Seven Days to Go

Lucky Seven. Magnificent Seven. The 7th Cavalry. Come on, Seven. Better yet, even though I went to work today it was a down day so all the high sheriffs stayed home. No one disturbed me when I caught my daily cat nap in the break room.

Seven Days in May. The Seven Little Foys. Seventh Avenue. Seven Come Eleven. Seven Brides For Seven Brothers. Seven Cities of Gold. Seven Keys to Baldpate. The Seven Percent Solution. The Seven Seas. The Seven Samauri. Seven is a good number, as you can see, and a popular one. Lucky Seven smiles upon me today and I like it.

Vet's Day

I'm a veteran but I don't feel like I need any special recognition. The ones who were hurt mentally and physically deserve it far more than I. But I want to offer my personal salute to my brothers and sisters in arms on this special day set aside for us. I'm proud to be a member of the club.

Now then, I was sent a list of all the businesses that would be doing special things for vets today, like a free donut at Dunkin' or a free meal at Applebee's. On that list was a free 6-inch sub from Subway. So since I was near the local Subway I went in and asked if they were giving away subs to vets. The kid at the counter didn't know what I was talking about so he asked the manager/owner. The answer was no. That kind of ticked me off since I have bought a lot of subs in there over the years. But never again. The next one is only a few miles farther down the road and I'll go there from now on.

Dave Niehaus, RIP

Dave was the voice of the Seattle Mariners as long as I can remember. Last year he was inducted into the Announcers section of the Baseball Hall of Fame. When you consider the team has had about half a dozen winning seasons since it came here in 1977, that's a remarkable achievement. He had to sit through almost all of those games and keep people entertained, and he was damn good at it. I noticed last season he stopped working the TV side after the third inning and I assumed he went to the radio side. I had the feeling they were preparing the viewers for a new announcer, but I thought Dave would retire and he'd have a few good years to enjoy himself away from the ballpark. Alas, it is not to be. I'll miss his enthusiam, strong voice, love of the game, and decency.

It would be too much to hope that Jon Miller, just released by ESPN, would be his replacement. Without the unbearable Joe Morgan, of course.

Buddy

I'm saddened to announce that Buddy, my daughter Stephanie's dog, was put down today. He was 11 and in poor health for some time. Buddy was a sweet-tempered, amiable guy, large and a little clumsy, but always happy to see you. He loved attention and would take all you could give. A very good boy. He'll be missed.

My countdown continues. Eight working days left. You might be happy to note that I actually worked hard today. Well, maybe not hard but steadily. I'm also cleaning out my locker piece by piece, shredding cerificates from our countless annual training BS, taking home reading matter that has accumulated, and deciding if I want to donate my salt and pepper shakers to the break room. Salt, probably; pepper, no. I'm using a salt substitute at home but I use regular pepper and that stuff's expensive.

Tomorrow: Holiday!

Nine Days to Go

Nine is my favorite number. When I was a radio man in the Army I learned the proper way to say nine on the radio was niner. Niner. That's funny. Our First Sergeant's call sign was Scrub Throng Niner Alpha, so we wise guy RTO's referred to him as Niner. Behind his back, of course.

All this Army talk reminds me of the sweat mags of the fifties. On the left is a sample of the fine fare they offered.


And the countdown continues...

Ten Days to Go

Nine days and six hours if you want to get technical. But since it means 10 days of waking to the alarm at 0530 I count it as 10 full days. I can't wait. I can taste the freedom already. I can hear myself crying poverty within a year, but what the hell. And how about that Shirley Jones?

Fifteen Days to Go

I'll really feel like it's happening when November rolls around. Looking over my leave time, I've determined I have 13 full days, one 6-hour day, and one 6 1/2-hour day left (I work 10-hour shifts) before I walk out, middle finger at full staff. That's still 15 morning wakeups, though.

I haven't mentioned the San Francisco Bouchercon but I was there, along with the wife. It was great to connect with blogger Bill Crider and his wife Judy, and fellow fans like Jeff and Ann Smith, Art Scott, Steve Stilwell, Kate Derie, Janet Rudolph, Ted Fitzgerald, Maggie Mason, Leila Dobscha, and Rick Robinson, the latter just in time to say good-bye. Best of all, I had a chance to meet fellow Dapa-Emmer Tina Karleson, a beauty whose presence lit up every room she entered. I also met Bill and Judy's daughter Angela, and her husband. Lovely young woman. Angela, that is.

I also had a chance to tell some $cientologists who were hustling reprints of Hubbard's pulp work at the con what a blob of human garbage their messiah was.

Deadly Pleasures magazine editor/publisher George Easter awarded me the Don Sandstrom Award for my lifetime achievement in mystery fandom. I pretty much left mystery fandom six years ago, but I'm honored to have an award named for my late friend Don.

As always, apologies to those whose names I left off. As for the city, it was expensive and had more Koreans than Seoul. What really irked me was the street artists. I used to be one in the mid-'70s and there were definite rules and laws. We had to make our own goods, have them juried by the Arts Commission, and have a J license on display at our stands. The J license is so named after Proposition J, which allowed street artists. Hosebag Diane Feinstein opposed us, which is why I've always thought she should be slapped silly. Anyway, most of the people I saw on the streets selling had cheap imported garbage they no more made than I made the next moon rocket. No licenses, and none of the ones I asked about it, except one lady who did make her own goods, knew what a J license was.

