Tuesday, December 11, 2012

So. . . you're black and I'm not.

I've neglected this webpage, as you can see, for several months.

I'm in an increasing literal hibernation as I work to complete False Gods, my next novel. Seeing as how the book deals significantly with the business and economic climate in this country, I was waiting on the (dismal) results of the election.

During that time, I've kept an eye on the news stories and I keep seeing all this racist crap.

Excuse me, let me rephrase that--I've been reading how only white people are racist any time we freaking hiccup.

These accusations come from the BSMSM, with the "BS" standing for just that, and they come from the typical race baiters like the phony, mail-order ministers "Rev" Al Sharpton, "Rev" Jesse Jackson, et al, along with every community organizing rabble-rouser in inner-city hoods that scream and cry for more of people's hard-earned tax dollars.

I just read where a white tennis player stuffed towels in her bra and britches to impersonate her friend, a famous black tennis player. The media and race baiters are going batcrap crazy.

Sick of it. Absolutely sick of it.

Now, it's just fine for that asshat Jamie Foxx to joke about killing all the white people in his latest movie. It's all right for him to get on Saturday Night Live and joke about all the "blackness" that he sees as great. But if I call Jamie Foxx an ignorant n-word, I'm the bad guy?

Here's the deal. My best friend in the military was--and remains--black. He saved my ass once, and I saved his. We're closer than most brothers, regardless of what color they are. Anybody messes with him, they're messing with both of us. And vice versa. He married an Indian woman a long time ago--Indian as in Nez Perce. Actually, she's more of a half-breed, but that didn't matter to the white trash that gave them a bad time up where the Aryan assholes live. What those Aryans learned, painfully, is that good old-fashioned time-tested and proven military training trumps their little survival games and video game training any day.

Here at home, I have a very good friend who loves BBQ as much as I do, if not more. He also likes to fly and I happen to be a pilot. I adore his daughter and son and his wife is precious.

Oh, someone told me they're black. Really? Fair enough, I reckon, 'cause someone else told them that I'm white.

Not too long ago, I had my friend in the Cessna and we were off to a BBQ joint that serves up the world's greatest ribs--The Rib Shack. This is in a little small town southwest of Forth Worth and out in the country to boot.

Nobody else there noticed that I'm white or that my friend is black. They noticed how much we enjoyed their food. They REALLY noticed how much we bought and took home with us. And we go back there. If anyone hassles or harasses my friends, there will be hell to pay. And likewise.

 I grew up in the shadow of an Air Force base during the beginning of the Vietnam war. It was a neighborhood that the census would call "working poor," whatever the hell that means.

What I remember is that we had black folks, Mexican folks, Asians and white folks. The Asians were often half-breeds because Mom was from Korea or the Phillipines or Thailand and had met her husband during his tour of service. Mexicans? This is Texas and Mexico is just across the muddy river from us. Blacks? This is Texas and we're part of the South.

What I remember is all of these kids were my friends. When I wondered about why one of my friend's eyes didn't seem to open all the way, my mom took me to the library and showed me where the Asian countries were on a map and explained that narrow eye openings was simply a trait of many Asians. Made sense to me since being a bit darker than myself seemed to be a trait of most of the Mexican and black buddies I had.

It didn't matter then, so why the hell does it matter now?

Every ethnicity has its trash. You can easily spot that trash when they start throwing out the race cards and race-baiting. It really is that simple.

Saturday, November 3, 2012

A simple question

Why was the oath I took to the Constitution when I joined the military in English. . . only so ballots to decide the direction of our country could be in multiple languages, even though you must be a citizen to vote and a requirement for naturalized citizens is the ability to read, write and understand English?

Friday, August 24, 2012

Some folks don't get out much.

I got an interesting e-mail from a reader this week.

It seems she has a gentleman friend who was waiting at her place to take her out for dinner and a show. She had recently bought my book, Above Reproach, and had it on her coffee table.

When she came out into the living room, her gentleman friend was flipping through the book. "Are you actually reading this ?" he asked her.

"Absolutely," she replied. "Why--is there something wrong with it?"

"Well," he said. "It's kinda rough. It has some violence in it and that makes me uncomfortable."

The reader goes on to explain to me that she was raised in rural cattle country in the west. Her gentleman friend was raised in a large city.

What I found interesting was that someone raised in a rural area was more comfortable in the reality that bad people exist and because bad people exist, it is we who are responsible for our own well-being. Conversely, her gentleman friend who was raised in a large city seems to have an ostrich-like attitude about the realities of crime and violence and the people who perpetrate violence upon others.

Maybe that helps explain the reality of most major American cities being "blue" on the political spectrum map, and the rural areas being "red."

I was the recipient of the best possible scenario while growing up. Both of my parents are about as country as it gets. Both raised in towns of less than 300 people, both grew up in agriculture (both farming and ranching), both grew up raising their own food and growing their own vegetables and both grew up handling firearms as a matter of sheer necessity.

Like most of their generation, my mom and dad married young (in their teens) and I was the "baby who wasn't supposed to be" according to the quack who told my mom she'd never be able to bear a child. Seven years after me, she defied that quack once more.

Also like many in their generation, they yearned for the "big time" which in their case was the sprawling metropolis of Wichita Falls, Texas--where I ended up being born and raised the first eight years of my life, after which we moved to Lubbock.

But my grandparents still lived in the country and that is where I would spend the majority of my summers. My grandmothers taught me how to put up canned goods and pluck and fry chickens, my grandfathers taught me how to bridle a horse and kill a rattlesnake. All of the grandparents knew how to fish (and how to kill the pesky moccasins that always challenged you for your bait fish and minnow buckets).

Crime was rare out in the rural areas. An occasional hobo would come strolling down the dirt road looking for a handout and my grandfather would talk to him for a bit, then depending on the hobo's attitude, he either got to come inside and have a hot meal or he was shown the road and told not to come back.

My grandfather on my mom's side was a WWII veteran who walked across Europe. He was a gentle man except when threatened. I remember when I was twelve, a hitchhiker came up on our land and tried to bully my granddad out of some food and money. When that didn't work, he pulled out a long butcher type knife. Bad mistake for a foulmouthed hippie to do. He saw the business end of my grandfather's M1 Garand on one side, and the business end of our 12-gauge double-barrel on the other side--being held by me. That shotgun was what we took dove and quail with as well as what we used to dispatch the occasional rabid skunk or coon and sometimes dog that we encountered.

