white privilege

The reason for requesting Italian parents is simple enough. Leonardo DeVinci was the smartest person who ever lived. Why do people assume it to be Einstein? He only knew some theoretical physics. DeVinci designed the first airplane. When his plans were discovered and the design built it flew five hundred feet higher and a mile further than the Wright Brothers airplane.

My second choice: French. Due to the romantic image of everything French. Guess I was not good enough to qualify for either one. They wound up giving me German parents. Not making me very happy. With good reason. Germans are sheeples. Nobody there does anything without being told and given permission. One of the reasons American Hillbilly Rednecks and Cowboys were able to defeat the most powerfull military machine ever developed.

Being raised in such an environment can make anyone a little abstinent. The word ‘permission’ does not fit my narrative. Having grown up there, I knew better than make any noise in Germany. Unlike American Harley noise makers, their BMW’s run silently. There are no police or fire sirens. Bus tires are engineered not to make any road friction noise. The only sound coming from the three hundred mile an hour ICE train is do to the wind vortex the train creates. There is no working on ones house during the week-end. No lawn mowers. No blowers. No saws. Not much auto traffic as everything is closed for the whole week-end. Not sure what would happen to someone yelling at a friend accross a parking lot or down an isle in a supermarket, as can be heard every day in America. He’d at the least be in for a good reprimand.

So, when I got pulled over for a trailer tail light out, I did not need to be told I better not raise my voice when responding to the cops questions. Hopefully, no one visiting Germany will be deceived by their appearance. Loose fitting wrinkled uniform, shoes not shined. The gun, if a cop has one, will be hanging at an angle that looks like it will fall off. Not told this, but clear to me it is deliberate, to shake off the image of the sharp Nazi uniforms.

Despite the stumble bum appearance, were someone to raise a hand intending to shove or slap the cop, before the hand would be able to make contact, that person would be dead. As in dead dead. So I knew enough not to contradict the cop about any point in our conversation.

But then, stupid me, with hoof in mouth disease, said only this; “Sir, this would never happen in America”

He went from being Mister Jeckel to monster Hyde. “Herroff!” “Du gaist yetst vek, im auto, so fhort!!” Obediantly, I get into his car. He takes me to the airport. While my rig is sitting on the side of the road, which got towed off to the impound. “You!!” “Be on the next plane out. Not one to America. Does not matter to where, South Pole, does not matter, if I come back, and an airplane left, and you are still here, you will then have a problem!” “But Sir, I do not have the money for a ticket”

“Does not matter. Call someone with a credit card, you be gone!!!”

One would think such a person would learn a lesson the first time. It happened to me twice.

Fortunately, being raised in America, from age fourteen, having American ways, unable to stand their lunacy, when younger, I would taunt them deliberately. Of course, without ever raising my voice or making any movement or gesture that could get me killed or put on a work farm as they have no jails. The work farm over there does not mean picking up trash on the side of the road. For one reason, there is no trash to pick up. Anyone caught tossing so much as a cigarette but on the ground will wind up in the work farm, where he will be on some construction site, mixing concrete or smashing rocks.

Should it not be easy enough to understand how a youngster coming from such a lunatic asylum to the land of the free, might go a little loony himself. The land where he can say whatever he wants. My own mother wound up in a Nazi jail. Everyone in the family knew that but no one knew why. I asked my precious little Taunta Hedwich why. She answered; “auch Chunny, you haf no idea what it was like then, If the Gestapo got the idea you were thinking wrong thoughts, you’d be in jail. Getting caught actually saying something wrong and you would disappear.”

The driving age at the time was sixteen. At age fourteen, I built a hot rod nothing could touch. Not even were police cars able to. A thirty four Ford chopped and channeled, three ninety two Chrysler hemi, in front of a Cadillac Lasalle tranny. When the cops finally boxed me in, one cop said to the other; “let’s get out of here before this thing blows up, and you, go home and be a good boy, don’t let us catch you again”

I could see no sense in having a license. Not even after getting stopped by the Wareham Massachusetts police. When the cop ran me and came back to my car, he asked; “how come you don’t have a license?”

“I will get one Sir, first chance I get”

“For twenty five years you have been trying to get the chance?!!!” he screeched, tearing me out of the car, cuffed me, tossed me into his car like a sack of potatoes and off to jail I went for a well disserved little vacation. Not getting caught again in twelve years, in Miami. And right now, as this is being written, do not have a license.

I have also been arrested, in San Francisco, Denver, Boston, Miami and Key Largo, For building without a permit. The latest in Vero Beach. The police finding a ticket on me from 1976. The ticket: Driving too slow on I-75 going by Naples. The cop lied. A ten thousand hour airplane driver does not need a speedometer to tell him how fast he’s going. I was doing a rock steady fifty five. He put forty four on the ticket. Never paid that one either.

