Something Wicked this Way Comes

(OK, I borrowed that title from a 1983 Horror movie by Ray Bradbury)

It’s been said that Americans will never give up their Constitution.
That’s commendable, but our American leftist non-brothers want it replaced with sharia.

Why are the Muslims emigrating to all other nations if they didn’t have a plan? That’s because they DO have a plan. I just got confirmation, thanks to an email friend who sends stuff regularly, Tonight it was “What is Hijrah?”

Hijrah is when large scale mass migrations become invasions, which is exactly what’s happening right freaking now, to Europe, Australia, Canada, America, the so-called civilized places that didn’t yet have a ton of Muslims.

The next paragraph is copied verbatim: (Bold is mine.)

Hijrah is jihad by emigration. It means moving to a new land in order to bring Islam there and is considered in Islam to be a holy and revered action. “And whoever emigrates for the cause of Allah will find on the earth many locations and abundance, and whoever leaves his home as an emigrant to Allah and His Messenger and then death overtakes him, his reward has already become incumbent upon Allah.” Surah 4:100.  “So, if a Muslim dies in the process of emigrating to another country, that’s essentially the same as being a suicide bomber, his reward is automatic.”


Sometimes our modern high-tech world does seem a bit freaked up. Maybe the Muslims are right—to a point—and after they kill a few million of us and get their worldwide caliphate installed under sharia law, well, maybe then the world will be better.
How can I say such BS words?

I’ll list a few reasons.
Too many of us have become weak and dependent. Our food is all raised somewhere else. Sure, some of us have piddling little survival gardens, and some of us even can and dry and freeze enough produce to last till the next growing season.But that’s a very, very, few.

High tech electronics is taking over all communications. People are dumping their land phones as if they are on fire. Kids (and plenty so-called adults) walk with their noses stuck in their smart phones (they even sleep with their phone and often wake up to check–kids and adults both! Believe it or not!) Televisions, laptops, phones can now listen to you—and tell who knows what to who knows who?—and those gadgets can even see and listen to you when they’re turned off. Your new refrigerator knows when you open the door and what you remove. Cars that can drive themselves? Come on…! Your electrical power source?—I don’t even want to go there.

Most everything we use is manufactured not only somewhere else but in a foreign country (we no longer can even pound a nail straight!) We buy much of our oil from countries who hate us and use that money to send their invaders to destroy us from within. Gas lines. The 80s were bad, but nothing compared to what’s coming if we don’t break this oil-guzzling habit. With President Trump in charge things may begin to change…but don’t hold your breath. The left likely wants us to stay hooked to the Islamic oil cartels forever.
(Bit there is good news. Sometime ago it was announced that America was now producing more and more oil. Will that get us off the Islamic teat? Damn good question!)

Our Mainstream Media: 35 years ago 90% was run by 50 different companies. Today it’s run by just SIX all-powerful CEOs. They tell their underling flunkies what news to deliver to the sheeple and how they should describe it: opinion, not facts…right, folks, our MSM has one job, to brainwash the people on whatever those SIX CEOs want.

1984 is 35 years late but it’s here (and coming) in all its darkness and anti-glory.

We are truly becoming a globalist society, which is just what the globalists/elitests/leftists/liberals/progressives/open-border-fanatics/Illuminati, the new world order people, ETCETERA, want. The more we depend on somebody else for our needs, the easier to control us and, yes, eventually, enslave us.

That’s what the Islamic-run UN’s Agenda 21 was all about, and now it’s Agenda 2030, with 17 main goals, #1, ending poverty, #2, ending hunger, #10, reduce inequality, #13, climate change, and #16, justice for all.

And, of course, somewhere in that jumble of BS is the end of America’s Second Amendment, which the Islamic-run UN is pushing us right now to sign on with their Arms Trade Treaty! In fact I think our outgoing Muslim administration all ready signed (President Trump, I believe, ended that.)
Give me a FREAKING break!
The Constitution supersedes international treaties. Period!


As a last word on Islam, I believe the globalists are using the Muslim people not to take over the world but simply to get rid of a ton of infidels. I mean, the Illuminati plan is to eliminate 85% of the world’s population, leaving just enough human slaves to care for the elite in their gated communities. What better and more efficient way to get rid of a bunch of people then to turn loose the bloodthirsty Islamic rabble?

Okay, one more last word: religion, our Christian faith.
People not only have forgotten but are continuing to forget…gangbusters…the word “God” has been removed from our schools, government offices, pledges, oaths, and Muslims are allowed to swear on a Koran–NOT a Bible, which, to me, negates their oath.
But, hell, what the hell do I know?