After the longhaired foulmouthed hitchhiker had run pretty much out of even 30-06 range and we couldn't see him any longer, we safed our firearms and then talked about it. It was the first time I'd ever pointed a firearm at another human being with the absolute intention of shooting. Unfortunately, it wouldn't be the last time--not by a long shot.

My grandfather told me that day that guns were a tool, nothing more and nothing less. He had no love affair with them whatsoever, but at the same time, had a deep and abiding reverence for the Second Amendment. He was convinced that if the Jews and Poles and others in Europe had not given up their firearms, his time spent in the Army over there might've looked a little different.

I'm inclined to agree.

That day in a little country town shaped my view of crime and reality. The reality was that crime could--and would--happen anywhere at anytime and that you met violence with even greater violence so that the righteous would prevail. I didn't exactly dwell on that much that day, but it set the tone.

Back home during the school year in the big town of Lubbock, I would read about the occasional person getting mugged or robbed or even murdered, and I wondered why they didn't defend themselves. It was in the big town that I had my first exposure, ever, to "anti-gun" crowds--although they were largely found only on the college campus. Lubbock is a very conservative town and the Texas Panhandle is about as conservative as it gets in Texas.

Even in junior high, I drew the instant correlation between "unarmed" and "victim." That got me to thinking about that stinking hitchhiker hippie who brandished a knife at me and my grandpa that day. He thought he had the upper hand, but when the two long guns came out, he ran like a scalded dog with its ass on fire.

And yet, even though not a thing happened, my grandfather swore me to secrecy because he "didn't want my mother to worry." To this day, my mother has no idea of much of what went on during my extended stays with my grandparents. I believe that to be a privilege sacred to grandparents the world over.

When I joined the military, I began seeing really big cities while on leave or in transit--places like Denver and Los Angeles and New York and Chicago. When I got out of the service, finished college and found myself in law enforcement and then later in advertising, I saw more big cities--Atlanta, Miami, Philadelphia, Detroit. And I saw plenty of violence and a lot of victims.

Where I saw the most victims were cities like Washington DC and Chicago and New York that had strict gun control but not so strict criminal control. Back down south, where gun control is about as popular as fire ants, burglars feared homes where they even suspected the homeowner might be armed. Robbers avoided at all costs places where owners were known to keep a gun.

The third novel I am working on is entitled Blue Cities, Red Streets. It is about criminals, victims and those who refuse to be victims. In the book, there will be some criminals learning some very hard, and very permanent lessons about why the Second Amendment exists.

Perhaps I should forewarn the reader who e-mailed me about her friend and advise her to keep Blue Cities, Red Streets hidden from her gentleman friend when it is released.

Or perhaps I should encourage her gentleman friend to maybe get out a little more and see the world for what and how it really is.

Wednesday, August 22, 2012

Driving in Dallas, Texas.

(This was e-mailed to me, but it's the truth.)

Tips for driving in Dallas
1. You must first learn to pronounce the city name; it is Daaallis.

2. The morning rush hour is from
5:00am to noon. The evening rush hour is from noon to 7:00pm. Friday's rush hour starts on Thursday morning.

3. The minimum acceptable speed on most freeways is 85 mph. Anything less is considered "wussy".

4. Forget the traffic rules you learned elsewhere.
Dallas has its own version of traffic rules For example, cars or trucks with the loudest muffler go first at a four-way stop; the trucks with the biggest tires go second. However, in Plano, Frisco, Flower Mound & Highland Park, SUV-driving, cell phone talking/texting moms ALWAYS have the right of way.

5. If you actually stop at a yellow light, you will be rear ended,
cussed out, and possibly shot.

6. Never honk at anyone. Ever. Seriously. It's another offense that can get you shot.

7. Road construction is permanent and continuous in all of
Dallas and surrounding cities. Detour barrels are moved around for your entertainment pleasure during the middle of the night to make the next day's driving a bit more exciting.

8. Watch carefully for road hazards such as drunks, skunks, dogs, cats, barrels, cones, celebs, Dallas Cowboys leaving strip clubs, rubberneckers, shredded tires, cell phoners, deer and other road kill, and the buzzards feeding on any of these items.

9. MapQuest, Google Maps and your Garmin GPS does not work here, none of the roads are where they say they are or go where they say they do and all the freeway off
/on ramps are moved each night.

10. If someone actually has their turn signal on, wave them to the shoulder immediately to let them know it has been "accidentally activated."

11. If you are in the left lane and only driving 70 in a 55-65 mph zone, you are considered a road hazard and will be "flipped off" accordingly. If you return the flip, you'll be shot.

12. Do not try to estimate travel time, just leave Monday afternoon for Tuesday appointments, by
noon Thursday for Friday and right after church on Sunday for anything on Monday morning.

13. Above all else, enjoy your driving experience, because if you
actually get where you are going on time, everybody else will be late.

Friday, August 17, 2012

The government's new approach to gun control--through the back door.


Like most American gun-owners, I've been reading about various agencies of our bloated federal government suddenly buying up hundreds of thousands of rounds of ammunition.

Earlier this year, it leaked that the Department of Homeland Security (an ultimate oxymoron) had finalized arrangements to purchase over 450 million rounds of ammunition over the next five years.

That's not a typo. That was 450 million rounds of ammunition.

Worse yet, DHS is now classifying all terms of future ammunition acquisitions. What do they have to hide, or worse yet, what do they plan to hide from the American people?

But now we learn of other ridiculous ammo purchases by seemingly innocuous government agencies that you question as to why they even need firearms. Like the Social Security Administration that has made arrangements to purchase 174,000 rounds of ammunition.

We keep hearing how Social Security is going flat-busted broke, they have money to buy 174,000 rounds of hollow-point ammunition? At a government discount rate, that is still approximately $2.2 million dollars worth of ammunition.

Even dumber yet, the National Weather Service will be acquiring 46,000 rounds of hollow-point ammo this year.

Why? Why in the world does the NWS even need guns? I wasn't even aware they had special agents (1811 agents capable and allowed to conduct investigations and make arrests).

What are they going to do--start arresting local TV news anchors who get a forecast wrong? Or maybe these special Weather Service agents will pop a few caps into approaching wall-clouds to halt the approach of an impending tornado?

What the hell does the National Weather Service need with 23 thousand boxes of hollow-point ammunition?

