Everyday Junglist
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About me. You know how everyone says to be a successful writer you should focus in one or two areas. I continue to prove them correct.
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The Covidian
Superhero Name: The Covidian Secret Identity/Alter Ego: Ill tempered Holiday Inn Express hotel manager Stephen Franks Origin Story: Stephen Franks is the only man in the world confirmed to have been infected with the original Covid-19 strain and all 26 known variants. During his 27th bought of the disease, he developed severe encephalitis and the resultant nerve damage in the brain caused him to develop a number of what have been characterized as "superhuman" abilities. He also developed a neurological disorder similar to Bells Palsy which resulted in a severe lisp, permanent paralysis of the left side of his face, drooping of his eyebrows and mouth, drooling from the right side of his mouth, difficulty closing one eyelid, and severe facial pain along with disordered movement of the muscles that control facial expressions, loss of the sense of taste on the front 2/3 of his tongue, and chronic tinnitus. He uses his superpowers to fight the greed and laziness of the hospitality industry whom he claims used Covid-19 an excuse to cut costs and reduce quality rather than as a source of severe disfigurement and painful disease as he did. He discovered his superpowers by accident on the day he learned of the new 5pm closing time for all hotel pools in his hometown of Cleveland, Ohio which the hotel chains attributed to a shortage of lifeguards caused by Covid-19. The move was expected to save the hotels an estimated 1.5 billion dollars in combined labor and lawsuit avoidance costs. Stephen's anger at that policy caused two of his super abilities to activate. Eventually he would learn that all of his powers could be activated by anger and/or disgust.
By Everyday Junglistabout a year ago in Fiction
The War of the Americas
Author's preface: To this point I have been dual publishing each installment in the series in both the Fiction and Chapters communities on Vocal. That has been a real pain in the butt to keep up with so going forward this series will be published only in the Fiction community, and I will return to using the convention "Part" to refer to each installment in the series. I will also use the shorter version of the title which is officially "The War of the Americas." I have also been trying to include links to each of the earlier installments in every story, but unfortunately it is too much of a pain to do that every time so going forward I will try to include those links on at least every other part.. If you go to my profile page you can find all the parts of the story there. Wish there was a way I could organize them in one place there for easy reference, unfortunately Vocal does not provide that functionality. In any case my profile page can be found here.
By Everyday Junglistabout a year ago in Fiction
The War of the Americas - Chapter VII
Author's preface: The earlier parts of the story can be found at the links. Chapter I, II, III, IV, V, VI Sylvia sat quietly in the very back row of the heavily armored prisoner transport bus with her head down and her hands ziptied behind her back. Four Mexican soldiers armed with FX-05 Xiuhcoatl rifles patrolled the aisle of the bus which currently was home to Sylvia and at least fifty other American POWs. All had been recently arrested after they were declared enemy combatants following the United States bombing of several targets along the US Mexican border including the city of Tijuana and the (formerly) busiest land border crossing in the world at San Ysidro. That crossing had been reduced to a smoldering pile of rubble by US cruise missiles launched from just offshore, killing hundreds, including at least 150 US customs and border patrol agents who had not been prewarned about the surprise attack. Sylvia was well acquainted with firearms and had great respect for the FX-05 assault rifle which was designed and built by the Dirección General de Industria Militar del Ejército (General Directorate of Military Industry of the Army) through the Fabricas Militares (Military Factory). The name translated roughly as "Fire Serpent", or literally "Turquoise-Serpent" in classical Nahuatl, a language with which Sylvia was only passingly familiar, unlike the six other languages she spoke fluently which included Latin, Ancient Greek, and Middle Egyptian along with Spanish, English, Italian, and German. The fact that she was fluent in Spanish or any other language was something she kept secret from the Mexicans and everyone else. The more they saw her as just another ignorant American the better. Her knowledge of Spanish had allowed her to learn a few things the guards had spoken amongst themselves thinking no one would understand. Importantly, she had heard that the war against Mexico was not at all popular in the United States. Donald Trump had gravely miscalculated the appetite of the average American for bloodshed, especially when it was American's blood that was being shed. The families of the CBP agents killed in the bombing of San Ysidro border crossing had rallied a huge number of Americans to their sides in protest and marched on Washington en masse. Thousands or even tens of thousands of Americans had been arrested and imprisoned in makeshift prison camps scattered around the Washington DC area. She and the other prisoners had been constantly on the move for almost a week. Changing from bus to bus as they slowly made there way to wherever it was they were going. She had learned that they were still in the Mexican border state of Baja, California and were heading to a newly erected prison camp somewhere just south of Mexicali. She had feared they would be flown to the mainland and imprisoned there, but at least for now that did not seem to be the plan. Sylvia was very afraid of what she might find when they finally did reach their destination. She had only been interrogated perfunctorily when initially arrested, a fact she was puzzled by, but knew a much more serious interrogation lay in wait for her. She had been rehearsing her cover story and was prepared for anything they might throw at her. The fact that she had been rehearsing and preparing a similar cover story to use with her own husband had she not decided to tell him about her new job with the CIA made the process much easier. The CIA had also helped her considerably in this regard by making sure she had rock solid alibis in place for each and every place she would claim to have been, and every thing she would claim to have done and been doing over the past almost two years of living in Mexico and working in the United States.