Food was not bad, but like everything else it cost too much. I can say without reservation that the red snapper I had at Sinbad's, behind Pier 39, was excellent. The service wasn't so great, but the food was.

After the con I went to Sebastopol to visit a friend from my youth and his wife, who lived in a great house he built himself on 14 acres. Nice to wake up and see deer or coyotes on the property. We had a fine visit and I hope I can get back there again, though I don't know if that will be possible.

Enow. I look forward to this weekend. Laundry awaits.

16 Days

Sweet Sixteen. I haven't posted my retirement countdown for a while, but today I calculated it to be sixteen more working days. I can't wait. The jerks, jackasses, and pinheads who run that organization ought to be marched into a field and hosed down.

The lovely lady in the photo is Donna Martell. I put her there to improve my mood.

Happy Birthday, Stephanie

I can't believe my first born turned 21 today. Happy birthday, baby, and many happy days ahead. She's also close to having a first born of her own. Wow.

Roy Rogers and the Scattered Legacy

When the Roy Rogers Museum closed its exhibits were sold at auction. Here are some of the prices realized.

Roy's 1964 Bonneville sold for $254,500, it was estimated to sell between 100 and 150 thousand dollars.

His script book from the January 14,1953 episode of This Is Your Life sold for $10,000 (est. $800-$1,000)

A collection of signed baseballs (Pete Rose, Duke Snyder and other greats) sold for $3,750

A collection of signed bats (Yogi Berra, Enos Slaughter, Bob Feller, and
others) sold for $2,750.

Trigger's saddle and bridle sold for $386,500 (est. 100-150K)

One of many of Roy's shirts sold for $16,250 and one of his many cowboy hats sold for $17,500.

One set of boot spurs sold for $10,625. Although he never used a set of
spurs on Trigger.

A life size shooting gallery sold for $27,500. This is really neat. You
should see it.

Various chandeliers sold from $6,875 to $20,000. Unique and artistic in their western style.

A signed photograph by Don Larsen taken during his perfect game in the World Series against the Dodgers on Oct.8, 1953, along with a signed baseball to Roy from Don, sold for $2,500

Two fabulous limited edition BB guns in their original boxes with numerous photos of Roy, Dale, Gabby, and Pat sold for $3,750.

A collection of memorabilia from his shows entertaining the troops in
Vietnam sold for $938. I never knew he was there. His flight jacket sold for $7,500.

His set of dinner ware plates and silverware sold for $11,875. The bible they used at the dinner table every night sold for $8,750.

One of several of his guitars sold for $27,500.

Nellybelle sold for $116,500.

A fabulous painting of Roy, Dale, Pat, Buttermilk, Trigger, and Bullet sold for $10,625.

One of several sets of movie posters sold for $18,750.

A black and white photograph of Gene Autry with a touching inscription from Gene to Roy sold for $17,500.

A Republic Productions Poster bearing many autographs of the people that played in Roy's movies sold for $11,875.

Dale's horse, Buttermilk (whose history is very interesting), sold below the pre-sale estimate for $25,000. (est. 30-40K)

Bullet sold for $35,000 (est. 10-15K). He was their real pet.

Dale's parade saddle, estimated to sell between 20-30K, sold for $104,500.

One of many pairs of Roy's boots sold for $21,250.

Trigger sold for $266,500.

Do you remember the 1938 movie The Adventures of Robin hood with Errol Flynn and Olivia de Havilland? Well Olivia rode Trigger in that movie. Trigger was bred on a farm co-owned by Bing Crosby. Roy bought Trigger on a time payment plan for $2,500. Roy and Trigger made 188 movies together. Trigger even outdid Bob Hope by winning an Oscar in the movie Son of Paleface in 1953.

Threshold of Geezerdom

Yesterday I applied for social security, or socialist insecurity as some call it. It was amazingly easy considering the government is involved. I did it on line in about 15 minutes. But Uncle Sam is infamous for screwing up my records so we'll see if this continues to go smoothly or if I'm headed for a great adventure.

What has this to do with John Lennon? Nothing. I believe yesterday was the anniversary of his birth and I wanted to acknowledge it.

Another Meme Project

From Rick Robinson's blog comes this meme. The answers are titles of books I've read this year (authors in parentheses).

I am: THE LAST DOG SOLDIER (Joseph A. West)

I will never be: FRISCO FILLY (Jon Sharpe)

I fear: GALLOWS (Bob Randisi)

My best friend is: THE PAINTED WOMEN (Chad Calhoun)

What’s the weather like? MURDER IN THE AIR (Bill Crider)

Best Advice: YOU NEVER KNOW WITH WOMEN (James Hadley Chase)

I’ve never been to: MYSTERY RANCH (Max Brand)

Favorite form of transport: DEAD MAN'S SADDLE (Jon Sharpe)

I’ll never fit in at: NEVADA (Burt Arthur)

How I’d like to die: NO NICE GIRL (Perry Lindsay)

You and your friends are: TROUBLE IN TOMBSTONE (Richard S. Wheeler)

Thought of the day: PARDON MY BODY (Dale Bogard)

Your soul’s present condition: TRIP HOME TO HELL (Jack Bickham)

Miscellaneous Garbage

The Mariners lost 101 games this year. Hey, Joe Torre, want a job?