Given the most corrupt, controlling administration in the history of our nation, my theory is two-fold:

1. The Obama administration is quietly directing every gov't agency to buy up as much ammunition as they can, then store it. Inter-agency transfers can then be done out of the purview of the general public and often times even out of the purview of the GAO (General Accounting Office). I saw this firsthand over twenty years ago when I was with the Justice Department.

It's a way of even further bolstering the arms and capabilities of our domestic federal LE agencies without the general public getting a whiff of it and thus becoming (even more) concerned about this administration's desire to turn us into a police state.

2. This is a perfect back-door operation for gun control. Guns without ammunition are ineffective clubs and paper weights. So if the gov't buys up the ammunition, resulting in mass outages and skyrocketing prices, the private citizen will be SOL.

After all, we saw this in 2009 and most of 2010 after Obama took office. The run on ammo was from fear of what he and his administration would do as well as a sudden increase in "need" by the Defense Department.

Be wary, very wary of this bunch of clowns in the White House and on the Hill.

Vote them out in November--and make them leave through their own back door.

Tuesday, August 14, 2012

Government--you do YOUR job and we'll do ours.



Another shooting, this time down the road in College Station, Texas, home to Texas A&M University.


Three dead--a constable, an innocent citizen, and the alpha-hotel who started it all.

According to sources, it all started over an eviction notice. Generally, one gets evicted when they don't pay the rent. One usually doesn't pay the rent when one doesn't have the money and one generally doesn't have the money if they don't have a job or they've blown their paycheck on other things like booze or drugs.

In this case, however, the absolutely predictable mainstream media is pointing out some of the shooter's Facebook entries about having acquired some new guns in the past two years. The MSM seems to be aghast that the shooter would refer to them as "my new toy" as in "I got a new toy in the other day and I can't wait to go shoot it."

We've now had the alpha-hotel in Aurora (Colorado), the skinhead Klown in Milwaukee and now some loser in College Station use guns to kill people.

In two of the cases, there were no other armed citizens around. The theater in Aurora boasted a "no guns" sign. That really stopped the Joker, didn't it? The Sikhs are a peaceful bunch, but at least one of the elders there apparently rushed the skinhead Klown with a kitchen knife trying to defend his temple's guests.

That man has my absolute respect.

I've read a story about a Navy veteran who authorities in Colorado are now thinking that he may have tried to rush the Joker and of which may have caused the alpha-hotel to panic and not be able to clear the jam in his firearm. We'll need witnesses to corroborate that one. As a veteran myself, I hope it's true. I hope one of our former warriors paid heed to his oath--which does not expire, by the way, simply because you're no longer in uniform or toting a badge.

This alpha-hotel in College Station is a bit of a mystery. We're going to have to wait to see what the police uncover about him and the exact circumstances. In the meantime, my prayers go out to the fallen constable and the innocent bystander who caught a stray round and died.

But with these incidents come the predictable wringing of hands and moaning of liberals (pacifist cowards) that we need more gun control.

How well did that gun control work out in Colorado? How well did it work out at Virginia Tech? Columbine?

Gun control has yet to stop a single crime. Instead, it merely guarantees the outcome and gives an overwhelming advantage to the criminal.

But on the other hand, in an internet café in Florida, a seventy-one year-old armed citizen stopped an armed robbery from occurring.

In Salt Lake City, an armed citizen stopped a nutjob who was slashing people with a knife. The NRA publications run a full page of incidents taken from newspaper and news accounts all over the country where armed citizens STOP a crime in progress or from occurring because they are armed.

In not one of those instances were there ever cops or military around, which kind of negates the whole premise of "only the cops and military should have access to guns."

Oh, and to further neutralize that one, does anyone remember the Fort Hood shooting? Only the largest infantry post in the U.S. but no one had a weapon except for the shooter.

On the other hand, I still remember the events of September 11th, 2001 very well. The more we dug, the more we found that we had warning after warning after warning that something like this was going to happen. We had fake visas, expired visas, etc etc that had the government been doing their job, just might have prevented the wholesale slaughter of over 3000 innocent men, women and children.

Same with the Fort Hood shooting. The Army and FBI had more than ample warning that this nutjob had been communicating with radical Islamic clerics and immans, yet did nothing.

Then there is Fast and Furious. . .

So, to the government--which includes all our elected leaders--how about you just remove any ideas you might have about restricting our Constitutional rights and instead start concentrating on doing YOUR jobs.

Don't tread on us any further.

Sunday, August 5, 2012

Gadsen and Goliad flags. They say it all.



Here is the latest flag to fly over the Kinman compound.

It pretty much sums up my growing discontent for what politicians, government and radical liberals stand for these days, which is not freedom but rather government mandates.

I've long held the position that as a conservative, I just want to be left alone.

As an example, I'm a gun-owner and strong defender of the Second Amendment. However, I've never tried to support or urge a law forcing anyone to purchase, own or be issued a firearm. If guns aren't your thing, no problem.

Just leave me and mine alone.

Liberals, on the other hand, form groups like the Brady Bunch and Coalition to Stop Gun Violence and other such nonsense for the sole purpose of severely restricting MY rights. They have the same Second Amendment rights, but they choose
not to exercise them.

That's fine, too. But when you work to restrict or infringe upon my rights, you've just created an enemy. And I will fight you back.

I've never tried to force anyone as to which newspaper they should read or which newscast they should watch. Liberals, on the other hand, go around trying to get government to pull the plug on networks and newsmakers they don't like. Fox and Rush Limbaugh are two prime examples. Liberals hate them and constantly try to bully government to restrict them or outright take them off the air.

I don't like MSNBC. I wouldn't urinate on Bill Maher if he was on fire. I think Letterman is a hack washed up douchebag. But I've never written a letter or joined in a protest to have them taken off the air by government force. I simply choose not to watch or listen to the losers.

I don't like what Ben & Jerry's ice cream stands for via their company's politics. But I've never gone to my city council and demanded that they not be allowed on the freezer shelves of my local grocery stores.

On the other hand, we've just seen what the liberals tried to do with Chick-Fil-A and how they are demanding their politicians to "ban" entrance of Chick-Fil-A into ratholes like San Francisco, Chicago and Boston.

I've recently ordered a couple of more flags to fly over the compound. One is the Goliad flag that we flew in Texas at the beginning of our Revolution for independence.


The Culpepper Liberty or Death flag will also fly.


And finally, in addition to the Texas flag, the Confederate flag and the United States flag, this flag will be in the rotation to fly over our home.

