Have you heard about this contest. Court TV is sponsoring a crime writing contest. Submit your entry and if you win, Harper Collins might publish your book.
You can't win if you don't enter.
http://getpublished.courttv.com/?link=mycrimenovel
Tuesday, November 14, 2006
Thursday, November 09, 2006
Did He Know Then?
Who is this guy? It’s Donald Rumsfeld from his days at Princeton. Did he know then that he would be at the center of such a whirlwind of debate? Did he know then that he would be the longest running Defense Secretary or that so many people would be happy to see him leave?
They say he tried to resign twice before and the President refused to accept it. Instead, Rumsfeld is invited to leave directly after an election that already had this town reeling. You can't buy a ticket to this kind of drama.
What will he do now? Retire to a life of fishing and golf? Or will he still be in the background giving “sage” advice like Jim Baker and the guy who is replacing him now…
If you didn't cast a vote in this election you missed out on being a part of something really big, really world changing. It may feel like a normal day, like everything is the same as it was, but its not. We may not know just how profound the changes are yet. Rumsfeld leaving is just the first sign that something major has taken place here. But much more will change now. Hopefully, most of what changes will be for the better.
Friday, November 03, 2006
Frame by Frame - exerpt from Chapter 2
I looked up and Brigadier General Hank Paterson, the camp commander was headed toward me, his aide Major Keith Griffin in tow. I stood up and went to parade rest; my feet shoulder width apart, hands clasped behind my back at the waist, my eyes directed straight ahead. General Paterson stopped just inches from me, clearly invading my space and using his six foot three inches and 290 pound bulk to intimidate me. I wondered why he thought that was necessary.
“I’m sorry to hear about your soldier, Sergeant Harper,” he said. There were lots of people around and he used his command voice, like he wanted everyone in the room to hear, and they did. They all stopped what they were doing and watched us.
“Thank you, sir” I said.
“I considered Delbert one of my soldiers, you understand. She was your soldier but she was still under my care and part of my Army family.”
I wasn’t going to point out that he had gotten his family member’s name wrong.
“Yes, sir.” I said.
“A good leader is one who brings everyone home unharmed,” he bellowed.
So was he blaming me for this somehow?
“Yes, sir,” I repeated, hoping this wasn’t going to go on too much longer.
He put his hand on my shoulder and squeezed until it hurt. It might have looked like a comforting gesture, but it wasn’t at all. He was hurting me and I could see in his eyes that he meant to inflict pain.
“We’re going to find who did this thing, Harper. And I expect your full cooperation in this.” He kept squeezing. There was no question that something aggressive was going on here, and I had no idea what to think. I shifted my eyes quickly to Major Griffin to see if he understood what was going on but he was staring at his clipboard. I figured he was avoiding my eyes on purpose. I gritted my teeth, not wanting Paterson to know that I was about to scream in pain.
“No one wants this killer more then I do, General. No one.”
He kept the pressure on for a few seconds more, staring me down and waiting for me to blink. I didn’t. Finally he released the pressure, smiled and patted my shoulder in what I’m sure looked like a casual gesture.
“Good, Sergeant Harper. Very good.” And he looked around the room at everyone watching.
“Carry on,” he commanded and strode way, his little officer minion following behind.
I stayed at parade rest, watching him leave then released my hands from behind my back. My left shoulder was screaming, and my arm felt numb. I shook it out and rolled my shoulder and wondered what the hell that was all about.
I should have said something about his interview the next day with the Washington Post. I should have told him that by tomorrow morning the Post may have gotten the news that a soldier in the camp had been murdered and how we should handle it with the press. But my shoulder hurt too much and I was pissed that it hurt and I figured Colonel McCallen could deal with the General when he arrived, and I hoped that would be soon.
“I’m sorry to hear about your soldier, Sergeant Harper,” he said. There were lots of people around and he used his command voice, like he wanted everyone in the room to hear, and they did. They all stopped what they were doing and watched us.
“Thank you, sir” I said.
“I considered Delbert one of my soldiers, you understand. She was your soldier but she was still under my care and part of my Army family.”
I wasn’t going to point out that he had gotten his family member’s name wrong.
“Yes, sir.” I said.
“A good leader is one who brings everyone home unharmed,” he bellowed.
So was he blaming me for this somehow?
“Yes, sir,” I repeated, hoping this wasn’t going to go on too much longer.
He put his hand on my shoulder and squeezed until it hurt. It might have looked like a comforting gesture, but it wasn’t at all. He was hurting me and I could see in his eyes that he meant to inflict pain.
“We’re going to find who did this thing, Harper. And I expect your full cooperation in this.” He kept squeezing. There was no question that something aggressive was going on here, and I had no idea what to think. I shifted my eyes quickly to Major Griffin to see if he understood what was going on but he was staring at his clipboard. I figured he was avoiding my eyes on purpose. I gritted my teeth, not wanting Paterson to know that I was about to scream in pain.
“No one wants this killer more then I do, General. No one.”
He kept the pressure on for a few seconds more, staring me down and waiting for me to blink. I didn’t. Finally he released the pressure, smiled and patted my shoulder in what I’m sure looked like a casual gesture.
“Good, Sergeant Harper. Very good.” And he looked around the room at everyone watching.
“Carry on,” he commanded and strode way, his little officer minion following behind.
I stayed at parade rest, watching him leave then released my hands from behind my back. My left shoulder was screaming, and my arm felt numb. I shook it out and rolled my shoulder and wondered what the hell that was all about.
I should have said something about his interview the next day with the Washington Post. I should have told him that by tomorrow morning the Post may have gotten the news that a soldier in the camp had been murdered and how we should handle it with the press. But my shoulder hurt too much and I was pissed that it hurt and I figured Colonel McCallen could deal with the General when he arrived, and I hoped that would be soon.
Thursday, November 02, 2006
Vote to Write or Write to Vote
Did John Kerry insult American Soldiers?
The hullabaloo about insults to American soldiers has two sides that will never come to an agreement. You either think he intended to insult the intellectual ability of the American soldier, or you think the opposition is using his verbal gaff to make pathetic political points.
American soldiers are dying so that Iraqi and Afghani civilians can vote. The greatest insult to American soldiers would be if Americans take that right we have grown accustomed to for granted. If the right to cast a free and fare vote is worth dying for, then each and every one of us needs to exercise the vote that is inherent in being an American citizen.
If you don’t plan to vote on Tuesday, you’re a loser. If you plan to vote the wrong way, then
you’re a loser.
What’s the right way? Well…to put it simply, MY WAY.
But seriously, it would be great if you voted my way. But, no matter how you vote, just vote.
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