Camp Grenada

 

Hello muddah 
Hello faddah 
Here I am at  
Camp Grenada 

I frequently find myself making a completely wrong assertion about
America's shameful, unbroken record of military defeats over the past
seven decades. I keep saying America hasn't won a war since World War II.

What I keep forgetting was our glorious and decisive victory over the fierce, 
determined bastion of leftist, socialist, communist rancor and filth __ the island 
nation of Grenada.

Using a lethal combination of the U.S. Army's Rapid Deployment Force, U.S.
Marines, our Army Delta Force, and the Navy SEALS, we kicked their commie asses! 
The campaign was called Operation Urgent Fury.It took only a few short weeks to bring 
this defiant hooligan nation to its knees. We hit them hard and hit them where it hurts by 
bombing a mental hospital and killing eighteen patients. That's what they get for being 
crazy commies!

Grenada __ sneaky Bolshevists that they were __ tried to marginalize the magnitude
and grandeur of our victory with an audacious, not to say bizarre, and
in-the-end ineffective strategy. This unorthodox "curve ball" was that
they had virtually no army, no navy, no air force, practically no
military at all, to resist the conquering heroics of our fighting boys
in uniform.

That's right . . . they had only a handful of citizens in their military __ no Department 
of Defense, no military-industrial complex, no CIA, NSA, KGB. They didn't even have 
a KFC!

They did have an excellent education system, a thriving economy with no
unemployment, a decent and improving health care system, a bare minimum
of wealth inequality. Typical of misguided socialist countries all
across the globe, they believed in the laughably quaint idea that all of
the citizens of their country should be treated well and have an equal
share in the abundance created by their collective labors, love and
concern for their fellow man.

Ha!

We fixed that!

The unions were "reorganized", huge sections of the economy were privatized,
assets were gobbled up by U.S. corporations. Now, under the guiding hand
of a capitalist free market economy, and a puppet democracy which knows
who is boss and takes its orders from the good old corporate state U S of A,
unemployment hovers around 18%, poverty afflicts 32% of the population,
the small manufacturing sector continues to shrink, tourism has been hobbled 
__ partly due to the enormous destruction of Hurricane Ivan in 2004 __ and 
inflation is upwards of 5%, offsetting the modest growth of the economy.

However, a genuinely outstanding thing happened as a result of our saving this
struggling island nation from the scourge of socialism . . . and I would be remiss
to not mention it.

Grenada now has a KFC!

In fact, it has two!

Which will be great for our American troops if we ever have to invade again.

I sincerely apologize to any of you readers out there who depend on me to
be both truthful and accurate when recounting the achievements and
challenges of our great nation. I hope the corrected record I have
offered here serves to exonerate me, and I am forgiven by any who might
have been been misled or misinformed by my oversight in the matter of
America's military prowess.

Go Team America!

Fuck yeah!

[ This originated at the author's personal web site . . . http://jdrachel.com ]

Creativity: Creating Memorable Characters

 

With the incredible success of my new novel, The Man Who Loved Too Much - Book 1: Archipelago, released only two weeks ago but already peaking at #11,496 on Amazon's Fiction/Coming of Age/Fantasy/Zombies /High School Cheerleader/Romance best-seller list, people often ask me:

"John, how do you come up with your characters?"

First, I drive my Mercedes to a local ramen restaurant, where not only do they
have great meals, but I can get my kitchen knives sharpened.

I walk in and sit down. I say something in Japanese. They just roll their eyes.

An eighty-five-year-old lady is across from me, slumped over at her table.
She might be breathing but I don't see how, with her face immersed in
the bowl of noodles.

I picture her as a twenty-year-old university student, dressed in either sexy
lingerie from Fredericks of Hollywood, or a Lycra fetish costume
purchased from an online store in the West Village. There's a tennis
ball strapped in her mouth.

Now . . . what is she feeling?

Suddenly, an off-duty Japanese police officer drives through the front of the
restaurant on a Harley Davidson. There is broken glass and disposable
chopsticks everywhere!

Inspiration!

And the plot thickens.

I thought the police officer had tattoos on his arms but they are just temporary removable sheer hosiery tattoos he picked up in Thailand, while on his police precinct's annual sex tourism holiday.

He orders the lunch special, Salty Miso Beef Ramen with Deep-Fried Pork Dumplings
on the side. Of course, all the rice you can eat is included . . . and it's free!

Now I hear the sound of a helicopter hovering overhead. Understandably, my first
instinct is that it must be Navy Seals either conducting exercises or
mounting a raid. There are so many suspicious people everywhere you look
these days. Especially here in Japan!

But no, it's a medical rescue team. Four paramedics tethered to long nylon ropes
drop down onto the street out front. They rush into the restaurant. The
first medic through the door grabs the old lady's hair. He violently
yanks her head out of the bowl of ramen, then gagging, gives her
mouth-to-mouth. But it's too late. Her wind pipe is clogged with
congealed noodles. She is dead.

While they drag her body out of the restaurant to hoist it into the helicopter,
some young boys, probably elementary school age, are passing. Several of
them are taunting a pathetic little guy, who unfortunately is
cross-eyed and suffers acute lymphedema. His legs look like pontoons,
very unusual for someone his age. The other boys are mocking him by
chanting: "Dalai Lama! Dalai Lama!"

Hmm. I don't get this. Dalai Lama? But I can use it! Sometimes you need
something a little off the wall to keep a reader's attention.

All this time I've been slurping away. The food here is truly amazing! My bowl
is just about empty, when a huge stabbing pain shoots through my gut. I
feel like someone has stuck a samurai sword in my belly button, twisting
it like they're wrapping pasta around a fork.

Food poisoning!

I don't know why I keep coming here. Every time I eat here __ I mean every time!
__ it's the same thing. I get food poisoning and spend the next six
hours . . . well, you know.

My only excuse for this habitual self-sabotage is that this place has been so good for
my writing. This is where it all starts. The huge cast of misfits and
miscreants that populate my stories are all denizens of the social
tapestry of this little hole-in-the-wall soup shop.

I'll tell you something else. No way am I giving away my secret.

You can try Googling "ramen shops Japan" if you like.

Ha! Good luck finding it.


______________________________________________________________


The Man Who Loved Too Much - Book 1: Archipelago


Apple (iBook) . . . bit.ly/1ycltFD

Amazon (Kindle) . . . amzn.to/1tyIRiw

Barnes & Noble . . . bit.ly/ZDnQVO

Smashwords . . . bit.ly/1w62HOX

Direct from printer . . . bit.ly/1r6qWYQ

[ This originated at the author's personal web site . . . http://jdrachel.com ]