Author Archives: deanwebb

The Blessings of Mothers

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In the song, “Mama Tried”, Merle Haggard wrote this chorus:

“I turned twenty-one in prison, doing life without parole
No one could steer me right, but mama tried, mama tried
Mama tried to raise me better, but her pleading I denied
That leaves only me to blame, ’cause mama tried.”

He wrote this partly-autobiographical verse in reflection of his time in San Quentin prison. Although he was not doing life without parole, he did turn 21 in prison because he hadn’t respected his mother’s lessons. And even though Merle Haggard ran a few illegal operations in prison at first, it was when he saw a fellow inmate on death row making preparations for his execution that made him want to change his life and return to living the way that would honor his mother.

He was dead right, as well, when he accepted responsibility for his actions. His mama tried, and his awful state was his own fault. If he had accepted the blessings of his mother’s teachings, his life may have been just as hard, but it would be with the knowledge that he was living honorably, honestly, and doing what was right.

While both mothers and fathers teach their children right from wrong, they don’t always do it in the same way. Their message may be unified, but their delivery will be different. When a mother speaks from her heart, there is a spiritual force that accompanies those words. That force can embed her words in the hearts and minds of her children, and will whisper to them for the rest of their lives. Those words serve as yardsticks by which her children will measure their lives ever after. We’ll know if we’ve done right or wrong by how well we’ve kept the words of our mothers.

Even when a mother may be absent in a home, children will seek that motherly influence elsewhere. An aunt, a grandmother, even an older sister can provide that kind of influence. Left on their own, wise men may take wayward members of their group aside and repeat to them words that they learned from their mothers – that perhaps their errant brothers may not have heard, or respected. When we are living right, we know so because we don’t feel a twinge of guilt when we think of our moms.

Moms have the capability to bind children to their words. I choose that word because, in Hebrew, the word used for “bands” can also mean labor pains. Not only do moms know what is right, they carried us for many months and went through all the trials of childbirth, that we might live. It is not for nothing that baptism is described as being born again, having broken through the bands of death. Adopted children do not have an easy out here, by the way. The legal process of adoption is quite involved, which can cause much pain and suffering and travail. Your moms have equal authority, so see that you mind them.

We only have two mentions of the interaction between Mary and Jesus, both found in the Gospel of John. The first, at the wedding in Cana, is quite telling. In John 2:1-5, we read:

1 And the third day there was a marriage in Cana of Galilee; and the mother of Jesus was there:
2 And both Jesus was called, and his disciples, to the marriage.
3 And when they wanted wine, the mother of Jesus saith unto him, They have no wine.
4 Jesus saith unto her, Woman, what have I to do with thee? mine hour is not yet come.
5 His mother saith unto the servants, Whatsoever he saith unto you, do it.

Mary tells Jesus that there is no wine. Why? She knows what he can do and expects him to do it. A father would likely have just asked him to make some wine, but a mother wants her children to learn to take a hint of persuasion and think to do the right thing on their own. Jesus responded tenderly to his mother – “Woman” in the Greek dialect John wrote in is an endearing term – and hinted of his own that it was not yet time for him to start doing miracles. No matter: Mary had spoken to Jesus and was already making arrangements, telling the servants to follow his every instruction. He was going to do the miracle because his mom said so.

A lesser person would have complained or refused. A teenager would have groaned about being embarrassed. Jesus, however, set the perfect example and honored his mother straightaway by performing a miracle of turning water into wine. Such a good boy, this Jesus. Why can’t you be more like him?

And if you heard those last few words with the voice of your mother, that only underlines my point even more. Our mothers want what’s best for us, and they know that if they have to nag a little… or a lot… it’s for our own good. Who tells us to take the medicine, even if it’s nasty? Who tells us it’s better to rip off the band-aid all at once? Who tells us to take a nap because we’re cranky? And who has to deal with with our tantrums, outbursts, and willful disobedience?

I’d like to take this time right now to publicly thank my mom for making me take medicine, yanking off my bandaids, and putting me down for my naps. I would furthermore like to apologize for my tantrums, outbursts, and willful disobedience. I know I did a lot less of those things, once I had children of my own.