I won $204 yesterday at the Muckleshoot Casino. $160 on one 25-cent bet at a slot machine. I gave each of my girls $100 and kept the rest.

I have somewhere between 25 and 27 work days left. I had a cold last week and had to kill two sick days, so my count is off and with what I'll accrue between now and the end of the year, it'll be tricky making my Adios date.

October is zipping along and I'm eager for it to be over. I especially look forward to Friday, which is my holiday for Columbus Day.

The image of Homicide Hostess has nothing to do with this post. I just like it.

George Blanda, RIP

I've just learned that George Blanda has died. I was lucky enough to be an Oakland Raiders fan in the early 1970s where Blanda was a backup quarterback and place kicker. Whenever he came on the field I was certain he would pull out a victory in the last seconds, and I was rarely wrong. He played pro football until he was a month shy of his 49th birthday, and had to be pulled from the team kicking and screaming even then. What a hell of a guy. You can see a clip about him HERE

Homage to Republic

I wrote a short essay about the only Republic serial I saw as a kid for Laurie Powers' excellent blog. You can find it HERE. If you haven't bookmarked Laurie's blog, do so. It's consistently excellent and interesting.

Countdown Interrupted

Goldurnit, I had to stay home today with the beginnings of a cold. I hated to burn the sick leave, but I'm hoping I might nip this before it becomes a real monster cold. I'll probably spend the weekend feeling miserable. Goldurnit.

I think this means I still have 29 days to go before retirement. Work days, that is.

My illo today shows Senator C. Estes Kefauver in a coonskin cap. Estes was famous for his committee's public inquiry into organized crime and he was from Tennessee, as was Davy Crockett.

29 Days To Go

I hope my numbers are right in this Days To Go countdown. It seems to change depending on how I count them.

We're playing war games at work and the way things are going we might as well surrender and get it over with. Quel farce.

I need to get to bed early tonight. I'm reading Mississippi Vivian, by Bill Crider and Clive Wilson, as my bedtime book and it's keeping me up late. I was a zombie today. I'd like to be a bit more lively tomorrow.

30 Days To Go

Now we're talking. Thirty days hath September, Cap'n Bob, and November. "Thirty days, Jerry!" "When you're hot, you're hot." The big three-oh. Thirtysomething. That writes 30 to this story.

Random thought: I have no luck whatsoever with flashlights and lawn mowers. Every time I've owned one of these items they've either been pieces of junk from day one or, if they were good, died young. I still have a Walkman that functions fine, I had a truck for 15 years, but not a decent flashlight in the house. I have a lot of flashlights, but they all stink. Am I alone in this?

33, 32, 31 Days To Go

Sorry I missed the last two nights. I forgot on 33 and we had storms on 32 so I shut down the computer. It has been a quiet week anyway. I finished reading Bill Crider's MURDER IN THE AIR, his latest Sheriff Dan Rhodes mystery, and I think it's one of his best. I hope to do a real review this weekend if I find the time. I'm going to the Western Washington State Fair (The Puyallup) tomorrow and hope the rain holds off while I'm walking around. I saw some fair food prices in the paper tonight and it's shocking. A corn dog is $4.07. Bad enough they want four bucks, but the seven cents is the ultimate insult. A cheeseburger is close to ten bucks and be prepared to lay out $8.50+ for a bratwurst. Maybe I'll just snatch a chicken from the poultry exhibit and see if the guy demonstrating George Foreman Grills can cook it for me. I will get some scones for sure, though. They are the one must-have in the food department. The best part: I'm getting in for free.

34 Days To Go, Adults Only Version

On this day in 1914 Clayton "The Lone Ranger" Moore was born. I wish he was still around. Still alive is Joey Heatherton, who is 66 today. She's probably the sexiest 66-year-old woman extant.

35 Days To Go

I hit the daily double--35 days left and it's Friday, the start of my three-day weekend. I like the number 35 but don't attach any special significance to it. I seem to recall a report years ago that said women reached their sexual peak at 35, but who knows if that's true. Okay, maybe some 35-year-old-women do. Any of them out there want to chime in?

The woman in the photo is Susan Hayward, an actress I've always admired.

Happy Birthday Aunt Peggy.

36 Days To Go

36, now there's a number. Carol Doda, famous for her breast implants in the '70s, was spokes-airhead for a UHF station in the Bay Area, Channel 36. "The Perfect 36," she would coo during station breaks. The Battle of the Alamo occured in 1836, as did San Jacinto, which guaranteed Texas's freedom from Mexico. Japan invaded China in 1936. Three dozen is 36.

Happy Birthday to my kid sister Denise.

Happy anniversary to me and Linda, too. Twenty-one years.

