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Making A Difference

Sometimes when you think you're making a positive difference in the world you find out that you're not making any difference at all.

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Providence: the Evermore Trilogy concludes

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Science Fiction for Thinkers Online

This past week I went back to WordPress and put up a site blog for my official website. For me, blogging at WordPress is like wading through a muddy field without boots on and finding more mud on the other side of the field. But at least I'm not in the same spot. Besides, Science Fiction for Thinkers.com needed a site blog and putting up a blog at Webs.com is like wading through quicksand without boots on and finding nothing to grab a hold of while you're sinking.

On the other hand, blogging at Blogger is like a walk in the park. Whenever you have to wade through some mud at Blogger, it's not very deep, and when you get to the other side it's almost always a field of clover worth rolling in. But this Thinker's Corner blog post is really about Science Fiction for Thinkers Online, the brand-new official site blog of Science Fiction for Thinkers.com.

Science Fiction for Thinkers Online
The official site blog of Science Fiction for Thinkers.com

Time and Time Again: the Evermore Trilogy continues

Evermore: the Evermore Trilogy begins

How I Grew My Horns

Hell, I should have known. And I should have known better, too. Of course, that means nothing to most of you, so let me explain how I recently morphed into the creature pictured on your left. My growing horns over the past few years is mostly due to my absolute exasperation with certain people who are contacting me because I'm an author who can do something for them or because they feel nasty and feel like targeting me.

First, a little background. I damned near killed myself to take care of my elderly mother for the past 15 years, helping her through the aging widow process, making sure that she's cared for by family and not strangers. Seeing her through the cane stage, then the walker stage and now the wheelchair stage. And, on top of that, I still found the time to take care of a four-bedroom house and a four-acre lawn, write eight books, ten blogs and an online monthly newsletter, and maintain three websites. No wonder I feel like I'm 80 instead of 59.

But that's nothing compared to the nightmare of having people from my past, in addition to perfect strangers, contacting me because they "accidentally stumbled' upon my website or ran across my website when they were actually looking for something else. And, now that they've found me, they want something from me. But it's not my books.

Do you people really think for one minute that telling me you ran across my website by accident is somehow going to make me feel better about myself? Are you so stupid and so self-centered that you would actually believe that I'm just tickled to death that you've contacted me for your own personal reasons and not because you found my books online or you liked my wesbite or that you actually read one of my books and want to tell me "good job"? Take a good hard look at yourself. Listen to yourself. Take a big step back and take a hard look at what you've just done.

That's right, people are now coming out of the woodwork to contact me and not because I'm a science fiction author but to ask for my help with something else. Not to talk about my writing. Not to express interest in reading what I've written since 2002. What they want from me has nothing to do with their interest in being a reader or part of a following or a fan of any kind. It's all about them.

One guy who heard about me emailed me and then called me up. Did he want to compliment me for being a local author? No. Did he want to buy my books? No. He wanted me to copy my ebooks onto a CD-R for him — for FREE — and send them to him at my expense so he could study my writing style and then write science fiction of his own, based on my writing style. And what did Mike the Fool do? I helped him by directing him to places on the web where he could get set up for writing, networking and publishing. I'd bet a C-note that he's never read a single thing I've written to this day because he was too cheap to buy one of my books. And, Jesus no, I didn't send him any free CD-Rs with my books on them. I told him to never contact me again.

Then there's the woman from my past who emailed me to tell me that she "stumbled upon my website" one day and was surprised as hell to find out that I was a science fiction author. Did she say anthing nice about that, anything interesting about me or my books? No. All she wanted to say was that she guessed she didn't know me as well as she thought she did. And that was that.

There was the couple from France who emailed me just to tell me two things and one of them was that they didn't like science fiction. Hmmm. That's pretty low. They could have just ignored me altogether. But then a lot of us Americans know that most French people want us dead. I'd bet a million bucks that France's reputation with most Americans is not so great, either, and that any straw poll would show that we'd let them be occupied again by just abut anybody instead of saving their asses for the third time, just to be despised. And they think we're the bad guys.

I always wanted to visit France before I died. But not now. I'd rather go to Las Vegas and lose my shirt. And I fucking loathe Vegas. The second thing this French couple wanted to tell me was that they were delighted by the way I made fun of myself in my now-defunct online newsletter, The Pluto Observer. They found it hard to believe that an American would do such a thing. Well, hell, making fun of myself is part of who I am as a humorist but what I couldn't understand is where in the hell have these people been? I guess they never heard our stand-up comics or watched The Three Stooges or Bugs Bunny or read Mark Twain. Well, that sin of omission is on them.

And now another woman from my past, who was using the search engines to find out about gas drilling in this area and who "ran across your website by accident" in the process, emailed me to ask me if I "was involved" in the 11:11 phenomenon. Did she say something complimentary about my being an author or suggest shock or surprise? Nope. She's one of those countless neurotics who are are caught up in the 11:11 phenomenon and all she wanted was for me to make her feel better somehow about being "freaked out" by the 11:11 thing. But I'd never even heard of 11:11 until I read her email.

Did I help her? You bet I did. Sure thing. Because I'm a nice guy who automatically helps people without even thinking about it. Did she thank me? No. Did she express an interest in my science fiction? Absolutely not. Her contacting me, just like all the other people, was all about her. After I basically told her to forget about 11:11 because it was probably nonsense and, if it wasn't, it was bad news that people can avoid by making a choice not to pay any attention to it. It's as simple as that. Then I used one of my fictitious online  characters, Fred Fortune, to poke fun at the 11:11 craze, to make people think and laugh about it. That's what I do best.

