Journal Entries
Murder in Crepuscular Meadows
Posted Nov 1, 2020
1. Spotlight on murder in Crepuscular Meadows: the body of Peter Peters found by passerby
It was a gray November day -- the first of November, actually. Bernard Philpin, driving south on Route 62 on some errand that we won't go into here, happened to glance at the reservoir, and noticed something that seemed out of place. It looked like Peter Peters, the man who kept a watchful eye on the reservoir, but he was in an unnatural position, lying on the grass next to the reservoir. Philpin felt a sense of dread about this. The unnatural position was bad enough, but Peters' complexion was gray, and he wasn't moving. Philpin was used to seeing people asleep, but this did not seem to be the case here.
He pulled over to the side of the road, got out of the car, and walked to the guardrail. It sure looked like Peters. Lifelike, but possibly not actually alive.
He noted the location, took out his phone, and called the Crepuscular Meadows police station.
Sergeant Friday Mundy answered the phone in a professional voice -- no growling like in the movies or TV shows. Poor guy was saddled with a name that sounded like a joke -- his parents wanted him to be a detective, apparently, and they got their wish. Philpin hoped they rotted in hell for it, but he never said this aloud. He was supposed to be a charitable man.
He gave the location of the body, reassured the detective that he had not gone beyond the guardrail so as not to disturb the crime scene -- if that's what it was.
Then he continued on his way toward Workchester, where he had a business appointment.
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Latest reply: Nov 1, 2020
Sonnet: Blizzard of ash
Posted Oct 29, 2020
Sonnet: Blizzard of Ash
They were not loved when first to Heav'n they rose
("World's tallest tombstones" someone dubbed them then),
But gained respect from many of their foes,
Though not enough. Before the clock struck ten
That sunny morn, a glinting silver dart
One tower's side with cruel hatred struck.
A ball of fire sprang from out its heart,
And thousands felt the building sway and buck.
A second dart the other tower hit,
Another puff of flame, and from on high
The bodies fell, as droplets from a spit.
The towers crumbled. Thousands, doomed would die.
Like tiny snowflakes, ashes tint with gray
The air, where no more light will shine today.
[I used to have some talent as a writer, even if I do say so myself. I'm grateful to the layout of H2G2 for making it so easy to retrieve things you've written in the past (and also things the other researchers have written).
The above poem was about the destruction of the World Trade Center in 2001.I had it published in a local paper in the town where I worked.
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Latest reply: Oct 29, 2020
If someone really is out to get you, it's not paranoia
Posted Oct 26, 2020
Little by little, my ability to do online banking and bill payment is being thwarted
Today I found that my online account with my electric utility no longer works. My username and password have been wiped form the system. Good thing I had a phone number, so I could request that paper bills be mailed to me.
I had a secure web address for my principal bank account but that is down (temporarily, or for good? Don't know). Their regular, less secure website is up.
Time will tell whether my two credit card account statements will be mailed to me. (I receive emails, too, but there's a nasty virus in my computer that my antivirus can't find).
yesterday, a thirty-part file only had the first 12 items. I had put all thirty there, but 18 disappeared.
Files become frozen so I can't unlock them, then almost randomly they reopen.
I tried to set up an online account with my telephone company, but something blocked every password I tried-- even with the help of the nice lady at customer support.
I have customer service phone numbers for *everything*. Including the phone company itself Let's hope I still have phone service. Tis all keeps me off-balance.
I suspect cyber-theft of passwords, etc. To what end?: Identity theft? Credit card fraud? The perpetrator hasn't told me yet. Maybe someday a bill for a credit card that I never took out will arrive, and I will have to convince someone that I never applied for it. Or unwanted charges will appear on my two legitimate cards.
And, whoever is orchestrating this is probably reading this as well. Will I ultimately freeze in the dark? If you don't hear from me again, please remember that we used to have fun. Or, maybe I will continue here, and get more annoying...if that's possible. 
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Latest reply: Oct 26, 2020
The story I'm proudest of: "Off the beaten Track"
Posted Oct 26, 2020
I've spent at least five Novembers writing novella, one chapter per day. Most were rubbish, though the Blemnox Saga was fun rubbish.
But the one I'm proudest of was "Off the beaten track,: which can be found here are here:
A87899323
A87900258
Here's the first installment of it, to let you get your feet wet. Then you can click on the links.
Episode for November 1
Scotland Yard was having a bad time. Not only was the most notorious murder case of the year unsolved*, newspapers were hinting that Parliament was getting ready to decommission the Yard and outsource detective work. Heaven knew what sort of third-rate agency they would hire!
Then there was the Queen, who was miffed because the Yard had bungled the Crakkerjack Ripper case by unwittingly pinning the murders on Crakkerjack and Ripper, two horses who happened to be owned by the Queen's granddaughter.. "We had no idea they were horses" cut no ice at Buckingham palace, where the ever earthy Prince Philip compared the cream of the Yard's agents to an obvious part of a horse's anatomy.*
Better to suck it up and deal directly with agencies that owed Scotland Yard a few favors. If they solved the case, Scotland yard could at least share some credit.
Chief Inspector Dreyfus Lestrade seemed unable to make even that plan work, though. The best agencies, because of their success, had all the business they could handle, thank you very much! He was at the last name on his list now, an unorthodox agency called Off-the-Beaten Track Detective Agency.
"They aren't kidding about being off the beaten track," he exclaimed, noting that their home office was in Enfield, a tiny Massachusetts village that was ostensibly underwater in the middle of Quabbin Reservoir. "Do the staff go to work in scuba gear?" he wondered, dialing their number.
*A serial killer had been killing fat French women and high-church Unitarians. Yeah, I know, you'd think there wouldn't be any, but it's a big world, even for London. The only clues found at the scene were wrappers for oat bran cream puffs.
*The Crakkerjack Ripper killed young women in some particularly disgusting ways, then left a box of Crakkerjacks next to their bodies. The boxes contained neither Crakkerjacks nor toys, just a taunting note. One victim who refinished furniture got a note that said, "The Lady Varnishes." Another victim, who sold shirts for a sports memorabilia store in a shopping plaza got a note saying, "The Mall-Tees Falcons." So it went.
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Latest reply: Oct 26, 2020
A trip down Ho0too's memory lane
Posted Oct 25, 2020
The last two days I've been scrolling backwards through my journal and guide entries, looking at what I've been writing in years gone by. Mostly I want to cull the best of my past writings so I can put them in files in my computer. When I get them the way want them, I might weed out some stuff on my personal space and substitute the cream of the crop.
God, how I have been writing and writing and writing on this site over the years. There's been some interesting a droll and perceptive stuff, but I do tend to run on and not get to the point very well.
My mind has always spewed out lots of thoughts and ideas.
A nice retrospective, and I found a piece I really liked: the one about the blind men who tried to describe an elephant. I may put that on my PS.
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Latest reply: Oct 25, 2020
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