Excerpt: The magnificent human beings had succeeded beginning soon after amnesty was declared for tens of millions of low-skill, uneducated, illegal-aliens whose votes had helped them secure control over Washington.
Nevertheless, as they basked in the glow of their victory the monster they created grew in size and appetite. The beast was a new American majority: menial, uncultured, insatiable, lazy; but voters all the same, voters who devoured any and everything the politicians threw their way, nevertheless voters who always wanted more…and more…of the more!
It all of a sudden dawned on some of the geniuses…“What happens when our voters want too much more? What happens when we run out of more of the more…and there is no more? What happens then?”
WTF? This is Utopia…a cynical, satirical look at what waits us all, a future with many “unintended consequences,” the logical outcome of today’s progressive agenda, a future where the liberal panacea finally makes its presence known!
Special gratitude to the motion picture Idiocracy and Cyril M. Kornbluth’s 1951 SciFi Classic The Marching Morons on which the movie was based for the inspiration in writing this ongoing, serial novel. Further appreciations to those organizations and the people behind and inside them for working…working extremely hard for the good of humanity including: CBS, ABC, NBC, PBS, NPR, The New York Times, The Washington Post, The Chicago Tribune, USA Today, the Associated Press, Reuters, Hollywood, the NAACP, the ACLU, the NEA, the President, Congress and the thousands upon thousands of distinct institutions and organizations which I do not have occasion to enumerate at present.
The first ten minutes of Idiocracy genuinely resonated for me, a movie which depicts the stupider people taking over the world and what becomes of their triumph. The reason for the morons’ success is an absence of natural predators, an ample food supply, and a pastime where the imbeciles excel…breeding.
Most I’ve talked to, who confess to seeing Idiocracy, have had the same general reaction…“This could honestly happen!” Subsequently, after watching the movie a second time some individuals, like me, have taken our revelation one bunny hop further…“This is actually happening!”
- A New Day
- Great Escape
- Rude Awakening
- Taste of Metamorphosis
- The Cornfield
- Closing Remarks One
- Opening Dialog Two
- NMASA Headquarters
- Vocal Reader is Back
- Trouble Spotted
- White Trash Gertrude
- Back in Waycross
- Santa Clause FEMA
- The TV Interview
- About Author
- Other books
- Connect with Author
The year is 2020 when Professor Felix Schwartz, your typical, garden variety, liberal college professor, steps out in front of a Mack truck and the lights go out. Thirty years pass by, all the while Schwartz remains a walking vegetable and ward of the state.
By 2050 the country has gone through some changes thanks to a dramatic shift in the makeup in the country’s populace giving liberals (referred to as assclowns, moonbats, goofnads, or asshats) control over Washington. In that thirty years the country becomes the veritable paradise moonbats have long sought to create, but more resembling a third-world, banana republic where English is replaced by twenty-five variations of gang slang, no one gets beyond third grade, rioting and something resembling football with hockey sticks are the national pastimes. There is now a “Forever President,” welfare moms have replaced small business, corn is the cornerstone of industry, and people drive around in either battery-powered, bubble cars, or Latino lowriders.
While nonthinking, Schwartz is led around on a doggie leash, has become something called a ‘pinball,’ has names ranging from Vic to Dick to Bic, and spends his day bouncing around the fenced playground of a former elementary school turned asylum for the insane.
One fine spring day the gate to the compound suddenly opens and Schwartz, along with a hundred or so inmates, unthinkingly escape. While walking aimlessly down a highway he is struck by another truck (an electric bus) and suddenly awakens from his long sleep. Groggy, after years on horse tranquilizers, his Pavlovian responses cause him to mistakingly eat some flies, he is noticed by passing motorists looking like a partially naked, homeless guy, who then sets off to find civilization.
Tommie Citizen is a Mob Traffic Controller who monitors the formation of rioters on the west coast, which happens to be where the professor is aimlessly walking. The two don’t meet, Tommie is in Waycross, Georgia, but their paths intertwine from afar.
Ms. Gertrude is a single, homemaker living off government welfare in a trailer park who is caught up in the excitement of a riot that’s formed in her neighborhood. She provides us with an example of what riots look like from ground zero.
Schwartz watches the riot Tommie Citizen spotted, the same riot Ms. Gertrude and her brood of fourteen or fifteen kids are participating in, from a distance. The rioters are gassed by FEMA crop dusters with industrial moofs that stones everyone. Tommie receives a reward for spotting the cyclonic tempest, Ms. Gertrude gets the munchies and the professor is interviewed on national television. Closing scene, Tommie watches the interview while getting stoned and wanders why the guy (the professor) is wearing a girl’s tennis outfit.
Why would anyone become a writer, fiction or otherwise?