I've been told that it's a bad idea to fly these flag or to state my beliefs "too loudly" for fear of drawing unwanted attention. I've been told that the local liberals might "target me."

This once again reinforces my point. I'm not forcing anything on anyone but rather simply exercising MY First Amendment rights to speak my mind. If the liberals have a problem, then by all means. . . come and "target me."

I have no use for so-called conservatives who believe in appeasing the liberals, who believe only in preaching to the choir so as not to "offend" the radical left.

We have gotten to this point in our nation precisely because too many so-called conservatives and RINOs have been content with the philosophy of "I have mine, you go get yours the best way you can."

What hypocrites.

It's beyond time for us to stand up for our rights and what we believe in. Our backs are against the proverbial wall, and if we truly love this country and cherish our Constitution, then we'll stand up and speak on its behalf and we'll defend it--no matter what the cost.

Thursday, August 2, 2012

Gun owners like this, we don't need.


In Above Reproach, the overriding them is to NOT appease those who use or look for any reason/excuse to continue chipping away at our rights--especially our Second Amendment rights.

Here in Texas, in a suburb of Houston, we have a guy, Jeremy Alcede, who owns a gun store and range and supports the law banning online sale of large quantities of ammunition.

Don't believe me? Listen for yourself.

His excuse is "just give them THIS and then tell them go go away."

Question for Jeremy: What color is the air on your planet?

On the other hand, there is no doubt that if this law passed, he'd make a lot of money and increased profits with HIS bulk ammo sales.

Gun owners and so-called Second Amendment "defenders" like these, we do not need.

He'll not see a dime of my business or support. Period.

Tuesday, July 31, 2012

The nation's best.

(from the e-mail stack)


Thanks to my fellow veterans:

I remember the day I found out I got into West Point. My mom actually showed up in the hallway of my high school and waited for me to get out of class.

She was bawling her eyes out and apologizing that she had opened up my admission letter. She wasn't crying because it had been her dream for me to go there. She was crying because she knew how hard I'd worked to get in, how much I wanted to attend, and how much I wanted to be an infantry officer. I was going to get that opportunity.

That same day two of my teachers took me aside and essentially told me the following: “David, you're a smart guy. You don't have to join the military. You should go to college, instead.”

I could easily write a theme defending West Point and the military as I did that day, explaining that USMA is an elite institution, that separate from that it is actually statistically much harder to enlist in the military than it is to get admitted to college, that serving the nation is a challenge that all able-bodied men should at least consider for a host of reasons, but I won't.

What I will say is that when a 16 year-old kid is being told that attending West Point is going to be bad for his future then there is a dangerous disconnect in America, and entirely too many Americans have no idea what kind of burdens our military is bearing.

In World War II, 11.2% of the nation served in four (4) years.

During the Vietnam era, 4.3% served in twelve (12) years.

Since 2001, only 0.45% of our population has served in the Global War on Terror.

These are unbelievable statistics. Over time, fewer and fewer people have shouldered more and more of the burden and it is only getting worse.

Our troops were sent to war in Iraq by a Congress consisting of 10% veterans with only one person having a child in the military. Taxes did not increase to pay for the war. War bonds were not sold. Gas was not regulated. In fact, the average citizen was asked to sacrifice nothing, and has sacrificed nothing unless they have chosen to out of the goodness of their hearts.

The only people who have sacrificed are the veterans and their families. The volunteers. The people who swore an oath to defend this nation.

You stand there, deployment after deployment and fight on. You've lost relationships, spent years of your lives in extreme conditions, years apart from kids you'll never get back, and beaten your body in a way that even professional athletes don't understand.

Then you come home to a nation that doesn't understand.

They don't understand suffering. They don't understand sacrifice. They don't understand why we fight for them. They don't understand that bad people exist. They look at you like you're a machine - like something is wrong with you. You are the misguided one - not them.

When you get out, you sit in the college classrooms with political science teachers that discount your opinions on Iraq and Afghanistan because YOU WERE THERE and can't understand the macro issues they gathered from books, because of your bias.

You watch TV shows where every vet has PTSD and the violent strain at that. Your Congress is debating your benefits, your retirement, and your pay, while they ask you to do more. But the amazing thing about you is that you all know this. You know your country will never pay back what you've given up. You know that the populace at large will never truly understand or appreciate what you have done for them. Hell, you know that in some circles, you will be thought as less than normal for having worn the uniform. But you do it anyway.

You do what the greatest men and women of this country have done since 1775. YOU SERVED. Just that decision alone makes you part of an elite group.

“Never in the field of human conflict has so much been owed by so many to so few.” -Winston Churchill

Thank you to the 11.2% and 4.3% who have served and thanks to the 0.45% who continue to serve our Nation.

General David Petraeus
West Point Class 1974



Damn straight.

Saturday, July 21, 2012

A day with true Americans in Fort Worth.




A friend of mine is a retired one-star Air Force general, fellow pilot, warbird and history enthusiast and all-around good guy.

One of his passions is the Veterans Memorial Air Park (VMAP) located on the grounds of Fort Worth Meacham Airport (KFTW).

This past Saturday, the general and his volunteers put together a nice shindig for the VMAP and coordinated it with Fort Worth Meacham Airport's 87th birthday.

America was alive and well today. Hundreds of veterans turned out to support the museum as well as congregate and tell war stories and relate tales and memories of their/our military service. Spouses and children took in the displays and waited in line for the T-38 simulator.

Shuttles had been set up from the passenger terminal area at the airport to bring visitors to the museum and grounds, where the smell of grilling hot dogs greeted them along with aircraft displays from the Vietnam era.

It was hot in Fort Worth today, hellishly hot and the place to be was inside the museum itself.

Along with the fly-in and static displays, a book-signing was held in the main area of the VMAP museum. I was honored to be an invitee.

I was one of five authors signing books. Two of us were novelists and the other three were historians. J'Nell L. Pate wrote the definitive history of Fort Worth's military legacy in her book, Arsenal of Defense, which was just published last year.

(Bob Gruenhagen and J'Nell Pate)

Don Pyeatt has a love affair with the B-36 Peacemaker. He was there and signing his latest book, Cold War Peacemaker. The Story of Cowtown and the Corvair B-36. This is a fascinating book on the long range bomber that gave us an undisputed edge in the Cold War. The photography is Smithsonian-like and the anecdotes from crew members and mechanics are priceless.