By Everyday Junglistabout a year ago in Chapters
The War of the Americas - Chapter VI
Dom opened his eyes and for a moment he thought he was in his own bed. He rolled over expecting to see his wife Sylvia lying next to him. Instead he saw a man in dress uniform looking down at him. Suddenly his memories rushed back and he recalled the dizzying events of the the past day. The US bombing of Mexico, the arrest order for all US citizens living in Mexico, Sylvia's calling her new employers for help, the arrival of the SEAL team, the death of his two beloved dogs, his wife's decision to stay behind, and his own decision to lie to the SEALs and say she had been killed. He winced as he recalled the gruesome death of the young Mexican soldier only inches from his own face. His mind replayed the moment when his head broke into pieces from the impact of a SEAL sniper round. He put his hand to his own face expecting the blood and bone chips to still be there, but they had all been wiped away and he was clean, though he desperately needed a shave. It had been a long while since he had any time to even think about grooming. His long, wavy black hair must look like a bees nest he thought before chastising himself for worrying about his appearance at a time like this. The last thing he remembered was the sands of the beach exploding all around as he and the SEAL team boarded the small RIB and raced north as quickly as they were able. He managed to prop himself up onto one elbow just as the man standing next to his bed spoke "Dr. Platt, How are you feeling? My name is Lieutenant Tim Stephens, medical officer aboard the USS Jack H. Lucas, but everyone calls her the Luke or Cool Hand Luke for short. On behalf of the Navy I would like to officially welcome you aboard and express my sincerest sympathies at the death of your wife. We are now officially at war with Mexico and sadly she will not be the last American to die I'm afraid." He paused there. Dom had heard the genuine sadness in the young Lieutenants voice, and it was reflected in his dark brown eyes. He was grateful for the expression of sympathy, even if it was misplaced. His wife was not dead. His dogs however, were, and his emotional reaction to that terrible news once again played to his advantage as tears came to his eyes almost immediately as he thought of them. Lieutenant Stephens of course thought they were for his wife and continued to stand silently over him waiting patiently for Dom to get his emotions under control some until saying anything more. Before he could speak again there was a banging at the door of the small medical room where Dom had been brought to rest and recover. It swung open and two men in suits and wearing dark sunglasses strode into the room. One of them spoke "Lieutenant Stephens you are dismissed, we need to speak with Dr. Platt, now." It was strange to see two men who appeared to be civilians summarily dismiss a Navy officer and Dom fully expected some protest from the Lieutenant, but instead he simply nodded his head and quickly moved out of the room, shutting the door behind him as he went.
By Everyday Junglistabout a year ago in Chapters
On Burning Bridges the Right Way. Top Story - August 2024.
When one chooses or is forced to leave a group with which one has been associated for an extended period of time one of the most oft heard pieces of advice is how important it is that one "not burn any bridges" on their way out the door. This advice is said to apply no matter the circumstances (good, bad, or neutral) of ones leaving of the particular group. However, it is most often spoken of in the case of unfriendly or forced departures. In those instances, the idea is that the relationships (the bridges) one has nurtured within the group over time, are more important than any particular action(s) of any person(s) in the group that resulted in said individual being forced out against his or her will. In the case of large organizations it may be that the person(s) responsible for the forced ejection of the individual are very far removed from that persons actual day to day "life" in the organization, and thus do not have much of a relationship (bridge) to begin with, and thus would likely be at least partially exempt from the standard advice on the importance of not burning bridges. More commonly however, forcing an individual to leave a group against their will almost always requires the direct 'negative' intervention of one or more other individuals in the group that the leaver does know and usually knows very well. I use the word negative in this case only because from the perspective of the individual being forced to leave (the leaver) the outcome is (at least perceived to be) a negative. If it were not they would not protest at being asked/forced to leave. In most cases, the person being forced out of the group probably has some personal relationships with the persons whose interventions (whatever they may be) have in some way led to their forced departure from the group, and these relationships may have been positive, negative, or neutral from the leavers point of view.