So, I got to thinking about what a sap I've been. What a fuckin' chump.

Mr. Nice Guy. You bet I was. Up until and including yesterday. But starting today and from now on, all you people are going to see from me is a bull you won't want to take by the horns if you even DARE to contact me about anything else except my writing. I've had it with you goddamn fucking selfish assholes.

The 11:11 phenomenon is probably just bullshit, just like Y2K was and just like 2012 will probably be. Who can say and who fucking cares? But I secretly hope that it's all very real. I hope alien hordes that look like armies of bugs and lizards come in droves and eat you bastards alive. I only wish I could hear your fucking, selfish, worthless screams when they do.

Now fuck off. Or take the bull by the horns at your own risk. But if you do, Jesus Christ All-Goddamn-Fucking-Mighty you'll wish you hadn't. Now, is this honest and personal enough for you nosy web surfers?

╥

A Sucker for Motown

When I was in Junior High School and then Senior High School a lot of the popular music that appealed to me came out of Detroit. The people who made it were part of Motown Record Corporation, a subsidiary of Universal Music Group. Motown was founded in 1960, the pop-music brainchild of Berry Gordy, a talented and visionary music producer.

I really liked the idea that Motown, now headquartered in New York City, came from Detroit where most of our automobiles were made back then and not from some distant world like Los Angeles. In my opinion, Motown is as much an American musical treasure as Jazz, Soul, Rhythm & Blues, Blues, Country & Western, Folk, Rockabilly and Rock and Roll.

Motown music was a celebration of life and a pleasant, uplifting diversion from the roller coaster ride of being young. In addition to that, Motown fed the romantic spirit of people of all ages. I loved the "big", exciting sound of Motown's brand of Rhythm & Blues and Soul. Listening to Motown was an unfailingly upbeat and positive experience. I'm not a music expert and I'll never claim to be one. I'm a music lover and there's hardly any type of music that I don't like something from.

With Motown, I liked almost all of it. Whenever I felt bad, turning on my transistor AM radio at night and catching some Motown tunes always made me feel better. My favorite radio stations back then were WABC New York, WBZ Boston, WLS Chicago and CKLW Windsor, Ontario. Even though Motown produced records beyond the 1960s, my favorite Motown sound came from the Sixties Decade. These 25 songs are my tribute to the music and the magic of Motown Records and its many talented artists. Thanks, YouTube posters, for keeping this music alive.

1. Money — Barrett Strong (actually released in 1959)

2. Shop Around — The Miracles (1960)

3. Wonderful World — Sam Cooke (1960)

4. Mama Said — The Shirelles (1961)

5. Please Mr. Postman — The Marvelettes (1961)

6. Beechwood4-5789 — The Marvelettes (1962)

7. Do You Love Me — The Contours (1962)

8. The One Who Really Loves you — Mary Wells (1962)

9. Be My Baby — The Ronettes (1963)

10. Heat Wave — Martha Reeves and the Vandellas (1963)

11. Baby I Need Your Loving — The Four Tops (1964)

12. Come See About Me — The Supremes (1964)

13. Dancing in the Street — Martha Reeves and the Vandellas (1964)

14. My Girl — The Temptations (1964)

15. My Guy — Mary Wells (1964)

16. Needle In A Haystack — The Velvelettes (1964)

17. Where Did Our Love Go — The Supremes (1964)

18. I Can't Help Myself — The Four Tops (1965)

19. Nowhere to Run — Martha Reeves and the Vandellas (1965)

20. Shotgun — Jr. Walker And the All Stars (1965)

21. Heaven Must Have Sent You — The Elgins (1966)

22. This Old Heart Of Mine — Isley Brothers (1966)

23. You Can't Hurry Love — The Supremes (1966)

24. Jimmy Mack — Martha Reeves and the Vandellas (1967)

25. I Heard It Through The Grapevine — Gladys Knight & The Pips (1968) — 1967 is the date it was recorded

The Critics Have Spoken

What About Mike?

As I write this posting, I'm thinking about that movie where Bill Murray drives Richard Dreyfuss crazy. I've been a big Bill Murray fan ever since Saturday Night Live's 1970's Golden Era. And I've never liked Richard Dreyfuss, so I liked seeing Bill Murray drive him nuts. Shrinks are quacks, anyway, and they get away with murder.

Getting back on track, the movie title "What About Bob?" makes me think that it really means, What the hell are we going to do with this son-of-a-bitch? And, that makes me think of one day in my life, about ten years ago, when I was taking a nap and just nodding off and I heard someone talking to someone else about me. They were probably a couple of those celestial overlord Mengele types, you know, the kind that kidnap kids and vivisect them on their evil starships just to see how loud they can scream and then put them back on their bikes and call it a day. You know the type.

Anyway, this one creepy celestial voice said, What are we going to do with him? Well, they don't get to do anything with me anymore because I'm a grownup man now who will kill them outright, just for being around me, and not some helpless nine-year-old with the strength of a fly to fight them off in vain. People in flying saucers ought to be shot down, anyway, just for being people who fly around in flying saucers. Let them hop a plane like the rest of us.