37 Days To Go

Today was a total bore. Ten hours at work and I did nothing. Oh wait, I did about 20 minutes' worth of work and 30 minutes of reading. Mingo finally showed up on an episode of Daniel Boone.

The year 1937, or '37 as I call it, heralded the first issue of Look magazine. H.P. Lovecraft died. The first science Fiction convention was held in Leeds, England.

I do want to wish Tough Jim Gaston luck with his operation. He's scheduled for an angioplasty today.

38 Days To Go

I can't think of one thing about the number 38 that is significant. Jayne Mansfield's chest? No matter. I would like to take a moment to say happy birthday to my mother-in-law, Corinne, who is 93 today. That's almost two-and-a-half 38s.

Today I saw an old episode of Kojak and one of the punks was Michael Richards, better known as Kramer from Seinfeld. He was so young it was hard for some of my co-workers to recognize him, but the voice was unmistakable. I love watching old shows and seeing actors who hadn't made it big yet. Since we got our new break room I've also seen a number of episodes of Daniel Boone. In every one Ed Ames is shown in the opening credits but he hasn't been in any of the shows. I'll need to look that up.

I wrote a little essay about My West for Meridian West, Rich Prosch's otherwise fine blog. See it here

39 Days To Go

Jack Benny was always 39. The year 1939 was probably the best in history for movie releases (Stagecoach, Gone With the Wind, The Wizard of Oz, etc). Germany invaded Poland in '39, initiating WWII.

Coming up for me is a 4-day weekend, so I won't count down another day until Tuesday.

40 Days To Go

Now, 40 is a good number. Life begins at 40. Ali Baba and the 40 Thieves. Forty-four forty or fight. Forty winks. I'm sure you can come up with more. A nice round number.

I mentioned yesterday that I bought a bunch of books at Half-Price on Monday. Dave "Evan" Lewis wanted to know the titles. Here they are:

The Wild Bunch, Dane Coolidge

The Portable Mark Twain

The Troopers, Mike Jameson (probably have it already)

Ride the Red Trail, Lewis B. Patten

Carston's Law, Jim Miller (Ex-Rangers series)

The Pumpkin Rollers, The Raiders, Wagontongue, and Texas Vendetta, Elmer Kelton

Bowman's Kid, Gordon D. Shirreffs

Cimarron in the Cherokee Strip, Leo P. Kelley (Cimarron series)

The Hanging Trail, Seven Wagons West, Dead Man's Saddle, Six-Gun Sombreros, and Red River Revenge, Jon Sharpe (The Trailsman series)

You Can't Stop Me, Max Allan Collins

That ought to hold me for a while. That, and the thousands of others I own. Happy September.

41 Days To Go

We entered WWII in '41 on a day that will live in infamy.

Yesterday I gave in to an urge and went to Half-Price Books, where I snagged 17 books at under $2.00 each. Later, I bought another half-dozen books on Amazon.

Before I left the house I washed my car for the first time in a year. Today it rained.

And the countdown continues...

42 Days To Go

I like the number 42. The Doolittle Raid and the Battle of Midway happened in '42. Summer of '42 was a pretty good movie. My younger baby was born when I was 42. I didn't want to rush into things, I guess.

Pictured is the classic shadow band The Moops. From let to right are yours truly, Dave "Evan" Lewis, and Brian Trainer (alias Tough Jim Gaston). Tough Jim is going to have some heart surgery in about 10 days and I want to wish him every kind of good fortune. He's a swell fellow and a magnificent guitarist.

43 Days To Go

I really have nothing to say about the number 43, but this day is not without good tidings. James Reasoner, as fine and prolific a writer as ever beat a keyboard into submission, posted a review of my latest book, THE TOYMAN RIDES AGAIN, on his excellent blog. If I remember how to create links you'll find it here. Thanks, James, for your perspicacity.

44 Days To Go

A pair of fours in poker is called Sailboats. I used to have a .44 magnum Ruger Blackhawk. There are 44 keys in half a piano keyboard. The days melt away, but not fast enough.

My older girl, Stephanie, who is gifting me with a granddaughter in November, had a checkup today. All is well, I'm relieved and happy to say.

Tune in tomorrow when I have even less to say.

45 Day To Go

Just 45 working days left. I can liken the number 45 to 1845, the year the Mexican War started, and 1945, the year WWII ended and my older sister was born. I had a semi-productive weekend. Finally installed the molding on the new flooring (new several months ago) and took $30 from the Muckleshoot tribe at their large and clean casino.

I'm also tracking the Auburn, WA, team in the Little League World Series. After dropping their first game in the double-elimination format to Connecticutt 3-1, they came back to win two subsequent games and are still in the tournament. Auburn is just northeast of us and it's also where the Muckleshoot Casino stands. Seen how it all ties together?

46 Days To Go

On April 1 in '46 my cousin George was born. I don't have anything else to say about that number.

Our squardon picnic was held today. I went, I ate, I left.

