Oh Cloudy Crystal Ball...

The following is a not so direct response to what was written here...

http://www.nicolavincent-abnett.com/2016/11/why-trump-won.html

I can't say much about "pride".
I put it in funny little quotes because I'm not real sure I know exactly what it is.  It might be a poison-filled snake for all I know.
I have small moments of what I consider pride, I try not to dwell in it because it seems to hurt me more than help me.
If I'm always striving to be better, there's not much room for pride in that growth angle.
I will say that I recently typed my first story and upon hearing a small amount of praise from a significant person, my core was rocked and I didn't know how to handle it.
I shaved my head and gave twenty-seven inches of my hair to a company that creates wigs for sick children.

I think if we take a big step or two back, the recent election was not entirely about pride.  It wasn't even about anger.
At its gooey center, it was about money (isn't everything nowadays and come on, you can't say you're surprised right...)

As in, people are frustrated when they don't have enough.  How much is enough?  I'm not sure there is an amount we could place in that blank eh.
Do women want money less than men?  Do black people or how about hispanics?  Does the ISIS want less?  The Russians?   Bueller...  Bueller..?
(It's a Ferris Bueller reference.)

I see the desperation and I see how the rich hoard their money and want only to increase it, in any way possible.
I see how we spend mczillions on publicity for election candidates and that money all goes, where exactly?
I see how we spend boatloads of money on "the war on drugs" that the Regans escalated in the eighties and most states are voting to legalize marijuana.
I see how we spend less money, training our police officers than we spend, training our hair stylists.
I see how the system must surely be broken when we constantly reward people for bad behavior.  Look up a "Mike McQueary" with "7.3 million" for example.

I don't have the solutions.  There might not be any.
Should we divide the money equally among all our citizens and when people run out, we tell them "sorry 'bout that, you had your chance."
Should some people, depending on where they live or who their parents were, just have more?
What if we made it a global thing and gave every single human three thousand dollars (or pounds).  Would that help the Ethiopians have clean water?

I don't believe Donald Trump, the Trumpinator or my recent favorite, "Emperor Trump", is the answer.
If he's not, we'll grow even angrier, possibs a little smarter, mabes we'll even raise our pitchforks and torches again for a little while.
But until we figure out "the money problem", no one will ever be happy enough to vote without the greed clouding our visions.

I didn't mean it...

The following is a not so direct response to what was written here...

http://www.nicolavincent-abnett.com/2016/11/thoughts-on-presidential-election.html

I think I may actually not know what to say.
I know, I know, usually I'm pretty opinionated on, well, everything huh.
Usually I can throw out a pretty wicked perspective and sometimes, it sticks.
But the American election yeps, I like what you said Nik, "Offer a disgruntled public change, and they’ll grab it with both hands."

Yes we have some people who think things should be a whole lot "better" but no real clue as to the how.  Or the "why" come to think of it.
Praps we're all a little too "entitled" from watching our telees too much.
Yes we have a lot of pay check to pay check livers and I happen to be one of them (pay checks with a "cheque", that one made me snort laugh in a fun way on a Monday morning...)

The math isn't all that hard to do and the circumstances we find ourselves in aren't that far from predictable.
Angry population, check.  Guy that's been famous for years, been rich for years and, most importantly, been on our tvs for years, check.
Promises made, check.
Enough accusation coated manure to paint a large barn thrown, mega check.

I think we're not so much "hoping" for a better change to come with this election.  We're merely hoping for any change.
Is the system truly broken yet and how much power does even our president truly wield?  Check.
What happens if we become all friendly with Russia and start a global "third" world war and everybody suddenly has a job?  Check.

Mabes the best I can offer is that we, as Americans, love our television shows so much, that we can't help but strive to be the passion-filled drama kings and queens.
And much like the fight you start with your significant other when things grow too boring, quite similar to the break up and cry fest that ensues...
Perchaps we are only repeating what we've been taught.
That politics are better after you break up with them for a while.

A Most Difficult Lesson...

Ah, 'tis been a while...  I'm sorry Black Bishop followers.
My day job's been suckin' the life right outta me, mabes you know what that's like.
I do try to keep one ear to the railroad tracks though, I think it's almost hard not to.  Lots seems to be happening in our world no?
Where I'm from, there's a Black Lives movement that is constantly in the news, there's two presidential candidates that are such train wrecks that they can't help cause a media circus all day, every.
Then there's my favorite blog artist and her constant uphill battle(s).
It's enough to make ones noodle break right.

I think, if you haven't read my book yet, that I should first tell you to go do that right freakin' now.  Come on, it's only five bones (and free if you're one of those Kindle subscriber types).
And second, I want to tell you that it talks about living an interesting life because each and every one of us, is on display, right now.  By every soul in the afterlife.
Seeing everything you see, hearing all that you hear, knowing every thought and secret you hide.
But also, praps the hardest part, understanding why it is we are all different.  Feeling the same pain you felt, crying the same tears and wallowing in the same despair.

We seem to try to tell ourselves that our actions don't really matter.  That no matter what we do, no good will come from it.  And, no bad.
Because it's easier that way huh.
So perchaps I'm wrong, there is no afterlife, no movies of lives we all get to watch.
No reason to be a good person.  Or a bad.

But that just doesn't seem useful to me.  If I live in an indestructible bubble, what good is a flyswatter..?
I think I'll use my perspective, at least for a while, to help me understand that there has to be crappy people out there.  There just HAS to be.
They might make the rest of us look better, they might be a measuring stick all the countless other souls can grade with.
They might fill us with conflict, they might provide us with a passion.
Or...  they might just help us learn by example.

If you have kids (or know any), you know that it is very difficult to teach a human with mere instruction.  We can tell our kids that a fire is hot but watch as they attempt to learn it themselves anyway.
We can tell them over and over, only to watch as they insist, that that isn't the way it really works Daddy.
But some lessons are so horrific, so graphic, that they just can't be ignored.  That they have immediate impact and aren't forgotten anytime soon.
I don't have to explain to my son why someone was shot five times by a police officer.  I don't have to explain why people are frustrated by our system of government.

You don't have to look very far to realize that the world we live in is very real.  The people we live with, very real and not always in a good way.
And should you encounter a troll someday, smile and thank them for teaching everyone out there, what you could not.

Not for the Money...

I don't really like to toot my own horn.
As a writer or a creative person in general, I think your work should speak for itself and that's not how I like to use my horn anyway.

I wrote my first "story" a while back and, having no other avenue to pursue, had to self publish it on the Amazon Kindle Monstrosity.  I tried submitting my "manuscript" to more than a dozen agents and they all thought I was crazy (praps I am...)
So after three months of sitting on the Amazon, I've had two five star reviews.  One of which was recently removed because of Amazon's crazy policies (no explanation, no reasons, just blamo, gone huh).
I also received my first paycheck and it was, shall we say, meager, at best.

But the part I celebrated, was the info provided (which was minimal), that stated that fifty-seven people purchased my story.
Now this doesn't mean that fifty-seven people actually read the whole thing.  Some people may have given up after the "lengthy" first chapter and I'm okay with that.
It's not for everyone right, but not bad for a guy with no Facebook and a blog audience of about six.

So I decided, a smidge ago, that I would upload my words to the pirates.  The "share ers" of the big bad interweb and wouldn't you know it, a couple of days later and one of the pirate kings in Poland gets himself caught and the world is scrambling to find his replacement.
Argh is me and such is the life of a pirate right.

But I think I'll upload it again someday, when the pirate ship is righted.
It is, after all, and what I keep telling myself, not about the money.
I let Amazon sell it for five bucks (five American dollars and mabes three point eighty British pounds if their money doesn't keep shrinking...)
And my "agreement" with the big bad Amazon was that I get to keep two, of that five.
Meaning, if I feel like doing the math on a Wednesday, two dollars times fifty seven sales, one oh four eh.
So wait one second, hold on Mr Bishop and why are you tryin' to do math on a Wednesday, eek gads..!

I know.  Either way you do the math, it's not much and I'm okay with that, I honestly am.
What I set out to do, at the very beginning of my adventure, was to give the world an alternative to the "modern" religions.
Or mabes I should label them the "pre modern fossil religions that don't make any sense and aren't really applicable in today's world"...
Yep, that seems almost right.

