RUTHLESS AND OTHER THINGS

Non-Fiction Book Proposal

 

 

 © Blame It on the Parents

Parenting and Non-Parenting for the 21st Century

By

George Wilder, Jr.

1055 W. Granville #202

Chicago, IL 60660

Gwilder40@hotmail.com

773-571-2069

 

 

First Edition

 

Cover Letter

 

George Wilder Jr.

1055 W. Granville

Chicago, IL 60660

Gwilder40@hotmail.com

773-571-2069

 

 

 

Dear Publisher

 

I have just written a non-fiction manuscript (Blame it on the Parents...63,083 words) that I know will be turned into a national bestseller. It's not just another book on parenting. It's a book that concretely focuses on bad parenting and the real consequences of willful neglect of small children, and the devastating affects that it has on the minds of our young kids. And I try to offer some street sense and grassroots solutions. But first I wanted to carefully identify some of the problems. I must say, I wrote this book from my perspective as a single father caring for a young artistic son. There is a lot in the book about my parenting style that I would like to offer to others. I think my experience will no doubt help other adults who are actively seeking out support on being good loving parents to their children.

 

I reside in the City of Chicago with my young artistic son. I'm passionate about my writings as other authors are.  I love my son. I'm a single parent who has known and seen parents of all ages, nationalities, backgrounds and their relationship towards their own children. My relationship with other parents and friends and their children was inspiration for this book. My young son was most important in writing this book.

 

I'm the author of three published books of fiction which includes:  Derrick Sweat, Midwest Deep Freeze, Raw Deception, and Derrick Sweat Sings the Blues. Also, I have written short stories and articles. I have also been published in the Chicago Defender, Chicago Suntimes, and the Chicago Parent Magazine.  

 

I will market the book to: schools, daycare centers, businesses, foundations, parents, friends, families, radio, TV, parenting magazines, internet, newspapers etc.

 

Thank you for time and consideration.

 

Sincerely,

 

George Wilder Jr.

 George Wilder, Jr.

1055 W. Granville

Chicago, IL 60660

773-571-2069

Query

 

 

I would like to submit my book, Blame it on the Parents, is a mainstream nonfiction work. It's a book that I'm also passionate about.  It's a friendly readable book for parents and single parents of all ages, everywhere. It tells the truth about the fate of some children and young people, in general, everywhere at hands of their own neglectful parents.  Also, it's a serious and overall different take on parenting and the act of non-parenting a child.  The book is exciting, enjoyable, and love is saddled inside every word. On the other hand, it's a gritty, bold, and daring.  I put down on paper what others think silently to themselves. As far as I know, there is nothing on the shelves like it. I offer some street sense to concrete solutions.  There will be those who will agree with me on some issues in this book and others who will not.

 

I took on the writing of this piece of work, because I thought that it was about time someone really produced a serious book about plight of our children at hands of their parents and others that others can very easily relate too. Again, I'm single dad who is raising a young son alone. And that also gives me a voice to write about my experiences. As, mentioned, I have met and talked to other parents. I have read a lot. I have also talked to young people, and they have given me a crucial insight to the creation this work.

 

Again, I reside in the City of Chicago with my young son. I'm no stranger to being publish. I have had three fictional books publish. And they are: Derrick Sweat Sings the Blues, Raw Deception, and Derrick Sweat, Midwest Deep Freeze. I have also been published in the Chicago Defender, and the Chicago Parent Magazine.   

 

If you would like to view in the entire manuscript or interested in hearing a little more about the project just please contact me. I will be eagerly anticipating your response to this query. Again, thank you for considering this work.

 

Sincerely,

 

 

George Wilder Jr.

 

 

 

 

Contents

 

Author's Note                                                                                                                        V1

Acknowledgements                                                                                                                                            V1111

Introduction                                                                                                                                                        X11

 

 

CHAPTER 1                          What is going on                               12

 

CHAPTER 2                                            Attire                                                                    20 

 

CHAPTER 3                                            Verbal Abuse                                                       26

 

CHAPTER 4                                            Speaking English                                                 31

 

CHAPTER 5                                            Bullies                                                                   32

 

CHAPTER 6                                            Parents Encouraging Their kids To Fight           35

 

CHAPTER 7                                            First Day of School                                              37

 

CHAPTER 8                                            Home Training                                                     38

 

CHAPTER 9                                            Gangs                                                                    42

 

CHAPTER 10                                          Failing Parents Failing Children                          43

 

CHAPTER 11                                          Out of the House For School                                45

 

CHAPTER 12                                          Unfriendly Children                                             47

 

CHAPTER 13                                          Parents Who Smoke in Front of Children           48

 

CHAPTER 14                                          Put Some Clothes On                                          50

 

CHAPTER 15                                          Love Your Child                                                  52

 

CHAPTER 16                                          Let Children Play                                                53

 

CHAPTER 17                                          Lonely Streets                                                     57

 

CHAPTER 18                                          Blame The Parents                                             58

 

CHAPTER 19                                         Uniform Dress Code                                           59

 

CHAPTER 20                                         Bad Behavior                                                       61  

 

CHAPTER 21                                         Too Fat                                                                 62

 

CHAPTER 22                                         Role Models                                                         63                               

 

CHAPTER 23                                         Stay At Home Parent                                          65

 

CHAPTER 24                                         Babysitting                                                           66       

 

CHAPTER 25                                         Being a Single Parent                                          72

 

CHAPTER 26                                         Stress Education                                                  75

 

CHAPTER 27                                         First Bike                                                             77

 

CHAPTER 28                                         Preschool                                                              79

 

CHAPTER 29                                        Being Around Denver                                           82

 

CHAPTER 30                                        Tantrums                                                               86

 

CHAPTER 31                                        Social Life                                                              87

 

CHAPTER 32                                        More About Reading                                             91

 

CHAPTER 33                                        Terrorism On City Streets                                    95

 

CHAPTER 34                                        Not a Fighter                                                         100   

 

CHAPTER 35                                        Teen Driver                                                           103

 

CHAPTER 36                                        Someone Special                                                   114

 

CHAPTER 37                                       The Playground                                                     116                           

 

CHAPTER 38                                       Cutting The Fat                                                     118

 

CHAPTER 39                                      Teachers Should Have Their Own Children         122

 

CHAPTER 40                                      Where Are Your Children                                      125

 

CHAPTER 41                                       Healthy Children                                                   127

 

CHAPTER 42                                  Shaping Up For the Kids                                           132         

 

CHAPTER 43                                  Drunk or Drugged                                                      137 

 

CHAPTER 44                                  Children and the Harsh Weather                              145 

 

CHAPTER 45                                  Pleasing Their Parents                                               152

 

CHAPTER 46                                  Cut Out the Partying                                                  160

 

CHAPTER 47                                  Children Profiled By the Police                                 166

 

CHAPTER 48                                  Parents Defending Bad Children                               170     

 

CHAPTER 49                                  Forgotten Children                                                      174

 

CHAPTER 50                                 Turning Failing Grades into Passing Grades              176 

 

CHAPTER 51                                 Stable Home Life                                                          188

 

CHAPTER 52                                 Domestic Violence Involving Children                         194

 

CHAPTER 53                                 Parents Must Step Up                                                   201  

 

 

 Continue

on

Down

 

 

 Introduction

Why I wrote this book

 

I wrote this readable friendly book because I felt there was a strong need out there for something that does not obscure the hard bold facts about parents and their children.  Sure there are parenting books all around. But this book is also about how not to parent. This book is about extremely bad parents.  This is book is about our young children and all of their futures. It's about those parents who may stand in the way of that progress.

 

In the book, I talk a bit about my young son. I use his behavior to give readers an insight to how I parent. And hopefully the way I parent my child will give them some insights on good parenting. I talk about how I actually learned on-hand parenting and how he responded. And through it all, he has academically excelled.  From my perspective, I give insights on getting and maintaining good behavior as well as positive grades. At the beginning and soon later on in the book, it gets concrete and to the point on everything, and for some parents to recognize themselves as being bad parents.

 

When writing this, I dropped every thing else I was working on to give this work top priority. I love being a writer of fiction. Non-fiction is of equal enjoyment for me. And this was a message, I felt compelled me to complete in its entirely. Children are leaving this world way too soon from street violence and bad parenting. I love children and I hate to hear and see them abused in so many ways due to no fault of their own. I think some parents should change their negative behavior when it comes to their children. 

 

This is a book that should be read by everyone. Most people have children, and all children are somebody's child. The dreams and nightmares in this book have been going on for so long and may be just beginning.  If it appears that I repeating my self on this subject, it is because I'm very passionate about what I'm trying to put forth and lay out here. I wrote this book for myself. I wrote this book for my son. I wrote this book for you, the reader. I especially wrote this book for all the beautiful and wonderful children everywhere. I wrote this book for all parents. And I wrote this book for all the future parents.

 

 Purpose of My book

 

First of all, I'm not a doctor of any kind and will confess to that each time. I'm a parent and writer, in that order. What is the purpose of my book?  This book is for all those parents who dare to take a closer and hard look at themselves, especially, when it comes to the care of their own children. This book will enlighten those who may not or refuse to see the plight of so many young people who are out on city streets alone.  The real purpose of this book is to let some others know that kids have feelings and emotions that some of us pompously don't realize or just don't care.  This book does not take its subject lightly; again, it's concrete, bold, and daring. The book takes all kinds of chances. I talk all kinds of chances.

 

I have no doubt that this book will be a welcomed one out in this society. What my book will do is to open up a plenty of eyes to chronic parenting neglect, and to let everyone know the mindset of the young people on the brink of ruining their children lives. It will tell weak minded parents how much they are a burden to their young children. The book offers solutions and insights to heal the divide within the troubled family.  Children are in gangs and killing other children. Children are homeless, and they are friends with other homeless children. The book is very timely and dispenses needed information to those who need help parenting their own children. Everyone will learn something from this book.