By Everyday Junglistabout a year ago in Humans
Why I Do Not Subscribe to Other Writers on Vocal
I sometimes get requests to subscribe to writers on Vocal or to like or follow others on various writing platforms. For a very long time, basically since I first started publishing regularly online way back in the day on Medium when it first began, I have had an informal policy of not doing it. I recognized from those very early days that such a stance was ultimately self defeating. If everyone thought and acted as I did, there would be no need for people like myself or platforms like Vocal or Medium or countless others. However, much like in life in general, when it comes to my contributions to the written world, I very much consider myself almost exclusively a content provider and not a content consumer. There are, and always will be, a plethora of content consumers as there are consumers of just about anything and everything. Being a consumer of something requires very little to no effort or skill, it does require some committment and sometimes access to financial or other resources, but beyond that anyone can do it. Yes, many consumers are very much dedicated to consuming quality content only, and they put much effort into trying to ensure that the content they do consume is in fact of a high quality (according to them). However, they are probably only a minority of consumers overall, and they still must admit that it does not take any particular skill or specific, unattainable knowledge, to do what they do. It just takes patience and effort and dedication. It is for these people that I do what I do and I am so very grateful for their support when I do get it which is very rarely. This might mean the quality of the content I provide is not nearly as high as I hope and believe, or it might support my contention that there are not that many of that type of consumer. It really doesn't matter in the end because it does not alter my commitment to targeting that audience, nor does it change my belief in the importance of creating and providing high quality content (from my perspective).
By Everyday Junglistabout a year ago in Writers
C.H.U.D
The Humboldt quid is also known as the jumbo squid or jumbo flying squid in English and in Spanish as calamar gigante or jibia or pota. They have a propensity for rapid flashing of the colors red and white when captured and because of this are also known as diablo rojo ('red devil'). It is the largest of the Ommastrephid squids, with some individuals reaching 1.5 m (5 ft) in mantle (body) length and weighing upwards of 50 kg (110 lb). The mantle makes up at least half of the animals mass and includes the fins or wings. The remaining portion is roughly split between the arms and tentacles and the head (including eyes and beak). They possess two tentacles each carrying between 100 and 200 suckers. The suckers are lined with razor sharp teeth or hooks which they use to grasp prey and drag it toward their very large and very sharp beak.
By Everyday Junglistabout a year ago in Fiction
The War of the Americas - Chapter V
Author's preface: Previous chapters can be found at the links. Chapter 1, 2, 3, 4 "Where is Mrs. Platt?" The Seal again barked at Dom. Dom's mind reeled as he sought to provide an answer that would satisfy. He knew that if he told the soldier his wife was still in the house he would insist on a rescue attempt, and very likely would succeed. Dom was sorely tempted to do just that as it would result in what he very much wanted, Sylvia with him as they fled Mexico. However, she had told him she wanted to stay, that she needed to stay. He knew in his heart that she might never forgive him if he did not give her that chance. And, he knew, that ultimately she was right. She could do much more good for the war effort from behind enemy lines then with him safe in America. Having made up his mind he replied "She's dead." The Seals eyes widened "What? Are you sure? Are you one hundred percent certain?" The tears still in his eyes over the death of his two beloved dogs likely helped him sell the lie as he replied "Yes, I am certain. All she was doing was trying to stop the dog. She made a move to block him, and the Mexican soldiers just opened fire. She was shot multiple times. In the head and the body. No one could have survived. She is dead. Let's go." The seal radioed to his team that he and Dr. Platt were on the way out, back to the RIB. He instructed them to provide covering fire if needed and prepare for immediate departure. They both turned and raced down the long winding stairs to the beach as quickly as they were able. They faced no resistance and quickly reached the bottom, where sat the waiting RIB along with the four other SEALs that made up the extraction team. Dom had never even seen them until they were almost on top of them. Their camo was expertly crafted to the environment and their movements so precise and practiced they appeared as if ghosts out of the sands of the beach. They had all embarked onto the small boat when the first gunshots rang out. The sands of the beach exploded all about and rained down on them as the boat raced away at full speed. They heard shouts and a few bullets that whipped by their heads much too close for comfort though fortunately none found their mark and they were out of range within moments. Dom worried about any Mexican patrol boats that might be launched to intercept them from the Coronados. He did not know that the SEALs had already closely reviewed intelligence data on the islands from US spy satellites and concluded their was no real threat. The few small boats the Mexicans kept there were not fast enough or well armed enough to threaten the SEALs especially with US close air support launched from San Diego or the many US Navy aircraft carriers in the region only minutes away if needed.
