Rants & Raves (Blog)

A lovely lass in a white dress is standing in line at a hot dog cart. The camera switches to a roof top scene. Dave is opening a bottle of ketchup and placing it on the rail. He then walks off. The camera returns to street level. Suddenly, the young lady screeches as she realizes there’s ketchup falling all over her dress. Dave approaches her and points to a storefront right behind them. He then escorts her inside DAVE RILEY CLEANERS.

Ed: Now here’s your host and mine, Dave Riley.

Dave: Thanks everybody. (Dave goes over to his desk and reads a note.)

Well, looks like our guest isn’t going to make it tonight. Something about bail money. Oh well. How have you been, ed?

Ed: Just fine, sir.

Dave: You folks may not know this, but Ed is an expert puppeteer.

Ed: (starts shaking his head) No, no. I’m not going there again. I spent years in therapy trying to get those blasted puppets to stop talking to me.

Dave: (sighs) Okay. Well, our next guest is Trixie Thomas. Until last week she did the news at this very station.

Trixie (from offstage): I can’t find my top!

Dave: If we were on cable that wouldn’t be a problem.

(Dave looks at the clock) only 58 minutes to go.

(Puts head on desk top and starts crying).

Ed: Back when I was a longshoreman those puppets started following me home.

I see the US Treasury is bringing out a new $100 bill.  I really think they should do like Australia and make their money out of plastic, but it's still jazzed up paper moeny  I emailed them and offered to try the new hundreds out for them--see how they look in my wallet, that sort of thing. So far I haven't heard back from the treasury folks.       

Well, the next Doctor Who finally made its US debut. I liked it. I may have liked it a little too much. I’ve always had fantasies about British police women. It’s something about their uniforms, I suppose. So, the Doctor’s new traveling companion turned up in a British police uniform, though the shorts she was wearing were a lot shorter than regulation, methinks. I certainly didn’t mind. Amy is a gorgeous redhead. All my fantasies I used to have about red-haired police women handcuffing me, searching me and doing some other things to me came back in an instant. Well, if they wanted to get my attention, they did.   

"We’re on in five," the bald guy said.

Trixie came running to her seat. She had her hands folded in front of herself. "I can’t find my top."

The lights came up and the bald guy waved his hand. They were on. "Good evening, I’m Neil Anderson and this is Five News." Neil looked over at his co anchor.

"I can’t find my top," she repeated.

"Uh, and for a weather update, let’s go to Li Kim Kwo."

The camera moved over to the Five News Weather Center. "Hi," she said. "Getting cold out there." She pointed at the weather map. "Big high pressure ridge." She looked at the map. The high pressure had fallen off the map. "High pressure gone now. Weather get better. Back to you, Neil."

The camera shifted back to the news center. Trixie was now wearing a plaid men’s sport coat. "Thanks Li." An overhead light came crashing down in front of the stage.

Twenty-eight agonizing minutes later, the bald guy said "We’re out."

Mr. Bigg took his face out of his palms, then smiled at the pretty red haired girl in his office. "We have the worst newscast in the entire country."

"Well, some guys probably like the fact Trixie couldn’t find her top," she pointed out.

"That’s the third time this month," he said. He leaned back in his big leather chair and took a puff on his cigar. "Look, here’s what I want you to do. Go out there and fire all them, except that bald guy."

"Jack?"

"Yeah, and then, I want you to go out and just hire the first person you see. Anybody. Got that?" Mr. Bigg asked. "Im dumping the news format. We’ll do a talk show. Anybody can sit and talk."

"Sure daddy," she said.

"What did I say about calling me that?"

"Oh, right," she said.

Amanda headed out the side door of her father’s television station. On Jefferson Avenue there wasn’t much except the Mexican restaurant that had gone out of business. She noticed somebody was near the dumpster that was still in back of the boarded up building. Actually lying next to the dumpster, his back up against the wall, out of the winter wind. An empty bottle of Thunderbird was a foot from his head. She nudged him with her shoe. "Sir."