I wanted to show someone, anyone (particularly my son), that there is no get out of jail free card like in the Monopoly with no Rey.
There should be these things like accountability and responsibility, that all of us have, to be sorta decent to each other right.
There is no live a horrible human life and still get into a glorious afterlife because you recanted at the last minute and asked a god for forgiveness of all things.
There is no live a horrible human life then crash a plane into a skyscraper while claiming you're a participant in a holy war making yourself a martyr and now you get forty virgins.

My view of the afterlife is one where every life is witnessed.
Every act, every thought and every want is seen by every soul, ever.  And scrutinized as if it were under a microscope.
Compared to others.  Examined by everyone but more importantly, examined over and over, by yourself.

It makes the world a better place for lack of a better catch phrase.
It makes people who have wronged others, who have cheated and lied and stolen, want to make peace and "fix" things in their lifetimes, before it's too late.
It makes people want to live better lives and jeeze, do you think it's time we all learned how to do this yet.

I really don't care about the money.
I care about my son and the kind of world that he will have to live in someday.
If you have children you sorta care about, help spread my story, help teach others about my beliefs.
If you know an agent or a movie maker, I'll write you in for a finder's fee but, don't do it for the money.
Do it because you want to look back on the story that is your life, and feel somewhat proud of the actions that you took.
Do it because everyone you have ever known and everyone you will ever know, is watching you, is with you, right now.

Amazon Link

The Power of Preference...

The following is a not so direct response to what was written here...

http://www.nicolavincent-abnett.com/2016/06/the-eu-referendum.html

Humans are simple people.  Some of us are really simple people, I know it, you know it...
We make our decisions on a whim, we're all lazy on the inside, we're all selfish and greedy.  It's okay to admit it, we were made that way.
If you've studied your history, you know that humans have had to struggle.  Like, really, struggle.  Many of us throughout time have starved to death, some of us have had to eat the corpses of other humans or worse, simply to remain upright and breathing.
Some of us drowned because we overfilled a little rubber boat and so desperately needed to leave the place where we're from, that simple wind and waves were our destroyers.
And sadly, some of us are still struggling with no end in sight.

When I consider racism, I can understand.  It's no different than the other many experiences in our lives, shaping our views.
If you tried some vanilla ice cream then some chocolate, who can blame you for likin' one more than the other.
If you've had some friends who were Christian and some who were Muslim, who can blame you for siding with one or the other.
The intensity that you feel towards one side or the other may be different but the end result is the same and again, we can't fault people for having preferences.

Consider for a moment that you've had some rich friends.  Okay, praps not "rich" with a capital "R".
But you've had some friends who have a nice house, a swimming pool in the backyard and their kids have things, you know like shoes and clothes, mabes a pair of glasses.
Now consider that you've had some poor friends.  Like really poor.  Mabes they're homeless, they don't have a vehicle, their kids are missing a shoe here, a shirt there.
Which do you want to be more friendly with and before you answer, consider that my family and I are pretty stinkin' poor and if you want to be our friends, type to me and we'll find a way to hang out right.
My son has both of his shoes still and thank the gods he doesn't need glasses.

I don't have a real job and that really stings my person, deeply.  Where I live, no one seems willing to give up their jobs so that others can have some.  Sometimes I wonder why.
Are they racists..?  Are they the so called "job lovers"..?
Because wowzers all the sudden, does that put it into a fancy box with bow, perspective..? Yet?

To say that we will look at others with special new labels because of a political agenda, one in which you can hardly believe anything anyone says anyway...
Oh to the Em and the Gee, are my neighbors filthy money lovers.!?
How dare they like vanilla ice cream, it's bland it has no flavor, it's WHITE..!

I've never voted, I don't believe my voice counts.  I don't believe in the system and I'd like to meet the people that actually get to count the votes and declare a winner.
If you held that power, would you let the simple humans beneath you make the all powerful decisions about what kind of ice cream is the best for all?

A Time for Anger...

The following is a not so direct response to what was written here...

http://www.nicolavincent-abnett.com/2016/06/murder-for-religious-or-political.html

Some more bad guys did some more bad stuff huh.
I don't know if I'm supposed to drip a few tears or fall from my chair and mash my fists into the ground.
As Nik pointed out, it happens every day.  Every freakin' day and the only difference is the location and the size.

I was born in the seventies and grew up in the eighties.  I was told that the Koreans were bad, the Vietnamese, the Japanese bombed some of our stuff so we bombed them in return.
The Russians were our enemies for a bit, the Germans before that and man did they accomplish some bad stuff.  Then it was Iraq and Iran, Afghanistan and the Al-Qaeda (the same guys we helped fight the Russians then turned on), the ISIS and I'm bettin' there will be more after that.
There is no end to the amount of bad guys in our world and I'm pretty sure there never will be.

Do we really think that one day, one special miraculous day, that these evil wishing people are going to, wait for it, "learn"..?
I've typed at length about the stupidity in people, I've typed about the worth of a human life and I've typed about greed and selfishness.
I don't think I can spell it out any clearer.
We do not live in a safe society.
The idea that we are invulnerable to random murder comes from that stamp across our foreheads, the one that reads "stupid".
If we have clean (ish) water and as much electricity as we can afford, there will always be some people wanting to take it from us, the ones with the stamp on their foreheads that reads "selfish".

We can't trust in our government and lawmakers to make better laws to protect us.  Their stamps all read "liars".
Some even say "professional liars"...

If you don't own and carry your own gun, go buy one (or three).
If your kids don't own and carry their own guns, buy some for them too.
You should probs try to acquire some hand grenades too.

If anyone ever tries to take your weapons of protection from you, know that they are the bad guys and you should shoot them many times before they can shoot you.
Should you or your children die in a hail of gunfire someday, know that this world is no longer a place anyone would want to exist in anyway.

My sincerest apologies go out to anyone who has ever lost a loved one.
If there were a better time to be angry, I don't think I could recognize it.

To Advertise or Not...

The following is a direct response to what was written here...

http://www.nicolavincent-abnett.com/2016/06/bodyform.html

Wowzers, what a topic..!
I feel a bit challenged by this one.  As if I were given some little plastic strap-on butterfly wings and told I couldn't fly to the moon and back.
Don't tell me I can't do something!

So okay Bishop, search that thing you call a brain cabbage and come up with "something" right.  Write..?
Yeah there's nothin', big vacant parking lot upstairs eh, it's a freakin' Wednesday!

I know nothing about the issues related to menstruation and I think that's the first time I've ever attempted to spell that word correctly.
Nik's right, it's something the male population gives very little thought to and when we occasionally do, it's usually a put down or used as ammunition.
Which is sad, it seems like it could be related to a female making fun of a man's impotence.  Also sad...

But I think what her article was really about, was perception and that happens to be a staple of my typings so, buckle yourself in, it's probs going to be a bumpy ride.
I have thought for quite some time now, that nobody believes in advertising anymore.  I don't care how many times I see the McDonalds commercial and it doesn't matter how very appealing they make their food look.
On the tele, sure it looks yummy.  In my belly an hour later and yep, lesson learned.
No amount of repeated advertising is going to make me want to consume that poop for the soul, I don't care if their commercials are five minutes long and feature the ultra sexy Ronda Rousey eating chicken nuggets in her body paint "suit".

On the other side, I happen to be a struggling-to-quit alcoholic and if it's been a rough day, if I'm really craving a beer or three and an alcohol commercial comes on, yes it reminds me of how badly I want to run to the store and just buy one more...
But I'm smart enough not to be convinced by my tele and if you've made it this far in life, you're probs smart enough too.

We aren't fooled into buying products because of the advertising.  Our general perception of just about "everything" in life is:
People lie to us.  People try to trick us.
It's just like what our mothers tell our daughters when they're young concerning "boys".  They only want one thing.
Your money.