The fees and interest accrued over thirty years came to much more than it cost me to sit in jail for a couple days. I certainly never intended to be such an incorrigible misfit. It’s a little difficult to make time for beau acracies and governmental edicts when life in America is so exciting. I needed an extra eight hours every day just to keep up with my basic interests. Building airplanes for one, having done seven so far. All from plans, no fabricated parts. My dream bird, a three quarter P-51. A typical EEA-er does about one in a lifetime.

Given what I came from, one would think I could be accorded just a tiny bit of all this ‘white privilege’ I hear so much about. But it was not to be. Can’t remember how many times arrested and treated like a bank robber, one time the cuffs so tight my arm ached for six months. That one by the Vero Beach cops.

No one needs to tell me what a screw up I am. The next person who wants to will need to stand in a long line. My girl friend minces no words when reminding me. My son has been telling me about all the things I do wrong, screeching to me about all of societies rules since he’s ten years old. At least one good thing came out of my aberrant ways. He is insanely methodical about making sure every I is dotted and T crossed.

No one knows how stupid I am better than myself. That does not keep me from knowing that a society cannot function by having different rules for renegade Germans who cannot take orders. Unless, from the man I worshiped. My C/O Major Donald E. Hall. Were he to say ‘jump’ I’d only respond with ‘how high Sir’ Nor can society have different rules for any other group. Given what chaos we have now, imagine what life would be like if a group, like, say, the Muslims. could do what they want. In their religion it’s perfectly proper to snatch an infidel female off the sidewalk, rape and kill her, and marry six year old little girls. Osama Bin Laden had 126 children by 30 or 40 wives. And they want to bring that to America?

What we have is bad enough, as the definition of the word ‘chaos’ aptly describes; ‘Fathers day in the hood.’ Despite all my run-ins’ with the police, it infuriates me to hear people rail against them. And even civilized people try to white wash their narrative with there being only a few bad cops. I need to forgive them since they know nothing about Nazi Germany. There is no such thing as a bad cop in America. There is no jurisdiction where a prejudiced sadistic person could pass the psychological analytical tests to be a cop. Not to mention, the weakest person there is needs to be pretty brave to be a cop in America today and even that cop is protecting me. So right now I am pretty angry. To merely see someone flip a bird at a cop, is unacceptable, beyond showing what a low life, uncultured, discusting moron such a person is. How about the defunding activists who called 911 because of a burglar in her house. I just wish they would attempt to pull off their anti cop nonsense in Germany.

I used to taunt and ridicule the police over there. I have now come a hundred and eighty degrees around. Their system works better than ours. How can Americans see pictures of burned out and smashed police cars and not become enraged. There is already too much crime. All those police cars destroyed means that much less area that can be patrolled. We should at least get to know who or what is keeping the police hands tied behind their back. It’s time to find out, fight back and let the police end this madness.

We are of course, in pretty bad shape. We even had a President who said; which I heard live, so it was not misquoted, “the rioting must continue to bring change”

“You f___n idiot!!!”

There is nothing in America that needs to be changed. Nothing.!! We are continually hearing the word ‘injustice’ But yet to be given one single example of anything that can keep someone from getting ahead. My own father, a Bavarian peasant, who was not allowed to attend school, for his name being low class, along with thousands just like him, came to America, penniless, and became a millionaire. No. Multi millionaire. Probably because he did not cry about any phony injustice and burn police cars.


men only

An email arrived from a good friend in Miami, Graham, who continually finds information that is enlightening and sometimes hilarious. The first shot of this one reads only: ‘The book has finally arrived!’ Scroll to next scene; man sitting at a table, head resting on the elbow, deep in study. About three inches of the book left to go, with three feet of the book over the side on the floor. Next scroll down reads; ‘This book will help you to understand women’ Not MAKE a man understand, only help him.

One factor in making it difficult enough to require over 14,000 pages is the fact, like snowflakes, no two women are the same. They range from the sweetest lovable little sex kittens, to the most evil sadists that ever lived. Like for one, Irma Ida Grese during Nazi rule. A guard in the woman’s block at Auswitz and Ravensbruc, then chief of women’s bloc in Bergan Belsen. In 1945 tried by the British for the most violent crimes against humanity, sentenced to death by hanging. At age 22, making her the youngest women ever to be executed. There were many such women. Most were 300 pound bull dykes. Irma, a slim short girl with good figure that could have been good looking.