Anyway, to make a long, boring story a little less long and boring, while these celestial shit smears are still thinking of a way to jettison this old man that they abused as a child, they can find me at Michael Casher on about.me. They'd just find me anyway, so what the hell's the difference?

Celestials Hard At Play

No good deed ever goes unpunished on planet Earth. Like taking care of your elderly mother for the past 16 years. Imagine my surprise when I finally found out that, not only is the world punishing me for caring enough about my mother to want to take care of her at home in her old age, the celestial powers-that-be are also making me pay for my care giving. That's right, the "real" gods. The spoiled Trulane "gods" of this universe (watch the Star Trek episode The Squire of Gothos if you don't get it) who wander the cosmos in search of toys to play with and life forms to abuse. Here's a "fun" human toy story for you.

In November 2009 my mother went into convulsions on our living room couch (and then she went into a coma at the hospital for two days) from a severe gall bladder attack and I had to call 9-1-1. With a cordless phone in one hand and holding my mother with my other arm we waited 45 Freakin Minutes! until the ambulance finally arrived. But it wasn't the Snow Shoe EMS, only a mile away, it was the Bellefonte EMS. After they knocked over most of the furniture in our living room, they finally got Mom out the door and into the ambulance. And, all during this time, a paramedic from Mt. Nittany Medical Center, who came in a separate vehicle and who would, no doubt, bill her separately, watched and chewed on a toothpick. The dumb son-of-bitch did ABSOLUTELY NOTHING!

Where was Snow Shoe EMS when we needed them? If they'd gotten here in ten or fifteen minutes instead of Bellefonte EMS from 16 Freakin Miles Away! maybe my Mom wouldn't be in a wheelchair today. The only reason they arrived here at all is because I caught them going the wrong way (heading out of town toward Clarence) and I told the 9-1-1 operator that I was now flashing my driveway flood lights for them to see. Then I ran back into the living room to hold Mom and keep talking into the cordless phone. Finally, after 45 Freakin Minutes! (from when I called 9-1-1 to the arrival of EMS at the house), the ambulance arrived.

Wait. It gets worse. The Celestial bastards were just beginning to have their medical fun with us.

Last July my appendix perforated and then burst and I almost died because I didn't know it for two days. Finally, a family friend (and a wonderful woman who cares about people) took me to the hospital where they saved my life with an emergency appendectomy, preceded by an emergency laparotomy that cut me open from way above my belly button to just above you-know-where. They filleted me like a fish and I still feel like a fish that'd been filleted. But it save my life.

It get's better. Or, worse, as the case may be. The Trulane in charge of this particular planet (Earth) — meaning Big Jack, himself — was chomping at the bit for more. And what a sick pup this ancient extraterrestrial is. That's all "the gods" are, by the way. Ancient, invisible creatures of the natural universe who became totally addicted to power and having whimsical fun with lower life forms. Like us.

Several months ago I was coming home from Dollar General when I saw an ambulance going down our circular driveway. My heart almost stopped. Mom and I are connected by her cordless phone and my cell phone whenever I leave the house briefly to shop for us and, the last I'd talked to her that afternoon (about five minutes ago when I told her I was leaving the DG parking lot to come back home) she was perfectly fine. Before I could get to the driveway, the freakin' ambulance zoomed around it and sped up Third Street like a lunatic was behind the wheel. I ran into the house as fast as I could on my partially-paralyzed legs and found her watching TV in the kitchen and bewildered by the flashing ambulance that had used our circular driveway for a NASCAR speed trial. To this day, we still don't know what the hell that was all about, but I know for a fact that I'm at the end of my rope with this medical game. Enough already!

But, wait! The game's not over yet.

Last night I almost choked on a piece of chicken during supper. Because of a deviated septum and serious sinus problems, I have to breathe through my mouth when I eat. I can't just eat like everybody else. I have to think about each bite I take. For one moment, though, I went on automatic pilot, as it were, and a piece of chicken lodged in my windpipe. I rushed out of the room because, like a good "boy", I didn't want to upchuck on the wall-to-wall carpet. I made it to the patio where I gasped air though a pin-hole in my throat that the piece of chicken hadn't managed to block. I could only partially dislodge it. Meanwhile, my mother had wheeled herself to the dining room window to see how I was doing. I wanted to do a Heimlich Maneuver on myself but my gigantic laparotomy incision was still sore from the surgery I had eight freakin' months ago. Finally, I could breathe enough to come back inside.

Wait! The best (or worst) is yet to come.

I managed to finish my supper, coughing and still choking sporadically, when I noticed a car going around or circular driveway. I went out to investigate. Two neighbors asked me from their car window if my mother was all right. I told them, yeah, she's fine, why? They said they heard the call. I said what call? They said the ambulance call. My heart went into my throat where there was no room at all for a heart because half of that piece of chicken was still lodged there. I went in the house to ask Mom if she had called 9-1-1 when I was choking and she said she hadn't (a horrified look of being "had" by the "powers-that-be" crossing her poor face).

I convinced the neighborhood couple (two more local people who take the time to care about other people) that she was OK. It was a call about an elderly woman who fell, they told me. Mom didn't fall I told them. She's watching TV. I told them my choking story and they looked annoyed by it. Who cares about me? At this point, it never occurred to me to invite them inside to see for themselves. Why? I don't know. Maybe it was because I almost choked to death a few minutes before and I was a little weak and disoriented from that. Or maybe I just never get used to unexpected, outrageous situations and I simply don't know what to do about them. Who can say? Anyway, they never asked me how I was doing because no one in the universe cares about me. I've finally come to realize that.

