Jax Book Nook

After months of waiting, it has finally arrived: Beer Run II is available on Amazon. Simply check this link: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0CW1FWB32/

Also, you can find this book, and my original book, on the website of Summer Solstice, my publisher: Solstice Publishing Home (solsticeempire.com). My thanks to everyone at Solstice Publishing who made this possible. ds

Finally, I’ve convinced another local bookstore to sell Beer Run, the original. Plot Twist Books in South Charleston, WV will start stocking copies of Beer Run this weekend. It’s been a banner week here on the nock. I hope it will be a long-fruitful partnership.

I hope you all give Beer Run II a chance.

Hello, everyone, it’s been a while since I last posted. That’s due to the fact that I only have so much creativity at one time, and pretty much all of it has been used writing a new novel, which I have just completed the first draft of. It’s a completion of the idea I had talked about earlier on this blog about a world where people have virtual families in the cloud. My obsession is somewhat sated now that I have a first draft at approximately 80,000 words.

More importantly, I have an update for Beer Run II: The Great Reckoning. We’ve moved past the editing stage and have selected a cover for the book. I don’t have a finalized cover yet, or a finalized draft, but it’s coming down the pipe. As a summary of the story, the Lunatics, a Xenophobic group of populists, are convinced by an online conspiracy theory that Bill is a cannibal. To investigate the possibility of a lawsuit, Bill’s lawyer hires Bill’s intern, Jimmy, to look into Cody Duncan, the presumptive leader of the movement. Jimmy finds Cody to be a con artist, the kind he admires, but as he goes deeper undercover, Jimmy loses himself in his role and soon finds himself on the wrong side of the con.

I will update later as the book approaches publication date. Thanks for checking in.

We’re going to try another new feature here on the Nook: Citation Needed. Citation Needed is a column where we explore unique “factual” claims that could perhaps use better support. Let’s get started.

***

There’s an active debate among historians as to whether Shakespeare was a real person. Sure, there’s the fact that we know he was a real person from commonly kept records at the time, and all the documentary evidence appears to favor him being the author of the plays attributed to him. But how could a commoner like Shakespeare both know and understand the complex life of the royal court? How could such great plays be written by someone with little education from dirt poor Stratford? Frankly, how could a man who came from nothing write beautiful plays that spoke to the human condition?

The answers to these questions are simple: Williams Shakespeare had telepathy. It explains everything. The lack of education? That can be solved if you know how to read minds. Knowledge of royal courts? He might not have been allowed in the royal court, but he was definitely interacted with people who were. Just read their minds, and you know everything. Who knows more about the human condition than a man who’s seen the inside of everyone’s mind? Nobody.

It explains so much. How else could Shakespeare write such beautiful sonnets about beautiful women and a mid-summer’s day? Keep in mind, this is England, which has little of either of those. Maybe he met a Frenchman once. How could an uneducated tradesman understand the motivations of a king like Henry V? What? You think a man like Henry V was a man like any other, as if some nobody could understand him? Would a man with no education ponder what it means to exist like Hamlet? No, without a university degree, the most complicated thoughts you will ever have concerning human existence are worrying about whether your live-in girlfriend is pregnant right after you get laid off from the 7-Eleven. The only way Billy Shakespeare could write these amazing works of art is through the power of telepathy.

Now, you might ask what documentary evidence I have of this. None. But the only alternative is to believe that people who have no formal degrees in the fine arts or even any formal education are fully capable of creating great art, which is a prospect I can’t handle. Or that Shakespeare’s plays were written by Francis Bacon or Edward de Vere, but the people who believe that are nuts.

Sorry for not posting. I’ve been working on a new novel that’s really going pretty well. That and things have been Hell at work. I’ve decided to try a new series here on the nook: Unreliable Narrator.

***

Alright, here’s what I saw at the big game. After the coin flip, which the Chiefs won, Taylor Swift turned into a massive and ancient Red Dragon, which swooped down upon the San Francisco sideline and roasted the entire lineup, leaving nothing but devastation and destruction in her wake. The 49ers tried to flee with their lives in vain, but Swifty the Great and Terrible quickly tracked each one of them down and gobbled them up.

We then went to commercial break where the CEO of Budweiser brand unzipped his pants and pissed into a Bud Light can on camera before giving the audience the middle finger and saying, “Fuck you.” This was followed by a commercial for an online service called “It’s Legal” that can create AI-generated images of…things.