For me, the answer was simple…I could waste time writing as a “stay-at-home” dad, while looking for a job, or I could waste time looking for a job…in this great economy of ours.
Why am I wasting my time?
When I did a little research on the occupation I was initially taken aback by the math…why would anyone pay for a degree that, for the majority, would max out around $60,000…in the best of years! Anyone jumping into this field with any expectation of making a reasonable income, say $100,000 a year, had to be delusional, the first clue that most might be liberals.
This field makes no sense unless a writer is: (1) a trust fund baby, (2) an idiot that does not have a real job and no trust fund, or (3) an idiot, moron who does not have a real job, no trust fund and a college loan they have to pay back. The only thing that could explain the irrational behavior…the majority of these nincompoops were, touchy-feely, do-gooders who wanted to change the world liberals!
Now, recognizing that most writers were probably liberals (#2 and #3 make up the majority), it only made sense that most publishers had to be liberals, too! If most writers and publishers were liberals, then the colleges that spawned them had to also be liberal institutions. Recognizing that liberalism and common sense “do not” go hand in hand, I decided that whatever path they (other writers) were taking should be avoided…at all costs.
Another thing, I am constantly baffled by is how success is defined in this industry, as if by landing an agent, or better yet, a publisher are going to somehow make them rich and famous. No one ever hears of these people once their fifteen-minutes of “media-proclaimed fame” come and go…the hype quickly fades, replaced by the next best thing (another writer).
So, I won’t be one of the ones looking to land an agreement with anyone who can fog up a mirror and carries the title “Agent.” Likewise, I won’t consider a contract with any publishing house that can also fog up a mirror to be a sign of success. No, my gauge for success will be the “KICK” readers get when they read one of my ebooks.
What’s the downside for my arrogance? There will be typos and grammatical mistakes (I proofread everything myself), so I am confident any liberal who happens to come across my “works of art” will find my shortcomings reassuring, especially if they’re still paying back their college loans.
Sure, I’ve tried using proof readers, but they always turn out to be…you guessed it, liberals, too! How many times have I heard…
“I just wanted to let you know I’ve gotten a job with the State, so I won’t be able to proofread your books (trash), any more.”
“I just wanted you to know I got a real job working at the university, so I won’t be able to proofread your novels (trash), any more.”
“I just wanted you to know I got a real job working for ACORN, so I won’t be able to proofread your rags (trash), any more.”
Anyway, that’s my tie-raid on the topic of writing. Hope you’re one of the ones who gets what WTF? is all about…. Ditto LIARS and TT.61 when I get it out.
…and has quite a few laughs along the way.
Oh, and I’m a former software guy turned fiction writer who also doubles as a chauffeuring service, family gofer whose remaining time is spent traveling, going to the gym, taking tennis lessons, or typing away on my Macbook Air. I’m a very typical ‘INTP’ who basically retired about the time Obama came to reign.
Genre: Science fiction, action, adventure, war
A small valley on earth has become inhabitable, just in time for one of four manmade worlds carrying the last vestiges of mankind. There is more at stake than simple survival, what’s at stake is which evolutionary species of man will reclaim earth: a race of humans from the one planetoid, or misshapen creatures that turned to inbreeding and cannibalism over the millennia to survive.
TT.61 (TITUS TREBONIUS), one-hundred thirty years of age, looks no older than someone in their mid-30s. Titus is the sixty-first generation of men to carry the name and DNA of the original earthman, he has been genetically engineered to live a life in space: hairless, streamlined, sinewy, a vegetarian, he requires less oxygen, less food, heals rapidly. Titus remains one of the guardians of this world, asleep in hibernation for five-year periods to place less demands on a fragile ecosystem, only awakened early in times of emergency.
It’s a little bit of Aliens, 2001 and Soldier all rolled up in one: a multigenerational, character driven drama set in the far future.
Prelude – Earth June 2, 5057-two enemy armies have landed on the continent and are racing to defeat the last democracy on earth, Australia. Female legionnaire, OCTAVIA TREBONIUS, is the first to encounter the waves tracked tanks and her position is overrun soon after nukes are unleashed upon the frontier city. Juliet’s armored suit enables her to acquit herself with many kills before she’s overcome by shear numbers.
June 5, 5057-the enemy is at the walls of the capitol, the last reserves have been defeated attempting to stop the hordes. In a final moment of desperation, Australia’s premier military leader, Prefect AUGUSTUS TREBONIUS, dies alongside his Praetorians attempting to protect the Presidential Palace, there is no thought of surrender. His son, Centurion TITUS TREBONIUS, fighting alongside his father, is severely wounded, but is spared and posted to the auxiliary once healed and serves as common soldier in the shit-holes of the empire.