In raising my own children, by the way, that’s where my mom’s words and deeds come into powerful action. If I can justify a course of action with, “My mom made me do that!”, it’s as good as done. When I invoke the authority of my mom, my words transcend to a new level of might.

That stuff can cut both ways, though. One time, me and my family were visiting my parents. Malia was about 2 or 3 and I was running the “I got your nose!” scam. This was making Malia angry. So, she turned to my mom and said, “Grandma! Your son is teasing me!” Young as she was, Malia knew the power of a mom. I was quickly compelled not only to cease and desist, but to apologize. Lawyers should be so effective. Malia knew that I had to mind my mom and that there was no appeal beyond her. If I had tried to go to my dad, he would have just shaken his head and pointed at his wife, my mother, as the final authority in this matter.

As a former child, I can say that my life was blessed by listening to my mother. My life was cursed when I didn’t. Even so, she was there to take me to the hospital when I cut my finger after horsing around with my Cub Scout pocket knife. She wasn’t about to let me bleed out on the patio. Likewise, she was also there in my life to make me conjugate Latin verbs every time when my grade in that class took a dive. She wasn’t going to let me just fail and be done with it. Because with a good mother, those rules that she gives are intertwined with deep, incomprehensible love.

Often, the rules themselves were imperatives to love my neighbor, to do unto others as I would have them do unto me, and to seek after things that were praiseworthy and of good report. Moms are not only the givers of law, but the enrichers of lives. Each mom has her own set of specialties. There is no “perfect mother” capable of delivering exposure to all things to all her children. My mom was not perfect. Then again, neither am I. But my mom did have an affinity for the arts, and she brought music, art, and literature into my life. Other moms would have done other things: all I know is what my mom did with me.

Music was the easiest. She put the records on and played what she liked. I just ran around in constant circles as I listened. Apparently, running around in circles is the best way to learn because, to this day, I remember every word and every note of those songs. I don’t remember the naps I had after running those marathons, but I have a love for the Irish folk songs, golden oldies of rock and roll, and the Bach concertos she played. I didn’t ask for them: mom just shared them with me and that was that.

Art was next. As I became interested in books, I preferred picture books at first. So, she picked up volumes of art prints and placed them on shelves that I could reach. I stared for hours at those masterpieces, but I just thought of them as some neato pictures. Later on, she was able to talk with me about those artworks and develop a sense of art history that deepened my appreciation.

Literature followed suit. We had a million books in our house, growing up. People asked my mom if she had read them all and she said, “yes.” I hadn’t read them all, so I guess that made an impression upon me. Books were meant to be read. We didn’t buy them to keep dust off the shelves. Some I read for fun, others I read because a teacher had assigned the title and we just happened to have a copy at home. I haven’t read all those books, but I’ve since read plenty others. The things she loved, I learned to love.

The second time we see Jesus interact with his mother is at his crucifixion. From John, 19:25-27, we read:

25 Now there stood by the cross of Jesus his mother, and his mother’s sister, Mary the wife of Cleophas, and Mary Magdalene.
26 When Jesus therefore saw his mother, and the disciple standing by, whom he loved, he saith unto his mother, Woman, behold thy son!
27 Then saith he to the disciple, Behold thy mother! And from that hour that disciple took her unto his own home.

He was leaving the world, and his mother was at his side. Where others had abandoned and denied knowing the Savior, Mary was there to claim her son as her own. Jesus was equally devoted, as he made sure that she would be cared for in his absence, and that John would understand that the care would not be for just anyone: John was to care for Mary as he would his own mother. Mark that – John was to care for Mary as Jesus would have done so.

But the inverse of that was also true: Mary would now also care for John as she would her own son. They would grow old together and enjoy each others’ company. That is a third, great blessing of a mother – the ability to share moments all through one’s life. We honor our fathers and our mothers, it is a commandment with a promise. I’ve seen enough borscht-belt comedy to know that a mother left alone too long is prone to say, “What, you can’t even take two minutes to pick up a phone and give me a call?” They like to know what’s going on. Yes, they also like to meddle, but that’s what a mom does. If a child isn’t saying “Mooooooom” every now and then, there’s not enough communication, I say. Be there with her. That time is a gift from heaven when it’s good. The times when it’s not so good are for your own good, so be there, all the same.

