Georgie Boy


Georgie Boy

George is a family member, not just a cat! His name is George, but most of the time I call him Georgie Boy. He’s a Bengal cat, a breed developed from the Asian leopard jungle cat and a domestic cat. George is a pest! Lovable, but a pest! Even in old age he’s a pest! Thirteen years, we’ve had George, and he’s a pest! Wakes us up during the night, has us up too early! He’s a pest, always wanting a hand-out – I believe he would eat on the hour, every hour, of every day! He’s a pest!

But, I love him! And he’s a family member!

While living for a few years on the Sea of Cortez in Mexico, George loved our pool table as a resting spot…that’s him in the photo above. He could paw a few balls in the pockets but he never made it as an adequate pool player. He did, however, leave his mark! That is, I was constantly brushing off the fur he left behind.

Georgie Boy eats well…breakfast and dinner! In between he has ‘Temptations’ treats three or four times a day PLUS he expects portions of what we eat. We have had George for thirteen years, so, in human years, he’s old. His favorite spot for cleaning himself, napping, and eating of my goodies is on the elevated bottom of my Lazy Boy chair. To accommodate George when I have to go tinkle (which is often – okay, more information than you need to know!), I rearrange my body joints in exiting the Lazy Boy so as not to disturb him. When I return to MY Lazy Boy I find George stretched full length across the foot/leg section. At this point I am a little peeved with his territorial disregard and use my posterior in a show of defiance and re-seat myself. He merely moves, looks up at me as an annoyance, yawns, and goes back to his napping.

When he was younger he played with the dozens of accumulated toys and liked to frolic during our sleeping hours…my relationship with him during those years would be likely best described as a ‘love-hate relationship’.  Don’t get me wrong, he can still rub me the wrong way. There are times when I loudly yell at him to stop meowing, to get off my body while I try to sleep, to stop walking between my legs when I’m walking…causing me to step on him or nearly falling. After an angry outburst I start feeling ‘guilty’ and ask him to forgive me…as best one can with an imperious fur-ball like George. One thing I find rather remarkable is the sense profoundly felt that he understands much more that I might think he does in my talk/his meow language exchanges.

Julie Anne stares rather menacingly at me when I yell at George. She, after all, loves animals of all kinds – and was, I’m convinced, an animal in her former life… She was raised around animals and had pets all through childhood. I never had a pet until Julie and I paired up. She’s the most patient woman I’ve even known, but don’t berate the animals and/or the kids…she can at that time become dangerous…

Georgie Boy is a beautiful cat. When people visit, there is some initial wariness…will his feral nature show itself? As George sniffs around our guests’ feet and legs, Julie and I tell them he’s harmless and full of love. When they then want to pet him he moves off into another room… Remember the movie, That Darn Cat? Remember how kids once did nasty things to cats because the urchins didn’t like the independence of the furry ones? Having lived for these years with George, I sort of get it! Though I would never do something like that to Georgie Boy…there have been moments, however…but, then, there is Julie Anne with whom to contend.

Anyway, here at Christmas time and the holiday season I wanted to write about the only family member Julie and I now have at home. There is one thing for sure. Georgie Boy loves his family, particularly Julie because she cleans his litter box, feeds him, and never yells at him. Me, I’m the ‘treat guy’ and the ‘yelling guy’ – he comes to me for treats and to nap out on my Lazy Boy. Yeah, he loves me and I love him! I just don’t have the calmness and patience of Julie Anne. AND, we’re the only family George has ever had… I’m guessing he figures we are his dad and mom – without all the fur!

At the moment George is napping at my feet, curled in a position difficult to imagine his achieving! Ah, cat lovers, you gotta love this guy!

Billy Ray Chitwood – December, 2014

Now, time for a quick promo which is completely off of Georgie’s radar…

A budding actress and model was brutally murdered in Phoenix, Arizona. The beautiful young lady, a mother to two young children, was a personal friend of mine. The homicide shocked Phoenix, ‘the valley of the sun’, and her many acquaintances.

In my first ‘Bailey Crane Mystery’ book, An Arizona Tragedy, I fictionally build the book around that heinous murder, seeking, if you will, some kind of closure and remembrance for this woman whose life was all there in front of her. It is a book unlike the typical detective/sleuth story. The central character tells you the story, with personal feelings, fusing and musing elements in perhaps a different manner, with emotion and a certain panache. Though fictionalized, the forensic details are as true as was the news of the day.

It is my hope you will enjoy reading An Arizona Tragedy…the first of six Bailey Crane Mysteries – many of which are inspired by true events.



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Julie Anne

Julie Author Picture

Julie Anne

Soon it will be Christmas Day and I wish to leave my grumblings about government, politics, and matters of the world that trouble me. In truth, though railing at times on issues I have little but common sense – or, no sense, perhaps – life at times is too much with me.

