Who invented the mute button? I really don’t know and I’d
like to take them out for drinks and dinner in appreciation. I know Zenith had
one of the first remotes, a contraption with a long wire connected to the
television. Did it have a mute button back then?
Maybe I’m getting older. Maybe the times have changed faster
than I have. Again I don’t know. What I do know is that I’m using my mute
button more and more these days. Let me give you a couple of examples on
how I’ve used it in just the past 24 hours. Here’s just a little peak
behind the curtain at the man pulling on the gears and pulleys.
A) I don’t begrudge the pharmaceutical companies
making a commercial or two. Granted they are trying to get you to walk into
your doctor’s office and tell him how to do his job. Unless you have your own
medical degree that doesn’t seem like a smart approach to me, but
it’s a free world. Where my use of the mute button come in is the list of side
effects which seem to be getting ever more graphic and long with each commercial.
I can wait till you’re over and I can return to whatever pleasant entertainment
I was watching. Thank you.
B) Lord, it’s starting all over again! I thought
we just finished electing people. When it comes to politics, I follow the
philosophy espoused by House M. D. when he spoke of his hospital patients, Everybody Lies. Republican,
Democrat, Unicorn-atarian, they all lie. Until November a Year from now, I will
keep the politicians muted and at the last moment read what I consider the
appropriate literature and reviews and cast my vote.
My name is Kevin Henry and I approve this message.
Amber Legacy
Amber Gifts Series
Book 3
Kevin B Henry
Genre: Sci-Fi, Fantasy, Time Travel
Publisher:Champagne Books, Burst
Date of Publication: November 03, 2015
ISBN: 978-1-77155-209-7
Number of pages: 78
Word Count: 25,000
Cover Artist: Ellie Smith
Tag line: A simple research project goes horribly wrong once murder and time travel get involved.
Book Description:
Mitchell and Crystin are living on the west coast of Florida in the Seventies. He has the beginnings of a loving family and couldn't be happier. It’s remarkable how quickly things can change. Perhaps the fate of a Teithwyr Amser is to never be stable, never find love without defending it against the rest of the world, against evil and against the fabric of time itself.
A simple TV documentary will spin Mitchell out of control as he first attempts to prove the filmmakers wrong and then ultimately find and protect his new family from a monster of his own creating.
Available at Amazon
Excerpt:
Part of me was
like some detached, immature schoolboy. I was the hero, bound for adventure and
looking for the infamous villain with hope of making all things right and
returning to the hearth fires of my home, victorious. I was Robert Downey Jr.
playing Sherlock Holmes. I was John Wayne playing almost any role. Hell, I was
David Tennant playing The Doctor.
The problem was,
I wasn’t playing, and if I wasn’t real damn careful I was going to end up
playing John Wayne in The Cowboys or even worse, William Shatner in
Generations. God, please make my death scene more interesting and meaningful
than that. These thoughts poured through my brain as I walked across the
street.
By the time I
reached the opposite side I exuded cool, matter of fact demeanor and displayed
no heroics. Simple confidence was my copilot. Caution was my mantra. I had an
almost-wife and a beautiful baby girl to return to.
I took a winding
path that led me to Commercial Road. The darkness was all engulfing. More than
half the lampposts were not functioning. It cast every turn, every alleyway,
every alcove in total blackness. I walked cautiously but without any appearance
of trepidation. I did not want to appear an easy target.
Women of
questionable morality approached and quickly departed. I was polite, but firm
in my refusals. There was certainly no questioning their hygiene or their state
of inebriation. A very high percentage of the female residents of Whitechapel
turned to prostitution. Most began as a way to make a living, but as they turned
more and more to alcohol to erase their memories, the act became more about the
next drink and less about the money. Most could be had for the cost of a shot
of gin, about fifty cents.
The first
victim, Polly, went out one last time the evening of her death because she
thought she looked exceptionally well. She had a new bonnet. She had no teeth,
but the hat made all the difference, I’m sure.
I found the cut
off that led south from Commercial Road and made the turn. Less than a block
down this street was the Socialist Club and adjoining the club was a small open
courtyard. As I walked toward the club entrance, I heard a sound I can only
call a muffled gurgle. I sprinted the rest of the way to the courtyard opening.
There, lying on the ground was Elizabeth Stride. Kneeling beside her was the
one and only, Jack the Ripper. He was nothing I had ever expected.
The man stood as
I came to a halt at the courtyard opening. He was much shorter than I would
have expected. I had envisioned a mixture of Vincent Price, Frank Langella, in
his early films and just a hint of Malcolm McDowell, again from his younger
days. This Ripper was none of those.
As I mentioned,
he was not tall, perhaps five foot six, no more than five foot seven. He was
portly. That is the only word I can use to describe him. While his clothes fit
well, they could not conceal his amble midsection, nor his arms and hands,
which I can only describe as doughy.
His face
surprised me the most. I had expected to see an angry, scared, possibly
deformed individual. Jack’s face was almost angelic. It was round, and I would
swear it appeared to have baby fat in the cheeks.
His eyes were
sharp, clear and a grey color. He was perfectly clean-shaven, his light-colored
hair trimmed short and well groomed, perhaps with lard, since styling mousse
would not arrive for many years. I would have expected to see him in a
cathedral pulpit or perhaps in a bank, not hunched over the fresh corpse of an
unlucky prostitute.
About the Author:
From an early age, Kevin B. Henry was a voracious reader. His collection of science fiction, fantasy and mystery books bring tears of envy to the eyes of many small community libraries.
Kevin has worked as an educator, technology specialist and day laborer most of his adult life. During all that time he lived the life of a frustrated author. That it took 30 years for him to piece together the series, Amber Gifts is a testament that the best meals need slow cooking to bring out the flavor.
The Amber Gifts Series begins with Amber Gifts. The second story, which is really the first, is Amber Prelude, and is available now. The third story, Amber Legacy continues where Amber Gifts left off. It will be available in November 2015. All are published by the wonderful folks at the Champagne Book Group. A fourth story is in the process of being written.
Kevin is a natural story teller, so it’s logical that he lectures occasionally. Topics range from the implementation of cutting edge technology hardware to the creation, modification and use of e-books within education. He constantly pursues research to expand his range of possible topics. His most recent research revolved around the aerodynamic properties of reindeer. He’s also been known to include little known facts and trivia within his presentations. Did you know just 146 years ago today the Union Army marched into Atlanta. It took longer than anticipated. They were delayed by a traffic jam on I-75 and the toll booth on Ga. 400
He continues to live in the Mid-West without human or domesticated mammal companionship.
Amber Gifts Series: www.ambergifts.blogspot.com
Champagne Books www.champagnebooks.com
Twitter: @Kevin_Henry
2 comments:
Thank you so much for hosting me on this tour. It's always such a pleasure and I appreciate it very much.
~KbH
You are very welcome :-)
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