I am fortunate that I live near my mom and I’m able to be with her almost every week on her radio show. OK, again, not all moms have a radio show. Do what you’re good at, not what someone else is good at. I never sang opera with my mom and the world is a better place for it, trust me. But I do love spinning those stacks of wax on the air with her every time I’m able to make it in to the station. I love them because that was the music she played as I grew up. I also love it because it’s what my mom likes to do, and I like to join in the fun. I also also love it because we can bring some fun into the lives of our listeners, whoever they may be, and my mom taught me how important it is to be kind and friendly to everyone.

Things my mother taught me… She taught me to never make fun of anyone’s culture or beliefs, and that I should never turn away a potential friend if he was someone that other people were mocking. I had some friends whose moms weren’t always there for them. I suppose that when they were over at my house, my mom was able to help out, in a way. She told me that, when she was a Den Mother in the Cub Scouts, she took all the kids that nobody else wanted into her den. Somehow, we seemed to have the most fun as a Cub Scout den. That, in turn, made me not only take all the kids nobody else wanted into my patrol when I was a patrol leader in Boy Scouts, but there were times when I was a teacher that I went to other teachers and asked them for all the kids they didn’t want in their classes.

I have had great blessings in my life from what my mother gave me. I’ve had other blessings from other motherly types, as well. Each time I have been with a caring woman that had strict rules and love for the children in her care, I have benefited from the lessons in subject matter and life itself that that woman had to offer me. My life is not a wreck only because I have chosen to heed the mothers in my life. If you want your life to be better, listen with care to the mothers in your life and follow their examples.

I say this in the name of Jesus Christ, Amen.

Current Beautiful Moment

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On my porch, wonderful weather, listening to the 4th Movement of Beethoven’s 9th (Georg Solti conducting), and the song of the birds, the rhythm of the winds, even the pulse of street traffic, all merge with the symphony to remind me that, in spite of our prejudices, all men are truly brothers.

Cash, Panama Papers, and You

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Well, now, what are those kooky little bankers up to today? Why, it seems as though a few of them were laundering money in Panama! Those clever little weasels! Such fun! And we get to read all about it in the Panama Papers, right?

Well, not really.

The Panama Papers look like an amazing revelation, dumping all kinds of cool secret facts on us peons in the 99%. Except, when I started reading into the press about them, it all seemed to be slanted to cast aspersions on Vladimir Putin and Bashar al-Assad. There were brief mentions of a few Arab sheikhs, and an Icelandic PM got tossed under the bus, but most of the ire went towards Putin’s crowd. That seemed fishy to me.

See, when I read about offshore banking criminality, like with the Nugan Hand Bank or BCCI, the CIA is usually all over the story. Drug runners, lots of oil money going to terrorists, weapons dealers, it’s all there. In this story, no CIA, no CIA informants, no drug money, no oil money for terrorists, maybe a little weapon dealing… kinda strange, really. And the infographics with the press were about al-Assad’s regime using the law firm in Panama to get illegal weapons… huh?

I mean, yeah, DUH, a regime facing an embargo or sanctions is going to use a shady offshore arrangement to get stuff or to keep assets liquid. That’s why Putin’s friends were using these guys. I mean, if they’re a bunch of criminals, they’re going to do criminal stuff. It was the same with the Nazis in WW2: that pack of criminals used offshore arrangements to get vital war materials for the Reich’s war effort.

The real story is the identity of those counterparties in the West to those shady deals from Syria and Russia. Why are they not named? Well, we get a possilbe answer from Wikileaks. Wikileaks says that this whole Panama Papers thing is run by George Soros’ people, and it’s common knowledge that Soros has a huge axe to grind with Putin and anyone affiliated with Putin. That sounds like a plausible explanation for the Panama Papers reporting to be so Russophobic – and so blind to the Western counterparties. It’s selective information, and that’s propaganda.

One explanation for the lack of US involvement in this mess is that, because of US laws, Panamanian tax shelters aren’t all that popular. Fine, that’s the lack of civilian involvement explained. How does that explain the lack of CIA mentions? These guys are constantly using back channels to run their clandestine deals with global criminals. They ALWAYS crop up in deals like this. ALWAYS. Their absence here is conspicuous, and indicates further that these Panama Papers are a propaganda piece.