Back inside, I saw that our TV and VCR were off. We were watching a taped version of "Lethal Weapon 4" while we ate our supper. Now the TV and the entire entertainment center was dark. I asked Mom what had happened. She said she hit the "mute" button on her remote control and everything went off. We both know that pressing the Mute button on a remote control cannot, in a million years, turn off the TV, VCR and stereo speaker sound system I installed. We'd been royally "had" by our Trulane. Big Jack Ass. One of the oldest and most spoiled, diabolically creative, invisible beings in the entire universe. And he, she or "it" is nothing more than that. Certainly nothing worth falling on your knees about, let alone worshiping. Worshiping invisible beings only makes the goddamn bastards more powerful.

But, wait, this is only Intermission!

While we were both thinking about how our lives were constantly being orchestrated by somebody or some thing (for my money, a bad-boy, out-of-control, bastard Celestial and the hideous humans who worship "it" on bended knees like little devious cowards), an ambulance — that's right, folks, — a Freakin' Ambulance! — came around our driveway. I rushed to the side door, turned on the outside pole light and opened the door. It was the Snow Shoe EMS. That's right, folks, the FREAKIN" SNOW SHOE EMS! who wasn't here in November 2009 when we needed them! But they were here NOW when we DIDN"T need them. And, guess what? Somebody out there, an elderly person somewhere, who fell and probably couldn't get up, DID NEED THEM!

The driver got out and I told him we didn't call an ambulance. He started an argument with me right off the bat, which really pissed me off. This ignorant prick was presupposing that I was a hideous, aging, redneck son who was hiding his poor injured mother inside the house. I quickly educated him about what was what. He told me the house number they had for the call. I told them that wasn't our number. He didn't believe me, even though the stupid sap was looking right at it. That's right, our house number is right on our house in Three Freakin' Places!, and one of them was right under his nose. Finally, he agreed to leave.

I went back inside and sat down. Then someone was knocking on our door. It was Mr. Snow Shoe EMS again, wanting to argue again. He asked me my phone number so he could match it with the call. In other words, the dumb little prick still thought I was lying to him. Still cooperative, however, I gave him my phone number and my mother's phone number. He checked them with the EMS woman in the ambulance who just sat there and stared at me like I was some madman who was harboring an ailing relative inside. Stealing her pension and social security and living it up while she fell and hit her head and needed help. Well, I was really getting pissed off by now. In no uncertain terms, I told them to take it on the heel. They did. As they ever so slowly backed their big-ass thing up, yakking about me between themselves I imagined, I reminded them in a loud, hoarse (from almost choking to death earlier) voice that somewhere in town is an elderly woman who fell and needs and ambulance and to get the hell moving!

Back inside once again, I turned the TV, VCR and stereo back on. I turned to Mom and asked her to call the neighbor couple who first showed up and reassure them that she was all right and not in any need of an ambulance. Reluctantly, she agreed. I'm glad she did. After she hung up from talking to the helpful neighbors who were obviously glad she had called them, Mom told me that the ambulance finally, — yes, finally! — got to the right house. Halleluia! Hip-Hip Hooray!

But.... Oh, yes, here's the straw that finally broke the camel's back last night. The elderly woman who fell and who needed the ambulance was our landlady, two blocks away on another street with an entirely different name that didn't sound anything like our address. Now, the freakin' Celestials were playing their nasty games with way too many people here! Nobody — and I mean nobody — deserves to be part of such whimsical, vindictive game playing. Especially not my mother and I. Or our ailing, octogenarian landlady.

Well, I'd like to sue everybody who screwed with us last night. But what good would that do? They're only the players who are listed on the next-to-the-bottom line of this hideous, whimsical, diabolical, demented, iniquitous script. So, what's the bottom line in this Snow Shoe version of The Squire of Gothos?

The bottom line is this: Nobody, and I mean nobody, Michael Casher, gives a rat's ass about you. But, man, do they like screw with you, or what?

╥

Why I Wrote Them

Why I wrote the books I wrote and when I wrote them:

Back in 2002, my intention was to begin a new career, writing science fiction novels that were based on my own observations of life, the world around us, and that vast unknown we call "the universe". I used fictional settings in all my novels, referenced by real places to add credibility and believability to my tales of supernatural wonder and the eternal conflict between good and evil. I also gave carte blanche to my seemingly boundless imagination. The result, I think, is a highly readable, even believable, blend of science fiction, action/adventure, humor and, yes, even a little romance.

The Science Fiction for Thinkers collection is not your typical genre sci-fi. And it's definitely not horror or fantasy, which are often billed as science fiction. In my sci-fi there are no superheroes, no capes and swords, no castles and princes, no dragons or warlords, no flying waffle irons or, heaven forbid, vampires. My heroes are everyday men and women, the atypical protagonists whose antagonists are often exotic creatures with unbridled personal ambition.

Science Fiction for Thinkers has a little something for everyone. But the biggest offering is "hard science fiction" that includes exciting high-tech wizardry and cutting-edge concepts about life, time and space, and death. Plus a world of adventure for thinkers and seekers. As a science fiction author, I endeavored to open a new window on the everyday world and to offer a unique vision of the cosmos. I like to think that, if you take a chance and dare to read my particular brand of "crossover" science fiction, your world may never look the same.