But another side of me says, hey Bishop, what about the new products that are introduced?  What about the new inventions, the products we've never seen before and how else should we "find out" about them?
I recently noticed a commercial featuring a robotic lawn mower.  Have you seen these yet?
A lot like the fancy little robotic vacuum cleaners that scurry around your carpet and floors on "autopilot", these babies can save you oodles of time and energy.
I mean you schedule a lawn mowing once a week, you ensure your robot has the necessary fuel and blamo, that droid goes out on his own, mows your lawn to your specifications and returns itself to your storage unit without needing any motivation.  Without complaining.
And jeeze, if I happen to be driving by the rich people's neighborhood (these little guys sell for more than two thousand, like fourteen hundred for my British friends)...
If I see a little droid bot out there mowin' someone's lawn, I'm going to be pretty tempted to pull over and kidnap that puppy.
Not because I have my own lawn to be responsible for, my family and I live in a crappy apartment situation.
I'm just too enthralled by the technology, the innovation that can program a self thinking machine to do what humans have been burdened with for, how long now..?
And one more straw just in case that camel's still standing.  I actually enjoy mowing the lawn (you know, if it's not "required").
I'd probs be out there side by side with my little buddy, both of us enjoying the thrill of a job well done.  I'd also name my little friend so I could feel like I was treating him (or her!) with respect.

So old products being "thrust" upon us day after day, nopes, no sale.
A new product that is incredibly cool and intelligent, ding ding!

As a man, and a married one, I can say one thing about my wife's menstruation.  One brief little tid bit, you know, when am I ever going to type about this topic again..?
When she's having her period, I do a little dance inside.  It means she's not pregnant and we won't have to be responsible for another life for the next eighteen years (or more...)
It means I can have all the sex I want (and all the sex my wife wants) and there's no babies ploppin' out.  Big fat "yes" in my book.

An Education in Rape...

The following is a direct response to what was written here...

http://www.nicolavincent-abnett.com/2016/06/twenty-minutes-of-action.html

I have to admit, I hadn't heard about the Brock Turner case yet.  Praps I'm a bit out of the loop or mabes its because these sort of crimes happen all the time; everyday the news is full of 'em right.
I can't type much about being raped because I'm a male and it feels really hard for a male to imagine being raped and the horror that ensues for some reason.  That is, unless it's happened to you, or me.
I can address my friend Nik's spelling of the word "jail" however.  As in, what the heck is that, jail with a "G"..?

I think as humans, our common sense tells us enough about the way the world works.  Rape is bad, rapists should go to jail, even the one with the "G".
Rape is even worse when people attempt to cover it up, when they fail to punish appropriately, when people don't believe they did anything "wrong".
I can't type much in the way of "new" thoughts there.  It's been a problem in our society for so long, that my little voice doesn't seem to have enough oomph to make any real dent in the depravity of male humans.

I can type about jail though.  Prisons, incarcerations of any kind, they're all the same.  When you take a human and stick 'em in a cage, well the reaction is all the same.
That human fights for every little scrap of "everything".  Any comfort is strongly desired and sexual pleasure, well it might be the most desired, mabes a second close behind drugs and alcohol.
Lock a human in a box and it'll start masturbating when bored enough.  It could almost be a science experiment.  How long does it take a human to...

So the thing we have to realize, is that there's a secret little society in jails and prison centers.
There are people that have been there longer than others, people who have organized partnerships and gangs, people who find loopholes and guards that can be affected, bribed sometimes.
It's a nasty little society in there and there's nowhere to hide.  Nowhere to run.  Perchaps some occupants beg to be unconscious.

At the top of the totem poles, the "thrones" if you will, are the murderers of other humans.  The cop killers, the bank robbers, the assassins for hire.
You know, the real animals.  The ones with the big fat life sentences.  The ones with nothing to lose.
At the very bottom of the pole, are those that preyed on the helpless.  The child molesters, the rapists, the kidnappers.
They even have cute nicknames for the bottom dwellers.  They call them "chomos".  It's short for "child molester".
If you're one of the newly arrived chomos, you try your hardest to convince everyone else, that you had a different crime, praps you were a common thief or a music downloading pirate.

Because to admit, or to have it discovered, that you are a chomo, means you now have a giant bullseye on your forehead.  Or other parts of your body...
And the guys on top, the ones with all the internal power, well they like to think that it's their responsibility to help "reform" the bottoms.  They look at it like it's a form of redemption, to help punish the bad people of the world, even if they themselves were "once" a bad person.
A chomo has no friends, no one that will stick up for them and most guards will turn the other way while the beatings (and other activities) commence.
Look up some of the reports from the inmate Jared Fogle, the Subway spokesguy who turned chomo.

If you're a famous chomo, they pass you around like a special desert at a rich white-people's party.  As in, umms, that's some good chomo huh.
I do believe Brock Turner's sentence could have been much worse.  I'm not sure if I'd go castration or just execution but that's because I believe in teaching by example and if rapists were given the guillotine, I think the world would have a lot less rapists eh.
I also believe that he'll receive his fair share of rape education in whatever cage he finds himself in.
It takes less than twenty minutes to kill oneself and six months is a long time to a little rich-kid white boy.
Should he survive, praps he will have truly learned his lesson.
Ariel Castro didn't last one month and that guy was a true animal monster.

Great article once again Nik, even with your soft "G"s huh.

For all to see...

I want to type about my son.
If there's a gigantic wall the size of the interweb and my words can be wait, theoretically, is that how you spell that one, jeeze..!
If my words can be written for anyone and everyone to see, for possibs, "the duration", I suppose I could some day erase it, or possibs the Blogspot I use, could go out of business...

Think about that for half a second.  In the old days, humans had to build statues and pyramids to leave their thoughts for all to see, for eternity.
But now, all we have to do is have an internet connection, and a clunky keyboard to bang away on.
And we can say our piece, forever.
Huh.

My son dislikes confrontations.  He thinks that everybody should just be friends and try to understand one anothers differences.
He's seen his mother and I argue, he tries to get in the middle and shout us both down.
He's grown up with violence in video games all his life, he's seen it on the tele and he believes, strongly, that it is not real.
And that his real life, should not contain any sort of violence, unless it's in his video games or as super heroes in movies with people in cool costumes.
He does enjoy a good verbal sparring however.
At every opportunity, when someone says something to him, his natural reaction, before his conscious mind ever contemplates it, is to disagree.
And sometimes its a rather poor disagreement because again, it's not his real mind thinking it.
He tries to elaborate when I challenge and his front brain usually has something clever or weird to say.  Because he wants to be a better speaker, he knows that there is no real "ceiling" to this talent and that the more efficient he can speak, the more he might accomplish in his lifetime.

He reacts to audio stimuli on autopilot.  Then, once the opponent is engaged, he brings out his weapon and hopes that whatever he reached into and pulled outta his bag first, is a little bigger than a popsicle stick.
I try to teach him that he should not be on autopilot, like ever.  Because to improve, means he must not grunt in a knee jerk reaction and have to "recover", someday.
That praps he could have a decent weapon ready first, mabes even keep that weapon on the standby, always.

He laughs a little bit and I have to remember how proud I am of him.
In my bag, there's only popsicle sticks.

The Price of Life...

The following is a not so direct response to what was written here...

http://www.nicolavincent-abnett.com/2016/06/incidents-and-accidents.html

We live in a world where life is cheap.
Sometimes there are sales, a coupon here or there, you can occasionally get ten lives free with the purchase of one, they even throw in a kid's toy.
When it comes to the lives of animals, the price drops even further.

If you know me at all, you know that I am a strong supporter of fairness and equality.  I try to speak loudly and proudly for those that can't speak, can't organize their thoughts as well perchaps.
Kids in general, get my support as I believe they are innocent.
Animals, across the board, get my support, even though it might not be extremely helpful.

In the news recently, I was stunned by the four year old boy in the Gorilla cage in Cincinnati story.
Reading those words hurt me deep inside and thinking about what must have happened, it scars me.
It makes my faith in humanity shrink to almost "unrecognizable".

I can't see how a zoo, or any other organization, can pay to train and maintain, a "threat and emergency response team".
I mean they're spending money!  Remember the cost of a life..?
They're spending MONEY!  Above and beyond..!
Is this not absolutely crazy, does this not reach into your mind and squeeze until gooey bits leak from your ears.!?