We come back to the game in the second quarter, where Swifty the Great has now abandoned the stadium and flown to San Francisco to satiate her wrath. Flying through downtown, Swifty knocks down the skyline, one by one, with her powerful wings. She roasts the Mission district with her fiery breath. The flames spread across the city as Swifty perches on the golden gate bridge and roars, shattering windows across the entire bay area and even as far as Monterrey. The city of San Francisco sinks into the sea.

The halftime show features the use of newly discovered resurrection technology, as the zombified corpses of Kurt Corbain, Jimi Hendrix, and Amy Winehouse take center stage. Fans are amazed, though some religious viewers see this a sign of the Armageddon. However, the amazement ends when the reanimated body of Prince arrives and attempts to undress Winehouse on stage.

The second half begins with Swifty flying up and down the state of California, destroying 49ers fans wherever she may find them. Swifty conspicuously avoids Southern California cities Los Angeles and San Diego, which have their own teams. Greedy owners wanting stadium deals approve. This creates an online conspiracy theory that Swifty’s appearance is really a false flag operation between city governments and NFL owners. It’s the most intelligent conspiracy theory concerning Taylor Swift this month.

Another commercial: this time for Jesus. Jesus himself appears on camera. “Look, I’m not going to try to sugar coat this,” the Lord pleads. “I know recent, and ancient, events may cast doubt on the idea that religion has something positive to offer society. But let’s remember the good parts. Remember that thing I did with the woman who was about to be stoned? Remember your grandma taking you to Church? Nobody’s perfect, other than me, of course, so why are you being so judgmental? Come on, what else are you going to do on Sunday morning? Sleep in?” Weekly church attendance goes down another two percentage points.

The game ends with the Chiefs being declared the winner by the NFL. The league recognizes Kansas City as super bowl champions once again after Swifty flies to New York, New York and lands on their corporate headquarters. Roger Goodell comes out and pays tribute to the almighty dragon, who turns back into Taylor Swift.

“Are you a god?” asks Swift.

Goodell answers in the negative, leading Swift to explode his head using lightning. Chiefs win.

Good news! I have successfully placed Beer Run on the shelves of a bookstore! (Round of Applause) I successfully convinced Chip Smith of Scapegoat Books, located at the Eclectic Goods Market in Dunbar to purchase four copies of Beer Run at a heavy discount. (Very heavy, but still) This is the first time a bookstore has purchased copies for resale. Needless to say, it’s a momentous occasion. Hopefully, it will not be the last. If anyone would like to visit Scapegoat Books, the Eclectic Goods Market is at 1401 Charles Avenue, Dunbar, WV 25064.

I’m eyeing a few other independent bookstores in the area. Hoping to get Beer Run in more stores. If you know of any independent bookstores that would be interested in stocking Beer Run, please let me know.

Recently, a United States District Court in the Southern District of New York has unsealed records from a civil case against Jeffrey Epstein from 2015, giving rise to a “list” of mentioned individuals. While not every name on the list was a client of Epstein, names that have appeared have caused people to wonder. I have obtained one particular section of the record which, I believe, has gone uncovered.

***

Trial Transcript–Witness Statement

Plaintiff’s Counsel: State your name for the record please.

Witness: (Inaudible)

PC: Could you repeat that?

Witness: You know who I am.

PC: Your honor…

His Honor: The witness will repeat his name so the jury can hear him. Better yet. Spell it out.

Witness: (Sigh) M-I-C…K-E-Y….M-O-U-S-E. Mickey Mouse.

PC: You are the same Mickey Mouse who appeared in Steamboat Willie?

MM: Yeah, that’s me. I’m sure you’ve seen my work. Do you have any questions?

PC: Yes, several. Let’s start with this: How did you meet Mr. Epstein?

MM: Through friends.

PC: Which friends?

MM: Peter Pan. Frankenstein’s monster. The Tooth Fairy.

HH: Would you like to spend a night in jail Mr. Mouse?

MM: I met him through DiCaprio. I do work in movies, you know.

PC: Who initiated contact first?

MM: I did.

PC: Why?

MM: I needed someone to manage my money, and he was a genius. He added a zero onto my bank account, and my bank account had plenty of zeroes in the first place.

PC: When did you first hear about Little Saint James?

MM: You mean Jeffrey’s secret island?

PC: Yes, the one he took Ms. Giuffre to.

MM: Oh, the other secret island. Sorry about that. I think Ghislaine told Minnie about it at a charity event we were all at. The Clintons were there as well. Minnie made a comment about how many interns he actually boinked, and then Ghislaine stopped a minute, like she was kind of counting in her head, and then said “At least seven.” One thing led to another and we are all suddenly getting onto a charter plane to the middle of the Virgin Islands.