Speaking of work, our new break room had the TV hooked up a few days ago and we now get a station called RTV (Retro Television). I've had a chance to watch episodes of I Spy and Daniel Boone. I missed Quincy, but it was there, along with Kojak. Today's I Spy guest starred Sue Randall, famous as Miss Landers on Leave It to Beaver. She looked a bit fuller in the face (filmed in 1965, three years after Randall left LITB), but she looked as lovely as ever. She also had a chance to emote more than she did as the wise and caring teacher. But you know what I liked best about these old shows?

Steady cameras that held a shot. No blitz cuts, no wobbly camera work, no brilliant lights flashing in my face--none of those damnable MTV effects every callow director finds necessary to inflict on us, and I doubt they even know why they're doing it.

47 Days To Go

I'm sure I'll have trouble finding a tie-in to certain numbers, but 47 is a snap. The US Air Force, my employer, was born in 1947. So was I.

48 Days To Go

There were 48 states when I was born, and there are 48 working days to go. Join the countdown as I watch a life of typical civil servitude come to an end. Today was unpleasant. I must have spent over 5 hours in a cramped K Loader cab of one kind or another, mostly waiting for people to get their butts in gear. At least I was smart enough to bring a book. On the up side, some reservists visiting from San Antonio had a burger burn to celebrate their departure, so I glommed onto free food.

You might have read about the sonic booms that hit our area yesterday. What happened was a float plane with a clueless pilot violated restricted air space in Seattle, causing two F-15 fighters stationed in Portland, OR, to scramble. I had just left the post office where I'd mailed my retirement papers when the noises hit. My first thought was the Army was firing some large cannons, but when my older daughter said it shook her house at a distance from the base I changed my mind.

As you know, the president flies around in Air Force One, even for non-essential, tax-money-wasting trips like the ones he's been on recently to prop up Democrats running for office. Did you also know that a second plane flies with him? Said backup craft sat outside my building yesterday until the POTUS finished his fraud, waste, and abuse campaigning, at which time it flew to wherever he was going next.

49 Days To Go

I'm a 49er today. I mailed my retirement papers to Randolph AFB, Texas today and I hope they aren't lost. The government has a bad habit of losing my documents going back to 1966.

Willamette Writers Conference

August 6-8, 2010: My trip to Portland and the Willamette Writers' Conference was a lot of fun and a bit of work. I got up at 3:30 a.m. so I'd be there for breakfast at 7:30 but the roads were so sparsely populated with autos I got in almost an hour early. Not a problem. I went into the hotel and read a paper until the room opened that had the badges and packets for the volunteers. Soon after that my friend Dave "Evan" Lewis showed up and we hit the chow line. The food was plentiful if unspectacular. We paid $27-a-day for it but that was our only expense for the whole affair. Regular attendees paid as much as $500. Over the next three days we split our time between our work in the pitch practice room and watching panels. I was lucky on day one--most of the people who pitched to me were young ladies. But it wasn't all beer and skittles and creamy thighs. There were some characters who stick in my mind no matter how hard I've tried to dislodge them. To wit:

Meatloaf. This woman looked like Meatloaf, or his fatter, homelier sister. She had a book she couldn't explain, she ate enough at the meals to feed Bangladesh, and at one panel she slept the whole time. Dave and I happened to be sitting in the row behind her as she snoozed. I stage whispered "Meatloaf! Meatloaf!" a few times but she slept right through it.

Superfly. A 6'6" black guy in a suit a pimp would love who hasn't written anything. He's on a local access TV show and some days stands at one end of a bridge wearing a tux and Mickey Mouse ears. He passed out DVD's of his show, talked too loud in the pitch practice room, and seemed to be fundraising for some crackpot scheme.

Nervous Nellie. A woman who's written a memoir and can't figure out what to emphasize in her pitch. I got the impression she was about to break out into a crying jag at any moment, and damned if she didn't use me twice to practice her pitch. Twenty minutes before she was to meet with an agent she still didn't know what to do. I wanted to smack her in the head and tell her to quit fretting and leave me alone.

On the up side there were the 14- and 15-year-old girls who'd written novels. At 15 I was learning to smoke, and at 14 I hadn't accomplished even that much. Most admirable kids. Most of the people I worked with in pitch practice were normal, intelligent, and affable folks, of course, but they aren't as fun to talk about.

Better than all that was spending time with Dave and our rocker friend Tough Jim Gaston. Also Laurie, a friend of Jim's and member of his band, Rock Residue. And dinner out each night and a trip to Powell's City of Books after the con was over. All those books and I forgot to look for a couple of titles I've been wanting for years. I spent $75 anyway, half on some books for my younger daughter.

The programs I saw were a study in contradictions. Memoirs were out/Memoirs were hot. Don't use a professional editor to revise your manuscript/Do use one. Use e-mail to submit or query/Don't do it. Even the woman who proclaimed that any attribution other than "said" should be avoided found exceptions this year.

I don't know if I'll be able to attend next year, being a poor pensioner and all, but I'd like to. Being among so many writers and wannabes is refreshing.

50 More

Yep, only 50 more working days and I can kiss my illustrious career with the Department of Defense goodbye. While I am grateful as all get out for the steady paychecks, the b.s. factor that has gotten horribly worse these past few years assures that I won't miss the place one iota once I'm gone.