But wait, mabes my holiday weekend and all that entailed has sun burnt my brain noodle a bit.  Let me try to elaborate...
A zoo has a trained staff that try to protect their animals and the humans that come to visit those animals.  They spend lots of money building huge enclosures, there's bars and fences and "protective" measures right, "lots" of money right there eh.
Then they go above that and train their people, people who become "specialists", to react and respond to any type of unpredictable happenings.
As in, if something should "come along" and threaten the well being of their animals, they should respond and do what they can to protect their investment.
What was their investment again, you're going too fast, flying too low Bishop, even it out a keel or two huh.

Okay, okay, where was I.  Ah yes, their investment.  The cost and time and energy required to build and maintain those bars and fences and protective measures.
Not the animals within, nah!  Animals are everywhere and people can look at them all they want.  All it takes is some cable television or an internet provider.  People can watch videos of animals all day, every, should they want.
What keeps a zoo in business is the bars and the cages, that's where the juicy money's at.

So when "an event" happens, the emergency response team scurries out of their little bunker, they see a kid being dragged through the water by it's leg, by a four hundred pound gorilla...
And they do what they're taught.  They shoot, repeatedly, until the gorilla is dead.
They save the human.

Because to them, the human life is worth "slightly" more.
It makes me wonder how they would respond if someone threatened to destroy their precious bars, their concrete walls, what if someone drained their moat...

So I know, here comes one of Nik's patented Snarky Rants.  Here comes the fourteen paragraphs about what the Bishop would have done, how many humans would have been shot and how the gorilla would have had years of intensive therapy to repair the damage done to it, having witnessed all those messy executions...
But I think I will skip it today, no offense to Nik.
It's easy to criticize and see the stupidity in zoos, any smart human can do it.  I can go on for days about the standards in circuses and don't even get me started on the western rodeos or even pet stores for that matter.

I think instead, I'll focus on what really matters.  The money.
As in, are we really, as a race or a species, too simple minded to see the profitability in animals..?
I think in the future, looking forward with a positive, hope-filled vision...
We should make zoo customers take an entry test, sit at this desk and fill out the following questionnaire.
If you pass the test and are found too competent, you don't get to enter, sorry about that.

If you are just that kind of ignorant human, ding ding, you get to enter.
But this zoo is a little different, the cages are larger and there's no bars nor moats.  No "walls".
Instead, there's a little door with a latch on the outside.  And a sign that says "gorilla petting".
And if you want, you can waltz right in.  There's even a smaller door next to the regular one for "kids entry".  Praps there'll be a smaller, younger gorilla inside.
Cameras posted at every angle will capture your interaction with the animals and broadcast it on the big bad interweb, for a price.
Monthly subscribers can log in, pay their dues and watch as human after human gets the "toy doll" treatment.  You can even leave comments or vote for your favorite animal, mabes make an extra donation to have the next human smothered in honey before entering.

Because I know I'd watch, I'd pay.
I wouldn't worry either because I'd know that the staff of this kind of zoo would be well trained and well prepared, should a mangled human not be able to remove itself from a cage.
I know that they'd come a'runnin' and that poor human would be tranquilized, mabes even tazed a time or two...
But that in the end, the carcasses would be dragged off site so that more stupid humans and their offspring could be allowed entry.

That right there is what I call a positive message Bishop.
And what others call a financial gold mine which is the opposite of, a life.

Stupid Internal Voices...

I sometimes wonder if there's a way we can judge or "score" our decision making skills.
When it comes to the old classic "what's for dinner", the obvious choice is of course, "pizza!"
But there's this little debate on the inside of our noodles.  One where this one voice says "hey, no dishes is nice, not standing over a hot stove is nice, no oven needed and that's gotta be nice, I mean it's like ninety degrees in the shade tonight..."
And another voice that says "jeeze, pizza is not so friendly to my thighs, the cost is the equivalent to almost five home cooked meals, my kids are gettin' too fat from sittin' on the couch staring at their devices and eating crap food all the time..."

And I don't so much wonder who wins these little internal arguments.  I wonder why they win and how often.
Could we possibs find a way to "measure" our ability to make decisions and if so, could we also find a way to measure our abilities to make what most people would consider "the right decision".
Because the pizza makers of the world want us to order their food.  The delivery drivers want to bring us that food so we can stay on our couches and look at our devices more.  They really want the little extra "tip" too right.

So this weekend, Memorial Day, a holiday, found my wife and son sittin' on the couch, bein' bored, lookin' at their devices.
The sun was shining and we had a full tank of gas, the possibs were endless right.
We discussed "things we could do" and how we needed to be outside more, how we need to get more exercise and this conversation is not a new one.
The beach was brought up followed by the checking of the water temperatures.  
My internal voice says "hey wait a minute, the beach, on a national holiday, on one of the first really hot days of the season..."
And my external voice says "hey, you know it might be busy at the beach.  Like, really busy..."
And my son's voice which is always the most sincere and "innocent" because well, he's still a bit of a child inside, says "oh hey daddy, they have Pronto pups, you could have your first Pronto dog..."

Now, for those of you that don't know, a "Pronto dog" is an especially delicious (so I'm told) corn dog only sold on the beach "strip" of Grand Haven (it's in Michigan).
There's a little "stand" and no place to sit, no bathrooms because hey, corn dog consumption doesn't need bathrooms.
But it's the beach and its a motivator for walking, you burn some calories, you get a Pronto pup, everybody's happy.

So I consent and soon the fam is piled into the ole wagon, headin' west into the brightly shining sun.
After a half hour or so, we're "there" and, it's busy.  Not the kind of busy where you've cut yourself and have to rush to the emergency room only to see not a single empty chair in the waiting room.
No this is the kind of busy where the streets of Manhattan look calm during rush hour.  People "everywhere", sidewalks overflowing, bodies walking so condensed that during a whole intersection light relay, not a single car advanced.
So after sitting in the road pretty much indefinitely, I took the first opening I saw and bolted for a parking space.  It wasn't really a parking space, more like a rapidly filling field of abandoned grass.

We weren't really anywhere "near" the beach or the Pronto Pups but that was okay.  We had accepted that there would be "some" walking so we set out on our mission, ignoring the press of bodies we were soon enveloped in.
I brought my bottle of water, the wife and son had their tea.  Sunglasses on, sunscreen covering, we walked.   And walked.  And...  walked.
When we could finally see the Pronto sign on the horizon, much joy was had.  I mean, my first ever Pronto pup right, this was to be an occasion never to be forgotten and the torturous journey only making it even more memorable.

When the crowd parted, we then saw "the line".  And I don't mean to exaggerate, no one likes to read a story with too much "fiction" huh.
Fifteen minutes later, we reached the end of the line and when I say "the end", I don't mean we got to tell the people in the stand what we wanted.  I mean, we fought through the bodies to discover where others were "lining up" for their hopeful pups.
Then, if you couldn't imagine it already, we waited.  And we waited.  And guess what, we waited some more, occasionally taking a couple of awkward steps forward and trying not to smell the neck of the person in front of you while not allowing the person behind to smell your own.

And I think around this phase, I forgot all concepts of "time".  Life seemed to gellify and ooze around my melting shoes like a child's dropped ice cream cone.
We waited, and we talked about waiting and we tried to keep our eye on the prize.  Or, prizes, you know, Pronto pup prizes.
My son insisted that one hour worth of standing was the equivalent of twenty minutes of walking and I conceded.  Praps he was right.

Then the window!  I could not quite believe it but the blast of air conditioning coming from inside only confirmed it.  We had made it!
I calmly wiped the sweat from my dripping forehead and asked the nice young lady inside for three Pronto pups.  I even added a "please" at the end of my request, you know, you have to try to be friendly to people that are making your food huh.
The lady smiled and asked for my five dollars and change and I handed her my card.
She looked at my card a little funny then said, "um, we're cash only".
I accepted my card feeling a little embarrassed for handing it to her in the first place.  I mean, the sign was clearly posted, right next to the little window.  In big red letters, it read "CASH ONLY" huh.

So I ever so calmly opened my wallet, praying to the small bills gods that I would have enough to cover it...
And nopes.  Two one dollar bills were my only other possessions.
To the wife's purse and, nopes.  She left her purse in the vehicle because she thought it would not be needed.
My head drooped and the people behind us in line grunted their understanding.
My son was quick to pipe up with his optimistic, "but you can get one pup daddy, you have enough to try one..."
But his voice was drowned out by that little voice inside my head from a couple of hours ago.  The one that said "hey, holiday weekend, it might be busy..."