 

Readers and many others will benefit from my book when they take a closer look at themselves as parents, caregivers, guardians, and nurturers. All parents are not bad parents, as I stress in this book. However, good parents may have come across bad parents who may be reaching out for a helping hand with proper care for children, or on the other hand, they could be a danger to the child's future. This book addresses those and other issues and concerns.

 

My Audience

 

 

I want to convince people to pick up a copy my book and it's all about knowing where to find those people who are there waiting for it. The market for my book is going be: Libraries, parenting magazines, schools, daycare, nannies, children magazines, education stores, churches, retail, young adults, loving parents, not so loving parents, and many others.

 

Everyone agrees that increasing crime in some cities is taking the lives of our children. Walking home from school or going to the supermarket, innocent kids are being gun down, in some cases, by other children.  Some can agree that its bad parenting that leads to some children to fatally hurt other children. It leads to bad parenting when children dropout of school. My book addresses these and more problems.

 

The audience for my book would be parents who have had their children's lives taken way too soon by other children. This book is for new parents just starting out, such as teen parents. This book is for young parents everywhere. This book takes a look at grade and high school students. So many young people are becoming parents who have never been parented themselves, and this is one of many areas where this book can help.  The book is a sizzling read, not an unsatisfied moment on a single page. Also, my audiences are parents who do not or will not spend enough quality time with their children.

 

 

 Marketing My Books

 

I'm going to market my book in every way possible and that includes to: Corporations, gift stores, book clubs, schools, churches, education stores, children's magazines, libraries, non-profit foundations, online bookstores, daycare, nannies, retail, parenting magazines, young adults, the government, and more.

 

 

 Promotion Plan

 

I plan to get in local and national major newspapers and magazines. I will do the media including, radio and television and online promotional services. Book clubs and book signings will be on my agenda as an author. I will run ads, newspapers, and magazines on the internet, and also word of mouth advertising. I will produce business cards, flyers, and brochures. I will enter the book on all popular networking and social websites and all places for purchasing.  I will look into doing an e-book for downloading for this work. I will talk to anyone about my book.

 

 

 

 Competitive Books

 

 These are some of my close competitive books: Parenting, Inc. By Pamela Paul. Parenting by Belief  by Dale McGowan.  Screamfree Parenting  by Hal Edward Runkel.  Raising Our Children by Naomi, Ph. D. Aidort. Unconditional Parenting by Alfie Kohn. How to Talk So Kids Will Listen by Adele Faber. Connection Parenting by Pam Leo, Parenting From the Inside Out by Daniel Siegel.

 

These parenting books are available of Amazon online and other bookstore. They differ from my book is that I hold parents responsible for their child's neglectful behavior.

 

My book is better because it gives the reader a grimace inside every crucial situation. For example, after I outline the dire circumstances in some chapters, I have added short related nonfiction narratives to pound my helpful ideas home.

 

More Competitive Books

 

Parenting Your Complex Child by Peggy Lou Morgan, Ten Basic Principles of Good Parenting by Laurence D. Steinberg, and Parenting with Love and Logic by Jim Fay.

 

These books and others are on shelves of libraries. My book is more direct and aimed at both parents and children. My book let parents take an extreme look at themselves and their negative actions in and around their small children. My book aim is at parents making themselves, better parents. My book is daring, bold, and creative. There is nothing like it around.  

 

 

Sample Chapters Below

 

 

 Three Sample Chapters

Chapter 1

 

 

●What Is Going On?●

 

            YEAH, THAT IS SO RIGHT, put the blame on all those incompetent, idiot

 

prone, non-caring, and stuck-on-stupid parents everywhere. Especially, when they have

 

increasingly refused to be all he or she or they can be as nurturers, educators, and loving

 

level headed parents to all of their wonderful children who truly depend and count on  

 

them for protection for their young lives.  I'm not into name calling, I just have to and will

 

call it the way I see it, particularly when it comes to our precious small children and our

 

youth. Here, I will be speaking and elaborating primarily about inner city parents, even

 

though, this problem readily exists across the board in every state, city, and cranny of the

 

world. And this could be the face of every rotten and neglectful parent on the face of

 

God's Earth. As I have said and written many times, children of all parents are truly

 

born into this world not only without clothes having on, but also without any knowledge at

 

all. Except for that they may know that they now exist in some way.  Everything they must

 

know to grow has to be taught to them, and what they will eventually learn will have to

 

come from parents, schools, and peers. That could mean the good with the not so good.

 

            Parents should know that they are the first teachers and educators of their children.

 

If the parents are bone-headed and deliberate fools then the children will most surely wind

 

up going in a negative direction in their young lives.  I'm a single parent and have been

 

one for years. I enjoy being a parent. I love my young son. I love children. And that is what

 

gives me authority to say what is on my mind whether others agree or not. Because in most

 

of those instances and during all that time I have met, witness, and have been appalled and

 

gustily surprised at the horrible parenting styles of some parents, both men and women of

 

all incomes. No one escapes this. But remember, I said some parents.  Because I have seen

 

and met good parents and I applaud them all.  But there are so many who should and will

 

wear the title of the Bad Parent very well.

 

            When I see or hear about a bad a child, the first person I blame is the parent. Who

 

else can be blamed for the child's negative behavior? Oh, some will try and say it's peer

 

pressure. Maybe a small argument can be made. Some pundits and so-called experts say

 

it's the environment, some may even say it was the sign of times. BULL CRAP. However,

 

they all agree this is a big problem. And that goes the same for any other wretched up

 

excuses.  It hurts me to know parents who are willfully neglectful when it pertains to their

 

own children. Most of them are so quick to jump and blame the other children, parents, or

 

the police when something goes really wrong that involves their sweet child.  Some of those

 

parents should had never produced children. And some will admit to as much. We live in

 

an unstable world where children, in some cases, are not allowed to be children; that

                                                                                                                                  

include the United States.  That is where I will focus on America. But just let me say, as

 

we all know, children around the world are exploited in every way the human mind can

 

think of and it's appalling. I have always believed that children are precious gifts from

 

God. They are what we leave behind to carry on when we are finally stone cold dead.

 

However, there are people who just don't believe in God anymore, who knows if they

 

ever did. SOME INNER CITY PARENTS BECOME PISSED OFF AT THE FACT THEY

 

DON'T HAVE ANY MONEY AND THE CHILDREN ARE IN THEIR WAY OF GOOD

 

TIMES. AND THEY SOON TAKE IT OUT ON THE  CHILDREN BY ABUSING

 

THEM IN EVERYWAY. BREAKUPS, SEPARATION, AND FINALLY DIVORCE ARE

 

NOT THE CAUSES OF CHILD MISBEHAVIOR. IT IS WHAT WE INSTILL OR DO

 

NOT INSTILL IN OUR CHILDREN THAT WILL MANIFEST THEIR BEHAVIOR.

 

Sure, they will be upset for while but it will not make them grab daddy's misplace loaded

 

gun and go out and shoot somebody, unless they were infested with criminal intent earlier

 

on from the lack of parental involvement.   It's the kind of parenting of children that will 

 

make them act out negatively.  I have always told my son Denver never to do drugs or play

 

with bad children. I tell him do not drink alcohol, smoke cigarettes, or hit girls.  I want him

 

to stay away from those with real guns. And I know he understands me. I will make sure he

 

understands me. I'm a parent and I love my child. I'm his protector. I'm his teacher. And I

 

know he will not ever do those bad things even if his peers indulge.  And another reason

 

why he will never do those things is because I constantly talk to him about them. I know my

 

son. He is a super child.

 

            Some parents do not talk to their children. Some parents don't know how to talk

 

with their children. They look for others to do that. Some don't even know their kids. They

 

are afraid of their own kids. They only know that the child exists. They only confront the

 

child when he or she is finally in trouble with the law. And that is sad.  I live in Chicago, it

 

is a beautiful and wonderful big city. However, I know by it being a big city, there are all

 

kinds of people and children that I know my child should not associate with.  Again, I talk

 

to my young son all the time.  I don't want to pick and choose Denver's friends, however,

 

there are times when I have to actually intervene in on his young life, if I should see my son

 

associating with what I call undesirables. I will immediate yank him away from that crowd.

 

And give him another solid talking too until I find that he really and truly understands

 

what I'm trying to tell him.  Then I will explain to him later why I took the action that I

 

did. My son loves being around people; he really loves being around kids his own age. He

 

will make friends with anyone, because he is a friendly person.  I tell you that just because

 

Denver is friendly, however, there is always some children  out hurt him just because he is

 

nice and friendly.  I keep my son close because I want him to know that his dad will try to

 

always be there for him. I don't want my child growing and becoming the bad guy. I want

 

him to grow up to be a good guy. He's a born leader, and I want him to help others. The

 

negative element is every where, no place is immune from bad behavior and that

 

outwardly a thuggish demeanor that permeates throughout our society.

 

            When Denver and I are out riding our bikes, we both wear helmets. He has a red

 

bicycle helmet and I have a blue one. Our favorite colors, I might add.  The extra gear is

 

quite necessary because if one of us should have an really bad accident, the helmets just

 

may prevent our brains from becoming forever scrambled. However, there are parents

 

who will ride bikes with their kids and these parents refuse to dawn a helmet. But the

 

children are wearing protective gear as they ride with their parents. I truly don't know the

 

true reason or reasons why most parents and other bikers will not wear helmets with their

 

small children, but I can guess.  They are telling themselves that they look too good and

 

don't want to hide their faces. Some think they are too cute and too beautiful to wear a

 

bike helmet. Some don't want to mess up the hair. Some feel that wearing a helmet makes

 

them look stupid.  Therefore, they leave the helmets at home.

