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Baby Sitter: Fiction from the World of Baron’s ‘Bad Road Rising’

Kraushaar Ford occupied a half block on Michigan Blvd. in Waukesha. It was 11:00 am on a bright Thursday morning in September when Josh kicked out his Harley on the wide concrete apron outside the showroom. Kraushaar Ford was a long, low, gleaming white building with a hint of art deco, a glimpse of the future from a Fifties-era Mechanix Illustrated.

Josh entered the chill interior. It smelled pleasantly of coffee and lemons. A Shelby Mustang sat on the spotless black and white tile floor, presenting its shark-like grin to the public. A young salesman, dapper in a gray suit, headed Josh’s way with a smile plastered across his chin, not unlike the Mustang. At a trim five eleven, wearing a tank top that revealed fully tatted arms and shoulders, Josh looked like a biker.

The Remnant 100

You’ve heard of the 300 defending the “Hot Gates” (Thermopylae)? Well, with apologies to Longfellow, “Listen my children and you shall hear of the 100 men who saved all we hold dear.” You may have also heard or seen the movie Darkest Hour about Churchill, the advent of the Battle of Britain and all that, but the “darkest hour” for the Anglo-Saxon race was not May-June 1940; it was January 878….

When An Overpriced Head of Lettuce Becomes An Attack on Your Masculinity


Mark Goldblatt’s memoir Right Tool for the Job is loaded with hilarious stories and insights into becoming a man.

Excerpt: ‘And That Was When the People in the Trucks Shot Her.’

From Volume 2 of The Lonesome George Chronicles

“A bunch of them were firing at her, and the impact of so many bullets pummeled her into the white cinder blocks and sent the child in her arms tumbling back into the waiting inferno…”  – from Bringing The Fire, page 29 by Roy M. Griffis

Killing Dictators for Fun and Profit: How the Private Sector does Foreign Intervention Better Than the Government

Could a private company do a better job in places like Iraq and Afghanistan than the U.S. government?

10 Photographs: The Joy of a Sunset, Siberian Husky, & New Books

Over the weekend I shot this series of sunset images on Saturday evening as I relaxed and read over two new Liberty Island novels, now available: Justice Inc. and Mad Jones, Heretic.

After 500 Years Rediscover the Meaning of Martin Luther Through Mad Jones, Heretic

The First Book in ‘The Accidental Prophet’ Series Offers a Dazzling 1990s Satire of Religion, Media, Politics, and Sex

For decades Quin Hillyer has established his reputation as a fair-minded journalist, engaged political activist, and principled conservative commentator. Now discover another of this gifted writer’s talents in his debut novel, Mad Jones: Heretic.

Mad Jones, Heretic: An Idol-Smashing Satire of Politics, Religion, Sex, and Media Madness At the 1990s’ End

Discover the bold vision of Quin Hillyer in this first volume of The Accidental Prophet trilogy, Mad Jones, Heretic. Read the first two chapters here! “Mad looked over what he had written. He thought he might be making headway towards some important ideas, but he really didn’t know what, and his mind was too disturbed right now, his heart too pained, for him to really care much where this was leading. All he knew was that after he wrote each thesis, he knew approximately where to look in the Bible, through some trial and error, to make the next thesis follow at least a semi-logical pattern. And that somehow the logic of writing helped mask the pain of grief.”

Justice, Inc : His Business is Revolution. And Business Is Good.

Discover the exhilarating adventure of J.P. Medved’s sci-fi action-thriller Justice Inc:
“The door blew inward in a blinding flash, molten steel and metal shards peppering the room like a shotgun blast. The emir was knocked onto his back. In his shock he thought he heard screams. Two more explosions filled the room with smoke and thunder. The screaming stopped.

Filled now only with an animal sense for self-preservation, the Mighty Emir scrambled to his hands and knees and felt frantically through the debris for his pistol. He was dimly aware, through the ringing in his ears and the dust and blood in his eyes, of the dark shapes moving swiftly toward him from the other side of the room.

Finally his fingers closed on the cool grip of the .45. He slid it from underneath a blackened wooden board, but as he tried to raise it off the floor, a khaki combat boot came slamming down against his wrist. The emir let go of the pistol with a scream. Pain shot up the entire length of his arm as his wrist bones shattered and ground against each other.”