Which brings me to calls from central banks to get rid of cash: that’s more propaganda.

Let me explain… cash prevents central bankers from forcing people to spend money. Central bankers would very much like to force people to spend everything that they have, in order to prop up their economies. Getting rid of cash and putting everyone on debit cards with expiration dates can develop a “use it or lose it” mentality in people and keep the nation’s businesses awash in transactions. If you want more economic details, just ask and I’ll put them in the comments. Long story short is that central bankers want to get rid of cash.

So, in the name of fighting crime, bankers have begun to propose getting rid of the $100 and the €500 notes. Get rid of those, they say, and it will be harder for criminals to do crimes. The truth is that criminals will still do their crimes, but will be increasingly forced to turn to banks to launder their profits – and that’s where the banks get their cut.

The Panama Papers show one thing, very clearly. That’s the extent to which criminality has shot through the global banking system. Or is it how extensively the global banking system has penetrated organized crime? Whichever it is, this move to get rid of cash won’t reduce crime. It’ll just make it more organized and more involved with the bankers.

Organized crime is so vital to the global banking industry that, during the Panic of 2008, money being laundered in the TBTF banks was the only source of liquidity in a system that had dried up and which refused to issue letters of credit to even the most trustworthy of clients. Trillions of dollars move in that banking system that’s off the official books, and the skim off of that is very important to the big banks. Why else would HSBC work with Mexican drug cartels to optimize their method of depositing money in their banks?

So, this is what we learn from the Panama Papers and the call to get rid of cash:

1. The Panama Papers are a propaganda piece, targeting Putin.
2. Banks will happily finance child sex slavery, if they can get a cut of the action.
3. Banks don’t like cash, because it means they can’t get a cut of the action that doesn’t go through their doors.
4. If one wishes to do illegal things, there are plenty of banks and plenty of lawyers that will help one do illegal things, provided one pays them handsomely.
5. The press in the West is firmly under control. It will not speak truth to power. It will churn out the propaganda for the TBTF businesses and the politicians that they own.

That last part is the saddest comment, really. Once upon a time, the press would actually try to hold the rich and powerful to account.

Time to go look at cat videos before I get depressed as I think about the head of HSBC buying a new car with the bonus he’s earned off of the child sex slave trade and the reporters that are silent about it.

Life and Mortality

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Mortality is from birth until death. It is full of pain, unfairness, evil, wounds, hatreds, and atrocities.
It is supposed to be that way.
Life includes mortality, but also a time before and a time after. It also includes existence without time, which is eternity. But for the moments of mortality, life is peaceful, just, good, healing, loving, and beautiful.
It is supposed to be that way.
In realizing the relationship of mortality to life, I can find joy. I do not expect an end to my pain or other trials until this mortality ends. But I do look forward to the life that is beyond and I trust in it. I will endure to the end of my mortality and my patient endurance will make entering into the rest of my life all the sweeter. And that makes it easier to endure mortality and find the beauty of life that is behind the frequent sharpness of mortality.

My Plan for Election Day: Prayer, Humility, and Patience

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Come Election Day in the USA, I will not be doing anything different than I should do on any other day. I plan to pray, to humble myself, and to be patient in my circumstances. But on the day that the USA looks set to elect someone that will be utterly unfit to be president, I suppose that I shall do those things with greater purpose.

Clinton is most likely to have the Democrats’ nomination. Here is a person that went out of her way to create a system to bypass security at the Department of State. Her own needs trumped those of the people of this nation. Her communications, which should have been the property of the people, became her own property, for her to deal with as she saw fit. I cannot have confidence in such a person in the role of the President. Add to this how she built up a foreign policy that resulted in the interventions that destabilized the whole of the Middle East and Ukraine, putting the USA on a collision course with Russia, and we have an extremely dangerous warmonger with poor operational security practices as the likely Democrat nominee.