 

            Most kids will grow to be carbon copies of one or both of their parents. That can be

 

good or bad. Bicycle helmets have saved countless lives all across America, even the world

 

for that matter. When  kids see their parents not wearing helmets when they all ride bikes,

 

then why should they?  Everything a parent do there is a child standing there watching and

 

imitating that parent and the things he or she does, whether positive or negative.  If that

 

child sees Mommy and Daddy not wearing helmets; suddenly the adults suffer very serious

 

injuries to their heads. Who gets the blame?  BLAME IT ON THE PARENTS.

 

            At the age of six years old, Denver was already talking back. I was enthralled at

 

what he was uttering to me when he was dissatisfied with something. There were times

 

when I'd tell him to clean his room.  Denver would stand defiant right before me almost

 

gritting his young teeth and saying that he wasn't going to pick up his toys. I was surprise

 

to see my baby boy also clenching up his fists at me. I don't know you after all, I thought. 

 

His backtalk was becoming rampant. I didn't know what to do. All I knew was that I didn't

 

like it and wasn't going to take. Not from a child that I was busting my ass to care for. I'd

 

get negative notes from his teachers saying that he was acting out more for no reason. 

 

            I knew that I had to get a handle on this because it would only get worse.  I had to

 

show my son that I was the boss and that things I asked him to do was for the life he would

 

later lead when he was on his own. I knew he loved me and he knew I loved him. However,

 

he is just like so many other children testing their parents on how much they can get away

 

with. I had to show Denver that I was very serious and I wasn't smiling. I had to get

 

tougher with him if I felt the time was right and his negative behavior was conducive for

 

that.  I never let my young child feel as if he is in control. I'm the parent. I'm in control. He

 

and every child has to know that. He was only six years old. Most children feel that they

 

are the most precious things on this earth and we as parents should let them have their way

 

on almost everything or they will purposely act out just to get on our nerves until we give

 

in.  Parents must stand up and be parents. 

 

            I have actually witness small children being vulgar and swearing profusely at their

 

parents in the community playgrounds and else where.  And some parents stand or sit

 

there before their rude and noxious kids through a forced smile, willing to give in to their

 

children. The more a parent gives in to a child's bad behavior, the more that child will

 

develop an even more difficult to manage negative behavior. I have met families where

 

their children actually treated their parents as if  the parents were the children. This was

 

unbelievable. It's very sad for me to witness something like that but I sure did.   And the

 

first thing that came to my mind was that the jails were already overcrowded.  Parents who

 

willfully let their small children totally disrespect them should have more than their heads

 

examined. Parents are suppose to teach and educate the child. It is not suppose to be the

 

other way around.

 

            "Sarah, you have been on the telephone for well over four hours, I think it's time

 

you've said goodbye to your friend."

 

            "Mommy, why don't you go somewhere and sit down, read a book, and just shut

 

up!" the young fifteen year old told her hard working mom.

 

            This mother does exactly what she is told, while her child runs up the phone bill that

 

she has to struggle to pay.  This kind of child will shun his or her chores, homework, stay

 

out late, just to be around others who are parenting their parents.  This child's actions

 

could  mirrors other kids everywhere, and it can only be blamed on the parents for not

 

being parents they are expected and should be. Some of these people do not have the

 

fortitude to be parents. Bad parents are part of the problem. They are  just as much part of

 

the crowd who pumped out children in order to receive something for nothing. They don't

 

know how to talk to their children. These kids disrespect them because they see their

 

parent's weaknesses. And kids see the willingness in their parents to let the child do what

 

he or she wants without their mother or father's intervention. I have said before, that is an

 

young child's job to drive the parents up a wall, they wouldn't be children if they did not do

 

that at least sometimes. And parents have to understand that. But parents must also make

 

their present known to their children and demand much better behavior from their kids.

 

I'm not saying beat of the hell out of them, that doesn't work. At least I don't think it

 

works.  What really works is genuine love. I have come to realize that children do not come

 

with instructions; therefore, parents need to have their own instructions, along with

 

directions. Directions on what it takes to be a parent. And I know that parenting is not an

 

easy job. I still wonder about the future with my young son.

 

            Starting at infancy of the children, parents should start teaching them moment they

 

open their eyes.  Children should start with positive learning the moment they exist. They

 

learn by recognizing the face of the parent at each warm encounter. I started teaching my

 

son his alphabet at the age of one, a bit late I might add, but still a significant time to start

 

with a child's education. As always,  earlier the teaching begins the better for the child.

 

Children have to learn so many things and sometimes it can be very hard for the single

 

parent and even the children.  Therefore,  parents who haul their kids off to school each

 

morning thinking that the school is going to take over their responsibility as parents, I say

 

it's not going to happen. School is one thing and real parenting is another.  Schools are

 

learning and educational environments for children. They are not daycare centers,

 

babysitters, or the actual parents. 

 

            When I became a single parent, I was clearly frightened. I didn't know the first

 

thing about hands on parenting. To me, it was like learning on the job. And I sure did. I'd

 

call friends to tell me how to deal with my young toddler whenever he wasn't feeling well. I

 

didn't know anything, this was very so new to me. I had to learn fast. And boy did I. I went

 

to libraries and read countless books on single parenting. I started networking with others

 

who were single parents. I learned a lot from so many mindsets and insights. There were so

 

many people who gave me needed and very welcomed advice pertaining to the care for my

 

son. And I hoped that I thanked them all.  I'm in their debts. There are mountains of help

 

out there for parents who are having difficulties  reaching their own children. If the parent

 

needs help with parenting they should seek help immediately. If only for the children.  I

 

recall hearing and observing the famed, well spoken and beloved comedian, and writer Bill

 

Smart really go after young and  single neglectful inner city parents of color.  When talking

 

about the subject he looked like a man on a mission. I really don't if he was out to eradicate

 

the problem or just to say it looks bad and should be stopped. Think of the children. We all

 

know that the African-American community is infamous for pumping out babies by young

 

teenagers whom don't know the first thing about parenting or how to deal with a infant or

 

young child. Usually, but not all the time,  the father is on a corner standing waiting for a

 

nearby dirt bag gang. However, as I listened to Mr. Smart, I find that he speaks in

 

generalities. It appears he may seem to be claiming that we all are bad parents. He just

 

lumps us all in his self generated group of urban African-Americans who should be

 

registering for parenting classes. Mr. Smart seems to forget or doesn't care that there are

 

some great and wonderful parents within and that come out of the African-American

 

community. Not everyone is an awful parent. However, there are so many who are actually

 

are really terrible parents and that's across the board. He should do a lot more than 

 

ridicule  young mothers. Maybe something like opening up a center to address the

 

problems that will help and educate young mothers and fathers on how to be better

 

parents.  Or write a real book about the problem.

 

Chapter 2

●Attire●

 

            I HAVE A VERY SERIOUS PROBLEM with the way some very young children

 

are dressing up and going to school.  Their clothes are horrendous. It is horrendous that

 

some parents let their kids walk out the house looking like anything other than small

 

children. The young boys and only some girls are wearing baggie pants down below their

 

butts and walking weirdly. Some them proudly call themselves, dirt bags and thugs.  From

 

my personal view and others, kids wearing their pants almost touching the ground are

 

immediately profiled by most everyone as criminals and/or future criminals.  Like it or not,

 

it's true.  When children dress like that, they visibly struggle to walk. If they do manage to

 

walk, they are strolling wide legged in an feeble effort to keep their big pants from falling

 

to the ground. And I read somewhere that can be a serious health issue. There are some

 

towns within the United States that are trying ban baggy and sagging pants because it just

 

an eye sore for the community.  Maybe that is going too far but I do understand the

 

dilemma. In part to wearing drooping pants, they also have on long white and extra large

 

tee shirts trying to camouflage their exposed butts from the large falling pants.  Usually this

 

type of dress signifies gang activity. Even if none is abound.  Kids grow up learning from

 

their surroundings and what they might see and hear on television, if that is negative so will

 

be their interpretation. When I see young kids badly dressed and thinking all that is cool, I

 

tell myself, this person is a loser and he or she don't even know it yet.

 

            I have seen mothers who outwardly allow their children to dress like the self

 

appointed thugs on the city street corners. I wanted to tell so many of them, WHAT THE

 

HELL ARE YOU THINKING? They would only tell me to mind my own business.

 

BUT I CAN'T MIND MY OWN BUSINESS IF THE BOY GROWS UP TO SHOOT MY

 

SON, because his mom wants him to be thug like his father. Some parents dress their kids

 

as if the children were adults. When I enrolled Denver into kindergarten and especially

 

first and second grades thereafter, I couldn't believe the way elementary students were

 

dressing.  I could see and understand why public school administration chose to implement

 

an uniform code policy. However, at the writing of this, some public schools, the code is not

 

enforced. Therefore, young students wear whatever they want. And it can be interesting.

 

            These students, especially the young girls, are dressing like they are on their way to

 

stripper clubs before and after school. I would asked myself, why do the parents let their

 

children walk out the house like that?  Some may call me old fashion but children should

 

not be dressed like seasoned prostitutes. In the elementary upper grades, there are young

 

girls with purposely exposed breast and butt cleavage in skin tight blues jeans. It's a

 

wonder to why some of them fail academically, their minds are on having sex or just

 

wearing clothes that will get them all the attention the world. I had overheard one curvy

 

young teenage female say she love to almost cause auto accidents when walking down the

 

street because she knows she looks good.   In others words, she received pleasure knowing

 

that motorists would take their eyes off the road just to get a look at her.  Why would

 

anyone dress to cause harm to someone else?  Blame it on the parents.     

 

            From my stand point there should be a dress code for every student in every school.