Pictured is a Tunner 60K Loader and a KC-135 air-to-air refueling plane. The plane is a visitor since all we have at McChord Field are C-17 Globemaster III cargo planes.

Happy Birthday America

Nothing profound to say. I just hope everyone has a safe and happy celebration.

Grandchild News

Stephanie had her ultrasound today and the verdict is in. It's a....












Girl!

Her name will be Sophia (maybe Sofia).

June 25, 1876

It was 134 years ago today that Lt. Col. Custer and five troops of the 7th U.S. Cavalry met their end at the Little Big Horn. That single engagement has generated more controversy than any other battle in history, and also spawned a small industry of books, figures, comics, cards, movies, and dozens of other ephemera. My Custer collection includes jigsaw puzzles, flags, a belt buckle, a battlefield pennant, dozens of books, figures, movies, a card set, a decanter, prints, and more. So here's a salute from the Cap'n to all those who fought and/or died that day, red or white.

All About Me

I've been quiet here of late but there's an interview with me (part 3 of ?) on Evan Lewis's excellent blog. Go to davycrockettsalmanack.blogspot.com and learn all about my experiences at various mystery conventions. At least the parts I can prudently discuss.

D-Day

On this day in 1944 the Allies invaded continental Europe at Normandy and started the drive that would lead to the defeat of Nazi Germany. Not many of the heroes who stormed those beaches are still alive, but here at Casa Cap'n we salute them.
Pictured is a blogger from that battle.

I'm Rich! I'm Rich!

The following e-mail arrived in my box this morning. About damned time. I've already quit my job and sent Margaret my bank account information. I ought to have the money within 48 hours. Gee, I wonder what the poor people are doing tonight.

Dear Lucky Winner.

Please be informed that your email address have won you the grand sum of £1,000,000 GBP in the United Kingdom International Lottery promotion held 2010. Get in touch with me for more information on how to claim your prize.

Congratulations

Thank you,

Mrs. Margaret Sweetland.

I'LL BET HE'S SORRY HE ASKED

Blogmeister supreme Evan Lewis has an interview with me on his blog. He'll be running it over several days. Go to: davycrockettsalmanack.blogspot.com

That's Evan's picture.

WOULD YOU PAY $2,499.99 FOR MY BOOK?

You would if you buy it from Big T Products via Amazon. Plus $3.99 for shipping. Are these people bottom-feeding burn artists or have I achieved hypermodern status?

BUSTED

Three of the four home invaders/murderers that killed my younger daughter's boyfriend's uncle were arrested in California on unrelated charges. One bailed out, the other two are in stir and awaiting extradition. The one who made bail did so before it was learned she was one of the creeps wanted up here.

STEPHANIE

This is my older girl, Stephanie, the mother-to-be. I'm too young for all this.

FAMILY ALBUM

Here's an untrasound picture of my grandchild-to-be. Due date Nov. 16.

BAD NEWS HIT HOME

The following account is in tonight's on line local newspaper:

A 43-year-old man is dead after four robbers invaded his Edgewood home Wednesday night, according to the Pierce County Sheriff's Office.

Deputies responded around 9:30 p.m. to a report of a residential robbery in the 3600 block of 106th Avenue Court E. They arrived to find an unconscious man with a gunshot wound, according to Pierce County Sheriff's spokesman Ed Troyer. The man died at the scene.

Three people were at home at the time of the robbery -- the man, his wife, and their 14-year-old son, Troyer said.

Troyer gave this account:

The family had been trying to sell a ring on Craigslist and had received a call earlier from the suspects, who said that they were interested. Three males and one female knocked on the door and showed cash to get inside. Once they were let in, the robbers pulled guns on the family, tying up the mother and shooting the father. The son then jumped on one gunman and was struck on the head.

The teen has been taken to a hospital. It does not appear that he was shot.

This may be the second Craigslist robbery of the night in the county, said Troyer, who added that another person was tied up and had his car stolen several hours earlier.

Cap'n Bob again. The victims are the uncle, aunt, and cousin of my younger daughter's boyfriend. As you can imagine, his family is terribly upset. I'm sure they'll catch the mutants who did this crime, and I'm equally sure they won't be sufficiently punished.

And Yet Another Perceptive Critic

Read another review of my page burner at Bill Crider's excellent blog:

BillCrider.blogspot.com

Just so this doesn't sound like nothing but blatant self-promotion, let me add that I won $50 from the Puyallup Tribe today.

Also, I will be doing a signing at the Seattle Mystery Bookstore on Saturday the 24th at noon. I'd love to see you there.

Another Perceptive Critic

Go to the following blog for another review of my latest book, plus the previous one.

http://randall120.wordpress.com/2010/04/17/the-toyman-robert-s-napier/#comment-1894

Hey, Walleeee, Happy Birthday

Tony "Wally Cleaver" Dow is 65 today. Thanks for all the great entertainment, Tony. That's Dow on the right and on the left is Jerry Mathers as The Beaver.

TOYMAN REVIEW

There's a review of THE TOYMAN RIDES AGAIN at lauriepowerswildwest.blogspot.com

The George Meme

Or, The Ten Most Influential Books I've Read.