I wish my small world of blogger friends to know in this post my wife, Julie Anne, for it is my belief that the world would have fewer concerns if populated by the likes of this lady. Of course, there is a natural bias in the monologue here but I try for accuracy and utmost honesty in the small tribute I pay to her.

I’ve been told, even as a child Julie could be awakened in her crib and would smile sweetly up to those who looked down upon her. So, I start with the smile… It is always there, even in those moments when anger and frustration might lurk in the air. The smile conveys who she really is, a lady who trusts in her simple truths about life.

When I met Julie some thirty-odd years ago her hair was beautifully dark and long, falling gently to the small of her back. That was the feature I saw just after seeing her lovely smile light up the room I was in. The next feature about the lady that came to quick notice was her intellectual grasp of matters being discussed in the room, calmly presented views that rang with authentic validity. It was obvious that she was a lady in tune with the world around her, in the most human and humble of ways. Her natural beauty was there, shapely body, lovely face, but it was her casual self-confidence that drew me to her… Love was perhaps already forming in my heart and mind but the realization would come later.

Back to the smile that conveys who she really is – to me!

First and foremost, Julie was in a former life an animal! That is to say, she loves animals! She was once a dog breeder in Southern California, was mentored by Bill Koehler, Walt Disney’s animal trainer and expert. She showed dogs in shows across the state and country, winning obedience and other prizes along the way. She rode horses in her youth and assisted her father in his barrel-racing – Equestrian Gymkhana. She wrote a short book about the animals and pets in our life and in her life before me – Animal Crackers in My Bed (on Amazon Worldwide I should also mention that she compiled a large book of letters, written during 1918-1921 by her three aunts – one sister serving with the Red Cross overseas during World War 1, one sister living in St. Louis, another living in Chicago. These letters are filled with an intelligent depiction of the times, a marvelous compilation I hardily recommend to History lovers everywhere. Her book is entitled, The World after WW1 and is also available on Amazon Worldwide at

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Julie is the most family-oriented lady I have ever met, loves children as much as she loves the animals and is in constant communication with our beautiful blended family. She is slow to anger but the mistreatment of animals and children get her to the boiling point. Having the family disconnection and mobility in my youth has made our lives together all the more interesting…and comforting for me.

Julie has a keen awareness of the good and bad events shaping our world, and our views most generally agree and stay in the conservative hemisphere – like that would come as a great surprise! She can converse and be comfortable with people from all walks of life, is not from the wealthy and privileged class. Julie loves genealogy and spends much of her time tracing the both of us and friends back through history. One must be careful not to get her started on the subject…she can indeed talk on and on. She is a most avid reader (a book a day comes close!). She loves her country, covets freedom and liberty for all.

Julie has her resolute faith in God and eternal life. My faith has perhaps more fragility than does Julie’s faith, but we do pray each day and believe that there is a purpose to our living. Julie had an ‘out of body’ experience during an operation which gave solidity to her faith. Her God is with her constantly, in the face of a child, in the beauty of a fawn or sunset, in the natural beauty around her. She is distressed when people hurt people, when people hurt animals, and when families are broken apart.

Julie is shy, sometimes giving the appearance to others of haughtiness. Nothing could be farther from the truth. Her friends know of her tender side, her giving and her goodness. She has a most pleasant humility.

Finally, Julie makes me the luckiest guy in the world. She is a great cook. She cares for me in so many ways, making my life as fret-free as possible – because she knows me, my genesis, my foibles, my moods, and, hopefully, my own goodness. She is a lady I admire greatly. She is my friend, and I love her.

Soon it will be Christmas day! MERRY CHRISTMAS, sweet Julie. I cherish you.


Billy Ray Chitwood – December 24, 2014

Should some of you be interested in my books in the genres of mystery, suspense, thriller, romance, memoir, government, and politics, I list my links below: (bio) (bio – books – reviews) (@brchitwood) – Julie: @juliechitwood1 (sample readings) (‘like’ page) (Independent Author Network – IAN) (bio – books) (Authors Social Media Support Group – asmsg)

The Christmas Gift

Lindsay Chitwood Amelda Baker

The Christmas Gift

A few white flakes fell on the little boy’s cheeks just as he and his Papa filled the last gunny sack with leaves. The old man of slight build and grayish hair and whiskers tied off the end of the sack and lifted his face to the sky.

“Well, Bobby-boy, we might be having a white Christmas after all. You’ll like that, I know, ‘cause Mama will make you some snow-cream. And I can tell you it’s better than any other kind of ice cream.” The man pulled at the sleeves of his old ragged Mackinaw…they were too short, leaving his lower arms open to the raw winter air. He then pulled the woolen beanie down over Bobby’s ears and closed the sides of his heavy sweater-jacket. “Let’s get the gunny sacks back down the hill for the hogs and we can go sit in front of the pot-bellied stove and warm up.”

