Wilson)

It was great, the restaurant/club was two blocks from the hotel, and literally a stone's throw from the famed Algonquin Hotel. As I was working hard to talk to folks and thank them for showing up, I didn't get a lot of pictures...will have to get those from the Liberty Island folks or Jamie Wilson. I did get a picture of the nice display of books they put up:

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Perfect Movies…according to your Prince of Whitebread

Jack

For your non-Superbowl weekend watching consideration:  my list of “perfect” movies.  For a lad of my famously manly, virile bearing, it may surprise (nay, dismay) some of my fans to find many dreaded rom-coms on the list, but let’s face it.  I want to approach the world optimistically and I believe in love:  not gonna find a lot of that stuff in the more tedious art-house offerings like "Atonement," which offered great acting and was beautifully composed, but was a wretched cheat at the end.

This is an entirely subjective collection of films that, for whatever reason, really worked for me.  I don’t have a single “favorite” film.  It’s more like I have favorites of a kind of film.  I'm going to avoid the obvious classics, such as "North by Northwest" (if you haven't seen it in it's uncut glory, we have nothing further to discuss) as well as recent classics ("Avengers," "Captain America Winter Soldier," etc.)  .  These are typically more modern, contemporary films that didn't or haven't received the love they should, damnit.  If I've reviewed them else where, I'll add a link to that, as well.

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“Superego” – It’s not all in your head

SuperegoCover

Stop me if you've heard this before:  Robert A. Heinlein and Mickey Spillane walk into a bar...

If they ever had sat down with a fifth of Jack Daniels and in the company of a sultry red-headed "typist" named Velma, a novel like Superego might have been the result.

The setting --- an interstellar civilization, alien races mingling with humanity, Artificial Intelligence sending your escape craft jumping through wormholes --- is pure 50's SF, hearkening back to to the Grand Master himself, RAH.  That part alone is handled with a scary ease that borders on mastery (if you hear envy leaking into this review, please disregard it as I am above any petty professional jealousies over the skill of my competition...er, comrades in pen).

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The Fire This Time

Samzinet Fire This Time 

(A story from before The Big Bang)

 

It was just a little school. Like a lot of places there in the Sonoran desert, it was a one-story building from the 50’s, built of cinder block, with a flat roof, all of it painted a remarkably less-than-festive flat white. During the three years Whistler had lived in the vicinity of the school (calling the dwellings scattered over nearly ten miles of sand, scrub, saguaro cactus and every variety of pointy, pokey plant life known to man a “neighborhood” seemed impossibly optimistic to him), he’d observed the little kids outside every spring painting murals on the longest wall, which faced the playground.

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Book Bomb on Tuesday, January 20!

Exploding onto Amazon on December 16

You might know me as co-creator of the satiric strip “Truesbury.”  You might also know me from my short fiction published at Liberty Island.  More likely you don’t know me at all.  But I know you.  You’re a voice for conservative and libertarian values.  Maybe you’re even concerned about the lack of conservative viewpoints in popular culture.

We want to do everything we can to let conservatives know that good fiction with their values is now available. So on January 20 from 10 a.m. to 1 p.m. PST (1-4 EST), we’re staging a book bomb to push The Big Bang (written by moi, Roy M. Griffis, who IS the Prince of Whitebread) up the charts.  The Riot is shamelessly asking our friends and supporters (especially you conservatives and libertarians) to spread the word.  If you could blog or tweet during that time (1/20, from 1000 - 1300 PST), sharing a link to the book (http://goo.gl/eeqbyD) and encouraging your readers or friends to purchase the novel in paperback or e-book, we all win!

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“The Big Bang” over at the National Review.

There's an excerpt of Roy M. Griffis' novel, The Big Bang, over at the National Review.  This is how it begins:

EDITOR’S NOTE: The following article is excerpted from Roy Griffis's novel The Big Bang, published by Liberty Island Media. Set in a United States destroyed by Islamic terrorists, the novel chronicles the struggle of an underground resistance fighting to rebuild their nation.

When he opened the passenger door, he found his side of the Jeep filled with bags and packages. Hanner scooped up most of them, shoved them in the back. There were already two long packages lying on top of the coolers. One squarishbox was on the floor. Baldwin climbed in, put the strangely heavy box between his feet, and buckled up.

His eyes on the road, Hanner told him, “Open that up, Mr. Baldwin.” He turned onto the main road, passing the small residential area. People were outside holding cell phones, looking to the skies, talking to their neighbors. “You ever use one of these?”

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Ethics Trainwrecks of 2014

This is a swipe share from the Prince's old buddy, Jack Marshall (Mr. Marshall directed one of the Prince's plays, way back in the last century).  As you'll see with the briefest of readings, not only is Jack Marshall, Esq. a Renaissance Man, he's a committed Ethics Warrior. Over at his site, Ethics Alarms, he regularly lays the wood to the unprincipled, the morally lax, and the downright skeevy.

The crown jewel of his ethical art has to be his yearly roundup of miscreants and creeps,  The Sixth Annual Ethics Alarms Awards: The Worst of Ethics 2014 (Part 1).  Below, I've presented just a sample of his bludgeoning of some of the most ethically compromised figures of the year.  Really, read the whole thing!  (and, after your shower, take a moment to thank Jack for selflessly wading in the muck all year so you didn't have to)

 

The Sixth Annual Ethics Alarms Awards: The Worst of Ethics 2014 (Part 1)

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