Somewhere in between are the con artists. Running into my first around age 20 and have since established a flawless perfect 100% record. Currently upon discovering Facebook. Not that I was savvy enough to catch on by myself. My girl friend put me there to begin with. Along with her picture and the caption; ‘can’t wait to become Mrs. John Bauer’ For me to be bold enough to imagine she put it there to shake off all the other women chasing me there would need to be such women. There is not even one.

There was a friend of hers who made a play. A person as deceitful as anyone can get. She only wound up making me some money, by causing me to write a book; ‘Price of Deceit’

My girl friend, whose last text read; ‘when are we going to get hitched?’ has given me four books. None of which would have come to be were it not for her. Beginning with the book; ‘Battered’ getting the best revues. Her story about dealing with a violent, abusive, possessive jealous husband. The only woman in my lifetime to make me money.

Those kind of men get the exact opposite results of what they fight for. Not in the book is the part of him smashing the door to my apartment open and destroying the place. Fortunately, she was not in it when he found out where she had gone into hiding. She had walked down to the nearby 7/11 for a coffee. On the way back, she spotted his car in front of the apartment and dialed 911. So instead of getting her back, he got some jail time. He makes me look like a puny little weakling. Twenty five years younger than I am and without any doubt, better looking. On top of all that, has money. They lived in a million dollar house. The family quite rich. Make me look like a pauper anyhow.

The Lady’s name is Carmen. Many of my readers have already met her. Except her. She refused to read the book. Perhaps too emotional for her. Every time I’d propose to her, she had a simple one word answer; “NO” And then, when her divorce finalized, she says something quite the opposite on Facebook.

She is the most humble, non materialistic I have ever met. At one point, she said something rather poignant that touched me, the beginning of me falling in love with her. I made a simple comment about being so humble for being such a little sexpot. “I’ll tell you how humble” she said “there were eleven of us in a two room Brooklyn apartment. We all got long. We were all happy. Then I met my husband. Every day I had to listen to him tell me how lucky I was that he took me out of the ghetto into luxury. I kept getting more miserable every day.”

I did not know Brooklyn was a ghetto to begin with. I lived in a lower East Side German ghetto. Ludlow Street off Delancy to be exact. Ha an aunt in Queens. To us, Brooklyn was the Ritz. Guess Carmen and I had more in common than I thought.

A little cute how we met. On one of her runs escaping her husband who continually slammed her around beating her up, she crashed with a friend who happened to be my tenant. All of which I discovered later on and eventually had an encounter. She’s five feet, one hundred pounds. He’s two hundred and fifty. I asked him why he couldn’t pick on someone his own size and then threatened to kill him if he touches her again. I’m no he-man. One seventy pounds. I don’t fight fair. I just fight to win.

One day I get a call. A woman whose voice I did not recognize. As soon as she said hello, I asked; “You wanna make fifty bucks in the next half hour?” I had a prospective tenant on his way to look at an apartment the previous tenant left in shambles, besides stealing all my furniture after owing three months rent. She answered rather snidely; “yeah, I can guess doing what” “Clean an apartment” came the instant explanation. She attacked that apartment like a little beaver and came to within five minutes of finishing when the new tenant arrived. On our way back to her friend Dianna’s apartment, I ducked into mine to get her fifty dollars. She simply walked in behind me and sat down. We talked and talked the rest of the day, on into the night. Never before had I experienced such a nice conversation and never before did I fall so deeply in love. It’s been seven years since that fateful day. Not yet married but soon will be. So far we have been too busy traveling, having fun, enjoying life. She is a feisty little sex pot all right but I’d still feel the same if she were frigid. I’d rather sit in a chair across from her, just talking, than do everything there is to do with any other woman I’ve known or seen.

We have had our brawls. Her being a hot headed Puerto Rican. I remember our first fight. Making it the first time in my life I went chasing after a woman running away from me. I caught her. Wrapped my arms around her waist as she leaned back, saying, ‘Darling, did we have our first fight?”

One of the reasons I’ve always been addicted to Latina’s. As fast as they flare up, they come down, hugging and kissing. I was married at age sixteen. Any time I did something my wife didn’t like she wouldn’t speak to me for a month. One time, after at least a couple weeks of the silent treatment, I asked; “now what hair you got across your ass?”

“How could you?” she sulked.

“How could I what?”

“How could you” her lips quivering “how could you pick up a hitchhiker with me in the car?”

We were coming home from the movies. In the winter. About ten degrees out. No traffic on icy streets. I see a young kid with his thumb out. A young kid probably older than myself. “Why you Bitch!” I fume “what if that were your kid!?”

A typical religious hypocrite. On another occasion, anxious to show off my beautiful wife, and beautiful she was and still is, don’t know how we got into a night club, where the MC told an off color joke. Nothing raunchy. Just a little too strong for a prude. She slammed her fist down on the table, saying as loud as she could; “I don’t have to take this!!!” and stormed out.