Bobby was six years old, living now with his grandfather and grandmother because his parents were divorced and neither could afford to keep him. The grandparents lived on a farm in east Tennessee, growing their own vegetables, getting milk from old Bessie, the cow, and lucky enough to slaughter occasionally some hogs for the meat.

The grandfather (Papa) worked most days piloting the old coal-driven train engine and some flatbeds around the mountain to pick-up and haul back logs to the local sawmill. When he was not on the train engine Papa was plowing with his mule, Fred, tending to his fields and his hogs.

The grandmother (Mama) churned their butter from old Bessie’s milk, cooked the best breakfasts, lunches, and dinners the little boy ever tasted. Mama wore long faded dresses with aprons, loved her snuff, set her spittle can on the floor next to the aged stuffed chair she sat in during breaks in the day and evenings when the radio shows were on.

Bobby loved his grandparents and tried not to think too much about the mother he also loved very much. Most days Bobby trailed along with Mama while she did washing in the old fired-up black vat outside near the kitchen which was also used for making lye soap. Now and then, she would grab a squealing rooster by its head and wring its neck, the body of the big bird flying off with blood drops falling on the grass and bare spots of the ground. Bobby was fascinated by the procedures Mama took to prepare the rooster for frying – soaking the dead rooster in hot water for some time, then pulling each feather easily from its body…Most of all, Bobby remembered how good the chicken tasted at dinner time, with Mama’s good seasonings and her golden frying of the bird.

Mama sat on Bobby’s sleeping cot and told him fancy fairy stories until his closed eyes signaled her to leave. Bobby sure loved being with his paternal grandparents but he missed his sassy Sister and his Mom. Bobby loved his Dad, too, but he argued and fought a lot with his Mom…he was scared of his Dad because he hit his Mom a lot, but he still loved him. He didn’t let himself think too much about those things. When Mama finished with her stories at his cot he would think too much about lots of things long into the night.

Finished with their leave-gathering chore, Papa and Bobby entered the old clapboard house. The aroma came out of the kitchen onto the small screened-in porch where Papa filled the blue-streaked basin bowl with water from the well and washed his face and hands…then instructed Bobby to do the same. The large bar of lye soap was almost too big for Bobby to grasp and occasionally he dropped it. Bobby hurried because the smell of dinner cooking on the old wood stove had him really hungry.

As Bobby walked through the screen door to the kitchen, Mama came smiling and hugged him. Her reddish-gray hair was done up in a ‘bun’ at the back of her head. Bobby could not remember ever seeing her hair down. “Now you go in with Papa and listen to the radio news, and dinner will be ready soon.” As she gently pushed him toward the living room door, she added, “Looks like we’ll have a nice white Christmas for you when you wake up tomorrow, Bobby. Now, I can’t tell you whether or not Santa’s going to be stopping here or not but you never know.” She reached down and gave Bobby a kiss on the cheek.

After a wonderful dinner of pork chops, fried potatoes, and cornbread topped off with banana pudding the little family spent the evening decorating the small tree Papa brought in from off the back porch. Mama read Bobby a Christmas story, and Papa briefly left the room with something in his eyes. Then they listened to the Christmas carols and radio shows for a while until it was time for Bobby to go to bed. Papa laughed and whiskered Bobby in tease until Mama made him quit, and they both kissed him and said Merry Christmas. Papa left but Mama stayed, read a baby Jesus story to Bobby, and reminded him he needed to go to sleep so Santa Claus could get about his business of delivering presents to the kids all around the world.

Bobby tried very hard to go to sleep but he stayed awake long into the night thinking about his Mom, Dad, and Sister. He silently wished them a Merry Christmas and told them he loved them. He cried a little.

The next morning the radio was playing Christmas carols and Mama and Papa led him to the small Christmas tree. One gift was under the tree, wrapped in ordinary paper.

“It’s for you, Bobby. Santa must have left it.” Mama said with excitement, “Go ahead and open it!”

Bobby quickly picked up the gift and tore the paper away. It was a game: a round red peg anchored to the center of a white piece of hard cardboard with three blue rings. His eyes widened. He had seen this game – a kid was to stand some ten or more feet from the red peg and toss the blue rings at it.

“Do you like it, Bobby?” Mama asked.

Bobby’s face glowed with pleasure, “Oh, yes, Mama!” He placed the board and peg some feet away, stepped back ten short steps and began tossing the blue rings. When he finally put a ring onto the peg he yelled with delight, “I did it! I did it!”

There were tears in the eyes of Mama and Papa. They had wanted to do so much more for his Christmas but could not. Bobby’s happiness with the cheap little game made them both happy and ashamed.

Many years later, Bobby would remember that Christmas present as the most precious gift he would ever receive.

Billy Ray Chitwood – ‘An almost-true’ Christmas Story – December, 2014


Thoughts Deceive


Thoughts Deceive!