 

No baggy and sagging pants allowed. No big and over long and large white tee shirts. Or

 

they will not be allowed to tend any school, public or private. I love all children, but I don't

 

like to see neglectful parents or just plain incompetent adults not giving or teaching the

 

children how to be law abiding and productive citizens. Having a mandatory dress code

 

will cut down on crime and violence in the schools.  Students will be more in tune for

 

learning. Academics will rise. Confidence will soar. Another U.S. President is born.

 

            It is unbelievable that some parents do know or care where their kids are and what

 

they are doing. I see parents of small children everyday. And I also observed the

 

interaction between mother and child, and some of the children will become rebels all

 

because the lack of intervention on the part of the parent from the beginning.  The city kids

 

will stay out all night long on school nights because the parents have lost control or they are

 

just incompetent.   A child acts on their parents weaknesses.  A child can pick many

 

up signals of incompetence, lack of parental control, and infallibility on the part of parents.

 

In other words, they know which buttons to push and what they can get away with, for they

 

know that their parents are pathetic.  At the writing of this my small son is only 7 years

 

old. I sometimes  envision the kind of teenager I do not want him to grow up to be. I do not

 

want him to disrespect authority. I do not want to see him hanging out on street corners

 

with people who are totally undesirable. I do want to see him walking down the street with

 

baggy and sagging pants and walking wide legged just to keep them from falling. As I have

 

mentioned. I do not want him involved in gangs. I don't want him to be taken advantage of

 

because he is a nice kid.  I do not want him staying out nights and getting into trouble. I

 

don't want him listening to vulgar music that disrespects humanity. I do not want him

 

doing drugs and alcohol.   And he knows that very well.

 

             Children are not born to be bad kids. In fact, I believe there is no bad child. Only

 

bad influences and awful parents.  The lack of good parenting can be blamed for the

 

behavior of all American kids, good or bad.  Parents who don't know their roles, or just

 

refuse to be all they can be to a loving child, is doing that child a disfavor.  A child who

 

stays out all night long is a child headed for jail or maybe even an early grave, and there

 

is no one to blame but the child's wayward ignorant or arrogant parents.

 

            When I was a teenage and cutting school, my mother said me one day, "why

 

don't you just drop out of school, you're not going anyway?"  But I was going, I was just

 

not attending to some of the classes like I should have.  That was when I needed my parents

 

to intervene, they never did. I truly wanted to stay in school. But at that time I thought

 

my mother knew what she was asking me to do, therefore, I finally quit school and found a

 

job.  There is a long story behind that.  Later, I went back to school, finished, and went on

 

to college. But my point is that the high dropout rate is too high in this country. Not only

 

are there high school dropouts, there are children also dropping out of elementary school.

 

And some may even been pushed to quit school by their parents. In some areas of the big

 

cities, these kids can been seen hanging around the school that they chose with their

 

parents not to attend anymore.  Just about every child I see, always bring me back to

 

thoughts of my own child, Denver. And it makes me really sad when children give up on

 

their education.  When children drop out of school, there is nowhere to turn for them but

 

gangs and at some point they will break the law. Some will wind up homeless because mom

 

and dad were just too irresponsible and forever stuck on stupid.   

 

            Kids dropout school for many reasons.  Again, their parents may show no backbone

 

when it comes to real responsibility. The parents themselves may be high school dropouts,

 

and that could be why they may not care for their own children being educated. They may

 

have been seen as dumb or stupid by their peers, at one time.  Some children may not have

 

anyone in their lives who really loves them and is unable to know how important it is to

 

have a complete education to fulfill their budding lives.

 

            My mother and father never told me how important school was. They never told me

 

to read a book.  They never helped me with my homework. They never read me a bedtime

 

story. They never kissed me good night. As a child, they never told me that they loved me. 

 

My parents never tucked me in at night. However, that is not why I'm writing this. I'm

 

writing this because I love children and don't like to them ruin their young lives because of

 

bad parents. Everything that my parents did not do for me as a child, I will sure do for my

 

only son, Denver. Most of the things that I learned in life, I learned late and mostly taught

 

myself some of what I needed to know to be a productive part of this ever changing society.

 

Denver has and will learn all the things he needs early in his life that I learned late in my

 

life. I will make sure of that. I'm his dad. However, he has a running start and now he is

 

sprinting.   Today I don't think some kids have that drive and momentum to envision

 

themselves far into the future. It's all about what's going to happen now. What can you do

 

for me right now at this very moment?  

 

            I could never say to my young son that he will never amount to anything.

 

Unfortunately, so many kids believe that when they are told by their parents or someone

 

else.  So many of our kids are depressed. They have no real role models, and no one in the

 

family to look up too. They feel as if they are out there all alone.  And some of them truly

 

are. Most of us make it plain to our children that they can be anything they want, just by

 

staying in school.  But some kids we will not let themselves be reached and those are the

 

ones we should be of most concern about.  Parents who tell their children that they will

 

never amount to anything are actually setting in stone that child's future. Those kind of

 

words are heavy weight on a young mind. After hearing something like that, some will not

 

have the motivation or care about society needs, and especially their part in it.    

 

            Every parent should always bestow the greatest of accolades on deserving children.

 

And in my view, they are all deserving. Some of those accolades also should bestowed on

 

those who think they may not be so worthy.  Having confidence in children and showing

 

that child unconditional love maybe all some kids need. I see so many children everyday

 

without caring loving parents, and some really do not care about themselves because no

 

one else does.  When grown-ups let their kids know how much they care about their

 

futures, the children will respond favorably in every aspect.

 

             I have had some parents say that they can't watch their small children twenty-four

 

hours a day. The bottom line is that that some of them do not watch their children at all. I

 

can understand some parents do have to work, but that's not a very good excuse for not

 

helping a child with his or her homework. A child needs a parent much more than that

 

parent needs some job.  I understand that the bills have to be paid. Parent should find a

 

way to spend more quality time with their growing children. When that happens and

 

happens consistently, again, children will always respond in a positive matter.

 

 

Chapter 3

 

●Verbal Abuse●

 

            I HAVE SAID MANY TIMES AND staunchly, that it breaks my heart every time I

 

think of children being physically and mentally abuse by viciously uncaring parents and

 

that these beautiful kids no longer have parents around. Or maybe some never did. I

 

walked into the neighborhood supermarkets and witness parents yelling and screaming at

 

their at top of their lungs at the kid as the child stands silently next to his mom. I have seen

 

some parents haul off and slap the child directly in front of the store crowd.  It almost

 

seemed like the worst of unthinkable cruelty of any magnitude.

 

            "Shut the f--k up before I beat your a-- right here in this f--king store." Something

 

like that would be heard by myself and stunned shoppers. And the parents who uttered

 

those mean words at their children, could not have care less of what the public thinks.

 

            While being a single parent and taking my young son to school everyday, I did get to

 

meet a lot of the students. Some are headed in the right direction, some are not. Some have

 

parents and some don't. Some have only one parent and that is usually the mother. They

 

admire my son because he has the father that some of them do not have.  Some may like

 

him for only that reason. And I do believe that Denver feels he is bless to have both parents,

 

however, he is with me majority of the time.   Sometimes I can imagine myself hearing

 

other children conversing with my small son without me being present. It might go

 

something like this. Again, I imagine their conversations would go something like this.

 

            "Hey, Denver I saw you riding your bike with your Dad."

 

            "Yeah, it was fun, Greg.  Want to ride with us?"  Denver would say.

 

            "What's it like to have a father around all the time?"

 

            Seven year old Denver, didn't quite know how to answer that. He knew that his

 

friend and other children did not have their dads around all the time like he did.

 

            Looking bewildered as he responded, "I guess it's okay."

 

            "Can I ride my bike with you and your dad, Denver?" the little boy said.

 

            "Sure," Denver replied with so much glee.

 

            "What else do you do with your dad?" asked the curious 6 year old school mate and

 

friend of my son. Denver could see that that his friend was not himself. He was use to

 

seeing his friend feeling happy and jubilant and always ready to play, however, Denver

 

knew that his friend was hurting inside. And, he also knew that his best friend was sad.  

 

Denver didn't want him to be sad. He wanted to help him to feel good again.

 

            As the two walked to together in the late afternoon sun on a summer Autumn day,

 

the boy again freely asked Denver, "what is it like to have a dad around all the time?" 

 

            "It's okay, Again," he replied again as his friend looked down at the concrete

 

pavement as they continued to walk home from school. And then Denver said to his friend.

 

            "My Dad, knows everything about everything and he sometimes always looking out

 

for me all the time."

 

            The questions continued. "What do you mean, Denver?"

 

            "He can fix anything and my dad picks my friends for me. He says he wants to keep

 

the bad people away from me. He doesn't let me go outside until my homework is done. I

 

can't stay up too late especially on school nights. He limits my video game and television

 

time. He is always talking to me about bad people. He tells me to never do drugs. He

 

doesn't want me to smoke cigarettes, either."

 

            "It sounds like you have a great dad, Denver."

           

            "Thank you, I do. We love each other very much. I'm always eager to show my

 

Dad how good I'm doing in school."

 

            "I wished I had someone who loved me."

           

            "You have a nice mother."

 

            "She's not nice Denver, she beats me all the time," the boy told Denver as  

 

butterflies flew past them. The butterflies had jolted, Denver. But he soon regrouped.

 

            "Why does she beat you, Greg?" Denver asked curiously while fumbling with his

 

book bag to keep it from falling off his shoulders.

 

            "Whenever, she doesn't have any money, she gets so mad and hits me all the time.

 

Sometimes I think she hates me. I really do."  He continued. "There are days when I don't

 

come to school for all the bruises that I have. She don't help me with my homework

 

because she can't read. She is always bringing all types of men in and out house. I don't

 

know who my father is and I don't think my mother does either." Greg was laying some

 

heavy stuff on Denver's young ears. He may not have understood much of it all. However,

 

Denver could see that his friend was still sad and he sought to change the subject.