Evermore: the Evermore Trilogy begins

"Evermore" is my first published work. It's a tale of "the artificial creation of life", as opposed to "the creation of artificial life" (there's a big difference between the two). This is the main theme of my first sci-fi thriller, sharing the thematic spotlight with the controversial alien-abduction phenomenon and the notion that even an extraterrestrial spaceship could be the setting for an on-board mutiny. Writing this piece of fiction would also set the stage for my showing others that the truths we seek in life lie somewhere beneath the masks we wear in our everyday world.

I started writing "Evermore" in early January 2002 and finished it in late March 2002. After being turned down by 45 publishers and 47 literary agents, who never even bothered to read the manuscript, I finally published this book through Lulu.com on November 23, 2004. "Evermore" is the first book of "The Evermore Trilogy" and the first work of my eight-book "Science Fiction for Thinkers" collection.

Author's Note, September 7, 2011: I actually began writing "Evermore" on an electronic typewriter in 1998, as an untitled science fiction novel. After 50 pages I abandoned it for personal reasons. After I moved back to my hometown in September 2000, I acquired my Canon Starwriter word-processor and went back to writing this novel in January 2002, completing it in March 2002. The rest is indie author history.

The original title was "The Gods of Evergreen". When I realized that there was a real town in Pennsylvania called Evergreen, I changed the title to "Evermore". Simply "Evermore". The title had a ring that fit the science fiction themes I wanted to write about. The artificial creation of life, time-travel, immortality and the afterlife. I also thought a fictional Pennsylvania town called "Evermore" would make a very interesting setting for my first novel.

In 2007, I added a subtitle to all three books in The Evermore Trilogy to show people that this was a unique and original, copyrighted piece of fiction.

Time and Time Again: the Evermore Trilogy continues

After I finished writing "Evermore" in March 2002, I was exhilarated and eager to write a sequel about the characters I'd created. I had more adventure in store for protagonists Jack Rand and Karen Smitrovich and such a fondness for Unim, the biped plant from Zeta6 (pronounced Zeta Six), that I wanted him to return to Earth on another mission of great importance. So, I began "Time and Time Again" in April 2002 and finished it in December 2002.

I'd always been interested in time travel and felt for sure that it was possible. I also believed that, in order to understand how time travel might be possible, you first had to comprehend the basic properties of time and space and the simple, yet complex way in which these two cosmological elements, along with gravity, control most of our physical, living experiences. Recurring themes in "Time and Time Again" include extraterrestrial influences in human lives, the eternal conflict between good and evil, the importance of and the power in making a choice, and the dire consequences of greed and unbridled personal liberty.

Providence: the Evermore Trilogy concludes

In January 2003, I started writing "Providence", the third installment of The Evermore Trilogy. I knew I was writing a trilogy after I finished "Time and Time Again" in December 2002 because there was one more kind of supernatural phenomenon I wanted to tackle, using the same main characters. Life after death.

Even as a little boy, I felt that life was the rule and death was the exception. And that, for human beings, life was everlasting. All science fiction is speculation about the universe, bolstered by notions and theories that have some basis in fact. In my case, that speculation about the way things work behind the scenes is also supported by my own observations of life. I lived my own life as I observed it and took notes at the same time. It's a pretty tall order and not a lifestyle one would wish on anyone else.

By the end of May 2003, "Providence" was finished and The Evermore Trilogy was completed. I had written another installment in the lives of Jack Rand, Karen Smitrovich and the extraterrestrial Unim and, hopefully, this third book would entertain my readers with another window on the everyday world.

The real protagonist in "Providence" is Verona Petrov, a Russian national living in the United States and teaching at a small but prestigious university in Pennsylvania. Her course in virtual remembering is part of a new, experimental, para-science curriculum at Foxboro University. Verona's research into the afterlife garners her enough attention that certain people want her dead and that's the plot behind the rest of the story. When I finished "Providence" in May 2003, it only took me a month before I was on my way to penning a fourth sci-fi thriller that would stand alone on it's own merit.

The Dreamer Never Sleeps

After I finished writing "Providence" in May 2003, it only took me a month to begin a fourth science fiction novel. I'd succeeded in writing a sci-fi trilogy and now I wanted to write a sci-fi thriller that would stand alone, on its own merit. In June 2003, I started writing "The Dreamer Never Sleeps", a piece of fiction that supposes that a "dreamworld" might really exist in a universe so vast that all things are possible. It took me eight months to complete my fourth book but in February 2004 it was ready to be self-published.

Once again, I chose for my main character, protagonist and "unlikely hero" an everyday kind of guy from an average small town in America. *I call him an unlikely hero because he's an everyday kind of guy whose battle with the unknown is pretty much all about him and not to be considered real heroism. His bravery is more about him than anything else. So, I don't actually consider this book to be the fourth book of unlikely heroes (that's reserved for Deeds of Destiny, my fifth sci-fi thriller). Also, there's no global conspiracy here, just an interplanetary one. The Dreamer Never Sleeps is also unique because it has more humor in it and more fanciful zaniness than any other book I'd written so far.