I’d take the trashiest street girl who had banged three hundred and seventy five men before I’d get involved with a pius, religious virgin prude. This may sound good to some men but it was not. Due to my employment, I have never been in one location longer than a three month stretch. Most often less, but never more than three months. Had a new girl friend every three months. Taking the best of all of them, would not match the excitement Carmen gives me at her worst. That’s what happens when a man finds that most special one.

When messages from women began appearing on my Facebook page, an idea hit me. To turn the tables on them. When the conversation got around to what I did for a living, it would be “sell books” “Wow” the girls would say; “wow, an author” I mean, that’s what I thought they would say and buy a book. After a couple years and more women than I can count, my record is holding up at 100% perfect. I have not sold one book to those kind of women.

So, with so much experience, another idea gelled. To write a book about how to detect the tiny clues that expose a woman who is hustling. Not much inclined to put any finishing touches on a woman’s hustling program, who is more likely than not, a man in Ceylon or Bangledesh, the only way to get the book is by a man calling 321-271-5290.


for men only

An email arrived from a good friend in Miami named Graham who continually finds information that is enlightening and sometimes rib busting hilarious. The first shot of this one read only ‘The Book Has Arrived’ Scroll to next scene. A man sitting at a table, head resting on the elbow, in deep study. About three inches of the book left to go, with about three feet already read, flipped over onto the floor. The next scroll down reads; ‘this book will help you to understand women.’

Not MAKE a man understand, just help.

Ran out of time. will finish this next Friday


appreciation time

“Thank you for your service”

Words I hear continually. I stop them.

“You have that backwards,” I say, “it’s me who needs to thank them.”

Had all my flight ratings upon getting in. Compared to what the Air Force will do to a newbe, not an Air Force term by the way, all the civilian ratings are not even at kindergarten level. It’s not possible, but were I able to get the same training outside the Air Force, it would cost a couple hundred thousand dollars. Is that reason enough to be grateful for them letting me in. But that is only money. No amount of money can buy the experience and camaraderie. Not to mention how much I worshiped my C/O, Major Donald E. Hall, despite how many times he grounded me.

“You know what You are Lieutenant,” he’d yell, “You’re a fanatic!”

We did have our minimums but what would I care about minimums when there is an American down. More than once my REO moaned; “kind a hairy, eh Lieutenant.” My answer would be; “will you shut da fuck up and keep looking”

My L-19 had seven hours range. I’d not come in by proper procedures. Would stand the airplane up on a wingtip over the fuel pump, dropping down like a free falling safe, sometimes dead stick. Regs are 45 minute reserve, getting me in trouble a few times, pushing the plane to the pump, hoping my C/O would not spot me. Would not wait to get blasted, fuel up and right back out. Two seven hour missions, no food, no water, no peeing. The expression on a ground pounder’s face when plucking him out of the abyss all the pay I needed.

There is no way to describe how sad it makes me to see what is happening to my country. They do not call Airmen ‘pussies’ for nothing. When we’d get back to base there would be a nice dinner in the Mess and a comfortable bed in the BOQ. I’m not able to describe the condition some of the ground pounders we’d pick up were in after groveling through the muck, eating C’rats, and licking moisture off tree leaves to stay alive. How must they feel when seeing what’s happening to their country. They did what they did so we can live in Freedom, to do what we want. How do we now have so many people who not only despise the military, that makes their life possible to begin with, but think being able to do what they want means setting buildings and police cars on fire.

The time has long past to fight back. To wipe this vermin out. Personally, I know nothing about politics. The people who do must find a way to ban all public protesting. There is nothing to protest about to begin with. We live in the greatest country ever put together by man. There is no such thing as peaceful. Crowds on the sidewalk chanting and yelling disturbs the peace. The people who do even only that are demented, have a psychological aberration, makes them feel good about being heard.

The first problem is it being UnAmerican. We protest at the ballot box. If we don’t get done what we want, we accept it and have the wisdom to know the difference. Protests accomplish precisely the opposite of what is claimed they want, demonstrating the hypocrisy of it all.

For an early experience of mine. I loved the Cubans in Miami. Enough to risk my life for them during their escape. Unfortunately, not always beating the sharks to them, causing me to write the book: ‘Manage au Toix’ Than one day, I had an appointment downtown. Got stopped in traffic for two hours, missing my not so important appointment, all because of a Cuban rally. My love turned to anger. By now, how many millions of ordinary hard working Americans have had their lives interrupted, appointments missed, money lost, just because of low life, lazy, good for nothing brainless protesters That’s without beginning to think about all the people who spent a lifetime developing a business, losing it all in one flash.