(Don Pyeatt and J.D. Kinman)

The final non-fiction book I purchased from my fellow authors is the undisputed king of all aviation books ever written on or about the P-51 Mustang. Typical of its author, Robert "Bob" W. Gruenhagen, the title is plain and non-flashy. But let me tell you about Mustang. The Story Of The P-51 Fighter. . . Every aviation buff, fighter jock, WWII aviation historian and anyone else who has a keen admiration and insatiable interest in the P-51 will tell you that this is THE book on the greatest fighter many feel has ever been built for its generation, and certainly the undisputed (and proven) king of World War II aviation.

The final author I was graced to have met and shared a table and day with is novelist Susan Howell. Susan, my uncle and I discovered that we had all chewed up a lot of the same ground in Thailand. Susan and her mother were the first two civilian (American) women allowed on Korat Royal Air Base, Thailand, during the Vietnam war. Susan's father was a decorated WWII pilot and an aviation pioneer. All pilots are familiar with EGT and the EGT indicator or gauge.

(Susan Howell and Amanda Irvin)

That was the doing of Susan's father, John Stinson Howell, III who also went on to pioneer additional instrumentation that saved countless Air Force and Navy aircraft engines, which in turn, saved countless lives.

Susan's novel, Oil Rush. The International Tug of War is presently in its final edit and publication stage and will be available in November of 2012. At the time of this writing, Susan and her daughter, Amanda, are finalizing their website for the book's launch. Amanda tells me she anticipates the website being better than 90% functional within the next seven days.

Check back on this one--and don't worry because I'll remind you. I'll be pre-ordering this novel from Susan as the premise sounds fascinating and promises to be a stone-cold page-turner.

This was another one of those days you don't forget because once again, I was blessed to have made yet more new friends and witness what is right about America.

Should any of you be passing through Fort Worth or looking for a truly neat destination in your travels, give yourself a few hours to stop in the Veterans Memorial Air Park. There is a lot of history packed into that building, some fascinating artifacts, an incredible library and some of the finest patriots you'll ever meet.

Friday, July 20, 2012

Another Gun-Free zone turns into a killing field.


Typical.

Didn't we see this in the Omaha (Nebraska) mall shooting a few years ago? Another "safe, gun-free zone" in which some criminal totally disregarded the law (isn't that what criminals do, by definition?) and started thinning the herd of sheep.

This almost mirrors the opening chapter in my book (Above Reproach) in which armed terrorists targeted "gun-free" zones and cities in which guns had been outlawed for law-abiding citizens. Wholesale slaughter resulted.

Much like Aurora, Colorado.

Where were the police? Where were the military?

Since liberal sheep insist that only police and military need or should have guns, then where the hell were the police or the military in Aurora? Never mind the fact that the military, by law, is prohibited from "enforcement" actions in domestic matters.

So where were the police--even off-duty police?

Contrast this was a scene a few months ago in a grocery store in Salt Lake City where another deranged animal started slashing a fixed-blade knife at patrons, cutting several of them until a law-abiding citizen with a concealed handgun license stopped the attack.

Contrast this with a scene in Ocala, Florida where a couple of scumbag punks walked into an internet café armed with a gun and a baseball bat and attempted to rob everyone until a 71-year-old pulled his legally concealed handgun and fired on the thugs.

I know a lot of folks in Colorado and even in the Denver area who are CHL holders, who are cool under pressure, many of whom are veterans, some of whom are past law enforcement and some of whom are regular sport shooters.

I also know that NOT ONE OF THEM would ever set foot in that theater because it advertised itself as "gun-free" and prohibited firearms.

Looks like that policy was an epic fail.

I REFUSE to patronize any place, business or organization that does not trust me to responsibly exercise my Second Amendment rights. Those same places, businesses and organizations somehow trusted me to carry a firearm when I was wearing our nation's uniform, but they no longer trust me now that I'm back home and a civilian.

So I will not, repeat, not patronize them. It's their right to refuse me service. It's my right to insist on having a fighting chance when some scumbag thug robber or nutjob decides that "today is the day" and wants to go on a killing spree.

Armed citizens could have, and would have prevented the melee that occurred in Aurora, Colorado.

But instead, liberals--which I classify as COWARDS--insist on blaming guns, NRA, Rush Limbaugh. . . anyone but themselves for their cowardly policies denying the masses' their rights in order to feel "safe."

The opening quote in my book says it all:

"Those who would give up essential liberty to purchase a little temporary safety, deserve neither liberty nor safety." (Benjamin Franklin)

And while the cowards (liberals) are crying about the dangers of guns and all the guns we have in this country, when is the last time a massacre of this note occurred at the NRA convention, or the SHOT show, or a gun-show, or at a Bass Pro Shops or Cabela's or any other outdoor/firearms/sporting goods store?

Liberals are to blame for the massacre in Aurora. Not conservatives. Not gun-owners. Not Rush Limbaugh or Sarah Palin or the NRA.

Think about that for every shopping and purchasing decision you make.

Wednesday, July 18, 2012

Funny thing about Obama's remarks about business. . .

First off, I am not a fan of Barack Obama.

In fact, given the opportunity, I choose to refer to him simply as Obama (or other less flattering terms) rather than prefacing his name with "president."

In regards to his latest remarks about "You didn't build your business," I'll use the moniker "idiot" to describe him.

For some reason, the Idiot seems to think that Big Government should get most of the credit. After all, the Idiot insists, Big Gov built the roads and bridges that brought commerce to our doorsteps. Big Gov, led by Al Gore, invented the internet. Etc etc.

As I said, Obama is an idiot.

What the Idiot doesn't seem to grasp is that the funding for those roads and bridges and other things that Big Gov perpetually overspends and underperforms on comes from the private sector--also known as private enterprise.

Ranches and farms were prospering in frontier times long before there were roads and bridges. The railroads were built by. . . well, the railroad companies. There was huge commerce in California during the gold rush years and correct me if I'm wrong, but I don't think Interstate 40 had been built for all the covered wagons to travel on across the country heading westward.

The bottom line is that we are responsible for our successes and failures. The problem is, Big Gov is making it harder and harder to succeed. Taxes, licenses, permits, ordinances, fees, regulations, hiring laws, draconian environmental laws. . . you name it and Big Gov will not only push it, but make it bigger.

Look at what Big Gov has done to airline travel.

Yet, in spite of that, the American entrepreneur continues to prosper and rise above the cesspool that percolates inside the Beltway.

I've been involved in some business ventures in the past couple of decades. Some worked out, some didn't. But the bottom line is that contrary to what the Idiot bleated out in Virginia, Big Gov is the biggest hindrance--not help--that today's small business entrepreneur faces today.