In no particular order they are:

1. Doctor Dan the Bandage Man. The first book I recall owning. The Band Aids in the back made me want to cut myself just so I could use them.

2. The Catcher in the Rye. I identified with the kid who was out of step with the world. Still do.

3. The Complete Sherlock Holmes. I may have the title wrong, but once I read one story I had to read them all.

4. I. the Jury. I was just the right age to appreciate the sex and violence and I always found Hammer's over-the-top emotions amusing in a strange way.

5. Fanny Hill. This combination of Victorian prose and blatant sex made me wish I'd been born a century sooner and a lot richer.

6. Slaughterhouse Five. Which started me on a tear through Vonnegut's work, which I like a lot.

7. Farewell, My Lovely. My first Chandler. I still consider him the best.

8. Son of the Morning Star. The first detailed and balanced biography of George Armstrong Custer and the Battle of the Little Big Horn I read.

9. Babbitt. Love the zip, zing, and zowee.

10. The Pictorial History of World War II. A four-volume set we had at home when I was a kid, covering the war in stark detail.

I'm not counting comics, though if I did the first Spider-Man would be the one. I left out fantasy and science fiction, too. I was much impressed with Stranger in a Strange Land, by Robert Heinlien. If I had to choose a Western it would be Shane or True Grit, but I read them too late in life to really call them influential. The illustration that accompanies this post is what is known as gratuitous.

Apology to a Virgin

I've been crowing a lot lately about having a jacket stolen from me when I returned from L.A. via Virgin Airlines. Today I did my laundry and in the botton of the basket I found that jacket. How it got there I don't know. It wasn't even dirty. So I have removed Virgin from my overburdened shit list, sent them an apology, and confessed my sins to a itinerant druid priest.

What bothers me as much as standing here with egg on my face is the fact that I have no recollection whatsoever of tossing that jacket into the laundry basket. Is my mind really that far gone? It's a frightening prospect.

But as long as I have your attention, don't forget to read my new mystery novel, THE TOYMAN RIDES AGAIN. No signs of senility are present in that work.

New Header

See my new header? It's not the best job I've ever done, but it might be the most frustrating. The photo is me about 40 pounds ago, I mean 30 years ago. Oh to be young again.

For the last six days I have been trying to find someone, anyone, at Virgin America Airlines to speak with about the jacket stolen from my luggage from one of their fine, fine baggage handlers. Talk about a runaround. Call here. Call there. Go here. E-mail this. Contact that. I'm convinced they intentionally make it impossible to complain about their lousy service. For one thing, they don't publish anything that would direct you to the department that handles the problem. If by some miracle you find the right number to call no one will answer. I'm disgusted. I'll make one more attempt, by writing to the main office, but I have little hope anything will come from it.
I have a lengthy shit list, and Virgin America just got added.

Let's Do Lunch

My cousin Glenn and I ate at LA's famous In-and-Out Burgers when I was there. Some people (like Mark Evanier) swear they are the best burgers anywhere. They're good, but I've had better. The best hamburgers I ever ate were served at a Der Weinerschnitzel in Campbell, California, circa 1977. The franchise was operated by a Middle Eastern family and they flavored their burgers with something that gave them an exotic and wonderful taste.
Not that there's anything wrong with In-and-Out. If nothing else, their order taking should be the blueprint for every fast food business extant. A line of 20 cars can be processed in a matter of minutes, quicker than one person can order at the average McGarbage. It's a marvel of efficiency.
The photo of this Air India 747 on its glide path was taken by cousin Glenn during a different visit. As you might guess, we're close to the airport. You know, LAX, where Virgin America's baggage handlers think we pack our clothes for their use.

Left Coast Crime in Los Angeles

March 11-14 marked another LCC, and since it nearly coincided with the official release date of my second book (order THE TOYMAN RIDES AGAIN on Amazon), I decided to go. I also thought it would be a good chance to see some old and new friends who live down there.
The Good: I enjoyed the convention for the most part. I attended quite a few panels and they were mostly interesting. The one on Chandler's LA contained a few misstatements of fact, but nothing too glaring. I was able to correct one during the Q&A. The book bags were nice, with zippered tops, and the books inside were okay. I kept about half. The staff was friendly and tried to be helpful--not that I needed any help, but I felt they were there if I did. The hotel was very good, with most of the amenities. I'm still not sure why people need a phone next to the toilet, but for them that do, it was there. It was generous of Michael Connelly to provide a free bag lunch on Saturday, but the food was forgettable except for the cookie. But it was free. I saw half a dozen people there I knew from either Dapa-Em or MDM, and a few writers of my acquaintance. Had a nice chat with Parnell Hall, name dropper that I am. I also saw some LA landmarks while being driven around: The Coliseum, USC, train station, Parker Center, LA Times, and the Bradbury Building. I went inside the Bradbury building, which was two streets down from the hotel (Omni Int'l), but couldn't go upstairs because it was closed. Still, I had a good look at the famous grill work, brass, and architecture. From the outside it isn't as eye-catching, and the lower floors house a Sub-Way sandwich shop, a cutlery store, and a cell phone store. The rest of the street is all Mexican shops. Walking along, I felt like I was in Ensenada. On Saturday evening I met my old pal Jan Strand and his wife Julie for dinner at a Mexican restaurant. Good food, good conversation, and I learned that one can have margaritas on the rocks. I can't abide crushed ice in my beverages and this was a wonderful revelation. The next day, after I'd left the hotel for a Holiday Inn, Jan and Julie took me to the Gene Autry Museum of Western Heritage. It took a while to drive the last half mile because the approach is the same road as the LA Zoo, but we had a swell time seeing all the cowboy/Old West exhibits and the Hollywood versions of the Old West. I mean, when you can see John Wayne's shirt, Clint Eastwood's hat, and George Armstrong Custer's pistol in the same building, something's going right.