Right now, my hatred for the BLM’s and Antifas is seething. I see faces in my memory bank, beginning with my high school classmate, Arthur Hennessy who gave his life for them in the Army. I’ve always respected our Commander in Chief, even Swilly Willie, but then I endured a speech by one who said protesting must continue to bring change. He brought some change in me all right. My disdain for him turned to hate.

So, Patriots, how do we get that done. No more public protesting of any kind. Forget about the American right to free speech garbage. We no longer have free speech to begin with When in Germany, I do not speak German, my native language. It’s my method for reading minds. Have been called an American pig more times than I can count, which angers me but somehow manage to control it. Were it not for the Americans they’d be saying; ‘Heil Hitler’ eighty times a day.

So to, Americans blast me with being a ‘raciest’ It does not work. I’m going to say whatever I want. Been in FB jail a dozen times along with myriads of other people. Who are they to censor what we have to say with their phony ‘community standard nonsense. Guess we do have a community standard now. ‘Burn Baby Burn’ Let’s get busy and put that fire out and show a little appreciation for the people protecting us.



When someone continually lies to you, how many times does it take before you no longer have any faith in what you then hear? hopefully everyone around has less faith than I had. Since there are no people as old as I am, it’s easy for me to hold the record of being bamboozled the most number of times. Married at age 16. We had no financial or sexual problems as so many people have. She loved comedies. Life is too serious for me. I could not stand them. She hated my documentaries and news programs. Sixty Minutes and 20/20. Causing the greatest marital problems imaginable. Along came a few subjects I knew a little about. For an example: Sixty Minutes did a whistle blower segment on aircraft certification. Dan Rather did not have a single, not one, fact right. For another: The quotation of Krueschev’s UN speech. Blasted all over the media. “We will bury you” Those four words touched off the costliest arms race in the history of mankind. Much worse. Came close to destroying the whole world. It is now, fifty years later, costing as much to dismantle those missile silos as it cost to build them.

I do remember thinking, as a youth, how can a world leader, no matter how demented, make such a statement. But not astute enough to give it a little more thought. The whole country got whipped into a frenzy. Much like the virus of today is doing. Schools across the country had continuous air raid drills. Bomb shelters were being built by the millions. There is a whole city underground, built for government people to survive. The very people who should not survive. And what for? There would be nothing left to govern. Pure selfishness. Easy to do when spending other peoples money. Radar Connie airplanes continuously flew up and down both coasts 24/7. Imagine what only that cost. My Wing, the five fifty first, did the East coast and it happened to be me who flew the very last Connie to mothballs in Arizona. Co-pilot, just to keep the record straight. Captain Kuel the A/C.

Some years go by. I wind up in Russia. In this way. Owner of the German company I worked for has a brother who found a Russian girl friend that he eventually married. He invited me along to visit her every week. In the process, making friends with many Russians. Including a lady friend of my own, Svetlana Kurtsov in St. Petersburg. They all had the same story. Russia tried to be friends with America. The arms race, my opinion, was America’s fault. All it had to do to prevent it is stay one missile behind the Russians There already were enough to end all life. And it almost happened. The man we owe our very existence to gets no credit. Michial Gorbechev.

How many Americans know Johnny Walker? To pay for his lavish lifestyle, he sold U.S. Navy codes to the Soviets. They knew the location of every American boomer. Their Joint Chiefs wanted a first strike to wipe out all the boomers. They knew they’d get hit with a few land based, but thought it worth destroying the U.S. once and for all. Their first step; kidnapping the Premier, hiding him in a Siberian Dacha until they succeeded. How fortunate Gorby had enough loyalists to rescue him. I thought nothing of it at the time when seeing him coming off the airplane with an angry expression until I learned the whole story.

Yes, Krushchev did say they would bury us. Media was not lying. They just left off the last word of the sentence; “economically” “we will bury the U.S. economically” The most expensive word in the history of languages.

My faith in the media shattered. All I needed to do is listen to my wife. I have not watched an American news broadcast in twenty years.

Netflix has a documentary with thousands of examples to show what deceptions the media makes. How many do we need to see before we begin to lose faith.



Some people may find this story mildly interesting.

   Along the south coast of Turkey are many Club Meds. German, French, British, Dutch and several others. None from communist or socialist countries. They all appear to be swanky resorts. Not the German one. Looks like a world war two military fortress. Surrounded by a ten foot high concrete wall with ten feet of concertina wire on top of it. A visitor needs to be cross examined  through three closed blocks and is then followed to his destination.