PC: Who was all on the plane?

MM: Other than Minnie, myself, Jeffrey and Ghislaine?

PC: Yes.

MM: Well, there was Donald.

PC: By Donald you mean…

MM: Yeah, you know, the guy who speaks nonsense and doesn’t wear pants.

PC: Oh, you mean Donald…

MM: Trump. Sorry, took me a while to remember.

PC: Huh. I mean you said the guy who speaks nonsense and doesn’t wear pants…

MM: When I met the guy, he wasn’t wearing pants, and I’ve never been able to understand a word that came out of that bastard’s mouth.

PC: Okay, so Mr. Trump was on the plane without pants. What was he doing?

MM: The plane was filled with the USC cheer squad, completely naked, crawling around on their knees. Use your imagination.

PC: I’m going to need you to be more specific.

MM: He was eating a well-done steak with ketchup. Donnie couldn’t get it up. He hasn’t been able to get an erection in years. I think it had something to do with Melania setting his pubic hair on fire after the whole Stormy thing.

PC: Well, who were the girls for?

MM: Stephen Hawking. The things that guy could do with a finger, let me tell you.

PC: Other than them, was anyone else there?

MM: Nope, that was it. Oh, I guess you would consider Enrico, Jeffrey’s tiny man servant to be a person. I never think of the little people.

PC: You mean he’s a little person?

MM: He’s a midget, but when I use the term “little people,” I’m referring to people who have to fly commercial.

PC: What did he do?

MM: Other than Jeffrey himself, when we landed, he stepped on the tarmac first and said “Welcome to the Magical Sex Island, where your most sordid masturbation fantasies come true!” in that little voice from the show.

PC: So we get to the island. Who else is there?

MM: Who wasn’t there? Al Gore, Richard Branson, George Lucas, the pope.

PC: Which pope?

MM: Both of them. We didn’t need God there. We were gods. You could get anything your heart desired. Both sexes. All ages. Dressed in whatever costume you needed.

PC: Did you see Ms. Giuffre there?

MM: No. Jeffrey brought us there to live out our fantasies. I wasn’t interested in a young girl. I spent most of my time playing with the dog.

PC:…

MM: You heard me.

Big announcement everyone! Beer Run II: The Great Reckoning, has been accepted for publication by Solstice Publishing and is now in editing. My thanks to the good people at Solstice Publishing for helping me get the sequel published. Here’s their website, if you want to check out what else they have published: Solstice Publishing Home (solsticeempire.com).

To give you all a summary of what the next story is about, it takes place immediately after the events of the first book, with Bill and Cassandra arriving back on the moon. Bill, followed by the world’s most obvious government spy, to find someone has set his lawn furniture on fire. It is none other than Jethro Duff, leader of the Lunatics, who has a new vendetta against Bill stemming from an online conspiracy called “The Great Reckoning,” which accuses Bill of being a cannibal. Bill engages a lawyer to sue these people, who in turn hires Bill’s intern, Jimmy, as a private investigator. However, when Jimmy infiltrates the organization, he finds himself getting caught up a little too much in his undercover role.

I wanted to write a sequel focusing on the Lunatics because they were a part of the last book, but they really didn’t play that much into the plot. I thought Jethro and Co. needed a little more thought given the cultural moment we were in. Furthermore, I am trying to write novels that focus on different characters in my universe, and whereas Isaac and Cassandra were a big part of the last book, this book concentrates on Jimmy.

Hopefully, I’ve intrigued you. I want to sell lots of copies. Here’s a link to the original, by the way:

As I came home from work on Friday, looking forward to the New Years Day weekend, and all the clock turning festivities that entails, I suddenly got struck by an idea for a book. It gripped me. In a way that I haven’t been gripped by an idea in several years. The last time I got gripped by this idea was for Pandemonium, my yet unpublished first novel, and I have been rewriting and trying to get that published for three years now. Still haven’t quite gotten that finished.

Much like Pandemonium, this idea hit me like a thunderbolt, and by the end of Sunday, I had a two-page outline, single-spaced, that laid out an entire science fiction novel. I won’t describe it in complete detail, but it takes place in a world where people work jobs in the physical world during the day and then plug their brains into the cloud at night to live with a “virtual family” they buy upgrades to from a multinational corporation. The main character is about to retire with his virtual family permanently when he logs on one night to find they are all gone, the result of a hack of his online account.

