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Sponsored Music Ad: chrisvila.com

Thursday, 23 March 2017

Minor Improvements to Site!

I've recently improved Satirical Industrial Complex.

As for Neocon Surveillance, I've recently changed to what I hope is a less sickly-salmon-hued color scheme.

Feedback welcome as always! wallacerunnymede@gmail.com

Or Twitter: @w_runnymede,  https://twitter.com/w_runnymede?lang=en

I've also changed the top headers.

The header of at least one of the two Peace Criminals Project sites (PCP) was too long.

Now NS just says:

Tuesday, 21 March 2017

Honest Adolph Novel Serial (Vol III) Chapter 4: China Soars, While Freedom Roars

Preliminary note from Wallace:
The story about 'Spaceship Pingdeng' first appeared in the libertarian science fiction anthology edited by George Donnelly: Valiant, He Endured. This book is the second volume of 'There Will Be Liberty.'
‘You know, Saul,’ Adolph remarked, ‘It really is such a pity we haven’t seen anything literary from you in a while.’
Saul frowned and said nothing. He was a hundred miles away.
The room was silent.
So deathly, deathly, silent.
‘Have you ever considered writing a little more?’
Saul grimaced, with an air of semi-indifference.

Monday, 20 March 2017

Next Honest Adolph Chapter

Vol III Chapter 4 (tomorrow, 3PM GMT), Saul and Adolph spend a special moment with an old science fiction story, and memories of their university days.

Tuesday, 14 March 2017

Honest Adolph Novel Serial (Vol III) Chapter 3: Deborah Willow: Scrapbooks and Shredded Hearts

Preliminary note from Wallace:
The poem below appears on the 'Universalist Friends' blog (Quakers).
The poem also appears in my epic, sweeping, and deeply, deeply personal poetry collection: The Braying Angel. (Vol I of 'Alpine Chanter.')
Available from 5 bookstores:
Deborah Willow was now free from the strains and worries of her career as a rising star in the Democratic Party. She was also not badly off for money; not at all, thanks to her uncles in Iraq, who had been shrewd enough to not put all their eggs in one basket. ‘Big Solar’ had yet to reach the heights of ‘Big Oil,’ but it certainly was very far from a senseless investment.
A book of poems.
Written by Adolph Adams.
Many years ago.
But Saul must have had something to do with it too.
He generally did!
Hardly the most elegant of muses, some did sneer.
But then again, that really didn’t matter.
Deborah ran her fingers softly over the immaculately illustrated indie volume.
‘Indie Books for Indie Spirits,’ was what Adolph had suggested as the slogan for a new publishing project of his.
But Saul, as level-headed and wisely prudent (in his way!) as he was irritable and highly-strung, had already warned poor ol' Adi-Schmucks offa this risky venture.
And something of Adolph Adams, as he many years later recounted to Deborah Willow, had died, with the death of this little project.