   All only for the big headed Germans to feel safe. Monied people of course. They pay over four thousand dollars a week to stay in this prison. Not a one has ever ventured out. The airplanes my company uses to bring them there from Germany are little eight passenger turboprops. The Germans are not going to lower themselves to go by airline, at one twentieth the cost. The nearest airliner field being on the other side of a mountain range in Antalya, just an excuse. The bus fare from Antalya to Chemuyva is twenty five cents. Easy to understand why a poor man like myself cannot get along with those people. Not to mention how many times they have insulted me.

   For one, they would not allow me to keep my dufflebag inside their compound. I know why. It had the words: US Navy on it. Which is the very reason I had to have that bag. Even though I’m Air Force. Should the Muslims ever overrun the place and take all the people hostage, who can we suppose they will call? Navy Seals of course. The rest of us can be grateful we are not those stuck up Germans.

   I happen to be the opposite extreme. When going to a foreign country, there is no sitting in a hotel room watching TV. I need to get out, explore the country, learn the local language, make friends. That alone has led to countless experiences those snobs will never have. It has also landed me in jail in Turkey. Forget Midnight Express. Not even close to reality. For me, not happy with one stint. Got in twice. Have also been evicted out of Germany. Again, not learning the first time, it happened twice. Talk about one man who appreciates growing up in America. A little jail time can’t change that.

   The Germans being stuck in their prison sparked an idea in a twenty year old kid name David Schmidt. Give the inmates something more to do than screech around their harbor on jet ski’s. Take them for scenic glider rides around the mountains. Knowing he’d not be able to lure them to the airport, gave him the idea of towing a glider with a boat.

   I happened to be the senior pilot with about nine thousand more flying hours logged than the whole rest of the crew put together, including Mister Schmidt, whose father is a Colonel in the Austrian Air Force.

   I told them to forget the idea. Aerodynamically impossible. David persisted. Don’t recall how he found a little backyard tinkerer in the tiny isolated story book village of Speigleburg, about five hundred population. Doubtful that a single resident of that village has ever been out of it. The tinkerers house is small in square foot area but goes up five stories against the mountain. The ground floor is his shop. Over the door entrance is a beautiful hand carved sign written in the ancient German script that reads; ‘Skunkworks’ in German.

“Herr Christoff,” I asked, a little intrigued by the coincidence, what made you come up with that name?”

They may be isolated and totally self contained needing nothing out of town, but they have the internet.

“From your America Lockheed company,” he answered. He liked the sound of that name. A man who has not one time been out of that village and never been near an airplane. He solved the problem that made towing a glider off the beach with a boat possible. Something no one in the world had ever done before.

The story gets better. A towed glider needs to get high enough to catch a thermal. If no thermal conditions, there is no point in taking a glider off the ground. Fifteen hundred feet is generally adequate. Unless it’s in Marion Arkansas with farm fields next to forestland. Than five hundred feet will do. Where did Christoff ever get the idea to write a letter to NASA to see if they had any ideas. They did. They even sent him a spool of line they use in space. Less thick than ordinary fishing line.

With that line we were able to tow gliders up to four thousand feet. Imagine what technology it required to develop that line. Making it one of a thousand incidents that made me especially proud to be an American. Not just due to its technological capabilities, but that NASA voluntarily, without being asked, sent him a spool. That’s the real America.

Ever since Aristotle, but really a Portuguese development, man has known where on earth he is, latitude wise. When three British warships turned north, thinking they were in the channel for home, they ran aground on the Hebrides, losing all three ships. The British Admiralty offered a million dollar reward to anyone who could solve the problem of Longitude.

An Englishman named John Harrison came up with the solution. Since Mister Harrison did not know what a ship is or ever in his life even been near the ocean, the Admiralty scoffed that a clock maker could not have the answer and refused to pay him. It took ten years for him to collect the money. The very same parameters Mister Harrison developed are still used to establish longitude in navigation.

Thanks to NASA, the tows turned into a very lucrative operation. An example of how American principles influence money making. David and I immediately bought four boats from Dixie Marine in Miami, along with endless equipment and materials, plus a Kenworth tractor trailer to haul the equipment.

For every person we could take up at two hundred dollars, we had twenty standing in line. They began outbidding each other. Four and five hundred dollars commonly, one gentleman offered one thousand dollars to be next. And then I ran into a Russian school teach and a Russian nuclear engineer named Svetlana Kurtsof. They were genuinely interested in our operation but had no money. I took them up for free. I also had the Commandant of the Turkish Navy for a passenger.

David’s wife Didem ran the boat. I flew the glider and David had his hands full managing the business and teaching new crews. The operation runs year around but I’d only be there during the tourist season for three or four months. In three months I’d make enough money, tax free, to carry me for a couple years if necessary. That is what people who get involved with such things as this rioting lunacy will never experience. I have to believe that catching a thermal tossing a glider up to eighteen thousand feet, my highest ever, generally twelve or sixteen thousand, has to be a lot more exhilarating than setting a police car on fire.



