Bunnies

What goes around comes around.

In this case, a video made in April 2022 of bunnies.

Sorry, didn’t mean to offend…

Rabbits.

I wonder if there’s a woke community among The Wild.

Do Rabbits take offense if they’re called Bunnies?

I can understand any creature’s umbrage at being called vermin, nuisance, pest, …

I also understand the tone one says such things in plays a role.

For example, I often call our dog, Boo, “You scurvy creathure.” (spelling intentional).

I always reference him thus to his face and often when giving him a treat or petting him or brushing him.

Or drying him if we walk in the rain.

Sometimes he responds with, “You, Two-Legs. You got hands? Scratch here.” or “You, with the hands, rub me here.”

I take no offense.

There doesn’t seem to be prejudice or bigotry in The Wild, either.

There’s territory, true, but even so usually only around minimal resources – food, for example.

And in a world where the US alone produces enough grain to feed the world seven times over, should anything like that exist?

 

“Living with Intention (Intention: Part 2)” now on BizCatalyst360

I previously offered Intention, Part 1 on BizCatalyst360 and this week those kind and gracious folks are sharing my Living with Intention (Intention: Part 2) (a follow-up piece. Bet you couldn’t guess).

In this case, a short piece about what I’m learning about myself.

 
Enjoy!

The Augmented Man Repub

Yes, I know.

The book, much like protagonist Nicholas Trailer himself, is back.

Fascinating publishing history this near universally praised book has had (and something I’ll write about later. The best I can offer is “It’s been a wonderfully educational experience I wish I never needed.” I was going to write “…I never had.” and know such things happen with a purpose).

In any case, resurrected again with a new cover and front- and back-matter, The Augmented Man is on sale until 15 March 2023 for $0.99 Kindle, $10.99 Paperback.

From 16 March 2023 forward it’s $2.99 Kindle, $18.99 Paperback.

At least I know neither the book nor Nick Trailer himself are going away this time.

It’s not the publishing path I would have chosen, and at least now I know it’s with a publisher who’ll do what they say they’ll do when they say they’ll do it.

Can’t beat that.

The Alibi (A John Chance Mystery) – Chapter 8

Previous entries in this novel:

Enjoy!

The Alibi – Chapter 8

 
Sean Davitty practiced his free dives at least twice a week wherever he was and daily when on break. He spent a year with the Bajau learning their techniques. He didn’t have their genetic disposition, but he came close – his best dive was ten minutes at two-hundred feet. His teammates shook their heads at him. “You’ve already got all the certifications you need, Sean. You working at being a whale?”

Davitty’s brogue came out clean and crisp. “No, I’ll settle for seal.”

Part of the fun was surfacing where no one expected it. The looks on people’s faces made him laugh.

Today nobody laughed.

Today he parked at the south end of the closed USS Boston memorial, pulled a backpack out of the passenger’s seat, lifted a camera out that, and walked around taking pictures. He hopped the gate and took more pictures until he stood at the water side of memorial. Reaching into his pack agian, he pulled out a blanket, sandwich, thermos, an old and dogeared paperback of The Best of H.P. Lovecraft: Bloodcurdling Tales of Horror and the Macabre, and sat down in the shadow of one of the big guns.

He chewed and read. Once or twice his sipped from his thermos.

He finished the story undistured. No one came by; no sightseers, no lovers, no WWII enthusiasts.

Sure no one watched, Davitty donned his diving suit sans tank, fitted his flippers, donned his mask, and plunged into the water and swam to the bottom. From there the test was to Langone Park. It would be empty today and provided a convenient landmark.

Waterfront construction dominated the waterfront a few hundred feet west. Apartments and condos, none occupied. There might be some people walking dogs, cycling, sightseeing. He’d be careful. Surface just enough to recharge his lungs then down and back.

Coming up along the ocean wall he found a tunnel. Okay, maybe not a tunnel, but definitely something large enough to swim through. Algae lined its walls and gave off phosphorescent light.

Interesting.

Surface.

Charge.

Check his watch. If he hadn’t surfaced by half his limit, turn around, get back.

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Teenage Turkeys at the High School Dance

Remember those high school dances?

When the guys stayed on one side of the gym and the girls stayed on the other with exception of those already paired up?

My high schooling occurred during that turbulent era when many still wanted to be with someone and an equal many were willing to come solo or – god forbid – in same-sex pairs.

Note, not homosexual pairs.

Oh, no, not that.

Not in my little town (with do apologies to Simon&Garfunkel).

Oh, we had them.

I know because I counted some, not all, as my friends.

Jan, for one. A truly beautiful, elegant, long-legged girl who confided she had the best of Rick and he came up a far cry from Judy who attended Memorial.

Good for you, Jan. And for Judy.

It doesn’t bother you?

I laughed and joked. “Not if I can watch.”

She cracked up, as well.

You could get away with things like that back then. Once people knew they could trust you and could be themselves around you.

Boy, how she laughed.