Caitlyn Jenner, Donald Trump, & Just Another Dead Little Boy

Just another little blurb. Someone has a sex-change, or a cop is too rough, or Donald Trump says something goofy and the world comes to a screeching halt and everyone yells and screams and marches and vents their righteous indignation until the next dumbass distraction comes along. Meanwhile little kids are gunned down on a weekly basis and it’s just another little blurb.

We can build DePaul a new arena, but we can’t hire more police. We can pay millions in no-bid contracts to the Mayor’s friends for poor services, but we can’t invest in teachers. (  

What's he whispering to her,

What’s he whispering to her, “$2.5 million, I’ll split it with you.”?

Why was this little kid out on a scooter after midnight? Who was he working for? Where were his parents? What is society’s plan to fix this? (hint: we don’t have one) We only throw money at problems if we can throw it in the direction of the right pockets. Here, there is no money to be made by the power-players. There is no incentive to fix it other than a purely moral one. The blood of each of these kids is directly on the hands of former Mayor Daley and his decades of corruption and political games that put him first and Chicago second. (

 If we name anything after him, it should be the city morgue.

His legacy can be summed up in brass shell casings and body bags.

His legacy can be summed up in brass shell casings and body bags.

I’m tired of seeing this. I’m tired of hearing about the shootings in the historically gang-ridden neighborhoods and now the historically good neighborhoods. I’m tired of the self-serving indignation and the empty rhetoric. I’m sick of people who focus on flags, flag burning, legalized pot, and trannies while no one bats an eye at the slaughtering of children in the streets of Chicago and in their own bedrooms.


The problem is larger than gun control.  Gun control isn’t a solution when the guns being used in these crimes are already illegal.  They are stolen, they are purchased on the black market, they are owned by and used by felons.  Those guns are already illegal.  The reason the politicians scream for gun control is because it’s a simplistic answer to a complicated problem.  They can get a good sound bite out of it by declaring “we need to get the guns off the streets” they can even introduce legislation and get it passed, but it does nothing to actually solve the larger problem which will take more than simple legislation, more than empty words, and more than a quick sound bite.

We dismantled the mob, we dismantled worldwide communism, we can dismantle these gangs too if we wanted to. So the larger question is, why aren’t we? This isn’t a question for the police, it is a question for the policy makers, those elected officials whose sworn duty it is to represent and protect the rights of the citizens, and yet it seems by their actions that all they are out to protect is their own self-interests and ironically, on occasion, the rights of criminals portrayed in the media as victims.  

The responsibility also falls on us, yes us. It’s in all our interests to put a stop to this senseless violence, but it needs to be a priority when we go to the polls. We have to shout about it, or they have no incentive to do anything to address it. Mention abortion and people on both sides of that issue get red in the face and argue themselves breathless and yet this happens and we just shake our heads, bemoan bad parents, and move on to the sports scores and shopping sales.  It’s time we do something about keeping alive the kids that are here. Let’s focus on the rights of a mother to not have her 7 or 12 year old murdered in the street.


The news story:


Fog and smoke in Chicago at 4 am – a Passage from the Novel: In The Sanctity of Revenge

Jack reached in his shirt pocket for his cigarette pack, but it wasn’t there. As if snapping out of a dream, he was suddenly aware of his surroundings. It was nearly four a.m.  His kitchen was dark except for the lights under the cabinets at the far end of the room that shed just enough glow to cast faint shadows on the opposite wall and door. Jack looked around and found the cigarette box on the table in front of him. He picked it up. It was empty. He got his shoes, reached in his pocket and found a balled up ten-dollar bill, grabbed his keys and went out the back door toward the gas station at the corner.

The morning air was humid with a slight chill. Fog hung high in the alley, gathering around the lamplight like a swarm of mosquitoes. Though it was six miles east of his alley, Jack could smell the lake in the air, a mix of fresh water and stale fish. He liked it.

The city was quiet on Sunday mornings. The four o’clock bars were just emptying out and a few muffler-less cars roared down Montrose Avenue, but for the most part, everything was still. Jack breathed in the Lake Michigan air as deep as he could and exhaled slowly.

At the gas station, the store area was closed and locked. Jack had to make his transaction through an aluminum drawer and a tin speaker. From behind the glass, the muffled voice of the attendant reverberated through the speaker in a thick accent. Jack assumed he’d said something along the lines of ‘how may I help you’ or ‘what the fuck do you want’.