 

            "I'll tell my dad that you are coming bike riding with us on Saturday, Greg."    

           

            "I don't know if my Mom will let me ride with you and your dad, Denver."

 

            "Can I ask your mom if you could come riding with us?"

           

            "Yeah, Denver, you can."

 

            "Okay, let's go."

 

            Denver and Greg strolled down the tree lined street of inner city of Chicago after

 

school feeling good to be in each other's company. Denver could see that they were going to

 

be the best of friends. I had always hoped and prayed that Denver would find an good

 

friend, it took awhile but he finally did. Earlier, kids would walk up to my son that I knew

 

it wasn't about anything except for doing the wrong kinds of things. Those kinds of

 

children, I made an all out effort to keep him away from. But Greg, struck me as a nice kid

 

from the start. And Denver liked him.  The boys soon arrived at Greg's home.

 

            The studio apartment was sparsely furnished.  There were two beds a few feet apart

 

and facing each other. There was a small table that sat between the beds filled with dead

 

flowers.  All the walls were dark brown, giving the impression of gloom. There was a worn

 

out futon couch in an upright position near the front windows, it also transformed onto a

 

full size bed.   A large television set on top of the kitchen table where empty containers of

 

macaroni and cheese littered the grimy floor. Roaches and bedbugs ran up and down the

 

walls. Denver never actually notice the clutter in the apartment when he heard the toilet

 

flush and a tall big fat black short haired woman of about thirty-two years old emerged

 

and stood directly in front of both of them. The untidy and very unattractive and sloppy

 

woman had frightened young Denver. He was stymied where he had stood.  He wanted to

 

call out to his Daddy. However, his dad was not around. The heavy set woman's

 

unpleasant facial expressions told the entire story. For some reason, she was not happy. She

 

appeared to very upset, as if she just hated something.

 

            "Hi, Mom, this is my friend Denver," Greg murmured politely. "We are hungry."

 

            "I don't want you eating anything in this house, boy!" she shouted.

 

            Greg reluctantly nodded his head positively at his mother's request. Greg and

 

Denver had last eaten at his school earlier that morning.  He didn't say anything, he just

 

lowered his head.

 

            "Do not sit on my furniture!" the woman shouted again.

 

            Greg was silent as he listened intently as his mother barked her orders down and all

 

over the both of them. He felt embarrassed in the presence of his now best friend, Denver.

 

            "Do not eat any of my food, Greg, and I mean that," she said again.

           

            Denver looked up at the giant sweaty looking woman with uncertainty.

 

            "Can Greg go bike riding with me and my dad?" Denver asked expecting a no

 

answer.

           

            "I don't care what he do!!!" she screamed.

 

            Denver put both his hands over his ears, her voice had torn through his small brain.

 

However, Greg didn't react.  To him, this was a daily and on going occurrence in this two

 

person household.

 

            "I'll see you on Saturday, Greg," said Denver while leaving.

 

            Denver could still her yelling and screaming at his best friend way outside of the

 

building as he walked home alone to tell his dad the good news about Greg and bike riding

 

on Saturday.  There were times in the day, Denver worried about his friend in the company

 

of his mother. He knew that Greg's  life solely depended on his mother, whether

 

good or bad. Denver knew that Greg's mother played a pivotal role in being a good parent

 

to his friend. Denver wonder if his friend would be safe with his mother. She was mean but

 

maybe not a murderer, he thought. Denver knew that his friend was having a hard time in

 

general and wished he could help. If he had all the money in the world, he would have

 

enough to help his friend to a better life. But he did not have all the money in the world,

 

however, he would continue to dream, hope, and pray for his friend.

Chapter 4

 

●Speaking English●

 

            I HAVE ENCOUNTERED SOME HISPANIC parents at my son's schools, who

 

couldn't or actually refuse to speak simple American English. However, their small

 

children are attending  public schools. Most here want their children to learn and get a

 

good education. However, some of them could not put two dimes together when it comes to

 

the America's number language.  And when some of their children failed in school, I

 

again…

 

 2009 Derrick Sweat Returns; this time he comfronts the mobster Johnny Macaroni, who also moonlights as mild-mannered Harold Rinehart. The mobster masterminded five in-air helicopter robberies in broad daylight. Suddenly there is a freak snowstorm in the middle of June catching everyone off guard. Soon the mobster's daughter is killed by a hurricane in the Caribbean and now he holds the National Weather Service Hostage. Also, the Nation is under harsh budget cuts across the board. Johnny takes his rage to Washington, D.C. Little does he know that Special Agent Derrick Sweat Will be waiting their to cut him down.
 
George Wilder, Jr is the acclaimed author of Derrick Sweat Sings the Blues and Raw Deception. He lives in Chicago, with his young son of special needs. Mr. Wilder is hard at work on his next Derrick Sweat thriller. His book Raw Deception Two will be available very soon. for more information, please visit his website at www.freewebs.com/gwilder

There are three book excerpts below: Derrick Sweat Sings The Blues..., Raw Deception, Apple in your Eye, and Derrick Sweat, Midwest Deep Freeze. Also, the article, Ruthless is on this page.  Warning Some it can be mildly graphic.

HELLO READERS, George Wilder Jr, here  Have fun

THANK YOU                          Copyright 2007

                                               Derrick Sweat Sings Blues

This is no Musical

By

George Wilder Jr.

        He was trying hard not to appear and feel nervous but he was. This was the night the world was about to put on a new face. An African-American face. This was the night that would determine who would emerge to be the runaway people's candidate vying for the nation's top office. He was only minutes away from becoming the first Black President of the United States of America. His wife and two daughters have never been so proud of him. They all were wearing big wide smiles with tears that silently hit the floor that had creeped down their faces. The famous hotel where all the presidential commotion was going on was Palmer House. It was located in the heart Chicago's downtown Loop area.

      The elegant penthouse the excutive suites were filled with family, relative, close friends, and supporters of candidate Wille Robertson, Jr. That's right, William Robertson, Jr. He was born and educated in the City of Chicago. He attended Roosevelt and Harvard Universites, respectively. With degress in political science and law. Robertson was a very groomed and highly intelligent man. He was only 37 years old. Some say too young to be president. However, he was confident and positive about everything. His life experiences had made him very likable and a natural born leader for others. Like most political candidates he had his enemies. Those dark forces would emerge and try and break him down right in front of all Americans.

      All of his life, he had dreamed and fought to help others, especially those in need anyway possible. It made him happy when others were also happy. His enemies claimed to have seen his more dark side and felt that he couldn't be trusted. It was all political. Willie 'Roberson, Jr., wanted to show young black people all over the globe that they could anything they wanted as long as they studied and worked hard. He they loved him, for he was their role model. With so many believing in him, he knew he had to deliver. He had no problem with that, none at all. And now Willie Robertson was about to become the 52nd President  of  the Untied States. The popular and electoral votes were all in and sure enough, big bad Willie was winning it all.  

        The super-packed and congested hotel was about to erupt with emotions of campaign success. With all the votes tallied and counted, the black candidate had received over 75% of the vote. That percentage expressed so clearly that Americans were fed up with the current administration and a hugh change had just occured. America, had reeled in its man........

      It is mid-afternoon on a sunny day with no signs of rain in the forecast. WadsDale Federal Correctional Prison where Hector Miller was being held, was just another classic setting. The Correctional Center was the oldest in the State of Mississippi; it had recently been upgraded. There was now a Patrol Violator Division, General Population Units, and a full time Maximum Security with detailed monitoring systems for keeping track of murders and serial killers....

       Hector Miller was pacing back and forth in his cramped jail cell ranting and grumbling in a very low voice to himself, "I wished this prison would open right up and let me the fuck out," he retorted. And then suddely, the thick iron bars to his cell seem to have magically spread its legs at his command. The killer was baffled at what had just taken place before his very eyes. Is this some kind of bad joke, he said to himself. He saw no guards. Someone might be trying to set him up to be shot while trying to escape, he thought. He and his cellmate stretched only their necks out of the opened jail cell while other other half of their bodies remained. Like everyone in the prisong, they wanted to see what was going on.

      Could it have been some kind of drill that no told the inmates about?  After the initial shock, the inmates gave up thinking, and they all leaped out and darted outside of their units. They began beating and breaking the necks of hapless guards whom may have allowed the incident to happened. Most guards were still wondering what had happened. They were unsure. One thing for sure they had been over powered by the inmates. Some of the imates were now armed and dangerous. Most of them had gotten their raw hands on high explosives. Every computerized jail cell in the entire Federal Prison System had been opened and murderous inmates spilled out onto American streets.

        The prisoners had taken over entire facilities around the America. Hector Miller had appointed himself chief of all these thugs and killers. 

       Special Agent Derrick Sweat had arrived to join the president and one of his aides in a White House conference room and they were all conversing about the murder charges against the president's daughter. While at the same time to paying close attention to television news. There was something else going on in America. Something had gone really wrong, they both could feel it. The president knew that his daughter's murder charges were on the beginning.....

The boys killer father was now speaking to the world. "All you lowdown fucks and you rotten fucks, you lying dogs and you idiots fucks. We are all out of your stinking prisons and on the streets all over America. We are going to kill everybody. For those who are too stupid, just go and take a look out your windows. We are everywhere," the killer Hector Miller said. The killer had demanded a space shuttle and a billion to get him and his two sons, along with a few of his thugs to another planet in outer space in hopes of exonerated for his transgressions..... 

Copyright 2007      

  Raw Deception 2

By

George Wilder Jr.

Dee introduced her new boyfriend, Mark Cohn, to her friends. Wherever she had an

luncheon engagement, he would take him with her. Most of her friends did not

think of much of him, they thought he was overly arrogant. They didn't find him

very good looking. By the way he spoke, they knew his education had been limited.