As always, a sunrise or sunset photo to close. Tonight a sunset.
Siding the House 017


The Light at the End of the Tunnel

Yes, an overused phrase, but very descriptive for a new baby just arriving at the world outside its mother. Does a baby open its eyes just before birth, to actually see that first light? I don’t know, but I suspect an infinitesimal few do. For the sake of this novel I’m going to say at least one baby boy does open his eyes in time. As you get to know him I think you will agree.
Why? Because this baby is unique. He experiences deja vu endlessly during his many new lives. You see, he also reincarnates endlessly. From time immemorial he has been getting killed by the state–executed, that is, as a worst-of-the-worst criminal, and nobody ever figured out why.  Also, of course, nobody knew. And, really, how would they EVER figure it out without intervention by the superior being, our Lord God?
Not until the chaplain at a contemporary prison reads it in an ancient book and then tries to stop the execution of worst-of-the-worst criminal, Les Paul.
What the book said:

“If the state kills a worst-of-the-worst criminal, rather than allowing a natural death, that criminal, man or woman, will reincarnate as not only the same person but more evil than before. He or she will have the same memories, though not fully intact memories, but they will serve well in the new life. A worst-of-the-worst criminal MUST be allowed to die a natural death, which includes being killed by a fellow criminal.”

Nobody believes the chaplain, for certain not the warden, so the execution proceeds on schedule. Of course the ancient book disappears as if it never existed. The chaplain is certain it DID exist and is nearly certain he’s right, so certain that he removes his collar, leaves his job, and begins a search for the reincarnated Les Paul.
There is the introduction to a main POV character (1 of 4) but not THE main character. Next we will take a look at this current execution of Les Paul: (POV Les Paul)

“May God have mercy on your soul. Amen.”
He barely mouthed his response, “Sure, whatever-the-fuck-ever.” Through peripheral vision he saw the warden nod. Here it comes. He smiled, and felt the drugs entering him, and felt his world speeding up. Like a jet plane—what a ride!—plastering him against the seat. The buzzing in his head grew louder and faster…
For a few seconds he felt himself rising from the table. He looked back. His unmoving body was there. His eyes were open…where am I…? He felt like he was moving, leaving the prison—Good! I’m going somewhere! But, not, really. He felt himself being squeezed, like, from a tube, except he wasn’t leaving the tube, he was entering, becoming smaller, and smaller, and smaller, and sma…”

Deja vu, we’ve likely all experienced that feeling of having “been here before.” For us regular mortals that “feeling” likely lasts just seconds. Now picture worst-of-the-worst criminal, Les Paul, undergoing deja vu regularly, only he’s seeing himself being executed again and again, by electric chair, drugs, firing squad, over and over, memories that he denies are his–wouldn’t you? Since you’ve never been executed–that you know of–wouldn’t “you” deny such memories are yours?
In the case of Les Paul, whether he believes it or not, his memories of continuing executions by the state are truly his. In the opening scene, while waiting for his execution, he has a deja vu memory of his very first life, his only happy time, his only time with a loving wife and a darling little daughter. But, as always, he shakes his head and denies the memory is his.


In case you’re wondering, yes, I’ve experienced deja vu, a recurring memory of a certain street as I traveled through different cities in my sales job. The memory was always of the “other side” of the street. I always started across, jaywalking, but never got there. Finally, after years, I found that exact street in my own hometown city. I actually crossed that street…and nothing happened, except the deja vu stopped. Go figure. I still wonder if crossing that street affected me in some unknown way….

Here is a short look at all the main characters: Main characters in bold, secondary characters underscored.
Les Paul is on death row awaiting execution. (first as adult, then as child, beginning at 14 months until a nine-year-old.)
The chaplain is trying to stop the execution, and not because of a love for mankind.
Mrs. Leslie Markum in nine months will give birth to the reincarnation of evil.
Ms. Nicole Waters is nursing at the hospital where the infant, Les Paul, will be abandoned.
Cassandra is yet divided between her mother and father. (infant to nine-year-old)
Patrolman Sikorsky is hoping to advance to detective.
Riley Stokes, ex-military, will train the chaplain and Nicole to become private investigators.
(Little Cassandra [who isn’t even born yet] may not seem like the MAIN-main character, but in my mind, she IS.) So please bear with me until you get to know this little girl.
When Cassandra is born her mother will live long enough to name her. On the same day her father will die in Afghanistan.
Cassandra starts her life alone. In foster care she will fall through crack after crack. Nobody wants to adopt this darling girl child. Lacking love, she discovers her crying brings her nothing. She stops crying.
As she grows she does not come to love, anything, and does not come to trust…anyone.
On October 18, this little girl will be born. Halfway across the country another baby will be born on the same day, just another child who will find no love. Les Paul will find no love because he is the reincarnation of a long string of evil killers.
Six months after his execution Les Paul is swimming in a warm pool of amniotic fluid. Through instinct his hands realize he wants more room. He uses his twin brother’s own umbilical cord to strangle him, then kicks that useless presence toward that light at the end of the tunnel.