The Bad: The hospitality suite was a joke. Little or no food and not much of a variety in beverages. All I saw to eat were some apples and a couple of bags of chips. And the room was tiny. The name badges didn't identify the status of the attendee. Writer, Editor, Agent, Fan, Bookseller, etc. Maybe this isn't done anymore, but it should be. Worst of all, some s.o.b. stole my denim jacket from my suitcase at LAX on the return flight. I paid $25 to have that bag sent, and this is how they treat it. Maybe even worse is the fact that I'd planned to spend the week after the con with my cousin when a job opportunity popped up for him. We managed to visit for one day. Now, I learn that the job was canceled. I haven't been in LA for 25 years and the one week I'm there this happens. I could just scream.

The Ugly: Photos of me. Notice that earlier I said there were some people I knew in attendance? That translated to one book sale. Since I wasn't on any panels, I didn't expect a stranger to buy one (at a generous discount), but this...

The next Left Coast Crime convention will be on the tropical seaport city of Santa Fe, New Mexico. Do be there.

FESS PARKER, RIP

The man who portrayed Davy Crockett and Daniel Boone to millions of my generation has passed away at age 85. By all accounts he was a fine gentleman and a kind person. I never met him, but I'll always be grateful for the many entertainments he gave me not only as Davy and Daniel but in movies like THE GREAT LOCOMOTIVE CHASE, WESTWARD HO THE WAGONS, and OLD YELLER. Thanks, Fess.

Toyman Review

The following is the first review I've seen of my latest literary effort, THE TOYMAN RIDES AGAIN. Hey, if Harriet Klausner likes it, I'm happy. She's a dear lady.


In Tacoma, Washington, veteran and former investigative reporter Jack Lorentz enjoys selling collectible toys to baby boomers though he only makes a modest living at the Olden Daze co-op. August Baldwin enters his shop and says he recognizes the smell of death by shooting (see Love, Death, And The Toyman). He explains to Lorentz that he wants to hire him to protect the reenactor Charles Swanson playing the role of General George Armstrong Custer. He feels with Jack’s recent reputation, he might keep away those who want to harm the reenactor playing the role because someone has threatened him.

Jack is to play the part of reporter Mark Kellogg who died at the battle of Little Big Horn. However, after a previous skirmish, on the way to the site where the current battle will rage, Native Americans led by Harold Two Bears and Professor Abigail She Stands In Light attack the company. When the dust settles, Custer-Swanson is dead with Two Bears’ knife in him. Police Sergeant Cooper arrests Two Bears while Abigail asks Jack to snoop as she believes her friend is innocent. Attracted to the professor, Jack knows she had access to Two Bear’s knife. As he makes inquiries, Jack alienates everyone.

This is a fun Reagan era whodunit starring a reluctant former investigative journalist who feels guilty that he failed at his mission though he knows Swanson as Custer was impossible to protect. The story line provides a fascinating deep look at reenactors, but an incident with a new recruit seems over the top of Granite Peak. The whodunit is entertaining as the reader knows whom most likely killed Custer yet not sure how. The Toyman Rides Again is a fun mystery.

Harriet Klausner

Dear John

There's a movie out that I think is titled DEAR JOHN. I also hear it's not very good. I mention it only because someone at work told me that in the beginning it shows a C-17 cargo airplane being loaded. That's what I do for a living, usually driving the big machine that transports the load to the plane. Not rocket science but it pays the bills. The photo depicts a 60K Tunner Loader. It is capable to hauling 60,000 pounds of cargo and named after General Tunner, the architech of the Berlin Air Lift. That's not a C-17 flying past in the picture, by the way. It's a KC-135 air-to-air refueler, which is also capable to carrying cargo loads.

It Was 174 Years Ago Today

On the 13th day of the siege of the Alamo Santa Ana's forces finally breached the North Wall's defenses in a pre-dawn assault. Once that happened the outcome of the battle was not in question. The defnders were killed to a man. The date was March 6, 1836.

The figures I'm presenting today depict: (left) Col. William Barrett Travis; (center) Jim Bowie, and; (right) Davy Crockett. Despite the recent hoorawing, I firmly believe that Crockett died during the fight and there is firm evidence to support that idea. But I'm not here to argue historical trivia. I wish to pay tribute to the brave defenders of the Alamo, whose lengthy stand served to allow Sam Houston to raise an army as well as cause large, demoralizing casualties in the Mexican ranks.