By Everyday Junglistabout a year ago in Chapters
Humboldt Hypnosis
Author's preface: Any materials in quotations or italicized below may have been taken directly from the source page (Wikipedia in all cases) or lightly modified. The modifications may have rendered the material no longer scientifically accurate (of course no guarantee it was to begin with), or it may not have. The reader will have to research for themselves if they are that interested in discovering the truth of the matter.
By Everyday Junglistabout a year ago in Fiction
If a Lot of People Believe a Thing It Must Be True
If a lot of people believe a thing it is probably or must be true is a classical cognitive bias and logical fallacy. It is an offshoot of the obvious proposition that a lot of a falsehood (or that a lot of people believe a falsehood) does not make the falsehood less false or true, nor does it make it more false, though it is a bit strange to think of it in those terms. If something is wrong, in error, or false, what any one or any ten million people believe about it, makes no difference, it is still false. This bias is most often observed in social circles when rumors about a particular person which are false start to become believed as true as more and more people are exposed to the falsehood. It only takes one person to express belief in the falsehood to trigger this domino effect. And once the dominos begin to fall it becomes harder and harder to stop them from falling and they fall faster and faster and faster. It is so easy to fall into his trap, particular if you are the victim of such false rumor mongering and you are searching for ways to fight back against your accusor or accusors. You may pick up certain pieces of information (beliefs of others), and you may believe them as well, but they may very well be false. Even if you hear the same beliefs expressed by others, even many others, that does not change their truth value. The belief could still be false or wrong or in error. Do not use the fact that many people tell you they believe something to assign it a high probability of being true, for it has no higher probability of being true than a thing which is believed by only one person. A belief is not a fact and this is a thing which is very hard to remember and very hard to disentangle in actual practice. When does a belief become a fact? A question that has been asked by philosophers since time immemorial with no answer yet forthcoming. A favorite of many is a belief becomes (is) a fact when it corresponds with reality, when it is actually the case. It is phrased a million different ways of course, but no matter how you parse it, ultimately it begs the question, what is reality and who is the judge of reality? Isn't reality just what we all believe about what is real? and thus we are brought back full circle to beliefs and have made zero progress.
By Everyday Junglistabout a year ago in Psyche
Commertisements
If you are a shitty writer like myself, and if you are regularly publishing here, you probably are. It is also highly like then, that, like myself, you have a fragile ego, which constantly needs reassurance in the form of positive comments on your works in order to prevent you from sinking into the deepest and darkest of depressions. Further, you no doubt tend to respond to comments which stroke said ego preferentially to those which do whatever the opposite of stroking is, or have little effect on it. If you are at all like me in other ways, almost certainly you are not, however, it still may be true that you make an effort to respond to every comment anyone posts on something you publish. You do this because you are genuinely thankful that someone, anyone, would take time out of their busy schedule to not only read something you published online, but also then to comment on it. Reading something takes very little effort or commitment, but reading something and thinking about it enough, or for it to have enough of an impact on you, that it inspires you to actually say something about it, for good or ill, is pretty darn amazing in my book. Of course my book is about as popular as the rest of my writings, and no doubt just as full of run on sentences and unusual or ungrammatical constructs plus loads of made up words like ungrammatical, so what the fuck do I know. Obviously not very much, however one thing I do know is that fucking with the sanctity of the comments section on my writings really pisses me off. And using them as a place to insert your shitty advertisements for whatever stupid shit pisses me off even more. Using my own fragile ego against me really seriously pisses me off. So, what am I going to do about it you may be asking yourself if you have not long ago clicked away to watch a cat video on You Tube or anything else more interesting then this. This is what I am going to do about it. Bitch and moan about it like a big fucking crybaby. That is my preferred method of dealing with most things that piss me off, and many things do. Much to my wife's unending dismay. I guess ultimately my message is please stop wasting my time with this shit in my comments. And, what do you think of the new word I invented? Pretty cool right? A little on the nose but whatever it gets the job done. One of these days I am going to compile all the words I have invented over the years and publish them. I shall call it a dictionary. Dan's dictionary. Wow. I am sure it will be at least as popular as all my other written works. Amazing when you think about it. Don't think about it. I try not to. It is very depressing.
By Everyday Junglistabout a year ago in Writers