I walked away from the pup stand, no Pronto dog in hand.
My wife and son followed and it was a fairly quiet walk back to our vehicle.
Wait, actually, there was some talk concerning how our water was gone, our tea was consumed and we were thirsty.  But that was about all.

I won't mention how we sat in a couple of highway traffic jams on the way home.  Or how we really had to use a bathroom from all the drinking we had done.
I will mention that whatever skill or talent that is, to be able to make "the right decision" when everyone else around you is encouraging the "other" decision...
I will say that I wish mine were better.  I wish I could just "know" the best decision and make it, even if I chose not to on some occasions.

It's not that I don't want to hear that other voice, the one with the "not so good" decision.
That voice is occasionally right, it was a memorable trip.
I will never forget, the time I almost ate a Pronto pup.

The Write Time...

Friends..!
The Black Bishop has written a book!
I feel a little bit weird, typin' about it here.  In truth, it has been my dirty little secret for some time now.
I'm not a very "proud" person but I don't know how it (the pride) can be measured.  How do I know if I'm a "proud" person..?
I don't like creating "hype", I'm not a marketer and I seem to have a problem with drawing attention to myself.
I suppose if nothing else, I learned some things about myself during this "experiment" so mabes I can share some thoughts, mabes you can learn some stuff about you, too huh.

They say "type what you know" and I think I know "feelings of failure".  I must have created this perspective of myself when I was younger.
I can remember my dad leaving my mom, younger siblings and I when I was about fifteen and "the event" seemed to scar me in ways.
I had always been taught, by my father, to be the best I could be.  He helped me learn to read at an early age, he played with me constantly, he was my whole world and I can remember wanting to be just like him.
I was always good at school (possibs because I had some caring parents at home who took the time to know what I was accomplishing, or not accomplishing)...
So I grew up with this feeling of being "talented" or "gifted".  I was the smart kid, the creative, the imaginative.  I was the dungeon master in role playing games with my friends because I was quick on my feet, lightning fast with my mind and tongue.
I had that thing that we like to label kids with, "potential".
Then the divorce and the pain of losing what you think is reality.  The withdrawing from emotions, the disappointment, the sadness turning to anger.
I rebelled, I didn't want anything to do with my mom or my dad because if they hurt me with their decisions, well I was gonna do my share of hurting back eh.
I started smoking just to piss them off, I ran away from home countless times, just wanting to be away, wanting to be left alone.
Ah the stories I could tell...

In short, I became the bad kid.  The one that people saw as a bad apple because I took all of my potential and held it hostage, demanding a ransom that I didn't really care about receiving.
And ever since, I thought that I was no longer creative, not imaginative.  Not smart.
I drowned myself in drugs and later, alcohol, numbing all the negative emotions.  And the positive ones...

So, ever so slowly, over the years, I've been tryin' to accept that my creative side is still in there.  It's been ignored and neglected for a long time but it's in there, somewhere, I can feel it sometimes.
Now that it's officially "out" there, on a screen, well it conflicts me, inside.
I know I want to feel some sort of pride but...

Wait, I have to back up a bit, where is that rewind button...
I thought, back when I was crankin' out page after murderous page, that when it was "done", when I had given it my all...
That a big church bell would 'gong' all loud and clear and I'd know, deep inside, that I was "done", that I had done it, finished it even.
But there it was, sittin' on my hard drive, lookin' at me funny as I looked at it funny.
What are you doing there little story, I would ask it.
The same thing you are Bishop, it would say.  Nothing.

And that sorta bugged me for a bit, I'm not sure why.  Perhappers it was the lack of the church bell sound...
So I waited a while, expecting the bell sound at any moment.  Yeps, any minute now.  Whenever you're ready big bell, I'm here, I'm ready.
Aren't I..?

I had to accept that there was to be no bell sound.  No finish line.
And that if I was wanting to share my story with anyone, anyone at all, that I would have to find a way to put it into a readable format.  I can't just give out flash drives (these are like little storage devices, similar in use to an old DVD, remember those..?)
A real live book with paper seemed desirable, mabes a fancy cover, you know.  But that would take a publisher, an "investment" and dollar signs.  I should probs try to find a proofreader, an editor of some sort, you know, the things authors do before calling their book "done".
But the more I looked, the more I learned and investigated, the more I saw just how much more was required.
Writing a story wasn't the easy part.  I mean, all of us are writers right.
The whole "getting it out there" became the hard part.  And I struggled, oh how I struggled.
I tried to learn a whole industry when learning new stuff might not be a positive trait in my character make up any more.

And in the end, having no resources and finding no help, I succumbed to the only option left.  I submitted my story to the giant Amazon Kindle self publish people.
I haphazardly threw together a cover, it's black and white and extremely plain.
I filled out the required boxes, clicked "permission granted" and named a price (five bucks or about three and a half pounds for my British friends).
But still, no bell.

A weird thing happens to us when we're reluctant to do something.  We know we "have to" and it's not something we really want to do and we try to make excuses, we try to rationalize, justify...
And it seems like there's a really grey line between positive and negative perspectives sometimes.
How do I feel, how should I feel and who really cares how I feel in the end anyway.  Do I care?

Well, yes.  Yes I might care.  But it's in the labeling my care, that I seem to get stuck.
If a consequence just up and "happens", must we identify it before moving on?

Let's say I accidentally knock a woman up.  For my feminist friends, this is the derogatory phrase meaning, "I've impregnated a woman with my baby making seed" (no offense intended, it's humor huh).
If I don't think the world is a great place for a new baby to live in, I can identify my feelings as "horrible".  Praps "guilty" or "worried", mabes a whole slew of others but "negative" sure, undeniable.
If I think the world is a wondrous place and a new life will surely enjoy every second of it's time here, then blamo, my feelings can be all positive, full of "hope" and "aspirations".  I can instill in my child the same "gifted" curse my father imprinted in me right (don't tell me that's not positive!)
Or sometimes, there might be a third option.  Perhaps that baby making episode was so insanely awesome that no consequence was too good or bad, that orgasm (or three) was worth it huh.

So it has become with my first literary baby.  I don't know if I should be happy, proud and positive.  I mean, not everyone can describe the same "somethings" for more than sixty thousand words eh.
I don't know if I should be sad, angry and negative.  I mean, I could have done so much "more", couldn't I..?  I should have, I could have...
I don't know, I've asked myself that for quite some time now.  What else could I do...
I'm aiming for the third option because that one feels easiest to me.  Not angry, not happy, just...

An explosion of emotional quaking and vomiting on my screen.  An orgasm of sorts, one that left me numb and a little exhausted.
But one that was well worth it.
I had ignored the beast in it's cage inside me for too long.  I didn't mean to let it out, at least, not on purpose...
I must have, at some point, dropped a hack saw within reach and just sorta turned my back while it sawed at it's bars.

I hope to work on a sequel in the near future.  There are some plot holes I left on purpose, that I want to fill in "someday".
If you are curious or compelled, I will leave the link.  There's a "free sample", I think it's like the first five pages and if you like it, hey it's not all that expensive.  It might be worth it...
Do leave a review if you're able, I'm won't ask for favors, if you didn't like it, that's okay and share your thoughts and criticisms freely.
I think I'm a huge criticizer of others so it just wouldn't be fair if I didn't accept (an encourage) others to criticize me.

Here's my cover in case you're "unsure" and hey, thanks for readin' you know..!

the Black Bishop's first book..!

The Human Truth...

As humans, we long for a purely good idea in our lives.
We crave a purity that cannot be corrupted or tainted and we look for it everywhere, we may have always done this.
We define gods that are completely "good" but if they can't be one hundred percent "good", we aim for "fair" at the least.  Then we make excuses to preserve our desire for that all powerful "good".
Or at least, to shun evil and deception.

I can remember not long ago, the big bad internet stunned us all.  I mean, a collection of human knowledge, all at the tips of our fingers and all we had to do was ask.
It was good, almost purely good and we began to struggle with just how to ask it a question, to get the results we wanted.
But we trusted it, oh how we trusted it.  We wanted to tell people that we "knew" because we had learned.  From reading it on the internet.
It was something we held special, sacred, an idea that there was a thing in our world that would not deceive us.
If we needed to learn about malaria, all we had to do was type it (we didn't even need to know how to spell it because our all good internet would help us with that too).

