The Kali Whrite Boi


Somewhere In The Middle of The Book

That’s all you get for an indicator of where in context this happens.

“Three days. Three!”

“Yeah. And I don’t think it’s changing anytime soon.”

“Frak that. This shit needs to give. I want my fraking info back.”

“Dude. You have your life back, look around while you can.”

“Maybe you do, Rick. But me, may I die of the ‘VR Plague’ and gimme my damn net already.”

Rick let the reference slide because he dare not enflame the rage. He had heard Blake say it before and remembered it having something to do with virtual reality and incorporating…or something.

His friend’s query snapped him out of his own internal, “Wait…what, Rick? Not ‘changing anytime soon’?”

Rick quizzically raised an eyebrow, “I really doubt … well, you have to. That shit going on before the, well, communication’s blackout. You remember it, right?”

That’s exactly what I’m talking about! I need to find out just what in the hell is going on.”

“You? I am sure just about every other person is on about the same thing. ” Rick let the fact sink in a little following with, “Take a breath muld. A lot of people are” pausing to find the right word remembering a practice his very own friend preaches as a office professional, “reacting rather than acting. We’re reacting right now. That how you want to go about all this?”

Blake paused, looking around as his friend suggested. It actually was a beautiful Sunday morning, just passed 11:00 am and the two were heading North up the Interstate 15 in Rick’s Sequoia.

He let his head rest against the seat squinting up toward the reflecting sunlight. The car provided a soothing, rhythmic bounce as the still developing Temecula city passed by in nothing more than blurred blocks and strobbing sunlight.

The sun was still on its way toward Noon positioning it in a perfect to place to blind Blake if he at all glanced right. The buildings’ interruption were a welcome relief, and shorter enjoyed than he wanted.

“This is it, man. This has to be it.” Unable to relent.

“Are you sure about that? None of us really know anything. It is as much a mystery to that person in the Honda than it is those in the Ford. Nor you and I.”

Blake’s eyes bounced back and forth in his sockets from right to left a couple of times, “Call it a gut feeling then? What are you worried about?”

“All of it. I mean. Why are we racing out there. Actually, I don’t even know why I’m doing this. What am I doing here?” Thinking to himself how his friend is probably pausing to realize how he just cliche’d the conversation.

Again Blake bounced his eyes back in forth searching context for an answer. He slowly began, concluding quickly, “Because you came over asking what was going on.”

“Yeah. But. From that to this!

“Don’t worry, I just want to see what the activity is like around there. Be lucky I don’t wanna challenge the cammo dudes any more than they probably already are” pausing to look over at Rick with nothing short of seriousness, “That sign’s and mine introduction will have to wait for another day.”

“For sure. We aren’t getting anywhere near that thing. But seriously, Blake, do you really think all that is going on?”

Blake sat quiet a few moments. When Rick had arrived this morning Blake’s roommate Justin was loading up his car with all his gear, guns, knives, even bow. He was heading back to Michigan to protect his kids.

A lot more people were playing oblivious, acting like it was hackers who shut everything down right after they pranked the planet with those, interruptions.

For a week everything that used a wave of any sort suffered very random and intermittent interruptions.

The governments couldn’t stop it, not without shutting down virtually every public satellite orbiting Earth.

Some did.

But the signal continued to broadcast, uninterrupted. Repeatedly. Monotonously sometimes.

He’d never forget what everyone had heard over the last week. Radios. Cell phones. Land lines. Televisions. CB radios. Walkie talkies. Theater speakers. Store PA’s. Everywhere.

He’d never forget it. But never understood any of it neither. The wavering static didn’t help the public interpret what they were hearing no more than he could, and probably what governments and other challenging entities were furiously busy at as well.

But there were some things they heard that didn’t need interpretation.

And he’d never forget what he had heard.

Made Me Kick Myself For Not Asking For More.

You guys want to post things to you Facebook? Like this page or the linked Huffington Post “You’re losing $18,000 a year Because Of Income Inequality” article around to your friends. The Huff post is a must read, a lot of graph pr0n and data drops at the source.

I know, who in the frak wants to read through all of that.

I did. And so I did, and truncated it for ya.

But you should read it.


Then keep talking with your friends and colleagues about how much we’re working and jiminy christmas does it not feel like things are getting any better. We don’t know if we’re shaking our fist in frazzled furry at the man or the tax man. However, my quip isn’t all entirely political, but more socioeconomic (intertwined, I know).

This HuffPost title caught my quick attention when I got home from work so I dived in for a read. A bit of a sad admission to what I (and many others) already well suspected.

We’re working our asses off, eating lunch at our desks, in the car, or at the conference tables for not very much.

Compensation growth from 1979 to 2013 grew 8%, real income (after inflation) only grew 6.1%.


Productivity grew 64.9%.




For our hard efforts for helping make the top % their 40.6% increase in real income, we saw a 6.1% increase in pay.

12% of that productivity growth.

I guess they figured they’d give us a single meal’s lousy tip of 10%, over maybe 60 years.

Pat on the backs, anyone?

Read it! Dooo it. You know you want to.

Matt on Not-WordPress

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Canadian Cinephile

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Drew Avera, Author

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Genre writers based in and around Adelaide, South Australia

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