The private sector understands that. Government doesn't.

And it really is that simple.

Tuesday, July 17, 2012

This could have been a scene right out of my first book.

Oh but oh how this does warm my heart.


I watched this several times earlier today, as did my wife, and we both agreed that Mr. Williams will never need reach for his wallet at any cafe or diner or restaurant where either of us are around.

In fact, I like this so much, I'm going to use it in the third book, Blue Cities, Red Streets.

I'm including a link to the local follow-up news story. Typical that a libtard Dem is trying to now get internet cafés banned in Florida.

Internet cafe robbery foiled by armed citizen.

Monday, July 16, 2012

On the road, writing, and next book in the works.

Every writer I've ever known, from a novelist to non-fiction writers to advertising copywriters to novelists. . . we all seem to ask the same question. One day it's early in January and that October publication deadline is months away.

Plenty of time.

So we relax, procrastinate a bit. We tell ourselves we're doing research, that we're recharging the batteries.

Then, one day, it's only a few months out and we're still on the first couple of paragraphs.

Of chapter one.

When I was in Madison Avenue, deadlines spurred some of my best work. The pressure made you reach deep down. You pulled out brilliant headlines and stunning body copy. At least sometimes, And sometimes, you ended up jotting down pure junk and your creative director literally eviscerated you.

I guess the point is, we never pay (enough) attention to time.

Been on the road with some book signings, as of most recent, to Natchitoches, Louisiana, a delightful southern town where a lot of Steel Magnolias was filmed.

I flew in on a Friday evening as the local Experimental Aircraft Association (EAA) chapter was hosting a fly-in that weekend. Followed a beautiful Stearman in, and after getting everything secured, it was time for a group picture. I'm on the left with my hands in my pockets.



The following day, we had a cookout in the main hangar and I signed quite a few books and made a lot of new friends. Afterward, it was time for a picture with Mrs. Georgia Hilton in front of my airplane. Georgia is a radio talent, organizer, wife, mom and classic Southern Belle in every sense of the word. Her husband, Mike, and I are two of a kind--guns and airplanes.


We're having another book signing on Saturday, July 21 at Fort Worth Meacham Airport at the Veterans Memorial Museum. Festivities will begin around 1000. It's also a fly-in and organizers are asking everyone who plans to fly in to be parked and secured by 0930. Transportation will be provided from the ramp to the museum.

* * * * *

I'm happy to report that the second book, False Gods is well under way. Most of the characters will return, but False Gods is not a sequel to Above Reproach. Instead, this book takes on the three "false gods" or our time, which I see to be Big Government, Big Business and Wall Street.

Here is a sneak preview of the opening scene from False Gods.

She’d never killed anyone before, but this wasn’t going to be just anyone.

Peering out of the stolen taxi cab’s windshield, Lynnette Trang tightened her grip around the steering wheel. Downtown Chicago was full of cops, on foot and in cars, and each time a police officer got anywhere near, her anxiety level rose. Any misgivings about what she had carefully planned during the preceding days were gone. Next to her in the bench seat of the ancient Crown Victoria was a picture, still in its frame. In the picture, Lynnette was clutching the arm of her husband and standing in front of the Gateway Arch in St. Louis. In between the smiling couple was a teenage girl, their daughter. It was a rare vacation photo because such times had been scarce for this first generation American family whose parents had fled Vietnam after Saigon fell during the previous century.

A tear made its way out of Trang’s eye as she recalled the memory of their daughter, then the more recent memory of her husband. Their ashes set in an ornamental urn above the fireplace mantel. The daughter had become sick and her husband’s employer had slashed the health benefits plan at the giant retail pharmacy where he worked as a number two assistant manager. Along with slashing the benefits, the employer had passed along the rising cost of health care premiums to all the employees. The Trangs had tried desperately to find the money to treat their daughter’s cervical cancer, but even in the generous Vietnamese community in which they lived, the economy had caused all to suffer and there simply was no extra money to be had. There had been treatments, but not enough. There were specialists in Dallas and Rochester, Minnesota, but the Trangs had no way of getting there. Skyrocketing fuel prices had cut the Angel Flight pilot squadrons in half and there was a long waiting list just to get on the roster.

It was an unseasonably cold September day when their daughter succumbed to the cancer, at just sixteen years of age. So pretty, so smart, so full of life and promise and now she was dead. Lynette’s husband took it the hardest, feeling he had failed as a father, husband and man in not being able to provide for his daughter. But then, just ten months after her death, he found himself downsized—laid off—from the giant retail pharmacy convenience store that was, had been, his employer. He had worked for the company for over twenty years, starting as a simple cashier. When the company decided to restructure in order to pay more attention to Wall Street and their shareholders rather than their employees, raises became either insulting or non-existent. That first year of restructuring saw Trang getting a raise of less than four cents per hour. His healthcare premiums rose over seventy-five percent and his state income taxes also went up. Fuel and food costs were up. Everything was up except for his take home pay. And then came the day he was told the company no longer had a place for him.

He’d called his wife and told her the news, then wandered downtown Chicago in a daze. He missed his daughter, he’d let down his wife, he had no more money and he had run out of hope. When he saw a Chicago Transit Authority bus speeding up to beat the light at Michigan and Superior, without thinking, he simply stepped out in front of it.

* * *

Andrew Sterns was having a great day. He’d fled his headquarters corner office for a rare lunch in solitude down on the Magnificent Mile in downtown Chicago. His national retail pharmacy’s stocks were up by over ten percent, the board of directors had approved another thirty percent raise in salary for him, and this year’s cash bonus promised to top fifteen-million dollars. Sterns had finagled the rules and inserted a voting board member, whom he paid under the table to be the deciding vote on matters of personal and financial interest to himself. It was a rarely exercised option in the company’s charter and Sterns was the first CEO in the company’s history to use it. Throwing down his linen napkin and pushing himself away from the eighty-five dollar lunch, he stood up and stretched.

The media had beaten hell out of him for his ruthless slashing of employees and benefits, but he no longer cared. He was now wealthy beyond any and all dreams he ever had—and was about to get even more wealthy. The latest round of layoffs and salary reductions were putting over seventy-five million dollars back into the general labor and compensation budget, of which he would take almost five percent in the form of an additional cash salary. Even better, he almost giggled to himself, the new budget restructuring for his store and pharmacy managers eliminated almost half of their bonuses and transferred the difference into the senior executives’ bonus pool. Imagine that, he marveled. You get a raise for slashing other people’s raises and a bigger bonus for raping other workers’ bonuses! Only on Wall Street.