It was perfection and for a while, we bathed in it's glory.  Life was good.
Then somehow, some way, we turned that good into something "less than good".  Less than honest.  As in, merely being in the proximity of a human for any length of time, was to corrupt.
But perhappers that is natural, normal.  If we do not test our knowledge against claims of the opposite, how can we solidify what we believe is truth?

Nowadays it seems, the big bad internet has become something of an abomination.  If you look, you can find not only information about malaria, but somewhere, someone has probs posed a convincing argument, about how malaria is good for humans and how you should seek it out.
And for whatever reason, the internet is no longer pure.  It can no longer be taken as "factual".

But mabes I'm being too small minded, it is a Friday and the end of a long week of spring break for the kids (a spring break where it's been cold and rain-mixed-with-snow all week nonetheless)...
If I open my scope, I can see that we once believed in the television as "good".  It brought us news and weather and information we needed and wanted.
But my scope's opening too far now.  I can see the newspaper back in "the old days".  I can see that people put faith in it and in other written words.
People believed in books once eh.

Then, oh poor scope, I needed you once just like the internet, you had a good run...
Then I can wonder about cavemen, sitting around their cave fires, telling stories to each other as they snuggled beneath woolly mammoth skins.
Did one caveman suddenly need to deceive his fellow cave people with his story about how he killed a saber tooth tiger?  Was he an elder cave person and was his society about to abandon him if he did not "contribute"..?

For whatever reason, we have a real need in ourselves, to lie, to deceive.  And it's so powerful that we constantly long for something that is impossible to lie to us.
If you think I've gone a bit too crazy bein' stuck in the house with my kids too long, consider this...
If your wife has grown old, wrinkly, grey haired...
If she has gotten rather large around the waist and her boobs have sagged to their breaking points...
If she has a big old zit above her left eyebrow and it's seeping yellow nast into her brow hairs...
If she puts on a fancy dress and asks you how she looks...
Do you tell her she still looks gorgeous?

If your wife wants to go on a diet, wants to loose weight and be healthier but she needs to remove all the good food in your house, nothing with sugar in it, no milk, no pop, no juices, no potato chips, no ice cream, no chocolate, nothing but untainted meats and fruits and vegetables...
Do you support her decision and tell her that's a great idea and let's all get healthier..?
Or do you tell her she's crazy and you need your sugars, your coffee, your beer.

If your husband tells you he wants to be a writer, and that he's written a book that he wants to try to get published and he wants you to read it so you can tell him how good it is...
Do you read, get to the end then stomp that dream into a coma by telling him that it sucks and it's a complete waste of time?  That no one will ever want to read anything he's written or will ever write?

It seems like sometimes, we are not meant to have a universal, constant truth.  That if that truth comes from a human, is transported by a human or is anywhere near a human's touch, that it simply is not true.  It can't be, by definition.
But then, you're reading this right now and I'm typing it huh.  We're both humans aren't we.

The Price of Pride...

The following is a direct response to what was written here...

http://www.nicolavincent-abnett.com/2016/03/a-fair-days-wage-for-fair-days-work.html

Wow, firsties, super glad you're back Nik..!
I've taken large breaks so I can't get upset when others do it but I gotta say, I have missed your words (I checked your blog every day huh...)

This topic, about writing and being paid for it, boy does it compel me to want to study it, to want to throw thoughts on my screen...
And after my brain has churned for a smidgey, well I can see that it sorta breaks down into perspectives (doesn't everything..?)
So let me dig through my satchel for my perspective shotgun a second, let me load that puppy with opposite sides of the spectrum and hey, since you're there with your walls so high and mighty, let me take some practice shots no?

(I don't mean to insult as usual, your walls appear to be so high and mighty because that's the way I want to envision them, that's my perspective and I cherish it...  It's just that so much of what I write is like one millistep away from being offensive and rude and about three thousand other negative adjectives and I have to specify that I don't use my words like that, I have too much respect for my heroes.)

We have two things in our worlds.  Products and desires for such products.  Those two elements will probs never change, that equation is solid and not goin' anywhere.
We can either be a product haver or a product wanter and sometimes both, although usually not for the same product.  Either you want something you don't have or you have something that others want, still with me?
Now, if you happen to have the thing that others want, well it's a magical special place and good things usually happen huh.  Most of the time, you hold your hand up, tell the world that you have this special "thing" and wait as the offers line up, hopefully in a nice neat row so you can see the order of things, particularly the large end first.
And if you don't have the thing, well you're one of those standing in line with your wad of cash (or other offerings) and if you're not quite lucky enough, you're somewhere in the middle or the back.

The next part of the equation is how super cool and awesome your product is.  Now insert this right before the equals sign, if your product is the only one on the planet, if it is in high demand and only usable once or, if it is replaceable and able to be sold to all those in the lines behind you, well you need a gigantic multiplier huh.
Whereas if your product is none of the above, your multiplier is almost nothing, makes sense?

So I think that was enough math for a Monday.  My noodle's all kinds of swirled...

Let's say you're one of the product holders, one of the really super cool, super awesome, can be sold down the line in the trickle downs.
How does it feel when someone straight up steals it and doesn't even say thanks.
With a quick check, I can see that the first four Wild's End comic books are downloadable as "torrents".  If you're not sure what a torrent is, you probs haven't been one of the product desire-ers in a while eh.
Torrents are what the pirates of the world use to download illegal content from the big bad internet.  They download movies, music, tv shows, books, comic books, porn, cookbooks, video games, self help books and the list really is monstrously gigantic and there seems to be no method, for stopping the pirates anytime soon.

Basically, once one person has purchased your product, captured it with a digital scanning device and shared it, anybody else can come along and take it.  For free.  For pretty much, forever.
So again, shotgun smoking, I ask, how does that make a product holder feel.

To me, well it stings a bit.  Not only did I not say they could come and take my product but they didn't even say thanks.  Or that they wouldn't use my work to sell to others in their trickle down.
They didn't even encourage me to produce another product so they could steal that one as well.
Given this equation, why would anyone choose to be a product maker..?
Is product making a dying industry just like the Blockbusters of the world and the third party self publishers?

Or is there another position we could take.  Is it time for Change to rear it's ugly head and stomp us into submission?
I don't know exactly but I have another blast loaded, ready?

In the past month or so, a video game has surfaced from a one-man-band creator.  This person pretty much created a new game that has become exceptionally popular despite it's very small size and budget.
The game is called Stardew Valley and if you type this in your Google, you can find gobs of stuff written about it.
I'll leave a link at the bottom in case you need some proof but here's the scenario.

A product maker sells his product for fairly cheap, making it relatively easy to afford compared to others.
The product is so loved and so cherished that the pirates that downloaded it, played it for a day then went and uninstalled it, paid the full price for it and thanked the maker.
Then, these same pirates turned around and, on the very pages that they used to steal with, they praised this game, they told others that they spent their money on it and the trickle down, became a trickle up.
Now before you accuse me of firing blanks with my shotgun, I'll shoot once more...
This game has broken the system so graphically, that others are offering to pay for the game, so that those who are still pirating due to the cost can show their support.  You know, for those that truly can't afford the fifteen bones (about ten pounds for my British friends).

Yeah, stick that one in your Monday morning breadbasket and shake.
A product that changed the way people pay for it.
A product that could not be controlled by it's maker, could not be "secured" and was entirely dependent on the people in line...
Became a donation.

It was given to the world knowing full well, that it would be stolen, that it would be copied, abused, left out at night next to the trash bin.
But it was so cool and so moving that people walking by, stopped and picked it up, they brushed it off and went to the door, knocked and slipped a ten dollar bill under the door as thanks.

I think that's how I want to do it.  I can't stop the pirating, I can't stop the sharing and I don't seem to be able to prevent the poverty.
But if I create a product someday, something that is so special and awarding...  Well I think I will give it to the world's people and ask for nothing in return.
Should they feel compelled to reward me or send me ten bucks, I will thank them.
But I'll also have to understand if they don't.