“Box of Marlboro Lights,” Jack pulled the ten out of his pocket and placed it in the waiting drawer. The drawer closed then opened again. The sawbuck was gone, a box of cigarettes and some change left in its place. Jack walked off smacking the pack against the palm of his hand.

When he got back home, he sat on the back steps smoking and admiring the peacefulness of the pre-dawn, the sky dark as night but on the verge of daybreak. Jack teetered between the peaceful city around him and the clanging clatter in his mind.

         — In The Sanctity of Revenge is a gripping tale of anger, betrayal, and vengeance set in Chicago in the wake of the Great Recession.

Available for purchase:


I was sitting in a hot tub about two years ago. I did this in lieu of a workout. I sat with the water bubbling all around me, a jet hitting the soreness near my tailbone. I watched women walk by in bikinis. I watched fat guys limp past in baggy trunks and thought maybe I should’ve worked out after all. Then, without notice, I slipped deeper into my mind and wandered around in those dark corridors for a while.

It’s strange how the mind does that. One moment you’re right here in a loud hot tub at the health club fully aware of everything going on around you, and the next you’re oblivious to the outside world and lost in meandering thoughts you didn’t even know you had.

Well my mind meandered, down one hallway and up the next, then in circles and winding pathways. The economy was in the tank. I had, a few years before, watched most of my friends lose their jobs. I’d seen a gigantic corporation lie to its employees about their job security and then three months later yank the carpet out from beneath their feet. I understand business is business, but my father taught me a long time ago that “there is a right way and a wrong way to go about doing something, and that asshole did it the wrong way.” Such was the story of that workplace scenario.

On the news, there was story after story about businesses shutting down. Some with notice to their employees, others with no notice and no intention to cut those final checks for work already done. I heard horror stories from friends about how simply shifting some paperwork and new filings rearranged long-standing companies so employees lost benefits and seniority. It was happening everywhere. In every industry, nationwide, stories of this sort were coming out. Add to that the fact that even responsible people were losing their homes to foreclosure and retirement accounts were slashed almost overnight, it was frightening.

“What happens,” I thought, “when you take and take from someone, mess with his livelihood and life to the point that he has nothing left to lose? That’s probably where all these ‘going postal’ stories come from. I’m surprised we haven’t seen more of that given the events of the past few years.” Of course, anyone with something to lose, be it freedom, spouse, children, parents, siblings, friends, a reputation they value, wouldn’t go to that extreme. He might daydream about it, but would never actually seriously consider it because he has a lot to lose and it just isn’t worth it. “But,” I thought again, “what about those few who get pushed to the point that they have none of that, or worse, had all of that and lost it. Those are the ones who can go nuts!”

Then, for whatever reason, maybe a hot mom in a bikini walked past or a fat guy almost fell, but my mind snapped back to the world and shut the door on those darkened corridors. “Why am I still thinking about that stuff from so long ago?” I thought. “I need to shake that shit… but… I did pose some interesting questions. A curious scenario. Book fodder? You bet!” That night I drafted a rough outline of what would eventually become In The Sanctity of Revenge, my debut novel.

Yesterday, after two years of work and many drafts, I published it. I don’t know if it is any good, but I do know that it isn’t going to get any better than it is right now. I’m not going to get rich off of it, but I worked too hard for too long to save it to a hard drive and forget about it. So I put it out there, for the world to read, and that is scary.

Up until yesterday, if it really sucked, it was a private failure. Today, if it sucks, it is a public one. In this day and age, a stranger from Brazil or Pakistan can read my book and send me a message telling me how horrible it was and that I owe them hours they can never get back. Of course, the opposite is true too. If it’s good, I can relish in the accolades from around the world. In any event, I had to put it out there to live beyond my computer. Good or bad, it is there. I’m proud of it. Its value beyond me is up to each individual reader.

With Thanksgiving this week, I am anticipating the questions: what’s it about? Can my kids read it? It’s not a bunch of liberal bullshit is it? or I hope it isn’t one of those Bill O’Reilly type books and Is this a true story? Is the main character you?

To those questions I can best respond, it is politically neutral while still having something to say. There is a little sex, a little violence, and a lot of swearing… just like my real life, but that’s where the real ends. The rest is pure fiction.

Now Available at Amazon

Now Available at Amazon

In The Sanctity of Revenge is available for just $2.99 now on Amazon:

Paperback available on Amazon:

Here is the link to the trailer:

Available World-wide on Amazon:

United Kingdom-

Brazil –

Austrailia –

France –