On my mental sofa today – well, I’m there pretty much every day! – playing my usual mind games…driven by the mood of the moment. The mood of the moment today is yet another act in the on-going saga of introspective nonsense. You know, those moments when you try to make sense of who you are and how you came to be that way. Now, I’m aware that it clearly might be the medication(s) that I daily swallow after a bowl of cereal, an English muffin, eggs on toast, or a bagel with cream cheese (thorough, am I not, with the details?).

Let’s see if this happens in your life. My British heritage nags me to say, ‘Jolly good thought’!

There are days when I feel absolutely splendid, ready to go, do things, experiment with life, and/or happily complacent to sit and jab at the keys of my laptop…there is after all my thirteenth book that has to be finished. Procrastination is always so easy of course and the writing will wait. Maybe shopping for a new piece of home furniture will get me out of the house – or buying a gift for my lovely wife… It is after all a fact that Christmas is but a week away. Well, the decision will be made after my little mental break here.

There are days when the apathy and ‘what’s it all about?’ mood entrenches its ugly mood within the cloudy space between the ears. Why is it I’m so restless? Why is it nothing really seems to matter so much? I write blog posts that express my views on a particular nation/world situation and the responses are usually from the same sweet people, dutifully mollifying me. That’s all appreciated and wonderful, but I’m convinced that my words will likely make no difference in the way people think. We are who we are and tend to stay that way. My books get some good reviews from friends and some strangers, yet they are not very likely as good as I thought them to be…they are, really! I’m a man in his late twilight years, can’t do the things I could once do very well, find myself envying the young, their lives out there in front of them with no end in sight… Jeez, I’m an upbeat sort of guy – it must be the medications! No, Billy Boy, you’ve always been the ‘moth to light’, ‘wisp in the wind’ kind of fellow. Accept it, tomorrow will be a better day.

There are days when the news is so bad and I’m so angry with our political leaders I want to put a fist into the wall. So, I write a blog post instead – finding my group of positive sympathizers, pissing off everyone else! The thoughts jumble as I think about my kids, my grandkids, my great grandkids, wonder what kind of world they will live in. Hey, I know the world changes! How could it not with all the scientific and technological advances, the computer programs, the war games, the wonder. The cowboy movies of my past have given over to digital madness and magic – it’s a natural progression! I get that! But it pisses me off! Too much change! Too much anger and rage! Too much division among our people! Should love change? Should marriage ‘til death do us part’ change? Should God and son Jesus Christ not be mentioned anymore? Should Islamic Radicals – hell, terrorists! – be the new order, cutting off heads, killing for their ideology? Should Cuba now be a vacation spot for us, spending our bucks in a country that violates civil rights big time? Should we not remember the ‘Twin Towers’ and the death of 3,000 of our citizens? Should we do away with the CIA, those guys that saved thousands of lives a few short years ago, now maligned by political people who don’t or won’t remember too well and want childishly and ridiculously ‘to get even’ with their counterparts?

Well, you get the drift! Daft or not, that’s what I’m thinking…

It’s either the damned medication or the news of the day or just me! I suspect it’s the latter.

I’m so angry, I’m going out and run up my credit card bill! I’m still going to believe in God and the US Constitution! I’m still going to be conservative! I’m not going to beat my wife! I can’t promise but it’s not my plan to run any red lights or break any laws while I’m out spending money today.

Man, am I messed up???

Billy Ray Chitwood – December 19, 2014


You know I have to do it! I’ve got to promote one of my books…otherwise, why be on the internet? It’s a mystery, thriller, suspenseful, with a weird plot and all. The book was inspired by an actual murder in Phoenix, Arizona. There were also actual murders in Texas, Pennsylvania, and California during the same time-frame. Of course, I use some poetic license…that’s why it is fiction! The murder in Phoenix started the ‘wheels turning’ and the book became Satan’s Song. A mother wants final closure on her daughter’s grotesque murder, and Bailey Crane, a different kind of sleuth, a fusing and musing sleuth, wishes to give her that closure. Please give a read and, if disposed, write a review on Amazon.

Satan's Song


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Some Rip Van Winkle Thoughts!


Some Rip Van Winkle Thoughts!

Maybe my neurons are shorting out! Maybe I just don’t get it! Maybe my common sense is not so common! Yes, I know one should not talk or write so much about the political world and/or religion – just creates contrarians, enemies, and maybe a few friends. Yet, I’m a ‘dinosaur’ too old for ‘political correctness’ and all the truly gobbledygook in the political rhetoric today… I’m just going to write it as I feel it. My feeling is we have made mistakes in decisions about foreign policy, our justice system, the aforementioned ‘political correctness’, and in a number of bureaucratic areas. Still, we are the greatest nation on earth, and our freedom, liberty, and value systems are generally in healthy cerebral hemispheres.

‘What is he talking about?’ you ask.

I’m talking about just one episode in this blog, but it ties in to so many others. This blog’s episode deals with the decision to make public a $50,000,000+/- report about post-2001 ‘Enhanced Interrogation Techniques’ of radical Islamic terrorists. $50,000,000+/-? Our tax-payer money! Really, for a report that staggers me in its ‘abstract pedantry’, in its obscene clarity of purpose, its partisan anger, and its ridiculous conclusions.

In 2001, terrorists stole jet passenger planes, destroyed towers of commerce, government buildings, and, more devastatingly, took the lives of some three thousand American citizens – ripping to shreds the fabric of many families and friends. It was the most singular tragedy our homeland has known since our great Civil War…no, I’m not forgetting the ‘sneak attack’ of Pearl Harbor on Oahu on December 7, 1941 and the other high casualty counts of the wars we fought. This terrorist attack of September, 2001 brought a new kind of reality to our rational minds. It brought the terrible realization that our United States is vulnerable and has enemies like we have never known. Those who were there in 2001 know of what I write. Perhaps those who died that awful day in our history would have preferred some ‘water-boarding’, some ‘sleep deprivation’, some ‘loud and constant noise’, some ‘ice baths’, instead of jumping to their deaths out of high ‘Trade Center’ buildings or being blown to bits or burned beyond recognition. Perhaps, if given the terrible choice, their wives, husbands, children, and parents would have chosen such tactics over the death of their loved ones.

Just two questions! Number one: Do you dearly love your children? Number two: If a captured terrorist knew of an operation where your children were about to be blown up or their heads severed, and we could obtain information from that terrorist which would prevent that event, would you not go to any lengths to save your children? If your answer could possibly be ‘No’, do not breathe in my air space for you are odious and the worst kind of human being. Yes, a hundred times ‘yes’, life has sanctity for me.

In September, 2001, the US was in a panic. Our president at the time, government agencies responsible for our safety and security, all were desperately trying to make our country as failsafe as possible, devising plans and procedures to protect us. It was a terrible tragedy of the worst possible kind we needed to face. We were to be fighting a new kind of war, not a war with our enemies in uniform and certain expectations of behavior. Adjustments needed to be made. We were to be testing our values regarding human lives and the very core of our existence. So, the CIA (Central Intelligence Agency) devised policy for dealing with captured terrorists, euphemistically referred to as the ‘Enhanced Interrogation Technique’ policy. These plans were shared with the government people who served on an important select committee and to all the government people we elected to serve in protecting our nation. From all I’ve heard, read, and seen, those plans were acknowledged and approved, tacitly or otherwise.

Those ‘Enhanced Interrogation Technique’ plans have kept our nation safe for the years since that awful day in September, 2011… With our borders as porous as they seem to be and the lack of a comprehensive immigration policy, some of us might consider this a minor miracle.

Fast-forwarding to now, a senior member of a select committee, a senior member who was not on that above referenced select committee, has released a $50,000,000+/- report that maligns the CIA and the ‘Enhanced Interrogation Technique’ policy approved many years ago. The Madame Chairperson, her committee, and staff worked on this approximately 50,000-page report for several years and have now uniformly decided that the ‘Enhanced Interrogation Technique’ policies devised after that surreal day in 2001 were devoid of our American values, our commitments to the constitution, and in fact damaged our country throughout the world. The chairperson and her committee would have us believe ‘Enhanced Interrogation Technique’ procedures (water-boarding, sleep deprivation, loud music or noise, et al) did nothing to help us in our fight against terrorism… Well, sure, bad information was always a possibility, but the good information far outweighed the bad. After all, ‘measuring sticks’ were surely used to check information gained through interrogation.

May I cut to the proverbial chase?

It has been proven that the CIA did indeed get information from captured terrorists that helped save thousands of life. In fact, one such interrogation would ultimately lead to the death of Osama Bin Laden…something not mentioned in the victory lap of our current president. No one from the CIA was interviewed by the ‘select committee’ and it appears that committee acted on their own as judge and jury to reach their conclusions…like a case where the prosecution is the only side to be heard – forget the defense side!

For me, this ridiculous partisan report is purely political ‘pay-back’ for the Senate side of Congress and a political party who hated our last president. That same political party is now losing their control in congress, and this Senate Committee’s ‘AIT’ report is now to give a great propaganda victory to the people of the countries that hate us and want us dead. To speak abstractly of values when American heads are being cut off and thousands of people are being killed is absurd and ludicrous. Great legacy, this costly and ‘national soul-searching report’ that takes us closer to the edge of political insanity and less safety for our country.

Here is what I feel and think, we, the majority of our beautiful country, still have our values. Nothing has changed…except the way we find and kill those radical terrorists who will not hesitate for a moment in killing us. Fighting people with an ideology that says ‘our way or the highway of death’ is relatively new for our country. When one considers that our nation pays out some fifty billion dollars ($50,000,000,000) in foreign aid, I’m thinking there is something wrong with our ‘moral equivalency’ issues. AND, just one added nugget of truth, some in the United Nations wants people prosecuted for our ‘EIT’ policies… Don’t we pay most of the ‘freight’ in the United Nations? Can we perhaps tell those who are railing at us to ‘go to hell’? Can we perhaps just ‘close the doors’?

Putting it as simply as I know how, an NBC anchorman asked of his CIA guest, paraphrasing: ‘If one of your children were exposed to this kind of torture, would you not want it stopped?’ Instead of considering an answer to that stupid question, how about this one: “If you could obtain information by water-boarding a terrorist that would stop the killing of your son and daughter or maybe countless American lives, would you use this ‘Enhanced Interrogation’ procedure?” Of course, we would save our sons, daughters, and countless lives…unless, of course, I’ve got values all mixed up with the dictates of some immoral ‘Satan Kill Society’. We are dealing with people with an ideology that borders on idiocy – ‘If you don’t practice my religion, you’re dead! When I die a new life starts for me! When I die, there are virgins waiting for me! It’s my way or the ‘beheading highway’.

There are times when I have ‘Rip Van Winkle’ thoughts… What country am I living in? What happened while I slept?

Do I rant and rave because there is little else I can do? Can the liberal and progressive minds stretch so much further than I could allow mine to stretch? Is it folly for there to be so much anger and hatred in our world? Is my conservatism so old and worn-out? Could I be so wrong about all of this? If I am, guess maybe my ticket is ready to be stamped and the ‘Soylent Corporation’ can have me for the nutritional plankton my body might hold…

Billy Ray Chitwood – December 15, 2015

If some of you would want more of my ‘rant and rave’, I’ve got just the book for you. It is my one government/political offering, Joe Public’s Political Perspective. It’s a reasonable short read…for good reasons. I’m no political analyst, pundit, or strategist, just, well, Joe Public spouting off about what he senses is going on in his country. Some of you might cater to the views within the book. Others will not. That’s okay – everybody has to be somewhere!



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The Cat Burglar

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The Cat Burglar

The cat shrieked and leapt from the window sill, breaking the 3:00 AM darkness, landing on the left shoulder and nape of the neophyte burglar.

The tall man in black clothing felt the cat’s forepaw dig into his neck, as much for purchase as for inflicting pain, and he involuntarily shrieked himself, surprised and caught off-guard by the feline attack. He reached with his right arm and gloved hand for the cat, but felt the weight leave his shoulder simultaneously. He felt blood trickling down below his collar, running a course down his back.

“Darn you, cat!” the man muttered as he heard the cat rearrange a small table in its get-away, scrambling, sliding down the short hallway, barely visible from the outside light.

He didn’t tell me about a cat! The man was angry with the thought. He said it would be a ‘snap’…in the kitchen freezer, he said!

The man stood motionless for several seconds, listening for movements in the apartment. No lights came on and no cat…

The kitchen is on the left, he said, just off the fire escape window I came through. The man could make out the refrigerator when he shook off the surprise cat attack.

At the refrigerator the man slowly opened the door and a light immediately shone. He could see the freezer section above with all the ice trays and began to feel around frozen area. There it is, in the far right corner, in a freaking zip-lock baggie!

He pulled the baggie from the freezer section, carefully and quietly closed the door, and made his way to the window from which he had entered. He lifted his right leg up to the low window sill and was about to exit. The cat shrieked and pounced again…same spot on the left shoulder and nape.

Oww! I’m going to get you, cat, you miserable little fur b……

The man felt again the paw’s nails scratch deeply into his neck and shoulder. He reached again with his gloved right hand for the cat, lost his balance, and fell from the window onto the fire escape metal ledge. The baggie dropped to the floor just inside the apartment as blood flowed slowly down his back.

The man re-entered the apartment to retrieve the baggie.

Did the cat go out the window and down the fire escape? Is he still inside the apartment?

Once more inside the apartment the man felt along the carpeted floor for the baggie…all along the length below the window, back again farther away from the window, yet again until the man sat bewildered on the floor. He pulled the black woolen beanie from his head and ran his hand through the dark curly hair.

Did the baggie fall on the fire escape side of the window? I’m almost positive it fell to the carpet. What’s going on?

The cat pounced! Same spot! Same paw-dig! Same Blood trail on the back!

The man jumped to his feet, reached blindly for the shadowy cat and missed, chased it blindly around the relatively small room, bounced into chairs, a coffee table, and knocked over a lamp. After the short chase the man fell awkwardly onto the room’s sofa, out of breath.

I gotta stop smoking the weed and drinking…I’m way outta shape!

He glanced at the window. From the outside light he could see the cat sitting on the window sill with the baggie hanging from its mouth. The man jumped from the sofa to the window, and the cat fled down the fire escape.

The man chased after the cat but to no avail. At ground level he had lost all sight of the cat.