If a big, or small, publisher wants to invest in a writer, how do they know that they won't sell one copy and watch as fifty thousand others ignore their price tag?
The burden on the creator is sorta minimal.  If they don't want to produce something, they don't have to.  They can choose to stop being creatives.
But the burden on the middle people, the ones trying to profit from a system that no longer supports them, their burden is about as large and heavy as those castle walls around your position.

I so love the way I must think when contemplating your topics Nik.  Its such great brain exercise and while it might seem like I'm blasting away without a care, the truth is much different.
I can't criticize if you don't start the conversation and I hope that one day, I can start conversations and others will fire at my walls with both barrels.

http://kotaku.com/stardew-valley-players-fight-piracy-by-buying-pirates-t-1763316633

Reflections on a Monday...

I think there's something we don't fully recognize, in ourselves and in others sometimes.
It's hard to look in a mirror and even harder to see what's there.
Sometimes I wonder if my words have a negative effect on people.  If my actions are more helpful or hindering.
And most of the time, there is no answer.  No image in the mirror I can see or perhaps it's time I wear some glasses.
Other times, I tell myself that it's only a matter of perspective and it is up to each of us, to find the good in horrible places, or the bad in great places.

One of my biggest writing heroes is a woman named Nik Vincent.  I don't think of her as a "giant" sword wielding hero like the ones in her husband's books.
But a hero, nonetheless and it might be hard to see why.

I look up to Nik because she has the courage to share her thoughts with the whole freakin' messed up world.
She types about women's rights, she talks about politics and religion and writing and movies and sex and there's not too much I haven't seen her not type about you know.

I see her as the huge castle walls, protecting and securing her place in the world, for her people, and for many others.
And I see a whole bunch of crazy primitives out there shooting arrows, trying to storm her sanity.  Occasionally they get past the barricades and the moat and I love watchin' Nik's defenders pour the burning oil, especially when they follow it up with the chicken feathers eh.
I see her as invulnerable to attacks and I don't see many others with the cajones to do the same.

We live in a world where our reputation means so much to us.  We strive to make others see us how we would like to be seen.
For some, it means they don't have to have a strong wall, no defenders, no oil because they never risk anything, they stay in the shadows and don't speak their minds when the opportunity arises.
For others, they carelessly encourage attacks, then spend a while in hurt land picking up the remnants of their broken walls.

Nik is my hero because she tolerates me when I fire all my canons at her fortifications.  She even smiles while she's encouraging me to load another round.
It is a strength I hope to someday have, to be as solid and impermeable.
And while I like to think that there is a nice soft, sweet side to Nik, all buried in those monster walls, I have to admit that I don't really know, I've never met her and only know her through her words.

Is what I perceive accurate?  Do I want her to be indestructible, to be a beacon of hope in a very dark world?
Do I want to continue to criticize, even when most of me agrees with everything she writes..?
Do I want to feel the attacks when they come to my walls and will I handle them as well as I believe Nik does?

It is hard to see things sometimes.  With my nose pressed against the mirror, I still wonder if there's a Bishop, calmly wavin' his hand in there somewhere.

The Big Work Around...

The following is a direct response to what was written here...

http://www.nicolavincent-abnett.com/2016/02/from-each-according-to-his-ability-to.html



Phew, challenging article Nik..!
I read this one and thought, jeeze, I know I'm busy, I know I said I was gonna retire my blog site...
But, but, but..!

You make some logical points and I liked 'em.  I especially liked it when you said "You know that I’m going somewhere with this, don’t you?"

My perspective is not all that different but it is a little more mathematical.  I put the pros on one side of the scale and the cons on the other and see which one is slightly heavier, then I bash that scale with my hammer and call for a re weigh.
Should we help others?  Sure, I don't need quotes from some "holy" book to tell me I should be a good person.
Should we let others think that if something is virtually "free" that they shouldn't take..?

Humility is one of the first things that leaves us, as a society, apparently.  I don't know where it goes, I still have mine tucked in a drawer somewhere and I've been homeless and needed someone else to feed me on "many" occasions.
I happen to be a whole lot of underemployed and my family collects the much debated food stamps (this is basically where the government gives you free food, no alcohol or cigarettes but pop and chips, you got it).
There's little or no regulation, no one checking up on you to see that you actually spent your allowance on food.  Many people will sell their stamps at half price for the cash they need for their addictions.
I've never sold stamps but I know that it's a very popular perspective.  You need money to pay the electric bill, all the pop and chips in the world won't be accepted by my electric company.

Should I work really hard to make just enough money to afford my own food when the government will surely hand out more after more..?
(This is another large reason I can't support my own country's government...)
If my choices are, work at the restaurant over the hot fryer for eight hours a day, put my kid in a day care where they'll treat him like a farm animal all day, every...
Or sit back and spend my food stamps with my kid in front of the tele, how hard is that to understand?
I can't look down on people for doin' what humans do.  We are naturally lazy people.  We won't work when we don't have to (well, most of us won't eh, where's my carrot when I need it...)

Where is the common ground and come on Bishop, there has to be somethin' positive about this situation.  Isn't there..?
Nopes, I can't find one.  We want to help people, we want to be "decent" but the majority of people will abuse the system and we can't pay enough workers to stop in at people's homes during dinner time, to see if they're spending their stamps in approved ways.

If we put a time limit on how long some people can continue to collect (much like with our current system of unemployment benefits), one side screams "how can you do that you uncaring monster.?!)
And we have to drive by the panhandlers on the sidewalks with their cardboard signs.  And their dirty sad faces and who wants that...

I'm all for cuttin' people off completely, no more help from the government.  Period.  There might be some revolts, crime might skyrocket as people must steal but hey, much like in nature, if there's not enough food to go 'round, you either move to somewhere else or, you die.
Seems like the death option is sound.  Overpopulation is a big cause of unemployment and can we really expect to make more babies than jobs every year, indefinitely?
The system must break at some point right.  I'm surprised it hasn't broken already but then, look at our national debt (almost twenty two trillion, yeps thats a "T" for trillions, everybody say it now...)

The alternative, remember my math, the scales.  Is that we crank out a crap more jobs, possibly creating a "check up on your food stamp usage at random times" taskforce.
Or, we move to somewhere we there won't be anyone that will take advantage.
But like I said, most humans will take advantage huh.
Your choices, our choices, are to pay for others when they don't deserve it, or live alone in the woods in an empire of one (possibly two if you can stand your spouse and their laziness).

We, or I, can't blame the little people with empty bellies.  And we, or I again, can't blame the empire of one's who hoard all their money and find clever ways to avoid paying for the rest of the world's irresponsibility.
Way to pull me out of my slump Smiley..!

Equal in time...

Oh where o where does all the time go...
I've read so very much on Nik Vincent's blog site.  So much that interests me, challenges me, compels me to type.  But the time thing, oh my goshes how it churns...
I love the stories about Dan, about his current project, Wild's End (something that jumped to the top of my wish list), I'm oh so curious about his new video game and can we get the name yet or it's all hush hush..?

I've actually typed responses and contributions to many blog articles but I find myself not publishing them as I have a problem with perfection.  As in, if I give it a reread and it doesn't feel "perfect" in my mind, I won't share it.
Even if I have an audience of less than ten and nobody cares about my version of perfection.
It still prevents me from sharing and there they sit, nestled in my hard drive for some other day.

So as things become more time consuming or less, I have to shift gears.  I can't spend all day typing to my internet friends, I can't type on my blog and write a few thousand in my first novel.
Throw in my three sons and demanding wife and there just isn't the time you know.

I'm pushing this puppy to the back burner for a while.  It pains me as I love to write like this and I seriously hope I can pick it back up as my time allows.  Someday.
Until then, I want to thank you all, you mean so much to me.
I want to special thanks to Nik, I still read your stuff and check your blog everyday.  I feel like you guys are part of my family and will always be.
But for now, be good to each other people.

An Easy Write...

The following is a direct response to what was written here...

http://www.nicolavincent-abnett.com/2016/01/a-comment-on-writing-courses.html

I know, I know..!
Where have you been Bishop and come on now, it better be good right.
I apologize friends, I've been busy.  I know my favorite blogger Nik Vincent has cranked out like a dozen articles since my last one, all chock full of good topics, all waiting for the Bishop's responses.
So okay, I had my monitor crap out on me a bit ago and, since I'm poor, I'm now staring at one of those old style fatty CRT monitors, I feel like I'm right back in the year two double O four all over again.
I've also been working a butt load on my first novel, I'm up to almost forty thousand words in my second draft so there, that's where I'm at thank you very much.