The "hero" in this story, Russell Palmer, is a work-at-home medical claims examiner whose wife is out of town visiting relatives for the weekend. Naturally, "when the cat's away, the mice will play" and, for Palmer, that means having a few drinks downtown and then eating his supper out. Little does he know that this particular afternoon will be his first contact with the dreamworld while wide awake. With the help of a visitor from the dreamworld and an unsolved murder that points to several possible suspects, including himself, Palmer's only means of clearing his name is to help the oddball senior citizen from the dreamworld planet, Gaea, find the real killer. When Palmer's wife, Katie, returns from her trip, she finds that a mystical, magical and frightening dreamworld awaits her as well.

Deeds of Destiny

Conspiracies have always interested me. Not because they exist. Because they shouldn't exist. All lies ever accomplished throughout human history is creating misery for mankind. So, I had another idea for a science fiction thriller that, once again, involves a global conspiracy with otherworldy beings and extraterrestrial roots. I've always believed that Shakespeare's imps, the Germanic gremlins, the Irish leprechauns or fairies, and other invisible beings from the oral history of other cultures, were more than just fantasy or myth or folklore. I think these creatures are real and that their nature and purpose has been grossly misrepresented and distorted by stupid people who like telling tall tales more than they like telling the truth.

In March 2004, I began writing "Deeds of Destiny", my fifth sci-fi thriller and my second novel to stand alone as a single work of fiction. I finished this book in December 2005. Why did it take me twenty-one months to write this particular novel? Because I also began blogging on the Web where I also began marketing my books, instead of peddling them through the U.S. Postal Service to "gnomes" in "Bad Apple City"who only publish market-driven, copycat fiction that makes them a bundle. Anyway, there's no need for me to go into a detailed description of this book when you can read it for yourself at Amazon.com. One thing I will tell you that the description does not is that this novel, like all the others I wrote, is not based so much on my past experiences as it is upon my own observations of life as I lived it. None of the characters are real, their names are also fictitious, and the settings are fictional, as well. The truth, however, is real and can never remain hidden as long as fiction keeps uncovering it and exposing it for others to discover.

Little Green Man from Mars

After I finished writing "Deeds of Destiny" in December 2005, it didn't even take a full month for me to fire up my outdated but trusty Canon Starwriter JET 4000 word processor again. In January 2006, I begin writing my sixth full-length science fiction novel, "Little Green Man from Mars", a sci-fi treatment of the biblical Rapture prophecy. I won't waste precious, binary ones and zeros here by telling you what this thriller is about because the description is already provided for you on the Amazon.com page for this book. But I will tell you that, not being a religious person, I found this to be the most difficult writing challenge, so far, as an author. In October 2006, my sixth installment in the "Science Fiction for Thinkers" collection was complete.

Once again, I gave my boundless imagination carte blanche as I dared to debunk one of Christianity's most cherished beliefs, not intending to dash the hopes of a much-awaited afterlife, but to awaken humanity's yearning spirit with the inquiring mind that ought to go hand-in-hand whenever faith is exercised. And what good is a lesson for the spirit of contemporary man and woman without the hint of romance and the blessing of comic relief? That's right, "Little Green Man from Mars" is not intended to be a religious prophecy or a scientific road map to find your way around during life's first journey on planet Earth. But it might be a new window on the real world around you. And opening new windows on the everyday world and offering a new vision of the cosmos is what I do best.

Blind Fool Running by Jonco Bugos

Back in December 2006 I suddenly got the urge to try my hand at literary fiction. I'd been on quite a roll for the past few years, writing full-length science fiction novels, and I was ready for a little diversion. My goal was to see if I could write a literary novel in the first person, present tense. I made it a "pet project" that I would pick up and work on when I got tired of writing science fiction. Since writing this novella was only a part-time job for me, it took me 25 months to complete it. In January 2009, Blind Fool Running was a finished manuscript.

As the book reached novella length, I realized that the story was being told at novella length (17,500 to 39,999 words is the publishing industry's accepted range for a novella). Stretching it out to novel length would have done the story an injustice. As a novel, it would have been laborious and redundant for the reader. But, as a 31,000-word novella, it's a comfortable read.

"Blind Fool Running" is my first very attempt at writing literary fiction and my debut as Jonco Bugos, my literary pen name and alter ego, so to speak. Jonco means "John" in English and Jonco Bugos (pronounced YONK-oh BOO-gosh) was the Slovak name of my maternal grandfather, John Bugosh. Because of this book's metaphysical themes, experimental real-time story line, and the down-to-earth but philosophical personality of its main character," Blind Fool Running" was difficult to classify. It's definitely literary fiction but it also contains elements of science fiction. That's why Blind Fool Running, the literary novella by Jonco Bugos, became the seventh addition to the "Science Fiction for Thinkers" collection.

The Four Bloggers of the Apocalypse

I've been blogging on the World Wide Web since 2005, mostly for therapy I tell myself, but also to entertain my readers and visitors to my official website. I write nine blogs in all (author's note: this number grew to ten blogs in June 2011), all of them at Blogger.com. Some of my blogs are comical sci-fi anecdotes, like Fred Fortune, and others are a little more serious, like Jonco Bugos. Then there are my blogs that are serio-comical blogs, somewhere in between the lunacy of Fred Fortune and the life mentoring of Jonco Bugos. Random Retro Reviews of the 20th Century is social and historical commentary with a razor-edged, baby boomer slant. Little Green Man from Mars is social commentary with a more humorous twist. In January 2010 I put together a 180-page book of what I'd written so far on these four blogs and I called it "The Four Bloggers of the Apocalypse". It's not really a book of revelation. It's an experience in self-revelation. At least it was for me.