Book cover represents Les Paul in his mother’s womb hanging onto the umbilical cord he used to murder his twin brother.
The chaplain and Nicole join forces and train at a desert survival school. Their goal to track down the newly-born Les Paul—now rampaging through foster home after foster home—and prove that this child, now nine-years-old, is truly the reincarnation of Les Paul, worst of -the-worst criminal.
(When the chapain and Nurse Waters are onstage at same time it isn’t always clear who has the viewpoint, nor does it need to be. [They are a team now])


A list of viewpoints from the main characters plus 3 minor characters:

Les Paul:–He glanced at the guard, “Hey, man…,” and sent his now-starched-on smirk, “You stoppin’ for a brew after?”
Standing, the guard remained about twenty feet away, too far for Les Paul to read his name tag. Didn’t matter anyway, he had no desire to make new friends. Course he didn’t have any old friends either. Nobody to see him off. No family. Nobody.
Les Paul as a child:–Just fourteen months old and already on his fourth foster family.

Warden Miles:—-The warden stood still for another moment, then walked to the door, stood for about thirty more seconds, then opened, “Chaplain, I was just coming to meet you.”

The Chaplain:—-He still believed in God—that was he now believed in a god—a superior intelligent being, just was no longer sure of the personal god there anytime, anywhere, for anyone.

Nurse Nicole Waters:–…gasped when the small hand went into her top and actually tried to get to her breast.
Nurse Waters’ (Nicole) viewpoint with 9-year-old Cassandra:
–“The young girl looked up and scowled, “My name’s Cassandra!”
Yes, the rapport was absolutely gone.
“All right, sorry, Cassandra. You started to tell me—“
“I did tell you—the biggest boy reaped me!” Her mouth set, she turned back to her drawing. “The other big boy would’ve too—he wanted to do the littlest girl!—but the parents came home!”
Nicole, sadly, looked at the chaplain and opened her hands. They had the information they came for, so there was no reason to stay longer. They started for the door.
“And they’ll keep doing it!” Cassandra said in a voice not even recognizable. She also didn’t look up.
They both stopped and stared at the young girl who now was old far beyond her years.
“They hurt those other girls—I know it! Even that smallest little shit wanted to!” The girl, her friendly face absolutely gone, glanced toward them, then right back to her notepaper—which she then tore to shreds, “And that boy the same age as me, I know he wanted to! But the big boys wouldn’t let him!”

Casandra as infant:–And the volunteers did a good job, but it seemed the same one never held Cassandra more than once. Every time she felt warm arms around her and opened her eyes she did not recognize the person.
Casandra as a 9-yr-old:–Her eyes felt strange, like maybe tears wanted to come—She knew about tears; she knew what they were, but she was pretty sure there were none in her.

Mrs. Markum (with Les Paul, the infant):–“It’s okay, honey,” his mother said, “Here, maybe I’ll just switch you to my other breast.” She began to move him…she began to try to move him, “Honey, you have to let go…oh—ow!”
“The child was evil, Evan. It was born evil. It will grow up evil, and will do terrible things.”
Evan Markum:–“He already has done terrible things, my darling.” But I’ll never tell you what.


Who I am and why I’m here

My name is James W. Nelson, Indie-author

“indie” BTW means independent.
Before the internet, publishers had all the power. That’s not to say I would never be interested in going the traditional route, I would. But, from past experience I know that the people working for those publishers will try to get you to change and change what you’ve written until you won’t recognize your own work as your work.

Jim Photo
But, my options remain open for discussion.
In the so-called “old days” publishers controlled not only what was published, but more importantly, what the public was allowed to read. That’s not the case anymore. Anybody can write and publish anything they want. Of course just because anybody can do that does not mean it is all good reading.
There’s plenty of…”questionable” material out there. That’s why we have brains, to read until we know whether we like, or dislike, what we’re reading. My books are self-published and guaranteed.
Oral communication has never been my strong point—OMG, I was so blank with the girls when I was growing up. I definitely did not get the one I wanted, and ended up never getting married…which is NOT a bad thing.
I have always wanted to communicate, so, eventually turned to writing, and reading. My very first book read (about the third grade) “The Chisel-tooth Tribe,” and I don’t remember one thing about it, except that it had great pictures of the many, many, species of rodents.
My first actual writing was a short journal during my 4-year hitch in the navy but those words have never been seen by anyone but me. A rich memory though, in 2010, I produced my memoirs, Dying to Live, available at Amazon. ($2.99 digital–$12.00 paperback)

Blogging came shortly thereafter. I needed to get my feelings out. (This is my new site with WordPress.) Letters-to-the-editor in the past have helped, but today political correctness somewhat (actually quite a bit) restrains. In blogging I can say exactly what I want and can easily police myself.
Future blog posts will sometimes describe my novels, but very often my opinion, mostly on the darkness going on in America and the world today.
The theme above is entitled “Hemingway Revisited,” not that I’m comparing myself to Hemingway.

dying to live cover v20

Amazon Author Page: