Category: A Very Short Story

From the Short Story Vault

Young Sailor…Part 2

Another short excerpt from my latest story. Continuing with Clyde:

Luke gave me and Clyde another beer. ”

“And then what happened?” I asked

“Luke here was willing to come with me to Hawaii. It was not a difficult choice for us to abandon school for a tropical paradise. No choice at all. An easy decision. Off we went and where pray tell after that, or this? Who knows, or cares. We live for the day man. Luke and I are livin the dream, out for adventure…an excellent adventure…right Luke?

Luke smiled but said nothing.

We left Long Beach thirty five days ago.

“What? And you just arrived today?” Even I knew that that was almost twice the time it should take to make the transit across.

Clyde laughed. “We WERE getting low on provisions. Down to hard tack and non perishables. We had a stack of stashed shit from our New Zealand trip that was still stored onboard. We fished too and caught a few. Yeah, it was getting tense but we managed…didn’t we Luke?

“Yeah man.” Luke responded after a slug of beer.

“Yeah.” Clyde continued, looking over at Luke for concurrence. “Navigation was a sore point with us…and money.” We didn’t have a lot of either. I got a large scale chart of the Eastern Pacific…three actually… and the islands, bought a plastic sextant for 50 bucks and learned how to take a noon day latitude shot. We noted the latitude of Oahu from the chart and off we went. Initially we sailed west by southwest by compass until we reached the latitude line of Oahu…around twenty one and a half degrees north latitude. Once there we sailed west straddling the twenty one degree latitude line all the way.” he paused to take another draft of his warm beer.

I shook my head in disbelief. This was comical and foolhardy…but an amazingly interesting account of questionable bravado, as only a seventeen year old could possess

“Then what?” I asked

“Wind was not our friend. We were not making good time. Seas were calm most of the way across. The only indication we would have had that we were getting near was from our VHF radio but that was nothing but static squelch almost all of the time. That made sense as that frequency range was only as good as a line of sight distance from the top of the main mast.

“So we took out our transistor radio. It was one of those long radios that were popular in the mid to late sixties.” Luke brought it out to show me. It was silver in colour with a metal mesh front hiding the speakers and an enlightened display panel showing four frequency bands across the top. On the very top of the radio beside the handle was an antenna that could be raised and lowered and extended in a line up to about 50 degrees from the horizontal.

“Good thing we had batteries otherwise we would still be out there flopping around somewhere.” He shook his head. “Once powered up we would hold that radio with its antenna extended at about a 30 degree angle from the horizontal and then point it across a wide arc of our visible horizon. Sure enough, over time, we picked up a radio station, especially during periods at dawn and dusk. A great deal of interference and a static mumbo jumbo of voices and songs were picked up. We would point the radio across the axis of where the signal strength was coming from. Its intensity would increase as our orientation changed and over time we picked up one of Oahu’s AM stations. We set a course along the axis of the signal, checking it out for confirmation every few days. Sure enough, we picked up the light at Makapuu Point on the southern eastern end of Oahu and knew we had made it. After a few more days we arrived here at the Ala Wai.”

“Wow.” I said “Holy shit man. You guys are some lucky dudes.”

“I know.” Clyde said. “Rudimentary and basic perhaps but it worked…in time.”

Luke nodded his head in agreement but offered nothing to the story.

I checked the time. I had to go. I’ll see you guys later. I am just over at G35. If you need a hand when you get your assigned berth lat me know.

“Will, do.”

“Thanks for the beer Clyde. Thanks Luke. Great to meet you guys. See ya around.” and I left.

And that is the way it was for Clyde and Luke: two young guys out for adventure with not a care in the world: getting by on their wits. Clyde was the leader of the two, a natural, and I could detect why. He was charismatic. People were drawn to him. He possessed a maturity for his years that was evident but hard to define. He was one of those individuals in life that you meet from time to time: one of life’s characters without being so. It was just the way he was. An ingrained character trait: friendly, funny, confident and street smart. Even though he was young in physical years he had much of life’s experiences under his belt. He was anything but risk averse as he was eager and willing to take chances for all of the rewards, graces and gifts that life had to offer. Who, in their right mind would consider sailing a forty five foot ketch from Long Beach to Honolulu on a whim without so much as a second thought? Yes Clyde was one of life’s characters and heaven only knows that the world needs more characters. On top of that he had a very unique and wonderful name.

SJ…Out

 

 

Canada Is Killing It

They must think we’re stupid. Of course they do. You voted for them didn’t you?

Jason Kenny, Premier of Alberta, is caught having a rooftop lunch during Covid restrictions sans mask and sans social distancing. Caught, he defends his actions in stating: “But it was a working lunch.”

There is no such thing as a working lunch Jason, or a free lunch, unless of course you are eating a big bowl of green garden salad at home with the kids. Crunch, crunch, crunch….or working for the government.

“C’mon Johnny, eat your greens.” Dad said.

“I’m workin on it pops.” Johnny said. Dad beamed with pride. He was so proud of his son. “He will make a good government employee some day. Set for life.”

Meanwhile:

COVID-19: Alberta moves into Stage 2 of reopening — Here’s what you can and can’t do.

Sales of green salad skyrocketing.

Sad as it is authorities think they found the graves of 215 indigenous children at an unmarked grave site in Kamloops BC, run by the Catholic Church. Our federal government’s response? Let’s have a national day of mourning and remembrance – Sept 30th. It will be a national statutory holiday – but only for federal employees. Yeah that’ll do it. Less work for the feds is what we desperately need.

Trudeau travels to Gee 7, NATO, as Canada grapples with Islamophobia, residential schools. Great! He is out of the country and can do no harm to us.

NATO – Not Another Travel Order, or the international cocktail circuit.

Sad as it is about the Muslin family run down by a disturbed madman in London Ontario, Hazmat Singh, leader of the federal NDP, calls Canada a racist country. That would be all Canadians. No Hazmat, I am not racist. You may be but I’m not.

In response Hazmat calls for a national day of mourning for all Muslim Canadians. It will be a statutory holiday on 30 October, the day before Halloween, but only for Federal employees. Yeah, that’ll do it. One less day to destroy the country…huh Hazmat. But more chocolate candy.

In light of the indigenous graves found in Kamloops, Trudeau reiterates that Canada, and Canadians, have committed genocide. Calls for a Canadian genocidal day of mourning. It will be a statutory holiday but only for the Federal employees. It will be on November 30th.

Killing it man….

At a press conference, someone asked Trudeau about the 22 Canadians killed on 9/11 by the Muslims. “Can we have a national holiday in remembrance for them?” she asked. “Say on December 30th?”

“Next Question” Trudeau responded.

Another reported jumped in…”Hey, what about the 10 Canadian people of Toronto who were killed by a Muslim man who ran them down with his van. Can we have a national day of mourning for them and a statutory holiday in which the Feds have a day off…say on January 30th?”

“Next question.” Trudeau responded.

“Wow, he sure is a virtuous guy.” A female reporter from Ontario gushed after the PM’s comments. Her colleagues from Quebec and the maritime were also in a state of prime ministerial rapture after the PM’s comments. “Canada should enact a national day of celebration and admiration for Prime Minister Justin Trudeau.” they beamed. “Say July 32nd.

Celebrities react to the 215 Indigenous children’s bodies found at a Canadian residential school. Being more virtuous than the rest of us these celebrities are calling for a Celebrity Day of Mourning in Canada. It will be a statutory holiday held on the 30th February or the day after the Juno awards, but only for them as they will be hungover from post Juno partying.

Canada’s opinions of U.S. markedly higher with Biden in White House, poll suggests. “Yeah, well, yeah, most of the Canadian electorate especially  in Ontario, Quebec and the Maritimes, is braindead, just like Biden.”

Canada proposes to settle indigenous lawsuit after discovery of children’s remains….”How much?” someone asked. “And what did these children die from?”

Like the Pope, Canada refuses to make a formal apology to the Indigenous People.

But…but…Canada apologizes to the Italian community for their forced internment during the Second World War. “Yeah, but…but the Italians invented spaghetti. What did the Indigenous invent? Have ya ever tried Bannock Billy.”

In light of this indigenous scandal, every Canadian Prime Minister from  John A Macdonald to Jean Chretien is culpable and should be held accountable for their actions (Indian Act of 1969) or inactions and every statue to their name and legacy should be toppled. In fact:

This will never end until the entire country of Canada is turned over to the Indigenous People to own, to manage and to govern.

And in response:

“Let’s have a national statutory holiday to celebrate Indigenous Canada. Say on the third Saturday of August. It will be for all non federal employees.

Crazy but sad Canada.

Ode to Trudeau:

SJ…Out

 

 

 

A Young Sailor

Another excerpt from another book I am working on:

One day in November, mid morning, while I was reading the sailing directions of some of the islands and atolls of the south and central pacific I heard a commotion topside. I left the confines of the cabin and rose out and into the cockpit and the bright mid morning sun. There, in the channel just to the east of me and adjacent to Holomoana Blvd, was a large Ketch transiting slowly toward the end of the channel with its turning basin. This was an area used by the yacht club’s boat owners to tie up and load up supplies prior to a sail.

I could not see anyone on deck. They appeared to be out of control. No engine noise could be heard. The large mainsail was reefed to an extent that the main looked like a very small sailcloth. It was the only means of propulsion for the boat, as no other sails were up. Everything appeared to be secure. They must be in danger or need assistance, I thought. Without hesitation, I left Akaru and ran down the dock through the dock’s access gate and across the parking lot as fast as I could. Crossing under the concrete awning and overhang walkway of the Ilikai Hotel I stopped in an area that was situated at the entrance to Kahanamoku Street but on the channel side of the street. I waited with nervous anticipation to provide assistance for this vessel, as I was still a novice with these things.

Suddenly a small man appeared topside. He saw me and waved. He did not seem to be concerned in the least as to his current situation, unlike Skip. To him, everything was under control. The mainsail came down and this young man walked back to the helm, ready to manoeuvre the boast under its potential energy and latency. Another crew appeared, walked up to the foredeck with a mooring line. He saw me and smiled, and waved, giving me a military-like salute. I had never seen these guys or this boat around these parts before.

The boat altered slightly to starboard and then, with a hard turn of the wheel the boat came around to port to present a starboard side aspect to the concrete pier. The bow was pointing north which would provide easy access to the channel when time came to depart. Even though the seaside of the pier was fitted with rubber tires as protective fenders, the boat had its own white fenders fitted to fend off for further protection. The crewman forward threw me the mooring line, which I caught and secured to one of the cleats forward. The helmsman and crew worked the boat in tandem with its momentum and mooring line until such time that the boat was secure, starboard side to.

“Thanks man,” the crew forward said to me. He was very young I thought with long black hair parted in the middle and falling down both sides of his head to his shoulders. It was thin, stringy like with no body to speak of. Perhaps his hair had not seen water or shampoo for many days, even weeks. It had a matte look to it. He was dressed in beige shorts with a dirty white tee. He was well tanned, not tall but medium built. Not an ounce of fat on him…bare feet on the teak decks.

The helmsman threw me a stern line, which I secured. This guy was also very young, but with a shorter mop of hair that appeared thick and wavy with the texture and look of steel wool. It fell back tightly in form from his forehead across the top of his head and crown and then flared out and down over his ears and the nape of his neck. It was of a colour that I could not discern: not blond of any shade nor was it brown. It seemed to be a mix of a light brown colour highlighted with a tinge of sun bleached blond, maybe even grey, and extremely dense in texture, almost like the hair of a Blackman.

Yet he wasn’t black. His complexion was fair. He had a face full of freckles. Indeed his exposed skin held a mass of freckles but it was not sun burned or damaged. He had a weathered but healthy look about him. His eyes were of a bluish grey, dull, but in sharp contrast to his skin tone. Like his mate he was of medium build. No deck shoes.

“Thanks man, appreciate it.”

“No problem.” I answered. “Where ya from? I haven’t seen you around here before.”

“Just arrived this morning.” he said. “We’re from Long Beach. My friend here is Luke Wainright. My name is Clyde Cece (Cease).”

“Hi, I’m Jim. Jim Turnbull. I am Canadian, from Toronto.”

“Great.” he said and then. “You wanna come aboard? Have a warm beer?” He laughed. That is one thing we took plenty of but our coolers and refrigeration gave out a long time ago. Added to that we are not of legal drinking age but who gives a rat’s ass in the middle of the Pacific huh?

I laughed at that.

“Oh yeah? How old are you guys?”

“Seventeen.”

My jaw dropped. I looked at Luke then back at Clyde.

“Holy shit. Really? Where is your Dad?”

“No dad. At least not here. Just Luke and I. It’s a long story. C’mon aboard and make yerself at home and I’ll tell ya all about it.”

I did, and it was…a long story.

It seems that Clyde convinced his dad to let him take the boat to Hawaii.

“My dad taught me all that there is to know in handling a sailboat of this size.” He said. “I sailed across the Pacific to Australia with him and his girlfriend when I was about fourteen years old. That took us two years. It would have been a shorter cruise had it not been for a tragic misadventure on a beach in New Zealand.

“How so?” I asked.

“It had been a stormy and blustery day. Not too rough but uncomfortable. We were about two miles off the beach. My dad decided to heave to: to normalize and reduce the haphazard, lurching movement of the boat in these conditions. Comfortable now so he and his girlfriend decided to go to it in the forward berth but under a haze of booze and weed. They became inebriated and were soon comatose. They left me to my own devices. I was asleep in one of the quarter berths.” Clyde looked at me rationalizing. “There is plenty of room and privacy in a boat of this size so this was not a problem for me or for them.

“Suddenly a few hours later, I awoke to a series of thuds and a long shuddering sensation, almost a vibration, that went trough every beam and joint of “Before the Wind.” The sensation was subtle but intense enough that it bored its way through the hull and into my very being. I got out of my berth and went topside. I could not believe what I was seeing. Trees, dunes, sand and surf. But…but…what? I was confused. I should not be seeing trees or a beach, or sand dunes. But there they were before me.

“A mill of people were on the beach watching things unfold. No doubt they wanted to see the boat breakup. But “Before the Wind” was a strong, full length keeled ketch. This incident was nothing but a bit of annoyance, embarrassing perhaps, for a boat of this size and shape. Having a full keel “Before the Wind” sat almost upright on the beach in the shallow surf supported by a full length iron keel. Luckily there were no rocks or a reef, just a sandy bottom. It was comical to see the sails flapping in the stiff breeze, while the boat remained upright, lodged in the sand. In time my Dad appeared, wrapped in a blanket, none the worse for wear, shook his head in disbelief and then after a few choice words disappeared below deck and back into the forward berth. He kept his girlfriend out of the sight of the onlookers. In a few days time a tug appeared and at high tide was able to pull “Before the Wind” off of the beach and back into deep water.”

“Wow,” was all I could say. Luke remained silent. “And no damage?” I asked

“Nope, good as gold.” Clyde said

He continued his story.

“We stayed in New Zealand for a few months and when my dad was satisfied that “Before the Wind” remained seaworthy, we began the slow trek home arriving in Long Beach about 6 months later. There we remained, tied to home and day sailing or the odd weekend trip to Catalina. My pop had had it with the offshore. But he trusted me and my skill level and ability, so when I asked him about this trip he agreed without any real discussion or hesitation.

He looked at me long and hard and said. “Sure Clyde, why not.” He threw me the keys and the rest as they say is history.”

“Wow, great story.” I said

A Chicago cover group from Russia: Leonid and Friends

Introduction:

And I’m a Man:

Great stuff. Sure beats the crap coming out today. We need another form of the British Invasion.

Read some of my other books:

Click on the links at the top of the page.

Enjoy the day:

SJ…Out

 

F&^K The Fans

From Paul Joseph Watson

“Yeah, it’s so unfair that Billy there is making 3M Euros and I am only making 2. So unfair. Inequality. It must be because I am Black. I’ll take a knee in protest. It is so un-diverse, so unequal…so non inclusive.”

Y’know society is in real danger of collapse when an underlying principal of the new generation is to admire and support domestic terrorist organizations such as BLM and ANTIFA.

Sports, like everything else these days, has become politicized. Take a knee if you want to but I do not have to watch you. The beauty of TV is that I can turn it off or change the channel. And I will.

Owners shall do so in peril. The new mantra of sports? Fuck the Fans.

If you want to get back to some normalization of society ditch social media. It is destroying society, especially our children, who will soon be the leaders of tomorrow…thankfully I will be dead.

Also, our governments should get out of the United Nations…no longer united but a divisive organization that wants One World Government with them in charge. They will do anything to accomplish this through fear. Covid pandemic and climate change apocalypses are their primary tools to implement this.

(National Post) Since the advent of the COVID pandemic, Mark Carney, former head of the Bank of Canada, England and other things, has been front and centre in the promotion of a political agenda known as the “Great Reset,” or the “Green New Deal,” or “Building Back Better.” All are predicated on the claim that COVID, and its disruption of the global economy, provides a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity not just to regulate climate, but to frame a more fair, more diverse, more inclusive, more safe and more woke world.

(Me) Code for…Communism. Only this time it will be different…so they say.

It is never different.