A fateful day arrives when Titus, and fellow Australian SCIPIO GAIUS, save the life of a prince traveling through the region, each is rewarded with a promotion to the ranks of armored legionnaire. Both Titus’ and Scipio’s combat expertise in armored suits set them apart and, once again, become noticed by the Prince during combat games. After a period of reconditioning to remove any memories of their former democracy, both men are transferred to the Prince’s Royal Body Guard and travel with him throughout the empire. The Prince, CHANG WONG, is low in the political hierarchy, but his skill as an administrator make him much in demand.
In the summer of 5060, Titus and Scipio follow the Prince to an unusual location, a remote island where a secret launch pad has been constructed and is now shooting materials into space for purposes unknown. Titus now commands his own contingent of the Prince’s Guard and has taken a personal hand in selecting his men and women. He watches, listens and discovers a space station is being built, an apocalypse is fast approaching, it will wipeout all life on earth. The royals plan to save themselves, leaving humanity to its own fate. Titus decides to take matters into his own hands, the space station will be taken by force. He has a fortnight to act, all former Australians on the island will be taken. All others, except for the Prince and vital personnel, will be terminated.
Over four-thousand years have passed. The year is now 9021 and TT.61 (Titus Trebonius) is two years into his five-year hibernation cycle when he is suddenly awakened to find his world has been attacked. The fuel cells have been ruptured, there is only enough remaining for a oneway trip to the one place it might be replaced, earth. The Terrans have survived countless battles with the ‘Royals’ by avoiding a head on confrontation with three-to-one odds. Now, without the ability to maneuver, the Terrans will be at the Royals’ mercy especially since the enemy are in close, semi-elliptical orbits about earth.
Drastic actions must be taken, at least two things work in the Terran’s favor: they have a Spartan-like class of warrior with the finest equipment, they have also discovered a small amount of a new metal, it is called Vulcan. Three precious Mark IV combat suits have already been cannibalized to create one super suit made of Vulcan and New Terra’s premier warrior, TT.61, will pilot the beast against the Royals with one objective: evening up the scales before his world arrives. Titus is launched by an experimental EMP canon bored through the center of an asteroid. Propelled at near the speed of electricity, his suit automatically makes course corrections as obstacles and unseen gravity fields are encountered while he sleeps in suspended animation. Three earth months later, Titus arrives being awakened a day before entering enemy space. He is carrying just enough weapons, fuel, oxygen and food to make a single assault on each Royalist world. Titus see this mission as a oneway trip, he will make one last run Kamikaze-style for his grand finale.
Titus succeeds in crippling the first world’s offensive capability after catching them by surprise. He succeeds in avoiding the ensuing chase by armored warriors thanks to the imperviousness of his armor. Alerted to his presence, the second world he encounters proves far more difficult and he only succeeds in damaging part of its propulsion system. By now he is running low on ammunition and fuel, it is time for that suicide run. Titus is making the final calculations for his attack when his suit suddenly picks up a signal from earth – a Terran probe and it has detected life! Titus decides to forgo the suicide mission in the interest of discovering what the probe has discovered. He comes down in a mountain ringed valley where green algae can be seen growing, where what could be water is running in brooks which cut across the landscape. Now, his onboard systems pick up passing traces of oxygen, those traces grow the closer he comes to the largest of mountain ranges. Off in the distance, a glint of sunlight, as if off metal, suddenly catches his eye and it is moving. Taking cover, Titus watches the approaching armored beast and notices something inhuman about the qualities of the Royalist design.
Options race through Titus’ mind as he studies the machine which is striding toward the entrance of a cave. The decision to attack the machine is put aside in the interest of discovering what the Royalist was up to. The day has become night when the metal beast leaves the cave, it can be seen carrying several lifeless carcasses, of what is unknown, in the direction it originally came. Minutes later, a spacecraft lifts off and ascends quickly into the overcast skies.
Titus maneuvers his machine to the cave entrance, his readings show the air quality to markedly improved. He moves into the cave to discover air quality improving the further he moves along. Titus must save enough within his machine for later, he fights to stand in the gravity outside the Mark V after hiding it among some boulders. The air becomes more and more breathable the further he descends eventually coming to a pair of large, metal doors. They are big enough to accommodate his Mark V. He is studying their manufacture when the doors suddenly part with Titus quickly taking cover. Titus watches from the shadows watching the thing that emerges, a creature that is walking on two legs, has two arms, torso and head, only grossly misshapen. The humanoid is wearing a breathing device, is clothed and is holding a leash to something. Titus now hears the sound of other creatures, without breathing apparatus, bleating incomprehensible noises, naked, collared and tied to their masters leash, they follow in single file.
The doors remained open, a quick look inside showed a lighted hallway, the doors are automated. As quickly as his legs would carry him, Titus passes through the doorway an into a horrible hell he never, nor any on the New Terra, could have ever imagined.