It’s beginning to look like we’ve been snowed.

Occasionally I do jobs for a German company. The owner of Twin Eagle Corporation, David Schmidt, called last night for me to report for duty. Exactly what duty did not get much into the conversation. Just one of three possible things they find for me to do. It’s a feeder airline. Might be driving the small airplane that brings passengers from Northern Germany to their Club Med in Chemuyva Turkey, driving boat loads of tourists around the ancient Middle East sites. or making believe I’m a diplomat when dealing with foreign governments. Germans are not known for being very diplomatic. Americans are. That skill and me having an American passport the most needed in that company.

We seemed to be more interested in talking about what’s happening on both sides of the Atlantic. A few years ago, one time, despite knowing better, I used the N word while talking about someone. A warning for any tourists visiting Germany. Do not use an ethnic slur. They are still sensitive about what happened in the past. Do not say the word ‘Nazi’ either. They will admit there was a nice refined gentleman named Hitler. Anything about him is western propaganda. Don’t believe me? Go to the Chamber of Commerce at the Brandenburg gate and ask for directions to some Nazi sites.

“They are Brown people,” Herr Schmidt corrected me a little testily. Cannot even use the word ‘Black’ with them.

“Well David,” my answer to the question of what’s happening in America, “Your ‘Browns’ are destroying our cities. Minneapolis, Seattle, the city you like so much, San Francisco, my mother’s favorite city, Baltimore, Detroit, places like that, now look like Berlin did in nineteen forty six.”

“Yes, I do have see such things on news,” David answered, “das ist immaglich.” (that’s unbelievable)

“So tell me David, how are you people coping with this virus?”

“Why are you asking?”

“Our economy has been destroyed. No business going on anywhere. As many people out of work as in nineteen twenty nine. People are being kicked out of their apartments. More homes being foreclosed than during any time in the past. We call it ‘lock down.’ No one can go out any more. Everything is closed. And people outside their house have masks on, Looks eerie. How about you, what is your foreclosure rate?”

“Foreclosure?” “What is that?”

“It’s when a bank takes a house because the people inside cannot make the payments”

“No” David answered, “I not have hear about any” “And wht you mean by word “Mask?”

“To cover your face, so you cannot spread germs.”

“Auch mein gott! laughenlich.” (ridiculous)

“You mean you people are not wearing masks?”

“No.” “I just come back from Norway. There not either.”

“Well David, I’m so sorry to disappoint you like this, I know how much you and Didem love to visit America. Not only is it not the same country but is now too dangerous. Sadly, the number of people that are making it too dangerous are not very many. The vast majority are normal good Americans that need to suffer the stigmatism brought on by the few. But at least I do have a little good news for you. Your beloved Browns are coming around in droves. They realize how they have been used and manipulated for politics and votes. I want you to look at You Tube. A young Brown girl will walk you through Baltimore. You will see what Damascus and Beirut look like. Her name is Kimberly Klacik. She is running for office. I want you to donate to her campaign. Well, since you are so fond of America, I will not need to ask you. You will want to. Can you spare, say, ten thousand dollars?”

“Nateerlich” (of course) “If you say so”

“No no David. Not because I say to. Just watch the video. You will want to. In fact, I’ll bet you make it twenty thousand. And she is not alone. There are many more. Another young Brown beauty name of Candace Owens, look her up also, they have given us such hope that we will finally get a good honorable Brown President after Trump. They are a new breed. They are not the usual deceitful power hungry politicians. There is an Army Colonel named ‘West’ that would make the best President we ever had. He will shut the rioters down in a hurry. And then, maybe you will be able to come over for a visit. But for now, we have a political problem. The two parties are at war. They have long forgotten the principles this country was founded on. They cannot even see there is too much of a track record to argue about anything. Every single city in America, I have not read the exact number, maybe a hundred and fifty, that are run by democrats, is in shambles. Bankrupt. The number of homeless. Decay. Poverty. Crime. Every city run by Republicans is flourishing. The people have money. Like you people. The city in good shape. Well kept up. One city in Georgia went way off to the right, crime went down to zero zero. So now the whole population can no longer ignore it. Politicians can no longer spin their way around the facts. Don’t take my word for it. Listen to my two new girlfriends. Yes David, they are my girlfriends. I’ll take either one. Ha. Like I have a chance. I can dream can I not? In the meantime, while I’m waiting for one of them to call me, tell Gauby I’m coming over. Miss her very much. Very anxious to see her. Tell Brigita also. Auf weidersahn.”