For more information visit my Amazon Pages:

Amazon's Michael Casher Page

Amazon's Jonco Bugos Page

*Post updated 9-6-12

Cyber Hide-And-Seek

Since January 1st I've been playing an unintentional game of hide-and-seek with various elements on my nine blogs, here at Blogger, and I think I owe people an explanation. For the past month or so (actually I started last fall, here and there) elements like Popular Posts and certain sidebar elements, like image links to my Amazon pages, image ads that earn me a few cents and search boxes for my own blogs, and things like that, have been coming and going like malicious spooks in the middle of the night. Actually, I'm the "spook" and what I've been doing is re-tuning my blogs because of really horrible viewing problems that I've been experiencing since way back in August 2010.

When you can't look at your own blogs without having your browser slow down to a crawl and then freeze up, you're no good to anyone as a blogger. Maybe other people's computers are just ducky and have no problems at all running my Junk TV videos or my cheesy, homemade flash ads but I couldn't see squat without some browser problem. This went on for months, despite my having one of the best anti-spyware/anti-malware programs around working for me (no I'm not going to tell you what I use because there wouldn't be enough wood in the world for me to knock on after that).

So, like the aging, baby-boomer, hick, indie author that I am, I began a lengthy, systematic investigation of the problems, often relying on trial-and-error at times, until I finally rooted out the last bug from my little DELL B110 desktop. Most of it was malicious malware from the major search engines (yep, the infamous Google Redirect Virus), infectious IE pop-ups, downloader trojans, voices from nowhere (no, I'm not kidding: screaming, taunting, high-pitched, banshee-like laughter from nowhere, with no visual displays), and the whole gamut of nasty cyber bugs that are lovingly bred in hacker labs all over the globe by greedy, sick, human-hating scum, and unleashed upon the world everyday for fun, profit, hate and more fun.

There ought to be an international law against willfully infesting millions of computers with browser-jacking trojans and junk ad popups and whatnot. Even a clean surfer like me who only visits trusted sites for business (like Amazon, Lulu, iGoogle, FeedBurner and Blogger) and finding news and current events, can pick up a nasty bug that used to be a disease that only bad-asses caught when they scoured the underground Web for sites containing hate, porn, crime, terrorism, dark religion, and so on. Wow, has that scenario ever changed. Now you're not even safe when you use Google Search to look up "opossum" on Wikipedia to see what they eat. You might find yourself being watched and your key strokes recorded by cyber snoops, terrorists or even good ol' Uncle Sam. It's no way to run a world.

But, I'm back now and my advice to the rest of the web world is this: forget Google Search, Yahoo Search and Bing. They're paths to your destruction. And when you get redirected (should be mis-directed, actually), bookmark that page and put these websites on your shit list. These bastards know what they're doing and don't let the little pricks tell you it's not their fault that you got their stupid website or their pathetic, struggling search engine when you searched Google, Yahoo or Bing.

The webmasters and/or owners of the sites you get when you're redirected are paying unethical creeps to run their SEM (Search Engine Management) and to increase their SEO (Search Engine Optimization). These are "hackers" who write malware programs that piggyback on the data from other websites and search engines in order to misdirect surfers to their clients' websites. If anyone bothered to look hard enough into this unethical practice they'd also find out that it's criminal, as well, and borders on cyber terrorism. Incidentally, Bing is nothing but another malicious spy toy for Bill Gates and Microsoft, the biggest criminal organization on the Internet today.

While you're at it, you might want to minimize your use of YouTube, Facebook and yep, Amazon, unless your'e willing to make your anti-spyware/anti-virus programs work overtime. Once you land there, they get their hooks into you and your IP address, and then they own you. Plus, they unleash all those goddamn tracking cookies that vie with the unavoidable build-up of temporary Internet files and, together, they swamp your computer's virtual memory until it slows, freezes and crashes. And, if you're allowing third-party cookies you might as well jump head-first into a malware and trojan cesspool. OK, you've been warned. If you want to play hard, you're going to pay dearly.

Trust me. I wouldn't lie to you even if there was a fortune in gold in it. I'd rather tell the truth and struggle to eat and keep warm. Don't ask me why because I'm pretty sure that most of you aren't worth the bother. I blog for the few of you who might be.

Wanted: One Yellow Brick Road

A lot of people have a hobby to take their minds off the daily grind. What people do to escape from the everyday world can no longer be predicted or conveniently labeled these days, even though stereotypes still abound. Doctors still play golf. Barbers still go fishing. Grandmothers still play bingo. Those are nice, clean, safe, normal activities that I'd love to have as hobbies.

That's right, I'd rather play golf or go fishing or even play bingo than do what I do to stop the world and get off for a little break. For me, it's not so much a choice as an unavoidable temporary loss of all commonsense and dignity. It's like being caught up in a roving wormhole that seems to know that my number is almost up and then whisks me away to a temporary Neverland of my own making.