It felt good to be alone and without any ass-kissing minions around. Only one person in the entire company knew where he was, and that was his secretary. Sterns pulled out his cell phone and gave her a quick call, assuring her that he was about to hail his driver and make the long trek back to the northern suburbs where there was work to be done. Efficient as always, Lori Trang promised to have all his messages waiting for him and reminded him of an operations meeting in the middle of the afternoon. Suppressing a grumble, Sterns assured her he would make it.

* * *

The text that appeared on Lynette Trang’s phone was simple: Be on lookout. He is leaving at any minute.

* * *

Donald Jackson took one last swig from the water bottle and tossed it in the trash. Seeing the CEO of his former employer leave the posh restaurant, Jackson fell in stride with the rest of the early afternoon pedestrian traffic.

Around the corner, Sterns’ driver read the text on his phone with a puzzled expression. Park across the street, facing opposite direction. Normally his boss didn’t like to walk a single extra step he didn’t have to unless it was on the treadmill at the Skyline Executive Athletic and Fitness Club. Ignoring the honks of protest, the driver swung the limousine in a wide arc across the six lanes of traffic, pointing east instead of west. With the car in park, he sat back and waited.

* * *

Sterns looked around in annoyance. He’d told his driver to meet him curbside. Hearing a honking, the CEO looked around and saw his car parked across Michigan Avenue from where he was now standing. Idiot! Suppressing a curse, he began to step off the curb when a blaring horn from a CTA bus caused him to jump back. The driver of the bus glared at the executive and pulled over to let off passengers. Sterns walked a few paces back and waited for traffic to clear. He was still steaming about his driver being parked across the street when he felt someone shove him off the curb into the street.

* * *

Lynette Trang was already accelerating as fast as the Crown Victoria could go when she saw Sterns stumble and almost fall, catching himself on the back of the looming Chicago Transit Authority bus, whose drivers and passengers were unaware of the drama unfolding behind them.

* * *

“Hey, watch out, asshole!” the CEO snapped, putting a hand on the back of the dirty CTA bus and turning around to see who had pushed him off the curb. As he turned to face behind him, he saw an approaching yellow taxi cab. It seemed to be moving way too fast towards him for as close as it—

* * *

Trang saw the Stern’s eyes narrow, then open wide in fear. A split second later as the front bumper and grill of the stolen taxi crushed Sterns’ pelvis and midsection against the ten-ton bus, his body seem to bend and almost break and she saw his bulging eyes filled with terror only scant inches from her own on the outside of the now cracked and spider-webbed windshield. With no small degree of satisfaction, she watched the man gasp in agony, trying to scream but unable, then collapse on the hood, his intestines and spinal column crushed beyond any hope of repair.

Around her, people were screaming in horror while others had their cell phones out and were taking pictures. The bus driver, having felt the jarring impact, hit the emergency panic button to summon the police and emergency personnel and turned to check on her now panicked passengers. The limo driver across the street jumped out of the car and weaved his way through the traffic which was unaware that anything amiss had just occurred. Donald Jackson walked by the scene, and upon seeing his former employer’s CEO undoubtedly deceased, smiled in grim satisfaction and continued walking west on Michigan Avenue, checking his watch. He had a job interview in another half-hour. Like so many others, after years of employment with the CEO’s company, he’d been downsized as part of the restructuring plan.

Inside the stolen taxi, Lynette Trang’s expression remained neutral. She looked down at the family portrait on the seat, and with tender gentleness, held it up for one last kiss. Then she reached inside her purse for the cheap .38 Special revolver she’d bought off a street thug—handguns were illegal in Chicago—and placed the muzzle in her mouth, then squeezed the trigger.

# # #

Friday, June 15, 2012

Time to start getting serious, I reckon.

I've been neglecting this website as I've worked towards the publishing, launch and selling of my first book, Above Reproach.

In fact, I've been neglecting myself, friends and family as well. I'm a bit of a recluse even on my best days--and that affliction grows worse with each passing year. My problem is that my tolerance level for idiots, socialists and liberals (redundant) diminishes seemingly with each passing day.

As I've told folks before, when 9/11 occurred, I drew a line in the sand even before George W Bush proclaimed, "You're either with us or with the terrorists."

When Barack Hussein Obama was elected, I poured concrete in that line in the sand. I have no use for those with entitlement mentalities. I have no use for those who fear honest work, even if it happens to be hard or dangerous or uncomfortable. I have no use for those who are more concerned with the color of one's skin than they are the content of one's character. I have no use for those who believe in enslaving the achievers and taxing them in a draconian faction so that the under-achievers or non-achievers or welfare class can "feel good about themselves."

I believe in self-determination and self-reliance. I do not believe in a nanny government wiping our nose at every step of the way. I believe in protecting my family, my neighbors and friends and my fellow citizens. The police exist to take out the trash, so to speak, when law-abiding citizens rightfully defend themselves and what is theirs against the career criminal element who for generations has grown accustomed to simply taking, by force, whatever they wish.

I do not believe in apologizing for success, nor apologizing for accomplishment, skill or talent. In my book, the primary character, Dillon Cole, did quite well for himself in the advertising industry. I had a reader take me to the woodshed--or at least, attempted to--for Dillon's success. I wrote the reader back and asked how long they'd been a Democrat.

The characters in Above Reproach, are successful because they busted their humps. They represent rugged individualism and self-reliance. They are men and women of passion and action.

I read to escape. I read for enjoyment. I read to learn, to fantasize, to explore.

Same thing about movies. Laurence Olivier was undeniably an other-worldly talent--but I still enjoyed Animal House and The Outlaw Josey Wales over most anything Olivier did. I recognize the greatness of Hemingway and Dickens, but I still enjoy reading Vince Flynn and Matt Bracken far more.

I can appreciate a five-star restaurant that charges $75 for some goose guts and fish eggs next to their gourmet filet, but I far much prefer a $15 piece of awesome smoked prime rib from my local steakhouse.

That's pretty much who and what I am. Nothing any more special than anyone else; just someone who has an overactive imagination who has been blessed with the ability to transfer some of that imagination into the written word.

From time to time I'll highlight some of my favorite writers and/or friends who also write and have had their works published. Different genres, but similar attitudes.

Let the neglect end and the journey begin.

