THE PIRATE COTTAGE is moving one week from today to Brigham City, Utah.

 

Rita and I are both from small towns (Elko, NV and Sheridan, WY respectively). Brigham City is about the population of our childhood homes, and we're still within an hour of the Salt Lake City airport should we need to go anywhere. Thanks to the Internet, I can conduct guerrilla warfare and continue to write novels the goal of which is to…well…short-circuit people's brains.

It's only a mater of time until my TIME MAGAZINE op-ed piece on finally stomping out cybercrime (see https://lnkd.in/gXkKUKMZ) becomes the only acknowledged solution to today's plague. How long are my old buddies Larry Ellison and Marc Benioff going to put up with the inadequate protection offered by Congress?

Sincerely yours,
Rick Bennett
Hit Man

Remembering My Old Man

He'd be about to turn 103 this Father's Day. At 97, I still worked NYT crossword puzzles with him, and played brain twisters with him from the Seattle newspapers.

When I was 12 years old, he said, "Rick, you're old enough to play cards for money. If I win, you and your brother Marsh work for me all summer. But if you win, you split the winnings." Since he was one of 23 attorneys in a town of 10,000 people (Sheridan, Wyoming), the law practice was his hobby. He supported the family as a professional gambler.

I agreed to play the Hollywood/Oklahoma version of Gin Rummy for a penny a point (my brother swallowed hard when I took the bet). But I had a pretty good memory for cards and cleaned out dear old dad. That was the best summer me and my brother ever had.

Happy Father's Day, Dad.

In Memoriam: The Candy Bomber and Frank Herbert.

 

In this last week since Memorial Day, I've been thinking about two of my heroes who I hope got to meet in the hereafter: Gail Halvorsen, the famous WWII CANDY BOMBER, and Frank Herbert, author of DUNE with whom I became friends and who urged me to run for congress in 1978. I see Halverson's son amost every week as I work in the Draper Temple of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. And I'm about to submit a homage to Herbert in a novella THE TACTFUL SABOTEUR. When Frank sponsored my almost-successful race for congress, he said I reminded him of his short-story character "The Tactful Saboteur." My novella is a modern-day update of the concept. But this isn't about me or my writing. I just want to reminisce on two people who dramatically affected my creative view. Halverson makes me try to emulate the charity of the CANDY BOMBER, and Herbert gives me a shining star toward which I strive in my writing. Anyhow, Gail and Frank, I hope you got to meet in the far beyond. Sincerely Yours, Rick Bennett Ad Hit Man

One of my writer's group designed an Earth Day postage stamp when he was 13 years old.

 

The third Thursday night of every month for the last 11 years, a writer's group meets at my house to critique each other's novels-in-progress. Over that time, we've published seven novels (with 5 more in process), one anthology of award winning short stories, and are negotiating movie/television deals.

One of our cabal is Brian C Hailes, who is also one of the judges of Galaxy Press's ILLUSTRATORS OF THE FUTURE contest. At 13 years old, Brian competed with 150,000 grade school children in an environmental design contest sponsored by the USPS and McDonalds. He was one of 4 winners, and for the first time the USPS actually put the designer's name on a postage stamp. 5 million stamps. McDonalds gave him unlimited food for 3 years (a growing teenager's dream come true). And the town of Millville, Utah made Saturday, April 29, 1995 BRIAN HAILES DAY.

Small world. Frank Herbert, author of Dune and one of the creators of EARTH DAY, also supported me when I ran for congress in 1978.

Expect big things from our not-so-fledgling writer's group.

Sincerely yours,
Rick Bennett
Ad Hit Man

I learned all I know about psychology from the 1960 movie PSYCHO.

 

My folks took me and my 12-year-old brother to see Psycho in 1960. Because there wasn't assigned seating yet, my brother and I sat together, and our parents sat elsewhere. Sweet mother! We sat behind an elderly couple who laughed all the way through the scariest movie we'd ever seen. Right then, I came up with my net-net for nut jobs. You're neurotic when you walk into a room, hear someone laughing, and think they're laughing at you. You're psychotic when you walk into a room and hear someone laughing, but there's nobody in the room. Period. Any questions. I have met several bonafide psycopaths in my life. I only dare mention one here, because he's dead and can't show up at my door with a chainsaw. His name was Stanley Dean Baker. I met him in my 8th-grade social studies class in Sheridan, Wyoming. I was showing a friend how to shine sunlight through a magnifying glass and set paper on fire. The next day, good old Dean Baker brought his own mangifying glass and shined it on boxelder bugs crawling across his desk. They'd slow down and then…POP! I can still hear Dean's laugh. But the best part came in high school. Dean took to kidnapping and murdering hitchhikers and then eating them. He finally got caught in a stolen car by a California highway patrolman who probably had to go into therapy for years afterward. Dean said to the officer: "I think I've got a problem," while taking some human fingers out of his pocket and munching on them. I kid you not. Google Stanley Dean Baker. He went to prison and later, as a totally reformed pillar of society, when around to high schools talking about the evils of Satan worship. He's dead now. I have my own private list of psychos for whom I keep checking the social security death index. Whenever one pops up, I may celebrate his leaving Earth in this blog. Sincerely yours, Rick Bennett Ad Hit Man