So while I've been reading and trying to stay in touch with Nik's articles, well I haven't been able to dedicate a large enough chunk of time to write back, you know, in a sense.
I particularly liked the Where's Rey article as I hadn't heard much about that fuss you know.  I haven't seen the movie yet and okay, okay already, I'll spell it out for you..!
I live in a cave or as the Spanish say, "cueva".  I, the Black Bishop, exist in una cueva oscura (a dark cave) okay, it's official!

I really liked reading about writers, especially my other hero, Nik's husband Dan.  Understanding how he functions is a huge interest of mine and if I could make a book suggestion, write about being married to Dan, crikey, best seller there (at least in my home)...
So the article about writer's prompts, wow I didn't even know those existed (also for the record, I'm about to be big fat forty years old this March).  You mean people actually give away free story ideas for other poor sods to do all the hard parts..?
Jeeze that's awesome, it makes me almost want to look and see what they've got to offer or throw some ideas out there myself.  But I won't.  Perchaps I'm old fashioned like that.

Then came the article concerning writing courses and yeps, I just had to find some time, 'twas a really informative article right.
And though I'm not a famous writer (yet), well it's a topic I enjoy thinking about, I want to kick it around my noodle like an abandoned tin can for a while, listen to it rattle eh.
So if you've come here looking for an easy lesson on how to be a money making writer, well you can stop looking now.
For those of you that are persevering, (thank you and) I'll try to make it interesting huh.

I can't help but agree that spending a fortune on a "class" to learn how to be a better writer is a complete waste.  I agree with the "just meet people, have an experience" part and I want to second that I've never been to a writing class (nor a college of any sort so, there's my credentials, hah!)
Bishop!  You're talking straight from your butt wrinkle and for the love of pizza, please start making some sense..!
Okay, but you better pass me a piece (of pizza).
The problem many of us might not realize, is that educational institutions are trying to make money.  From you, from me, they don't care as long as it spends and has a dollar sign on it (or rhymes with "sounds").
Now most of these institutions don't really care about their students success (or lack of).  They really don't mind if you can't use what they taught you because, they already have your money!
To them, you are used up, spent, no longer of interest.
How many writers do you know that thank their educational institutions after they become famous?
It's not like they say, "It was only thanks to the Ohio State University that I was able to produce this".  Writers don't have sponsors or advertisers (do they?)
Mabes I should ask Pepsi Co if they'd like to put one of their logos on the cover of my new book...

The simple truth is that there is no "easy" way to become a profitable, desirable writer.  No way whatsoever, forget about it.
There are however, some very difficult things you can do, which is why some people can manage it, and some are forced to concede along the way of trying.
As a writer, when we put finger to keyboard, we are smearing parts of ourselves all over the screen (or paper if you're a neanderthal).
If those parts aren't interesting to others, aren't honestly creative and thought provoking, it's not because you didn't write it right.  It's because you're not an interesting person, a creative or a thought provoking person.
I'm sorry, don't feel all butt hurt about it.  It's not that big a deal, it just means you are average and in today's world, well there's worse you could be huh.

The life of a writer is often a very complex, very difficult one.  They are different from us, they are special and it is only because of these distinctions, that they are viewed as better than us.
Often, an expert writer will long for a different profession, they will want to be doctors or lawyers because those occupations are simple when compared to a writer's.  Many times they will be of exceptional intelligence and suffer from depression or bouts of disappointment from the world they exist in.
Many of the most creative people that I look up to, have ended their own lives.  Think about that for a minute.
They are different, a whole nother species, recognize them as such.
Then, if you still think you want to be different, act differently.  Don't go to a "school" where they will teach you to be just like everybody else.
Don't watch the tele for long periods of mind rot.  Don't be lazy but here's a helpful tip...  Be bored.  Like, extremely.
When our minds aren't bored, it is very easy to ride the currents of whatever is stimulating us.  When we become bored, very bored, our minds must invent stimuli and usually, something new and fresh will come about.
Bathe yourself in the nectar that is boredom.  Soak in that nast until you are just about insane.  They have these things called "sensory deprivation chambers" that are great for hallucinating...
But vary your boredom.  If you sat in an empty basement for six hours yesterday, walk out into a forest and spend another six today.
But wait Bishop, you're forgetting some really important parts in your ramblings.  Okay, instructions time so take out your note taking device...
Leave your phone behind!  If that's your note taking device, get out of my classroom.  No phones, no tablets, no "devices" of any kind, this is boredom after all.  We don't want you to struggle for five hours and forty minutes only to lose what would have been a brilliant idea, because your phone beeped.
No music, no tele, no computers.  Just you and your brain, mabes a notebook and old fashioned, mechanical pencil.

Your brain requires exercise and you can't "program" it with "a class".  Understand this a moment, your brain, needs to be able to work itself, on command, when you want it to.
Compare this to going to the gym to exercise your body.  When you're there, there are others exercising, you can watch 'em.  There are employees who will assist you, motivate you, scream at you to do better.  It is easy to work out in a gym.
As opposed to, exercising in a jungle, just you and your axe.  No one to shout motivations, no one to wipe down the equipment.  No encouragements and this is what it takes people, remember, it's not easy (and if it is, you're just not doing it right).

After you've figured out how to bore yourself into creative mode, repeat it.  Repeat it all day every.  But try to schedule it around the same time of day because your brain wants to be conditioned in this way.  It has it's own schedule and you will slowly figure out when it is at it's best.
For me, right around one o'clock in the afternoon, my mind's "ready".  I might not be ready and I probs spend the first thirty minutes or so, telling myself that this is absolute trash, complete junk and why are you still doing this to yourself Bishop.
But right around the forty five minute mark, I start to "wake up" and the humor comes, the entertainment begins, the cream rises.  Usually by the end of the second hour, I'm cranking at full speed and thinking this is perfection (even if it's not).

The key seems to be, treat your imagination like the spoiled little snot that it is.  You've spent so long being intellectually lazy, that when it's time to get up and work, that little snot is rolling on the floor screaming.
Smack it around, make it your boss, you're in control now and it's time to exercise.

My next lesson concerns attitude.  As in, you'll never crank out anything worth while if you're worrying about the electric bill.  You'll never produce anything good if you're worried about your girlfriend or boyfriend, your parents, your cat.
It takes a very, very clear mind to make the jelly that is spreadable.  Any occupied mind is only going to make chunks fly.
If I'm upset at my wife for being forgetful, if I'm angry at a kid for falling and breaking the door of the dishwasher...
If I'm downright hostile because my team just lost to a really crappy Spartan team causing us to miss the playoffs...
Or if I'm content and drinking a beer or smoking my cares away...
I can't produce anything worth showing to anyone.

It takes a special mindset and it takes practice.  Not practicing in "the arrival" of the perfect mindset but in the recognizing the "when" it happens.
Because we are emotional humans, none of us can control our emotions to the point where we are perfectly creative.  We have to be able to recognize it when it happens naturally, and not waste that time in contentment.
What I do is ask myself, are you feeling happy today?  If the answer is yes, I can't write today.
If I'm angry today, I can't write, again.
I have to be right smack in the middle, striving for neutral (still want to be a writer?)
And it's tough, it really is.  To stay motivated, to pour your spirit into a very fragile container and shake rapidly.

If I could ask my hero, Mr Dan Abnett only one question, it would be, "How do you prevent your hands (especially the wrists) from hurting constantly?"
Because you'll know the instant you became a writer, from the extreme pain in your wrists and your ability to ignore it while you crank out one more page, one more chapter, one more thousand words.
So I surrender, I have the pain but I still want to write.  I want to talk about the state of "intellectual properties" and how the written word is by far, the easiest to share and steal.
I want to talk about the feminism issues (because that's a topic as deep as the ocean that separates us...)
I want to talk about the water situation in a city near me (it's called Flint, Michigan and if you haven't heard about it already, look that one up huh...)
But again, the aches in my wrists are telling me that's enough for today.
For I know I shall hurt again tomorrow.  Such is the writer's life.