They immediately recognized that he had no class and style. Mark Cohn acted and

appeared to them as a street thug. "His breath stinks," Paula, once said.

One afternoon at Dee's home, while Paula was there, she said, "girl I'm your

best friend, where in the fuck did you pick up that loser?" Paula asked.  Dee had

gotten so pissed off at that statement that she kicked everyone one out of her house.

Dee appeared just like a dragon lady.  She had gray steam shooting from her turn

up nostrils. Mark Cohn was her new baby and she'd spit on whomever didn't like

him or said something against her man.

One morning Mark Cohn was on duty at his city sanitation job. However on

this day, he was just sitting in his supervisor's office surfing the internet on an old

outdated desktop computer. He was pulling up adult sex sites and then

masturbating at the sight of the naked mature sexy women on the computer screen.

Suddenly his supervisor walked in the office. Mark fixed himself in front of his

boss and then he ran out of the office to his truck that waiting there to hit the streets.

There was a call from the dispatch radio for Mark Cohn to see the

supervisor.  Mark walked back cautiously to the office. He didn't know what to

expect. But he knew it wasn't good. This  supervisor, Wayne Williams, had just

been hired by the city. Mark thought he would just get off with just a warning.

His boss was sitting directly in front of the computer screen the way had

Mark left it at the site of sexy women. Mark entered the small cramp office, he was

told to sit down. Wayne closed the glass door and locked it. Other employees were

wondering what was going on in that office behind closed doors.  The supervisor

was printing out the vulgar pictures from the site. "Why were you sitting in my

office viewing pornographic pictures on city time?" he bark out.  By this time Mark

regained his composure and sat up straight in the chair while his boss waited for an

answer.  "I apologize it will never happen again," he said.

The printer was done printing out the raunchy web page pictures. The 

associates on the outside the glass door  were curious and trying to hear and get

more of a glimpse of what was going on inside the small office with their co-worker.

Some of whom thought he was a very good employee. "You see these web pages, I'm

going to take them into the general manager's office. I'm going to build a case

against you and then I'm going to have your job." Mark thought the supervisor was

a bit harsh and very rude for someone who was just starting out, however, he said

nothing.

At this point, Mark had taken all he was about too. It didn't take him too

long to figure that he had a massive dislike for his new supervisor.  He's trying to

make his career off my back, Mark Cohn, thought. As his manager continued

talking, Mark Cohn began daydreaming about quitting and finding something that

could make him his own boss. Moreover, he had gotten fed up with working for

others who intentionally push him around because they had the position.   Mark had

gotten tired of being told what to do, how to do it , and when to do. He longed and

wanted out, and now he had his chance.  After the talk was over, the two departed

the small office. An employee walked up to Mark as he emerge out of office acting

and appearing very pissed, and asked him, what had happened in there. "I quit," he

told the employee.  No one else knew he wanted out 

Mark had already made up his mind to be liberated. However, he wasn't

going to let any know in management until he got home.  He needed to know that

they were scrambling desperately to find someone to replace him, if not they would

get seriously behind in the days' work load, for a week.  Either way that would be

fine with him because in his mind, it would be redemption for him. Because of his

hatred of the new supervisor he decided to look for another line of work. . Mark 

knew that they could never find anyone as capable as him to perform the  job.

Dee had received a phone call the following afternoon from the local police

department. They were holding her son Ross for rape of a 12 year old female

classmate of his. "This must some kind of mistake," she said, vehemently.  

"This is no mistake," said the powerful male voice on the other end of the

phone.  It was the police. Dee soon let go of the phone and it felled to the floor along

with her large frame. She had fainted.  Soon the police entered her home, revived

her and then offered to escort her to the precinct to see her son. Dee wanted her best

friend Paula by her side while being taken to the police station. She and police

awaited Paula's arrival.

Dee and Paula walked into the busy south side police station and was told

that Ross was being  interrogated by local detectives and FBI agents.  They both sat

down at a the bench near the interrogation room. Dee was visibly shaken. The

detectives emerged from the room and told Dee that Ross had confessed to the

crime, and that it was all on video tape. Another detective walked over and

told her that Ross will be charged with at least two counts of rape of two of his

female classmates. And he will be taken into custody immediately. Dee consciously

fell over onto Paula's shoulder. 

The detective also told Dee that the school's close circuit television caught

both incidents of rape on video tape. The detectives also made it plain to her that

Ross will be up for indictment and arraignment on rape charges the following

morning. He will be tried as an adult and bail will be set.  Dee managed to regroup

herself and listened very intently as the detective explained to her what had

happened at the school in most graphic detail,  and hespelled out what will further ensue. 

Now the FBI was talking to Dee. "Ms. Moore our vigorous and timely

investigation revealed that your son Ross swindled two of his classmates at separate

times onto the top of the school building and forced the girls to have sex with him on

the floor of the roof  out in the open air.  As mentioned the entire sexual acts were

caught on school's surveillance camera. Your son is with his lawyer right now at this

moment. The attorney was provided by city. A public defender.  However, and we

do have a video and audio feed of your son confessing to the rape charge against

him, as I'm sure you are well aware of," the agent said. 

"Can I talk to my son?" Dee asked the cop, tearfully. 

"Of course you can," the agent replied.

Ross seemed withdrawn from reality, he knew that he was in big time

trouble. The moment Dee saw her son, she pulled back and slapped him hard across

his face with the flat surface of her right hand. The police quickly separated them.

The pain was blistering, but he was silent.  She soon sat down in the chair beside

him. He told his mother, with tears in his eyes from the pain of hand, that he truly

loved her and was sorry for what he had done. Dee cries for her only son had halted.

She looked at her son lovingly and smile then she got up from of the chair, and

asked to be taken home. A patrolman took her home.

Dee called me at home, she informed me of what had just occurred with

her son, Ross. I told her that I was very sorry to hear that and I always thought

Ross was a good kid. She became very distraught, and at times incoherent. Then she

burst out and said that I never really cared for her children. I had really grown very

tired of hearing that same old worn out lie. I told Dee that we have been separated

for two years, and we were now divorced. That if I truly hated her children, there

was nothing to prevent me from telling her that at that moment. If I hated her

children that I would have nothing to gain or lose by admitting to such. I told her

for what seemed like the one hundredth time, that I didn't hate her children or

anyone else. I wished her the best of luck with Ross, and then I hung up the

telephone. 

Dee immediately called her boyfriend, Mark Cohn and this time begged him

to move in with her. Mark didn't hesitate before saying that he would. Dee thought

that Mark could be a big help to her, especially while she was going through an

ordeal with her only son.  Soon Mark had moved completely into her house,

carrying one suitcase and the clothes that was already on his back. Dee needed

support and he could help with needed repairs around the house, he could help with

paying the bills, he could help her to emotionally deal with her son Ross's very

serious situation, also she needed someone to make love to her the way she wanted

it.  At this point, she needed his shoulder to lean on. Her baby was going to spend a

lot of years in jail. Mark didn't tell

Copyright 2007

 Derrick Sweat,Midwest
Deep Freeze

By
George Wilder Jr.