He slowly retraced his steps back up the fire escape steps, feeling, looking for the baggie. No baggie!

He went back down the fire escape steps to ground level and looked all around. No baggie!

Back at the dimly lit bar the man’s buddies were waiting.

“Hey where’s the weed, man?” asked buddy Bobby.

The man sat in the booth with his buddies and a pitcher of beer. “I had it, man, but some cat got it and ran with it. Pour me a mug, man. I’m pooped!”

“You telling us, Rudy, that some guy gets the weed from you after you heist it?” asked buddy Brodie.

“No, man, a cat got it! C – A – T! A real freaking cat!”

“Rudy, Rudy! Don’t tell this story to nobody, you hear me? That’s just crazy, man!”

“C’mon, guys, don’t be busting my chops! That darn cat did a number on my back… I’m all bloody! I tried, that’s all I can tell ya! You wanted weed, told me where to find it and told me nobody was home, but you didn’t tell me about the cat!”

“Aw, that’s tough, Rudy! Have your beer. We got weed!” said buddy Raven, the new guy.

“We got weed?” asked Rudy. “Where’d we get weed? I go through all that, and we got weed?”

“You don’t wanta know, Rudy. Have a beer and we’ll light up in a bit,” said Raven. “By the way, where’s your beanie?”

Rudy absent-mindedly touched his head. “Aw, Rats! I dropped it at the place… Now, I’ve got to go back and get it! Hey, where’d you get the weed?”

“We’ll get the beanie later, Rudy… ‘Gracie’ brought us the weed!”

“Gracie? Who the heck is Gracie?”

Raven spoke, “Gracie’s my cat, man. ‘Ain’t she fine’? She did a number on you, pal.”

“You nuts or something? There’s no cat can be trained to do what that cat did just did to me. You’re funning me!”

Raven again, “Just made a little bet with my new pals here and having a little fun with you, right. You’re okay, man. A little scratch here and there can’t hurt you! Drink up, Rudy!”


“Later, Rudy, I’ll answer all your questions…later! Drink up!”

Rudy started to speak, shook his head, picked up his mug of beer and chugalugged.

Billy Ray Chitwood – Flash Fiction Posted December 11, 2014

Now, to change the pace a degree or two, the following book of mine is a ‘thriller’ I’ve been told… A Common Evil has some 5-Star reviews. The book has some truth built inside, based on my living three years in Mexico on the Sea of Cortez. Some of the initial action of the book actually happened at the resort where I enjoyed some fantastic penthouse views of the Sea and, from time to time, I encountered some rather rough people…also, some most wonderful people. Yes, the book is about the Mexican cartel, about kidnapping, about murder, and there are a few surprises the reader will not likely be expecting. Hey, it will make a great gift for the holiday season (He states timidly!). Give the book a read, and, if your time permits, do an amazon review. HAPPY HOLIDAYS and rich blessings TO ALL in 2015!

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Amazon US:

Amazon UK:

Amazon Worldwide:

Below are some links to other bio and book sites: (with links) (My books, bio, and reviews) (@brchitwood) – Follow me! (Fan page – Like me! only if you do!) (Independent Author Network – IAN – My books & bio

The following are some ‘blog awards’ I’ve been honored and proud to receive…hope you don’t mind my showing them.

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Allusions, Delusions, and Illusions

Bill Chitwood

Allusions, Delusions, and Illusions

Hard to admit I am not the great author I think I am — that’s delusion!

Don’t get me wrong, my writing satisfies my needs of expression through characters and plots, and it is my belief that I do it very well…even with some careless and clumsy mistakes — that statement can be classified as both allusion and illusion.

What is fact?

To me, fact as it relates to writing is what the reader takes away from her/his reading of a book. One reader might think a book is remarkably well done, while another might consider the same book mediocre at best. Each reader considers the takeaway as fact…and, it really does not matter how much allusion, delusion, and illusion accompanies the takeaway. It is that reader’s fact.

What am I saying by writing this?

Writers write their stories, fiction or truth, and they have a style. That style appeals or it does not. Writers become famous and household names, perhaps are rejected many times by mainstream publishers, wait years for their acclaim to come. They write because they have something to say and a burning need to say it. Most writers will fade away, either lacking the skills they need or tired of constant rejection. Those with the skills and that burning desire will make it, perhaps not all the way to the New York Times Best Selling lists, even to the best known writers lists, but to a comfortable and satisfying stature point of acceptance. The foods of the field, the apples, oranges, grapefruits, certain veggies, keep selling because enough people like them. Writers of books are of course not foods of the field but an analogy can still be made: when enough people like reading an author’s books, her/his titles will sell.

The interesting truth? The best selling authors use allusions, delusions, and illusions in writing and selling their books.

You can preview my 12 books of government, memoir, mystery, suspense, romance, fiction and my non-fiction at: You can know these things about me as an author: I have something to say; I have a burning need to say it; I use allusions, delusions, and illusions in everything I author.