(National Post) Carney draws inspiration from, among others, Marx, Engels and Lenin, but the agenda he promotes differs from Marxism in two key respects. First, the private sector is not to be expropriated but made a “partner” in reshaping the economy and society (Oh, you mean Fascism). Second, it does not make a promise to make the lives of ordinary people better, but worse. Carney’s Brave New World will be one of severely constrained choice, less flying, less meat, more inconvenience and more poverty: “Assets will be stranded, used gasoline powered cars will be unsaleable, inefficient properties will be unrentable,” he promises. The agenda’s objectives are in fact already being enforced, not primarily by legislation but by the application of non-governmental — that is, non-democratic — pressure on the corporate sector via the ever-expanding dictates of ESG (environmental, social and corporate governance) and by “sustainable finance,” which is designed to starve non-compliant companies of funds, thus rendering them, as Carney puts it, “climate roadkill.” What ESG actually represents is corporate ideological compulsion. It is a key instrument of “stakeholder capitalism.(Me – is it to be Communism or Fascism Mark?) And all of the stakeholders are guys like Carney, who make a gazillion dollars. Do ya think they will be living in shit hole cities like LA? Or Portland? Say in Youngstown Ohio? You will under this plan.
Youngstown OhioOr LA. Your new hometown:
Carney’s Agenda is promoted by the United Nations and other international bureaucracies and a vast and ever-growing array of non-governmental organizations and fora, especially the World Economic Forum (WEF), where Carney is a trustee. Also, perhaps most surprisingly, by its corporate victims. No one wants to become climate roadkill.
(Me) Code for One World Government. Luckily for me I will be dead and gone…Rapture or no Rapture.

If it moves tax it. More evidence of the move to One World Governance: Global Taxation, which the G7 agreed to this past week at a rate of 15%

Wait for the every breath you take tax. It is coming.

Love this song. Alvin Lees and 10 Years After. Hate modern music as it has no soul.

Or this:

Such innocence. Imagine? A biker at a candy store??

I had a real crush on the blonde when I was 14. She was 16.

SJ….Out

 

 

 

 

Woke Up People

See the source image

Toxic Canadian white men land at Juno Beach 06 June 1944.

Ah, the millennial generation. Don’t ya just love it. Shout out to our wonderful leftist educational system that brought this generation into the world. Just think what their offspring will bring to the table. Consider:

Sunday was June 6. What pray tell happened on June 6? Our PM has no clue as there was no mention of this important date in history by him or anyone else in Canada;

There is a movement out there to cancel Canada Day;

Canada now has the highest level of debt of any G7 or G20 country. Higher than the so called failed states of Greece or Spain / Italy;

Residential school outrage – there has always been and always will be residential school outrage. It is tragic and sad but we know not of the circumstances behind this, other than the fact that it occurred…in the past;

Trudeau demands Catholic church address the residential school atrocities, issue an apology, which they have done numerous times, and hand over their records –  but no mention of the Anglican and United Church’s culpability in all of this;

Trudeau considers himself a feminist yet does very manly toxic masculinity things including firing two of his most important female cabinet ministers;

Trudeau calls us all racist yet I cannot remember ever wearing blackface – as our fearless leader had done three or four times;

Trudeau is against cultural misappropriation yet does that very thing with his trip to India;

See the source image

Trudeau has branded Canada a racist country guilty of genocide. Think about that. Every Canadian is guilty of genocide. The most heinous crime against humanity…ever.  Our PM says so. By making that statement Canada is on the same path as Nazi Germany, Uganda, Turkey and the Pol Pot regime.  So why hasn’t the Hague and the International Court taken action on the PM and his cohorts? Why hasn’t a Nuremberg style trial been initiated?;

See the source image

Trudeau supports Quebec separation by his acknowledgement that Quebec is a nation within Canada and has every right to change and amend our constitution without having been a signatory on it. But, the other provinces have no right to do the same;

Trudeau believes that the only good PMs of Canada have come from Quebec;

Trudeau is bent on the destruction of the Canadian economy and supports the so called great reset;

Trudeau loves the Chinese government;

Trudeau and his cohorts believe Climate Change is an existential threat because CO2 is a poison. That comment alone should scare people as Co2 is one of life’s building blocks. It is not a poison. Without it there would be no hospitable planet to live on;

Trudeau has put Canadian lives at risk by his poor response to the pandemic;

And on and on it goes. And yet his popularity increases.

I do not get it other than he is a product of this so called woke culture that is destroying the western world.

Wake up Canada to this Canadian woke madness. Vote this guy out of office at the next election.

Consider that:

Two toxic Canadian white men discovered insulin and saved millions of lives;

A toxic English white man discovered penicillin and saved millions of lives;

A toxic Jewish white man discovered the polio vaccine and saved millions of lives;

Hundreds of thousands of toxic white men led the fight against Nazi Germany and Hirohito’s Japan, and saved millions and millions of lives;

100,000 Canadian toxic white men of the Canadian Corp won the First World War during the last 100 days of the Great War.

To name but a few toxic white men.

 

Yes we are but not for reasons of wokeness.

SJ…Out