The funny thing about this idea is that I’ve got a lot of pans in the fire right now, so I can’t really execute it until I hear back on a few other things, among them, ironically, being Pandemonium, which I am waiting to hear back on from a few independent publishers. That’s why I am wondering if an outline is all I can write at this moment. I might get some kind of start on it, but I can’t promise to finish it with all the other things I have going on.

Ever had that happen to you? You get struck by an idea and then you can’t think about anything else for a few days? What do you do if your schedule is so full, you can’t really act on it at the time? People talk about writer’s block, but what happens when the idea comes and you have no time to act on it? Which is a worse problem for you?

Now that we have Christmas in the rearview mirror, let’s think about New Years. It is very common to make New Year resolutions when you want to change something about yourself. However, those typically fail, which is why I plan to make irresolutions: things I resolve not to do.

I resolve not to put myself in a diabetic coma by trying to eat all of the Christmas candy currently in my house.

I resolve not to write about politics on this blog during an election year regardless of how many times I want to throw my television out the window.

I resolve not to break the world record for most YouTube videos watched, which would be difficult if I’ve thrown my television out the window.

I resolve not to drink myself to an early grave after seeing my novel get rejected by 30 or 40 different publishers.

I resolve not to tract down my previous employers and behead them in a fit of rage.

I resolve not cry when my favorite sports team, the Arkansas Razorbacks, invent a new way to lose in the most painful way possible.

I resolve not to say I told you so when ChatGPT gains control of America’s nuclear arsenal and ushers in the apocalypse.

I resolve not to give a fake Five-Star rating to every book I read, particularly not if it’s a memoir of a third-world dictator, a pornographic novel written by a twelve-year-old Burmese girl in a sweatshop, or the dictionary.

I resolve not to respond to rejections by sending back an email saying that I wouldn’t want to have my work published in their rinky-dink magazine anyway.

Finally, I resolve not to waste my readers time with more irresolutions. Happy New Year.

(Scene opens at the Pearly Gates. A Greek man, wearing Bishop robes ascends through the clouds below and is welcomed by St. Peter)

Peter: Oh! St. Nicholas! You are finally here! Welcome to the Kingdom of Heaven, great teacher! I am Saint Peter,

Nicholas: Saint Peter! The Rock of the Church! This must truly be paradise! Blessed be to God! My entire life has been aimed at crossing this holy threshold! My cup overflows!

(Nicholas falls to his knees in prayer. After praising the almighty for this honor, he opens his eyes to see a concerned expression on Peter’s face.)

Nicholas: Your holiness, what concerns you? Is there a problem?

Peter: Oh, it’s just you have a particular assignment when you get inside.

Nicholas: Whatever my Lord commands. What is the assignment?

Peter: Well…..

Nicholas: Does it pertain to my important work on the council of Nicaea? Or does the Lord require some special penance from me after that unfortunate incident with Arius?

Peter: No, not at all, the Lord thinks a night in jail is sufficient for that, and by the way, Arius kind of deserved it.

Nicholas: He was an hour over his allotted speaking time. Then this must relate to my work as the Bishop of Myra or the many miracles I performed!

Peter: Uh….it does involve supernatural occurrences. Think earlier. It involves giving gifts.

Nicholas: You don’t mean that time I donated the dowry money so that man could marry his daughters off. I was just trying to keep them out of a life of prostitution, and I would have preferred my actions to remain secret. To brag about charity is most sinful.

Peter: Getting warmer. Come with me.

(Peter leads Nicholas through the pearly gates. Rather than a heavenly kingdom, they are instead transported to a frozen wasteland. Nicholas grabs his bishop robes, trying to stay warm.)

Nicholas: Your holiness. I must admit, this is not what I expected the Kingdom of Heaven to look like. It is quite chilly here. Very different from the weather in Asia Minor.

Peter: Yes, it is. You might want to wear this.

(Peter holds out a thick red, winter coat and a pair of black snow boots. Nicholas looks at them in amazement)

Peter: The getup was invented by the Coca-Cola company. It’s not my personal taste, but it will keep you warm.

(Nicholas puts on the suit and snow boots. Peter points to a large building with shining lights off in the distance. Nicholas acknowledges and walks with Peter toward the lights, which alternate red, green, and blue.)

Nicholas: Where are we going?

Peter: Santa Claus’s workshop.

Nicholas: Who is Santa Claus?

Peter: You are. You are St. Nicholas, who over time became Sinterklaus, who then became Santa Clause.

Nicholas: I grew up as a patrician in the third-century Roman Empire. I have no trade skills. Am I a carpenter or a blacksmith?

Peter: You don’t need to worry about that. The elves will take care of everything.

Nicholas: Elves?