The drunk slowly opened one eye and looked at her. "What, I’m not double parked, officer?"

"No, I’m from Channel Five," she said.

The drunk guy sat up. "I don’t give interviews."

"No. We need somebody. We want to hire you for a new talk show."

The drunk looked up at her. "All righty." He slowly picked himself up, went around to the other side of the dumpster and nudged another drunk who was passed out. "Ed, get up."

The other drunk rubbed his eyes. "Whu?"

"Ed, get up."

"What the hell for?"

"We’ve got another show."

"Not more damn puppets?"

The first drunk looked at Amanda. "We don’t have to do puppets do we?"

"No, it’s a talk show."

"Okay," he said. "Sounds great."

"What’s your name?" she asked.

"Dave, Dave Riley." He pointed at the other drunk. "This is Ed."

"Nice to meet you," she said.

�@

ED

Yes, it’s the Dave Riley Show. Now, here’s your host and mine, Dave Riley.

DAVE

Hi, I’m Dave Riley and this is the Dave Riley show

ED

.Should we tell them about our last show?

DAVE

No.

We’ll be right back after this.

In the good old days before the Internet, copyright infringement was quite rare. Now, it seems to be rampant. In the past six months, I've twice detected websites that were selling my stories without any permission whatsoever. These outfits are such fly-by-knights that there's little recourse. The legal fees to pursue these bastards exceed the value of the stories being ripped off.

The first one was last fall. A European website was selling three of my short stories for download with no permission. I sent them a cease and decist notice and they did stop selling them. Then, this past week I found a new ebook was for sale of my Science Fiction Trails. There is no ebook of SF Trails, currently. They were selling that one on Amazon and that got shut down immediately with help from the good folks at Amazon. I don't know how much of this goes undetected. If they'll rip off my obscure material, it seems anyone is at risk. 

People sometimes ask me where I get my story ideas. For the most part, they just happen. But not always. Sometimes I've had a little coaching, particularly in my novels The Devil's Due which has been out a while and the Dust Devil, which I'm just wrapping up. The basic story ideas came from some dead Indians. I mean that literally. I've had dream conversations with a group of Ansazi off and on for a few years now. The Anasazi want to discuss my stories and story ideas.

For those who don't know, the Anasazi are a long dead race of Indians who once occupied northern Arizona and parts of southeast Utah and western Colorado, a simlar stretch to where the Navajo now live. They started communicating with me when I was on their land. This has been the same since then. Where I live near Vail doesn't exist as far as they're concerned. If I go over to Grand Junction, which is the far northeastern tip of Anasazi land, they'll talk to me. Why a bunch of Indians who've been dead for nearly 2000 years are interested in my stories is not something I understand, but they've given me some helpful suggestions. And it's not just my novels. My recently accepted story in the forthcoming Space Horrors anthology is an Anasazi inspired tale.

The Anasazi despise the Mayans. I don't know why, exactly. As the Devil's Due has a Mayan villain, perhaps that's what got their attention. All I know is I may have one of the most unique cures for writers block on the planet. A simple two hour drive. But they don't always speak to me. It's kind of 50/50 crap shoot on that. But, if they do grant me an audience, it's usually been worth the effort. They seem very wise. They also seem very uninterested in much beside stories. The affairs of modern man do not seem to concern them. I get an underground sense about them. But, there's not a specific place to find them. They come to me or not. I did ask them once about a platform another Indian tribe built that hangs out over the Grand Canyon. They thought it was an abomination. Otherwise, the topic has strictly been stories. 

I've been reviewing what convenstions to attend this year.  It's always a trade off of time and expense versus the need to promote oneself.  In my case, most cons outside Colorado tend to snub me as far as programming goes. I'm hoping 2010 will be a little friendlier than last year.  I'll post more as news develops.  There's some interesting stuff going on, including the steamcon in Seattle, which is focusing on weird west. They sound like "my people." Stay tuned, same bat channel.