Chapter One


This had been a very rainy and cloudy gray day in the City of Chicago. It would continue to be dreary with a dull appearance, according to the local Weather Center. Therefore, there was to be no sunshine at all. Just more rain. Here was the beautiful downtown Chicago Loop in the middle of the month of June and all its non-stop moderate precipitation. The evening rush hour was about to get under way. It was always a heavy traffic nightmare.
The gangster Johnny Macaroni was standing outside of the Chicago Theatre at a  transit authority bus stop. His head was being covered by an umbrella, however, it was only limited protection from the swirling light rain. Johnny was on the corner of State and Lake standing near a gutter that had a puddle of dirty rain water that sat leaning against the curb just beneath him. It showed his manly refection staring back at him, while he waited on a bus. Any bus. This was a day he wished he could have stayed home in the bed all day making love to someone, but he had work to do. Gangster work. So he waited at one of the many downtown bus stations. Most waiting stations were bursting out with all kinds people who hustled their way to here and there. Johnny peered southward and saw that a bus was only moments away. He would finally be on his way.
Johnny was about to board city transportation north bound that would take him to the Granville Opera House located at Wicker and Madison. It was there he would meet with the rest of his infamous and notorious gang. He didn't mind at all taking public transportation. Just as long as the drivers kept their attitudes to themselves. The way some of them treated their riders, from stories he had heard, was not cool  If someone showed him attitude, for no cause, he just might take out his .357 magnum and introduce them to the barrel.
The transit system was always cutting service and raising fares because of lack of funding. Therefore, if riders were waiting for a bus or subway train, there were  longer wait times or maybe no service at all. Johnny said to himself, that stinks.
Johnny decided to take the bus because he felt this would bring a knew experience for him to always of being driven around by one of his flunkies. The bus ride would reminded him of his younger days, and it also gave him a chance to see and be up close with common everyday people.  He soon realized that he really didn't like it all that much. However, he was optimistic that he would not miss the live stage play at the Granville Civic Opera. A Chicago premire theatre. The on going local labor disputes between employees and management in the city were in full swing.
Suddenly a black two-door late model Dodge Sparrow, a sports car, came from out of nowhere. It zoomed up against the corner to where Johnny was standing as he was about to board the bus.  The car slammed into the gutter where the puddle of rainwater that was sitting glistening in the dark grayness. The car was traveling at top speed, as it went on  splashing and drenching the gangster with the foul smelling sewer water. The vehicle kept right on moving. Johnny then looked up from his awful physical condition and saw the speeding car in question had stopped at a red light, waiting for it to turn green. Macaroni  raced on foot in hopes of catching the vehicle before the light changed. Johnny prayed that he get the person who had done that to him. Johnny sprinted up and behind the stopped car as if he were trying out for the Olympics. His prayers were answered.
He had immediately encountered the vehicle; opened the door yanked and hauled the male elderly motorist out of the car. There was nothing but pure visible rage on the gangster's face. Johnny begun punching and slapping the old man repeatedly. He banged the guy's head up against the hood of his own vehicle  four times and then tossed the man back into his car. Johnny told him if he did that again, that he would get dead. The stunned onlookers were content on trying hard to attend to their own affairs by pretending not to see the entire ordeal. However, some of them didn't want to miss anything.
"Get the fuck away from here!!"  Johnny screamed, at all the onlookers. And they quickly scattered like flies. He also told the old driver the same thing. The light turned green for the fifth time and the old man sped away. The rain continued to fall as clouds remained steady.
Johnny soon staggered back to the corner and boarded a bus that seemed to have been waiting just for him all along. The driver greeted him warmly. While looking and feeling very wet, he took a back seat. He had lost his cool, but he knew he had to regroup in a hurry. The bus let him off directly in front of another Chicago Landmark. He needed a shower and a change of clothes. At the main entrance of the famous Granville Opera House he met with one his boys. Danny Gibson was the first individual he saw.  He told Danny to exchange tuxedos with him. Danny immediately did what he was told. It was almost like a slave greeting his master. They both walked into the men's room.
The Granville Opera House was a majestic limestone skyscraper with a forty-five story office tower and two twenty-two wings. It is shaped like a gigantic throne facing the Chicago River between Washington and Madison Streets.
The building was completed in 1937. A varied used display; the Granville Opera Building houses both a 3.410 seat auditorium and more than a half a million square feet of office and retail space. It was designated a Chicago Landmark on May 8, 1962.
All changed, half showered, and a bit dry, the gangster had long arrived late to the building; he had literally walked in on the middle act of the dramatic Chicago Award Winning Opera, Raw Deception. Usually the ushers will refuse to let someone in to see a show, that was not on time. Johnny Macaroni had influence. His gun. The packed Opera Building was hosting a play about a serious subject, when it usually headlines only Shakespearean musicals and other historical pieces. However, this was no musical.
Johnny Macaroni  found his way to the upper balcony and boated his way through the sitting and standing crowds. He soon spotted his entire squad. The male gangsters were all dressed in black stylish tuxedos and his ladies thugs had on their sexy gowns and sporting cheap jewelry that only gave them the appearance of being socialites. Some of Johnny's gang were finding it difficult to except watching a live performance on stage to eating popcorn while attending a good action movie in a theater. The play was about a marriage that was doomed from the start. The ladies seemed except it for what it was worth. Although, Johnny arrived right in the middle of the second act; he knew it was a great play with substance. That was why he recommended to his crew. He dismissed some of this group of having no class whatsoever. They wouldn't know an excellent play if bit them right up in their asses, he thought. 
This had been opening night; most of the patrons were young with a few elderly people who looked to be very old and cranky. All were financially secured. Johnny was sitting next to his lovely friend.  Glory Wilson  seem enjoy the show. She liked Johnny. His name was Johnny Macaroni. The notorious leader of a gang that really served no purpose, but to get rich. He was a nice guy as long as no one crossed him. The very attractive and fit African-American who stood five-foot eight inches and weighed one hundred ninety pounds was only 39 years old. Johnny was handsome guy who sometimes let his appearance do the talking. He took real advantage of his youthfulness and boyish looks.
When Johnny gave an order, he expected it to be carried out and fully executed. Failure was a word that was not in his vocabulary. When he talked they better listen. He was the man. Johnny had class along with a moderate education. He didn't like others who talked to him as if he was stupid. It only insulted his intelligence. He didn't like liars and inadequacy. However, with most people, they quickly learned what he was all about. Especially when he showed them his gun and temper. 
Johnny looked around at the congestive and excited audience, still trying to get to most out of his gang. Glory Wilson an African-American female, a good looker. She possessed a big wide ass and huge breasts along with a fine curvy body that most men would literally kill for. It made up for her lack of a formal education. She seduced with her body. However, she had a small heart, but lots of leadership abilities. As long as she kept her focus and determination. Glory would do anything Johnny wanted her too. Her light brown complexion and athletic build accented her cute face. Glory was 30 years old, and the same height as Johnny. They had been childhood friends. They began making love in their early teens and that spilled over into their very young adult years. However, they never really formed a real relationship together. She had always been apart of whatever Johnny decided to put together. She loved him, however, he loved life more, and she knew  that all so well.
Billy Boy they called him. He was a big mean dark brown looking dude. He sounded real ghetto when he talked. However, they all knew his real name, but it didn't matter how intelligent he was. He got the job done.  Big man sort of resembled a goat. He didn't mind the nickname at all. It made him feel young. Billy Boy was very effective at what he did and that was good. If Johnny gave him an order to kill anyone in the world, he or she was good as dead. Billy Boy was a team player. However, off to himself at times. He was forever loyal to Johnny. He was 31 years old, six feet, two hundred pounds, and Caucasian. He only joined the gang because he needed somewhere to belong. Billy was a follower and needed a leader to guide him. And that leader was Johnny. Billy Boy could kill and not think about it; this was all about money.
Danny Gibson  was a musician who once played the high E-string so loud on his guitar that he split and pierced the earlobes of a back in the day ninety year old female crooner who once was a singing sensation on stage. She was trying to make a comeback. It was while being a member of a current rock band to where the ordeal occurred.  It all happened in front of a sold out crowd at a local downtown night club. The show was being televised because she was so old, that it made news. The elderly singer was killed while the world watched in horror. The blood gushed right out of her ears until she finally hit the stage floor in front of a stunned live mixed crowd. The local detectives tried to charge Danny with murder for using the high E-string on his guitar as the murder weapon.  They could not make it stick. Because no judge would believe it. However, the band kicked him out of the musical group for other reasons. Johnny Macaroni heard his guitar playing talents that same night and liked his style soon asked him to join his own merry band and play some of that deadly music for lots of money. Danny was interested. Therefore, anytime Johnny wanted someone dead, he had a choice to do it the old fashion way with a gun or play a groove.
Danny would literally always provide lethal dose of soul music. Because of that, he was the man. And most people who came to see him play they listened with caution. Danny Gibson was a African-American music man. He had a hard face. He grew up in Peoria, Illinois, listening to all kinds of music. He was a big fan of BB King, Eric Clapton, George Benson, and the more current and modern day entertainers. He tolerated the dying genre of rap music and thought it was good street music he and others could to relate. Most rappers were from the streets and jails, like him, and it went over well with self-appointed thugs like he thought he was. Danny could play anything. He played what the crowd requested, no matter what that was. For a young man, he had no problem of getting into that era's music scene because he never lacked needed talent. If the money was right he'd play it all. However, every genre of music was now on a respirator and life support. Sadly, jazz was all but dead.Johnny still loved it. Some music producers were looking for much younger artists who were all into the hiphop scene. Still jobs were drying up for Danny. Some people no longer supported good music. 
Gibson looked to be about 30, with a face that looked as if could have been carved out of stone that wreaked with confidence. He was a dark skinny black dude who had good taste in clothes. He loved his turtle neck sweaters, no matter what the weather. He learned to play the guitar at an early age. The instrument was his constant companion. He was almost never without it.  For tonight with a meeting with Johnny, he made an exception.
Baby Girl  was not an opera fan. She was just there because that is where her boss said to meet. She was short, fat, black, and almost bald for a young woman. Her real name was Debra Brown. Her claim to fame was talking loud to drown out others who prove to be more informed than she was on many subjects. She was a very ignorant arrogant sounding woman, however, Macaroni understood her very well. She was about 25 years old, grew up with both mother and father on hard illegal drugs. She was the only child. Her daddy raped her at the age of nine, while her mother watched. Soon mother and father move away and left her at the age ten. Therefore, in and out of shelters, she just practically raised herself. In school, she was only an average student. It seemed like every time there was a conversation with the gang or anybody, she always wanted the last word on everything. After a killing, the excitement made her nipples stand out like two double barrel shotguns. She was from Chicago. A general education was the furthest from her thoughts. She spoke that uneducated street and ghetto lingo like a professional. However, she was not dumb girl. When it came to breaking the law, she was a pro. And Johnny liked that in her.
They called her True Love. That was now her name. And most liked it. She thought her real named sounded too plain, therefore she changed it to True Love. She was very attractive and intelligent. She looked as if she could have been a model or a very beautiful young African-American female lawyer. She was good at manipulating Johnny's enemies. Even Johnny, for that matter. There was no job she couldn't handle. He gave her only light jobs. She was just about the only one along with Johnny who really enjoyed the Granville Opera House and all the shows booked there. True Love had class and style. Her favorite pastime was shopping. She was the only one of the group that had a college education. She majored in Sociology. So why would a gorgeous five foot seven lovely lady wants to be a part of an organization of crime with solid credentials in bloody murder? Who knows. It was no doubt she loved money, and all the drama that came with it. With her good looks, firm body, and much schooling, men were always trying to seduce her. So what else was new? She decided long ago that she didn't want to work a normal nine to five for a living. That kind of life was too slow for her. Johnny met her coming out of a bookstore. She was an avid reader. She was floored by the impeccable stylish suit he was wearing at the time. An expensive suit he styled himself. However, Johnny didn't style all his clothes. Sometimes he just grabbed whatever outfit that was nearby and wore it that for the day. He made it all look good.
The auditorium and its backstage areas occupied approximately one-third of the total space of the building. The distinguishing feature on the Wacker Drive side of the Granville Opera Building is the colonnaded portico that runs the entire length of the building. At the south end, large bronze doors open onto the grand foyer of the Granville Opera House, whose gilt cornices glitter beneath the sparkling lights of Canadian Crystal Chandeliers and its elaborately stenciled ceilings.
The magnificent space features a floor and wainscoting of pink and gray Tennessee marble, and fluted Roman Travertine columns and pilasters. The 40-foot-high columns are topped with carved capitals covered in gold leaf. In early 1994 the space was named the Daniel F. and Ada L. Rice Grand Foyer in honor of major contributors. An imposing grand double staircase leads to the mezzanine level, where there are thirty-two boxes. Above those boxes are two more balconies; each with 900 seats. The entire murderous gang was there amidst one of the world greatest orchestras, The Granville Symphony Orchestra.
"What happened Johnny?" asked Glory Wilson. "You're late, you have on a different suit, and you smell like the bowels of a sewer rat." The others had also sense the smell on Johnny, too. But he didn't care. He was there to take care of business.
"What happened baby?" Glory asked, as Johnny adjusts his tall lanky body into his leather back seat. He sternly looked at Glory Wilson.
"That shit as been dealt with," he said. He then tells the story. Glory smiles and takes her right hand and put it on the left side of the gangster face and turns it towards the play in progress. Moments later when their eyes met again. Johnny was still explaining to her what had happened to him on his way to the Opera House.
"I'm wet too, Johnny." Glory said, as she ran her tongue across her red full lips. 
Danny Gibson leans forward from a few seats further down to get a view of his boss.
"Johnny how long are we going to have to sit through this bullshit?" he asked.
"What you don't like about the Opera?" That voice came from True Love, another gang member.  Danny leaned back and fell silent. Billy Boy fumbled and evoked.
"This is my first time attending an opera. I could really get into this." Baby Girl sounded off. 