I honestly don’t know who will emerge as victor from the knife fight that is the Republican nomination process. It could be Cruz, it could be Trump. Cruz is hated in the Senate and I see no good coming of that. He does not compromise, and that is a terrible feature in a president, if he is to avoid impeachment for his sheer odiousness in his role, as happened to Andrew Johnson. As for Trump, the man is a private army and an armband away from being a Nazi. He considers Americans of my faith – Mormons – to be “alien”, and that is the first step towards demonizing us for his political gain. He’s already demonized Muslims, and I won’t stand for that in a President.

Cruz and Clinton both are creatures of the current party system, totally beholden to special interests, particularly in the defense and banking industries. Trump may not be in their back pocket, which I would normally find admirable, but he is such a narcissist that he comes across as his own special interest. This is, utterly, a no-win situation.

So I shall pray, not for God to smite anyone or to change the choice of a nation, for that is not what I desire. I shall pray that I might have strength to endure the trials my nation will surely face in the coming days and years. I shall humble myself, that I will seek to work on my own imperfections, that I might be found acceptable when I return to my Heavenly Father one day. And I shall be patient, for I endure to the end, regardless of the hardship and suffering between now and the end.

The world is still a beautiful place, and there is good I can yet do. Even if the world is to end tomorrow, I have seeds to plant today.

Things Could be Much Worse…

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On the one hand, I don’t want to see Trump become president. On the other hand, I have a stronger desire to not see his supporters erupt in an armed putsch if he doesn’t get nominated due to GOP insider machinations. Even less would I want to see a candidate harness the seething rage that would result from an assassination of Trump.

There’s what I want and what I got right now. And what’s going on now is very gritty. There’s quite a lot of rage in Middle America, and whenever in history the middle class is frustrated in its upward progress, it will turn to politics to create the necessary upheaval to change the situation. When politics fails, the middle class resorts to violence. The USA dodged a huge bullet with the election of FDR in 1932. If both Trump and Sanders get short-shrifted by their respective parties, we’ll have some very dark days ahead of us.

Trump Is a Fascist: The Headline We’re not Seeing

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If a person espouses hateful views and is consistently dismissive of and brutally rude to people without power… if that same person is hostile towards people who try to keep him honest and resorts to personal attacks to divert attention from his faults, that person should not only be shunned by decent Americans, but the press should also unmask and reveal the fraud. Shame on the American press for treating Donald Trump as a ratings event and not holding his misogynistic, bigoted, brutish, heartless, opportunistic, sociopathic, and very unpresidential feet to the fire.

Dr. Negron-Omikon’s Robot Army

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Dr. Negron-Omikon wrought his hands with unconcealed glee. “Well, H.P., you’ve outdone yourself this time!”

He gloated over acres and acres of tanks, robot tanks, that surrounded his observation tower. The testing had been a huge success and now his robot army was ready to smash into the Swedish army, fortified along the high banks of the Parana River.
How the Swedish army was on the Parana River, fighting the combined forces of the USA and Indonesia was a funny enough story in and of itself, but Dr. Negron-Omikon had no time for geopolitical musings. This was his moment, the zenith of his career, no doubt, and he was about to be rewarded handsomely for it.

General Ludd stood behind the gifted genius. “So, these robot tanks gonna do the trick?”

Dr. Negron-Omikon turned with the grace and pleasure of a billionaire, which he was about to be. “They will do the trick, and more, General Ludd. They will not only take the high ground on the opposite bank, they will shatter the entire Swedish army. This,” he stamped his foot and pointed downward with gravitas, “will be the decisive battle of the war, and you,” same stamp and gravitas, but now with a finger pointed at the general, “will be the victor that history will celebrate.”

General Ludd chewed his gum. “What about you?”

“The funds that will be deposited into my accounts will be reward enough.”

“I’m sure they will be.” The general looked suspiciously at the robot tanks. “These things immune to, uh… tampering?”

“Absolutely. We learned the lessons of unmanned vehicles of the past. Because of my patented system of communication via spontaneous subatomic particle pairs, the enemy will be unable to jam, intercept, alter, or fabricate any instructions we send them.”

“So nothing like the drone debacle at Poughkeepsie last year?”

“No sir.”

“And no disaster like the failed assault on Mt. Pinatubo?”

“No, nothing at all like that. These aren’t even armed with tactical nuclear weapons, for starters.”