That's right, I'm a closet video maker. In fact, here's the entrance to the wormhole I use right now. At least you can see the entrance clearly marked. I, on the other hand, see what looks like the doorway to Paradise and I enter it thinking I've escaped all human bondage for the eternal good life that awaits us all...somewhere...out there. Invariably, I make and post online a two- or three-minute video that would embarrass a clown and then I return to the everyday world only to be confronted by my biggest vice, face-to-face. What I really need is a yellow brick road instead of a wormhole to Windows Movie Maker. Finding out that The Land of Oz is just make believe would be the lesser disappointment.

Go ahead, click on the swirling wormhole or the fleeting signpost. Don't worry, you won't get hooked on making stupid, embarrassing videos like I did. But you might get hooked on watching them and then expecting more of them from me in the future. Which will make you part of my problem. But that's OK. When you're an aging, relatively unknown independent author, having a following that ignores your books and only laughs at your videos is better than having no following at all.

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If I Had A Hammer

If I had a hammer, this is the warning I'd hammer out. If I had a good lawyer (or a million bucks), I'd require every website that offers my books to place this warning on that particular detail page. The closest I ever came to writing anything that could even remotely be construed as a paranormal romance is Little Green Man from Mars, the sixth full-length science fiction thriller I wrote back in 2006.

In Little Green Man from Mars, the protagonist falls in love with a woman who is from the afterlife. But — and this is a very big but — she's a human being. An "ascended" human being from another planet but a human being nonetheless. She's not a ghost or a ghoul or — gimme a break — a goddamn vampire. Plus, their brief romance is a minor element in that story, way down the list from the hard science fiction elements, the biblical "revelation prophecy", the sci-fi twist I gave that prophecy, the other religious, historical and philosophical themes, and the action sequences that play out in the eternal battle between good and evil. That's the real story.

Yeah, if I had a hammer.

A Sucker for Disco

Disco couldn't begin to touch the live elegance and class of big band music from the 1930s, 40s and 50s, but its debut in the 1970s gave me a welcome break from 1970's rock music, which I found impossible to dance to. My body felt nothing when I heard rock music. The few rock songs I did like were from the 1960s and they were "head food" for me. Not dance music.

Anyway, Baby Boomer Boy and I already posted our official slant on disco music back in August 2007 when "we" wrote Disco's Fifteen Minutes for another blog of mine. So, I won't go into too many details here except to reiterate that Disco, unlike a lot of rock music that came before it and after it, was a celebration of life, not an angry denunciation of it.

Additionally, disco music also put a lot of women back into dresses again and, damn, if they didn't look good on the dance floor. People dressed up instead of down. Women showed a little cleavage and a lot of leg. All the more reason to want to dance. And, speaking of dancing, I couldn't dance worth a damn even though I loved the music. I looked like somebody who had to go to the bathroom really bad but who had no clue which way the restroom was. But I had fun anyway and that was the whole point.

Finally, I think the most positive thing about Disco is that it reminded men and women that there were a lot of wonderful, exciting differences between men and women, instead of being brainwashed by movies and television sitcoms of that era that men and women were somehow, unimaginably, interchangeable.

Here, then, are 25 songs that I feel represent the true spirit of Disco. These songs are in no particular order. Your opinions may vary about what songs best represent the Disco era and that's your perfect right. But this my blog, not yours.

Red numbers indicate my top ten personal favorites for representing what Disco meant to me. That doesn't mean I don't like the other 15 songs. I personally picked all 25 out of over 100 other Disco songs. In my opinion, they're all great. Headphones recommended.

1. Get Down Tonight - K.C. and the Sunshine Band - 1975 1

2. Night Fever - Bee Gees - 1977 5
3. Do the Hustle - Van McCoy - 1975 4
4. Low Down - Boz Scags - 1977
5. Disco Inferno - The Trammps - 1976
6. Good Times - Chic - 1979 7
7. Contact - Edwin Starr - 1978
8. Ladies Night - Kool and the Gang - 1979
9. (Shake, Shake, Shake) Shake Your Booty - K. C. and the Sunshine Band - 1976 2
10. Heart of Glass - Blondie - 1978
11. That's the Way (I Like It) - K. C. and the Sunshine Band - 1975
12. I Feel Love - Donna Summer - 1977
13. Don't Leave Me This Way - Thelma Houston - 1976
14. Born to Be Alive - Patrick Hernandez - 1979 10
15. More, More, More - Andrea True Connection - 1976
16. Heaven Must Be Missing An Angel - Tavares - 1976
17. Boogie Oogie Oogie - A Taste of Honey - 1978
18. You Make Me Feel (Mighty Real) - Sylvester 1978
19. You Should Be Dancing - Bee Gees - 1977 3
20. TSOP - MFSB featuring The Three Degrees - 1974
21. Shame - Evelyn Champagne King - 1978 9
22. Don't Stop Till You Get Enough - Michael Jackson - 1979
23. Let's All Chant - Michael Zager Band - 1978
24. Bad Girls - Donna Summer - 1978
25. Turn the Beat Around - Vicki Sue Robinson - 1976

Thank you, YouTube and YouTube members, for keeping Disco alive.

Author's Note: I selected these YouTube links for sound quality and not for video quality. I may have missed the best presentation, here and there, but I was only willing to give this posting the two days it took me to research, write, link to and post it. And then to test the links. I'll try to monitor these links and relink any ones that go dead over time (links repaired on 9-29-11). As usual, I advise viewers to ignore the comments by YouTube users. A lot of them have no respect for others or for moral decency on a public forum. Thanks for reading and watching.