 "It's  the singing  I can't understand what they are saying," she replied.
"You are not really suppose to understand the singing, but only to justify the emotion behind the story and to listen for the  quality and range of the singer's voice." Johnny said with scorn. He was upset that they didn't like the production.
"Some of you fucks need some class," he said.  Baby Girl appeared wounded by the tone of voice espoused by Johnny.
"Johnny  next time I would like to hear some modern day rap or see a Jim Starlight concert, please. And some great pop or hiphop sounds" Danny said, with an attitude.
Johnny really didn't  give a damn what his associates thoughts were about the production, as long as they did what they were told and didn't fuck-up. He needed an alibi and the opera house was it. As far he was concern this was the one. Earlier in the day, Macaroni sent two of his boys, Damn Right and Jack Shit to the north side of the city to the Presidential Waters Hotel, a beautiful and elegant six star elaborate structure of 34 floors and 233 rooms including special suites for the plain old rich folks. The hotel itself was located in the heart of Lincoln Park. The community was filled with the very upper and middle class young affluent professional residents. They were educated black and white young people and others from all walks of life. Some were married or just living, learning, and giving together. The mostly gay community was filled with college kids. Lincoln Park was known as one of Chicago's greatest community. Shopping and the rest of the business areas were within walking distance of The Lincoln Train Station. The Lincoln Shopping Mall was the favorite place of the young urbanites. Also there was a Lincoln Theatre District. Great movies were always in abundance. Still this small Chicago blue and white collar community was always busting at the seams with pedestrian and vehicular traffic. These were young busy people were going on day after day with their lives. They all appeared to be very happy with their existence.
The Presidential Waters Hotel was established in 1954, and it is historically beautiful. It was restored in a grand American manner and offers classic old-world charm and elegance. The building was within the walking distance of the Great Water House Plaza. Its attractive guests rooms were carefully detailed for the business traveler. A coffee maker and complimentary wine in every room. There were irons and hairdryers in all rooms, whether the customers needed them or not. It had high definition and plasma televisions in all the rooms with free cable, satellite, and Internet connections. There were the free USA Today daily newspapers delivered before 7am each morning to every room. The exercise rooms were mounted with steppers and cycles for life fitness. Alarm digital radios were also in the rooms for the early check out guests. The hotel had countless of amenities and capabilities for the annual convention visitors and families on vacation. The executive suites and lounges were fabulous. The housekeeping staff kept the rooms clean smelling great; after each checkout the guests always left the cleaning crew with great gratuities to show much appreciation. However, some thought that it was no better than any other Loop hotel. Even though, it had more rooms to contain the stream of visitors that flowed in from O'Hare Airport.
Jack Shit and Damn Right walked around in their spacious suite surveying the room as if they were marching on a floor with soft cushions. If a pin dropped to the floor, they'd be ready to draw their guns and start firing. The two were pacing all around the room in different directions, looking up and then peering down again with facial expressions that could cause the Titanic to re-surface. They were waiting on word from their boss.
Jack Shit formally known as Bob Reynolds. He was stone faced, but confident looking. He possessed a nose that appeared to have been broken several times and thin lips. He once worked as a male nurse until he received his calling. The name Bob Reynolds sounded too much like a use car salesman, and that is exactly what he became.  He literally threw his white smock away. One day he became completely pissed off. Like so many others, he had been over worked and grossly under paid. He was only 33 years old and felt he was being taken advantage of. He had gotten so upset at all the overtime that the company forced him to do for no extra pay. The nerve.  It interfered with him seeing his two small kids. He had been married twice. He was a good father when it came to support for his three small children. Bob needed to see them once in a while, but double and triple duty of selling cars prevented that. He knew the company didn't care about his him or his children. Bob was such a good salesman, an asset of his employers, that his customers recommended him to many of their friends.  The revenues from his sales skyrocketed even more for the company. However, he had really gotten tired of pretending to be happy. He was especially was tired of being extra nice to rude people.
He soon made an effort to leave his so-so paying commissioned job to become a big city alderman. Bob decided he wanted to work in city government. So one day he took his salesmanship skills and stiff demeanor down to Chicago City Hall and up the Board of Elections and told the thirty-something year old fat African-American clerk that he wanted to run for alderman of his relatively immigrant community. He registered and she gave him a few petitions to be signed. He needed to gather at least five thousand signatures of registered voters to be eligible and placed on the city's upcoming ballot.
He soon left city hall with documents tucked under his arm. 
              

GEORGE WILDER JR. 

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Ruthless

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George Wilder Jr.

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It’s a  shame, no, it’s a crime shame. We the the people of all walks of life, cannot trust the people who are responsible to keep our personal and private information safe. The very people that we trust our information too, are the same ones who are stealing it. It's on the television news stations almost everyday. Some bank employees are cleaning out our bank accounts. Some of them are diverting our savings and checking accounts into their own and individual personal accounts while they are at work. An employee who decides he or she  is tired of working at dead end jobs, therefore, they pull up a few pin numbers on the bank computer that belong to their depositors, and then decides to take a vacation in the Caribbean. And when we go to withdraw our money, nothing is there. No wonder so many people are starting to stuff their money in mattress of their beds.

At the driver’s license facilities, the people you give your information too, are bank rolling it.  These thugs are ripping off social security numbers, addresses, and bank information of people who must give them their personal information in order to get their driver’s license renewed. Among other things. The Social Security Adminstration, the place to go to get a social security card, among other things, may be filled with employees who may steal a client's identity at some time during their employment. Department of Human Services could be saturated  with people who are very rude to those who have the right to ask for and get legitimate information. At some car dealerships, the salesman or saleswoman may hit a wrong key on his or her computer, and lose every account number belonging to all of their customers. And for this mistake, everyone gets  behind in their individual payments. And all some of them can say is that they made an error, and that they are only human, while our life savings and payment histories are maybe lost forever.

People who work at large phone companies and other public agencies, some again are very rude, unknowledgable, fast talkers, and dishonest. Some could be just bent on getting the most money out of the consumer as much possible. There is more thievery going on in these places and others like them, then anyone could ever imagine, shopping on the internet is lot safer, the past Christmas sales have proven that.  Again, every time I turned on the evening news, some employees has stolen bank accounts and cleaned all the customer’s cash out.

People in those jobs may not start out to steal, it kind grows on them as time goes on. Not everyone at these jobs are crooks, I should make that clear, however, some people may become tired, board, and unhappy at not getting on further in their lives or careers, the potential is there for anything.  

When hiring a company should not only check some of these people backgrounds for criminal activity, but also, check their foreground. How long will they stay with the company? After a few years with the company will they become fed-up and decide to steal valuable account information and sell the data to the highest bidder? While the consumer is left penniless. Things have to change and quickly. Large corporations can't seem to keep our information safe, every time finanical data is lost, it is due mostly to incompetence of some of the employees. Who else is there to blame when thousands of people  financial information is compromised by these large companies?  In the meantime, like it has been reported, keep constant watch of your finanaces, always check credit ratings, and get a free credit reports. Lets just hope that some of these people can get their acts togeher.

      At the writing of this, I live in Chicago and at the start of  December it has been a brutally cold  winter, and it had been that way long before winter had even officially begun, at lease by the calendar for 2005. This was was the kind of cold that had even killed a few people. It was the kind of cold that no one wanted their children to go out into, or themselves for that matter. As I have written about in one of my fictional books, some of the weather people on TV sometimes seem to get it wrong. And then some of them try to gloss over their mistakes with a smile, and say it wasn't like we first thought. And I guest most of us have to forgive them, after all it's only the weather. And a lot of us had to truck our small kids out in the cold stuff everyday for school. Most people who have to be out in the hard cold, will be out at some point with a cold or  flu, and other related ailments due to the extreme cold.

It amazes me that even in this harsh, brutal, and biting cold that some young women  and men are the ones that I sometime observe not wanting to dress warmly from the crushing cold. They give all kinds of excuses, especially the women: They won't cover their heads because it will mess up their hair or that it might hide their facial features or some might refuse to wear a full length  heavy coat because it might hide what they really want show. It's okay to want look your best and to show off what God gave you, but when it is biting cold, always dress for the cutting weather. Dressing right for the winter weather will preserve your good looks  for the summertime.  

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