The general kept up his interrogation. “How about the betrayal at the Battle of Yakutsk? We gonna see that happen?”

“Again, sir, because of our absolutely secure means of communication, nothing like that will happen.”

The general chewed his gum in silence, then, “So you say.”

“So I know.” Dr. Negron-Omikon held his head high, ready to defend his creations to the hilt.

“All right then.” General Ludd shrugged. “Commence the attack.”

Dr. Negron-Omikon nodded and pressed the big red button in front of him, the one labeled START.

Countless hordes of robot tanks rolled forward. Swedish cannons poured armor-piercing rounds at the tanks, but both their armor and nuclear dampers prevented both conventional and nuclear shells from doing significant damage. And those tanks that were damaged got pushed into the river, creating the basis for a bridge.

General Ludd frowned. “Pontoons would have done the job, and been cheaper, as well.”

The scientist had a ready answer: “This is combat engineering at its finest. You think the Swedish dogs would let us build a bridge in peace, prior to the attack?”

“They did at Second Budapest.”

“And then what happened?”

“Well, they shot everyone that crossed over the bridge. Point taken.”

Meanwhile, the bridge of tanks had grown rapidly. Soon, it touched the far shore. When that happened, the tanks revved their engines and plowed ahead at 100 kilometers per hour. When they hit the cliffs, they collided with them, forming the base of a wedge.

General Ludd watched on, disbelievingly, as the wedge grew tall enough to reach the height of the cliffs.

Dr. Negron-Omikon said, “Now, get ready for some real action.”

The robot tanks roared into even higher gear and blasted a breach in the Swedish lines. A cloud of dust rose over the battle.

Mingled in the dust, some larger particles seemed to arc through the air.

General Ludd asked, “What’s that in the dust?”

Dr. Negron-Omikon handed the general a pair of binoculars. “Why don’t you look for yourself?”

The general brought the binoculars to his eyes. He saw, to his horror, that the larger things were actually human legs and arms!

“Dr. Negron-Omikon, what in the name of Mars is going on?”

“Ah, that, my good general, is how we win the war.”

“Explain!”

“Certainly. The robots are programmed to decimate the enemy.”

“Well I can see that!”

Dr. Negron-Omikon bore the interruption with the patience of a very rich saint. “Decimate, as in the original sense of the word, to kill one of every ten men.”

“Wait, only one of every ten? How do we win if we don’t kill the enemy?”

“The robots wound horribly the other nine, that’s how. Every participant in this battle on the enemy’s side is either dead or a huge burden on his nation’s health care system. We won’t bleed them dry: we’ll keep them donating blood until judgment day!”

General Ludd chomped on his gum. “I see.”

“And those arms and legs that aren’t from wounded soldiers are from the bodies of the deceased. The robots make it a special point to desecrate the bodies of the fallen.”

“That’s a war crime, you nutcase!”

“Only if we lose the war, my good general. Besides, with the terror such a series of acts will create, the enemy will be ready to surrender, leading to the saving of lives from future battles. It’s only humanitarian to fight a war in such a way.”

“I see,” said the general. He nodded understandingly and looked through his binoculars again. “I see that the robots are returning. Good job, Doctor.”

“Wait, what?” Dr. Negron-Omikon’s smile became a bit false.

“They’re returning. They’re on their way back.”

“Oh dear. May I see those binoculars?”

“Uh, sure, uh… say, what’s going on?”

What was going on, to Dr. Negron-Omikon’s horror, was the disobedience to his orders. He had ordered the robots to take and hold the heights, nothing else. If those robots were coming back, it could mean only one thing…

No, that would be too impossible! The testing had some aberrations, but nothing like this!

Well, maybe something like this was possible… with the numbers being used… the scientist did some quick calculations in his head… oh dear, yes, that was a sufficient number, after all, especially if the cybertronic units in the fallen tanks weren’t totally out of commission.

General Ludd asked rather loudly and rudely, “Say, they didn’t develop some kind of hive consciousness and decide to turn on their human masters, did they?”

Dr. Negron-Omikon said nothing and stood absolutely still.