Tuesday, May 8, 2012

Now available at the iBookstore and more e-tailers.

Got word this week that we're in the iBookstore as well as Borders/Australia and Amazon.UK, which is pretty cool.

Cover art for the print edition is in final revision and the Memorial Day weekend launch date is still looking good.

I'll be setting up a purchase portal here and at my An Ordinary American blog for autographed print edition purchases, as well as signed 5x7 cover purchases.

In the meantime, if you still haven't joined a pro-gun association such as the National Rifle Association, Gun Owners of America, Jews For Preservation of Firearms Ownership, etc, as well as your local state rifle association, I urge you to sign up today.

Our strength lies in our numbers, and our future lies in our strength.

Thursday, May 3, 2012

Now available through Barnes & Noble

Got the notification today that Above Reproach is now available for the Nook at Barnes & Noble.

Print edition will be available at B&N, Amazon and others by Memorial Day weekend.

Feedback continues to be positive overall with a few folks for whom the book just wasn't for them.

No worries there--that's why there are lots of writers and lots of books. Guaranteed something for everyone.

Thanks for your support and patronage.

Tuesday, May 1, 2012

Ben Wallace. A writer that is FUN to read.

(Note: Post Apocalyptic Nomadic Warriors is free today in celebration of its one-year anniversary. You're crazy if you don't have it and don't download it. The only excuse for not doing so is if you can't read. . . and if that's the case, why are you reading this?)


Writing is a funny thing. Some writers try to be funny and other writers are funny.

Other writers are just good, which means you enjoy reading their books and you feel GOOD when you're done.

Benjamin Wallace falls into that category. Big time.

I'm sure he's sick of hearing it and thinks I'm an egotistical butthead, but I won the lottery back in Dallas around 1999. I won it by being the only creative director in all of advertising agency land to snatch this guy up before anyone else could.

There was a drive and a passion for not only the written word, but for IDEAS, for engaging the reader with those words and not feel like you, the reader, just wasted your time reading or listening to an ad.

I remember the e-mail and the phone call a year ago. "First book, published, buy it, please," Ben told me.

"I don't have a Kindle," I replied. I used to be pretty old fashioned a year ago, and I reminded Ben of that as I got up to manually change the channels on my portable black & white television--the one with the built-in rabbit ears.

"You can download the app," he explained.

The what?

I chewed that one over after hanging up my rotary dial telephone and decided I might need to start checking out the 21st century.

Well, here we are a year later. This past February, I bought a Kindle and Ben's first book was the first download I put on it. To date, this is the most FUN book I have read--bar none.

I'm supposed to be a writer myself. I even have a book out and two more in the can, but I'm having a difficult time really finding the appropriate words to describe Post Apocalyptic Nomadic Warriors.

I keep coming back to that word "fun." I'd find myself chuckling out loud, getting up for another Coke and having a grin on my face. I just felt good while reading the book. It's not dark, it's not gloomy, it's not silly (don't let the description fool you into thinking this is slapstick fiction; it's not). It's just straight ahead GOOD writing that tells a fun story with fun characters with some fun twists.

Celebrate Ben's one-year anniversary as a published author. Download his book and start remembering how when reading used to be fun.

Friday, April 27, 2012

Novel goes international in first 48 hours.

What a ride!

The launch of Above Reproach on this past Wednesday took me by surprise. While I had originally planned for an April 15th launch date, there were some technical issues with the publisher that came up at the last minute.

As a result, the book was submitted for distribution on the 17th of April, and Amazon was one of the last retailers to confirm delivery. Once a book has been delivered, it has to be classified and categorized and some other technical voodoo performed.

I figured we'd go live around the first week of May, give or take. So when I got a call informing me that we were on and for sale on Wednesday, I kind of had to scramble a bit.

Good news is that we've sold copies to gun-owners in New Zealand, Australia, France, Italy, Canada, the UK, Peru and Mexico. A reader in Australia writes me that he is putting it on his club's "must read" list and tells his mates that it is a "blueprint for what we need to lobby the government for because the scenario in Above Reproach could happen in Australia as easily as it happened in the United States--only with a totally different outcome."

Still to come will be distribution to Barnes & Noble, Baker & Taylor, Copia, Gardners and Apple's iBookstore via iTunes.

Wednesday, April 25, 2012

Gun owners--it's here.

Above Reproach is now available for sale and download at Amazon.com. We are still putting the finishing touches on the wrap-around cover for the print edition and it should be available for purchase by the middle of May. At this time, Above Reproach will be available at the iBookstore, Sony e-Reader, Barnes & Noble, Baker & Taylor, Kobo, Copia and other retailers and e-tailers. As with any undertaking, I had a tremendous amount of help and support with this and I'm grateful to everyone who had a hand in this project. More to come in the upcoming days.

Sunday, March 4, 2012

A novel for gun owners written by a gun owner set to debut in mid-April.

Above Reproach, a novel written by a gun owner for gun owners, is set to debut in mid-April. The book is undergoing its last and final edit, then heads off for formatting and distribution.

 Those who would give up essential liberty to purchase a little temporary safety deserve neither liberty nor safety. Benjamin Franklin

An exiled Iranian operating out of Damascus is taking aim at the one thing the United States holds most precious—her freedom. Launching a blitzkrieg of mass shootings in cities across the country, Muhannad Qasim knows the urban dwellers and the media will blame the Second Amendment for the carnage and then relentlessly pressure lawmakers to stifle Americans’ right to arm and defend themselves. The master terrorist understands that a citizenry unarmed is at the complete mercy of its government—and he has spent years carefully seeding the U.S. media and government with influential officials sympathetic to his views.
 
Qasim’s plan is working beautifully until one of his cells runs headlong into the wrong man.
 
Dillon Cole is a combat veteran and former U.S. Marshal who became a legend in the law enforcement community. After marrying, he hung up his guns and began a new career as a business executive, never looking back. But when he finds himself suddenly caught in the middle of a shooting inside a college student union in Tulsa, Oklahoma, Dillon fights back, killing three of the terrorists and saving untold lives.
 
His heroics ignite a nationwide firestorm of resistance to the ongoing attacks as well as the attacks on the Constitution. But as Americans begin to fight back, Dillon now finds himself in a fight for his own life as the terrorists will stop at nothing to kill him, including going after his wife and newly adopted daughter. No longer constrained by the rules of his former profession, Dillon Cole takes the fight to the attackers, turning the hunters into the hunted.