That is precisely, word for word, right down to the last syllable how our conversation went. Germans are fanatically meticulous about being certain every word they say is honest and truthful. So I can comfortably believe Mister Schmidt. However, I will be there in a week or so and see it all for myself.

I wrote that a few weeks ago. Have not been to Norway, but cruised around the Middle East, Austria and Germany. Did not see a mask. Am a dreamer anyhow. Thought about looking for Kimberlie’s number to ask her out on a date. By some kind of luck, I can have vivid dreams. Just kidding of course. No one can deny she sure is terrific. Imagine, that girl just might save our country.

I told an employee at a Flying J truck stop about my latest experience. He merely said; “they are not having an election in November are they?”



Isn’t that word in our name? Is it not time for us to become united and work together to end the madness that is enveloping our country? America is the only country in the world that has developed certain ideals and principles. What can the savages in the street protesting be expected to know about principles. But we can surely expect elected officials born and raised in America to know. For one, a leader elected by the people is to be respected and followed. A ship with more than one captain will not go anywhere. We cannot tolerate sore losers that try every devious means they can come up with to sabotage the elected leader. Their demented power hungry obsession means more to them than doing what’s best for the country. Is there any way to deny there are politicians who are doing things that are obviously detrimental purely for the goal of getting votes to regain power.


Then and Now

During the last century, millions of people fled war torn Europe. Their destination: ‘The Promised Land’ That’s not the Middle Eastern one. The one with the prefix USA in front of it. Not a single one came with any intentions of getting something for nothing. If there were any with such thoughts, they would have been sadly disappointed. There were no give-away programs. Even worse. In thos days, a little racism still existed in America. Jews, for one, were not just persecuted in Germany. The man writing this is right now very much alive and well. It is not his ghost writing. He can vividly remember seeing help wanted signs in Boston store windows, with the caption; ‘Irish need not apply’ During the slave days when a dangerous job needed to be done, the plantation owner would order; “get a paddy to do it, they’re worthless” A purchased slave had value.

“You ain’t got a Chinaman’s chance” is a common expression on construction sites. It used to be when during a construction project natural gas or any other chemical might be suspected, a canary would get tossed in. If the canary lived, no danger. If the canary died, no worki worki. It was soon discovered that the Chinese had even less value than a canary. A Chinaman would be tossed in. In Miami, there is a very rich Chinese lady, out in the area called the ‘Redlands’ who built a huge agricultural enterprise, employing a thousand people. She is well known. Anyone can find her. At age twenty, she single handedly with no help, escaped Mao se Tung’s collective and found her way to America.

Hard working industrious Cubans did not particularly like communism. They fled to Miami, where they turned a sleepy retirement community into a vibrant, colorful, bright and shiny economic powerhouse. Perhaps the shiniest and brightest, lively city in America. While other cities are being destroyed. Anyone wishing to see how bright and rich can tour the sections of Pinecrest, Coral Gables, the skyscrapers downtown, Bayside and the best of all, ‘Little Havana’ where the man writing this has a house he’s been living in forty years, seeing this staggering transformation in rel time. And now enterprising Venezuelans who cannot stand seeing what was the richest country in South America turned into the poorest socialist basket case, are flooding into Miami to push the Cuban miracle almost all the way up to Palm Beach. These are the kind of people America has always benefited from. These are the kind of people that built America. These are the kind of people that made America the most powerful country in the world. These are the kind of people who produced an economic powerhouse the whole rest of the world put together cannot match. The Russian GDP, for one example, rich in natural resources, stretching eleven time zones to our four, is three percent of America’s. Why would anyone want to change anything!!!!!?



While talking to a friend, a long time associate of forty two year came into the conversation. He happens to be the highest money winning gambler in the country. Which probably makes it the world. His name is WIlliam Duarte. AKA ‘Boston Billy.’ Ending the description of Mister Duarte with the statement; “a shame he wasted his life gambling.” Causing the friend to ask; “why, what should he have done?”

“Be President” came the answer.

“Of what?”

“The country”

The friend ridiculed that suggestion. Gamblers are generally outcasts from society. Does not matter how much money they make. Quite the opposite public perception of a gambler being a loner, a quiet sinister individual. Gamblers form their own little families. Gamblers are probably the most honorable people there are. A person cannot survive in the gambling world unless completely honorable and reliable. In that regard Mister Duarte out shined them all. No matter how much it hurt him or what it might cost, he would stick up for what is right, demonstrating that repeatedly over those forty two years. And tough? He would make Bill Clinton look like a Boy Scout and Obama look like a cockroach. There would be nothing that could influence him. He could not be bought for any reason.

“Then he’d not be able to be President” the friend shot back.