General Ludd spat out his gum. “I knew it! Dammit, Negron-Omikon, this wasn’t supposed to happen!”

“Well, general, no accidental development of self-aware machines is supposed to happen.”

“I don’t know whether to kill you now or wait for the robots to do it!”

“Probably better for us both if there’s one of us to decimate and the other one left to survive.” Dr. Negron-Omikon gulped. “If you don’t kill me, then we both have a 50-50 chance of only being horribly mangled instead of a 100 percent chance of being killed outright.”

The first few tanks had begun to fall off the edge of the cliff, just a few meters from the wedge of broken tanks that they had climbed up.

“What the?”

Bewildered, the general and the scientist watched as the tanks flowed over the edge to their shattered doom below.

Dr. Negron-Omikon said, “Well, it looks as though there may be a slight error in their GPS navigation.” His speculation was borne out as a few tanks that had managed to survive the fall limped into the river and sank just a few meters away from where the tank bridge crossed the mighty Parana.

The flow of tanks slowed to a trickle as the most advanced elements made their way back, where they invariably fell or drowned. All that was left of the battle were hundreds of thousands of injured Swedes and two completely unscathed Americans in an observation tower.

General Ludd ran the after-action report meeting.

“All right, Doctor. Let’s run over the successes and the opportunities for improvement. First success: your robots did a real number on the Swedes. Good job with that.”

Dr. Negron-Omikon hesitated to bask in glory, knowing that the failures were about to be summed up.

“However, I don’t care for the waste in building a bridge and scaling a cliff. Get some specialized units that can engineer that stuff under fire. Apart from that, good stuff, here.”

Dr. Negron-Omikon was confused. Where was the verbal abuse? Where was the threatened firing squad? Didn’t the general threaten to kill him just a few minutes ago?

General Ludd said, “I know what you’re thinking. Didn’t I threaten to kill you a few minutes ago? Yes, I did. I’m sorry for that. It was a momentary lapse of discipline, and I apologize for that.”

“So, you’re not mad?”

“I’m not mad. I’m thinking clearly, now. These robot tank armies of yours have great potential.”

“Even though they formed a hive mind and turned on us?”

“Well, that’s why I didn’t complain about the GPS errors. I see that as a mitigating factor when they mutiny. We could probably also stand to deploy them in smaller numbers. You got a winner here, doc, and you can expect your check… as soon as the war with Sweden is over.”

On the one hand, Dr. Negron-Omikon was happy that he hadn’t been summarily executed. On the other hand, he was a bit impatient for the money. He had just ordered a pool to be put in at his home. Now he was going to have to take out a loan to cover the costs.

Ah well, all is fair in love and war.

And, thanks to the battlefield prowess of Dr. Negron-Omikon’s robot army, the war with Sweden lasted only five more days. Sixty days after the cease-fire, a letter arrived in Dr. Negron-Omikon’s mailbox with “United States of America Department of the Treasury” stamped on the return address.

Greedily, Dr. Negron-Omikon tore open the envelope. He looked at the check inside, and his eyes widened abnormally. He then looked at the accompanying accounting statement and his eyes widened even more.

Then he blinked.

He looked at the check again.

It was for seventeen dollars and thirty-seven cents.

He then looked at the accounting statement.

Out of his payment of thirteen billion dollars, exactly twelve billion, nine hundred ninety-nine million, nine hundred ninety-nine million, nine hundred ninety-nine thousand, nine hundred and eighty-two dollars and sixty-three cents had been subtracted… for destroyed and damaged robots.

For, with the advent of entirely automated forces, not only could the precise cost of war be calculated… it could also be deducted from wages, tips, and other income.

Dr. Negron-Omikon had an overwhelming urge to exact an ironic revenge, but the US Army owned the big red START button, so there wasn’t a lot he could do except chalk it up to experience and hope that he got another idea as good as the massive robot army.

And soon, too. That pool wasn’t gonna pay for itself.

Stillness at .99c

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As I sit in my chair, the world whirls around its axis, the earth swings around the sun, the sun hurtles around the center of the galaxy, the galaxy plunges around the center of the local group, the local group screams around the strange attractor of the supercluster, which itself flies blindly through the void of voids – and yet, I am able to find stillness within my heart.