Peter: Your workers. Here’s one!

(Peter waves down a small figure, the size of a child, wearing bright, colorful clothing which ends in spirals on the shoes and top. The man approaches them as they arrive at the workshop.)

Elf: Hey, just in time! The name’s Tingle, the Elf. Thanks, Petey. I’ll take it from here.

(Peter vanishes into thin air. Tingle takes Nicholas’s hand and leads him into the workshop where a host of other elves start cheering when they see him. Nicholas is befuddled.)

Tingle: Yeah, yeah! He’s here! Finally! But we need to explain to him what he’s doing here!

(Now the elves look confused. Nicholas smiles politely)

Tingle: Santa here, didn’t know he was Santa until five minutes ago. He just got here from….where was it?

Nicholas: Asia Minor.

Tingle: Well, I’m sure after you were done with it, it was Asia Major. But anyway, Nicholas here has got to get into the swing of being Santa, so I’m going to take him to his office and explain things.

(The throng of elves started cheering again as Tingle leads Nicholas by the hand into another room. In this room, there is a large, red and green striped desk with a name plate that reads “Kris Kringle.”)

Nicholas: Who is Kris Kringle? I thought I was Santa Claus!

Tingle: You are, sometimes, other times you are Father Christmas. That’s for our British friends. Let me explain. Petey told you this had to do with the three ladies who were about to become working girls…

Nicholas: Yes, what about it?

Tingle: Well, you later became a canonized saint, congrats on that by the way.

Nicholas: I am unworthy.

Tingle: It ain’t exactly a blue plate special. You see, there are myths about you. Myths that change overtime. One day you are a Greek Bishop living in…

Nicholas: Asia Minor.

Tingle: Right. Fast forward 1700 years and you are now this guy who lives in the North Pole and every year you travel the globe giving toys to good children on Christmas.

Nicholas: I keep telling people I am not a craftsman.

Tingle: No, we are. My real name’s Bob. I used to work in a toy factory. Then one day a pallett of Tickle-Me Elmos fell off a forklift as it was leaving the factory and crushed my body. You’ve got thousands of years of toy making experience out there. All you have to do is fly the sleigh.

Nicholas: I have a sleigh and it flies?

Tingle: The reindeer can fly. The reindeer pull the sled. Look, I’m guessing you’ve never seen a reindeer either, but they are kind of like deer.

Nicholas: But they have wings.

Tingle: No, but one of them has a red nose. That one comes from a department store. Montgomery Ward.

Nicholas: Okay, so I fly this sleigh around the world and deliver toys to children through the window…

Tingle: The chimney actually.

Nicholas: The chimney. Now are these children being sold into prostitution?

Tingle: Like, a few of them, statistically, but don’t say that. We want to keep things positive around the holidays, which is a continuing thing around here.

Nicholas: Well, there are always holy days, but I was told this was for Christ’s Mass. That only happens once a year.

Tingle: On Earth, it happens once a year. And in Heaven, if you’re an adult, it happens once a year. For kids between the ages of 2 and 8, it happens once a week. Once a month for kids between 8 and 12. Most of those kids know Santa Clause is not real.

Nicholas: I am real. I thought I was Santa Claus.

Tingle: On Earth, Santa is really their parents, but here, we like to put on a show. You see, these are the kids who died as kids. Bone cancer. Malnutrition. Abuse. Really depressing stuff. And the first thing these kids want to do when they get to heaven is meet Santa Clause. Which is why the first thing you have to do is meet this group of kids who just died in a plane crash. They are right outside.

Nicholas: Hmmm….I see your point. What’s a plane?

Tingle: It’s a flying machine that won’t be invented until 1600 years after you die, give or take a century. Look, I have to ask, you seem like a nice guy, but how much experience do you have with kids?

Nicholas: None. I live a life of celibacy.

Tingle: Right, there was this story that you rose kids from the dead…

Nicholas: Pure embellishment. But I suppose if the Lord wills it, I will meet with these unfortunate children. Point me to them.

(Tingle opens a door and points Nicholas in the direction of the deceased kids. Nicholas says a small prayer under his breath and heads out the door, greeted by another chorus of cheers. Tingle closes the door and behind him appears an angel.)

Tingle: Alright, Gabriel, he agreed to do it.

Gabriel: We thought he would. He’s the patron saint of children, you know.

Tingle: He acts like he never met one.

Gabriel: You are saying there might be a transition period here.

(Their conversation is interrupted by the sound of a loud slap coming from the other room, followed by a round screams.)

Tingle: To say the least.

Merry Christmas everyone.