Take this one, for instance – PLEASE!

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Amazon Worldwide:

This book was inspired by some truth – I lived for several years on The Sea of Cortez in Mexico – and there are some true connections to the cartel, to murder, to evil… There are also my allusions, my delusions, and my illusions. Hope you can read this ‘thriller’ (an allusion? a delusion? an illusion?) Me? I think it’s a thriller!

Happy reading to all.

Billy Ray Chitwood – December 5, 2014 (with links) (My books, bio, and reviews) (@brchitwood) – Follow me! ( Fan page – Like me!) (Independent Author Network – IAN – My books & bio)

Philanthropists and Kind Souls


Philanthropists and Kind Souls

It is not often that I have the high honor and privilege of meeting two people who have spent major portions of their life giving back from the hard work they loved which brought them happiness and financial independence, two people who know from where their blessings come and easily confer credit to God, two people who have a magnificence about them and need not the flowering adjectives that people might want to convey to them, two people whose names must here remain anonymous because I would not wish to name them and betray them with my own impressions of wonder…they are philanthropists and kind souls of the first order. This is my ‘toast’ to them with the finest wine.

Because of the quality of their lives and their remarkable humility I felt my own need to write about these warm and wonderful folks, to write of their successes and the plethora of good deeds. If by chance some of my local acquaintances and friends will know of whom I speak, so be it…I will not be telling them anything they do not already know.

The man spent the early part of his life in this small town in which I now live and, at age eighteen, decided he would leave to chase his dreams – an occurrence for many of us, finding the small towns of our birth inadequate in supplying the goals we wish to achieve. This man forged an education and an occupation which took him to the top of his chosen field to become the CEO in one of the world’s major asset management corporations. He developed algorithms which made the world of asset management more maintainable and profitable… Now, I know virtually nothing about algorithms for success, for I’m a man led by instinct and passion, a man without a compass. That is okay. The world needs people like me as well.

This man, though, has traveled the world and made it better for so many others. He serves on so many corporate and institutional Boards the page would fill quickly with their names. He donates great sums of money to aid educational institutes – small colleges and universities. He is a Trustee of the highest caliber, a paragon who involves himself with making systems work at their best levels wherever he might be. With all that he does, he carries great humility and cares deeply about the small area of Kentucky where he returned when retirement seemed at hand. He cares deeply about the country and continues in retirement studying and striving to find the ultimate template to make our world a better place.

The lovely woman is herself not only a partner in the man’s work but she, too, spends much of her time donating her time and efforts to make the communities and small towns in our area culturally tuned, providing artistic venues for the people of many adjoining counties. It is the woman who suggested at retirement age that the man might want to return from the big cities of the world to the small town where he was born and raised. So, it is well known that no man does his good deeds and works alone. This great lady has been there with the man all the way.

My good wife and I had a splendid evening with these two grand people just a few nights ago. We visited their most beautiful home on one of our many lakes and dined at a new restaurant in a neighboring town. The ladies would not permit us to have a second ‘Old Fashion’ at the restaurant, and the host lady drove us home. It is only natural that the male of the species wishes to prolong the spirited heights of an ‘Old Fashion’, to continue their comparable journey through the past. Perhaps another night will come when driving is not an issue. Limits of course must be placed on the quantitative side of all good things.

There is so much more that could be written here about these two people, their calm and patient demeanors, their accomplishments, their lovely home, and their graciousness. This blog might be a bit too personal to suit some, but I felt the need to write it. If for no other reason, perhaps it is a testament of sorts that our world does indeed have some caring and humble human beings.

Billy Ray Chitwood – December 1, 2014

At this point I mention one of my books… An Arizona Tragedy – Bailey Crane Mystery. The novel pictured here with Amazon ‘Buy Sites’ is the first of six books of the Bailey Crane Mystery Series. An Arizona Tragedy is a book close to my heart because the brutally murdered actress and mother in the fictionalized story was a personal friend. The book represents my humble attempt to not only create a new and different kind of musing and sentimental gumshoe but to honor a lovely and wholesome young lady so many of us miss in our lives.



Amazon US:

Amazon UK:

Bailey Crane is a lot of me and a man I wish could catch his ‘white buffalo’!

Hope you enjoy Book 1 of the six-book series and go on to Satan’s Song, Book Two, a bizarre story also inspired by true events. For that matter, why not read all six books!

All my links follow: (Bio & links) (Books – Bio – Reviews) (@brchitwood) – Follow me (Fan/Like Page) (Independent Author Network – IAN) – My bio and books.

Proudly displayed below are my blog awards…

beautiful-blogger-award booker-award most-influential-blogger-e1364230844577 (1) inner-peace-award liebsteraward one-lovely-blog reality blog award very-inspiring-blogger-award11-1 the-wordpress-family-award