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kitchen-4

“Why would she be better off without you?” Lorraine asked. She handed Bill the beer she brought him.

Bill was sitting on the metal milk cases, resting after having served the waitresses and dishwashers their dinners. He was dog tired. They had done more than expected in a dinner rush that started early and ended late. Jimmy and Grandma did not get out until 11:30, and Bill, just sitting down for the first time, knew he should have been cleaning up. He still had over an hour’s work and that didn’t include the grease.

“What are you talking about?” Bill sipped the beer. He was soaked. His underwear had soaked through, his shirt too. The cool night air chilled him immediately as it blew in from the open back door.

“The other night. You said your fiancé would be better off without you.”

“Did I?” Bill stood up. “I can’t stay out here. I’m too wet and I’m getting chilled.” He led Lorraine into the kitchen. She stood by the knife sheath. He stood in front of the Garland and let the heat come out at him to warm him up.

“You don’t remember?”

“I remember everything.”

“So, answer my question.”

“It’s been on your mind all this time?”

“In a nutshell, yes.”

“Why you care?”

“Cause I care about you. I mean you’re more than just some fun sometimes. I know you care about me.”

“How you know that?”

“You could have had my job but you didn’t go after it. You didn’t pressure me to do anything sexual or anything like that. You even told Tommy to give me good shifts.”

“I should have made you do terrible things.”

“It’s never too late.” Lorraine made a face at him, a face he knew from her, one saying without any words that she might like it if he did. Then she shimmied for him to underscore her point. “If you don’t ask, you don’t get.”

“So you’re saying?”

“I’m not saying anything. I mean, I’m just saying…”

Bill moved away from the Garland, leaned over toward her and whispered in her ear.

“It’s not out of the ball park,” Lorraine said. She smiled. “Be a first for me, but I’m not getting any younger.”

Bill laughed. He told her come around on the line so they stood next to each other over the two-sided charcoal grill. There, the heat from the synthetic charcoals rose up at them.

Not counting alcohol and drugs which were a completely different sort of physical sensation, Bill loved nothing more than this. The intense heat hit him in the face and on his chest. Standing as close as he was, it even warmed his thighs by making his pants hotter than if a steaming iron was passing over them.

“Ain’t nothing feels better than this,” he said. “I love it when the heat just runs through me.”

“I can think of some things I like more.”

“Yeah, well, you know what I mean.”

“I know, sweetie. But you still didn’t answer my question. Second time now.”

“What question?”

“Why she’d be better off without you.”

“No,” Bill said. “I didn’t answer.”

He stood there absorbing the heat. She stood next to him, quiet now, not standing as close to the charcoal grills as he was. She reached for his beer and took a sip.

“What would happen if Tommy saw me drinking from your beer?” she asked.

“Nothing,” Bill said. He reached out and she handed him the bottle. “He might say something to me. Maybe not. Nothing would happen to you.”

“You and Drenovis are at it again, huh?”

“He’s a dick,” said Bill.

Pick up a copy of my published works here: 

By Peter Weiss

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They Didn’t Mention Papa
Copyright © 1969; 2014 by Peter Weiss
All rights reserved.

This is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.

troops returning

Nathan cannot think clearly. They walk along row six, watching the signs for path twenty four. The rain falls hard and steady, as it has been for the past hours. Papa is dead, Nathan thinks. Now I know. When I was still working, each night at dinner Papa would say the blessing, and before he would eat, he’d survey the table, making sure there was enough food. He looked deep into my eyes, one night, and said to me “My baby, you’re grown, but you’re still my baby.” I ran to Papa and kissed him.

He extended his hand and said “Squeeze.” I knew what he meant and wrapped my fingers around his hand then squeezed as hard as I could. I knew I hurt him. “You’re getting strong,” he told me. But he didn’t flinch, not once. I held out my hand and said “Your turn.” He laughed and repeated my words. He was weaker that night than ever before and for the first time I had to fake it. “Ouch, Papa,” I said, quickly pulling my hand away from his. He looked at me. He knew. He looked at Mama and said “I’m getting old.”

Nathan and Pearl turn onto path twenty four.

“If I remember,” Pearl says, “it’s not far from here.” But Nathan has already run ahead and when Pearl catches up to him he is kneeling in the mud at the foot of Papa’s grave. Tears slide down his cheeks then fall to the ground mixing with the rain. Pearl stands behind him and rests her hands on his shoulders.

“I’m sorry, Papa.” Nathan frees himself from Pearl’s grasp and begins to fuss with the plants which cover the grave. Two years, he thinks, noticing that the plants have grown thick and are green and nourished. He pulls out weeds lightly, removes them without upsetting the soil, then begins to shape the plants by patting here, then there, as if he were a woman shaping her hair.

The rain continues to fall. Satisfied with his work, he turns to Pearl. Her raincoat is almost saturated; the pellets of water are absorbed rather than repelled by the material.

“You’ll catch cold,” he tells her.

He reaches into the mud and pulls out two stones, then places them on top of Papa’s head stone. He puts his arm around his wife, holds her to him and feels her shivering against him.

“Let’s go home,” he says.

Pick up a copy of my published works here: 

By Peter Weiss


originally posted in December 2016

quill-pen-300x300They can accept 32 different genders. They can accept that Elizabeth Warren is an Indian. Pocahontas! They can accept that a boy of fifteen is allowed to walk into a girl’s dressing room because he says he feels like a girl on that particular morning. They can accept just about anything, no matter how preposterous, as long as it fits in with their narrative, with their beliefs, with their vision of how America should be according to them.

But they can’t accept that maybe, just maybe, their vision of how America should be isn’t the vision shared by the mainstream, Joe Q Average American, that same mainstream Joe Q Average American family who voted for Donald Trump. In not accepting that “maybe,” they’ve become The Election Deniers, those very same people Hillary Clinton was outraged by, those very same people Ms. Clinton was appalled by, those very same people the poor, misunderstood, always-being-attacked Mrs. Clinton who never did anything ever that she’s been accused of, said were challenging the very pillars of our democracy.

Yup. Now, among everything else, she has become an   Election Denier. Of course, as is her style, she would never say  that.   As is her style, she has her front people do all they can to disrupt, discredit and malign the dignity of the election while she gives statements of her deep concern for the well-being of America and the American people. Lions and tigers and bears, oh my!

But this isn’t about Hillary per se, as despicable as she is.  It’s the story of that naked emperor whose subjects were too afraid to tell him he was naked though everyone could see it but him. He thought he had the most beautiful set of new clothes on. She thought no one could see what she was doing, could see what her MO was and has always been.

So that in-her-pocket president   now  calls for an investigation into hacking of the election boxes, the effect of [Russia’s] hacking on the election. Now, he calls for it.  Why now would Obama call for it? Why now would he become an   Election Denier? Why all   The Election Deniers?

That answer is simple. It’s because   they   simply can’t believe that America isn’t the way they say it is and want to force it to be. They simply can’t believe that most Americans, regardless of race and ethnicity, believe in simple, straight-forward old-fashioned American values,  like believing in God and being allowed to express such a belief. They simply can’t believe that most Americans want safety, secure borders, good jobs and good education for their kids. They simply can’t believe that most Americans are tired of the PC police and tired of the false narratives (Hands Up, Don’t Shoot, for one) they’ve been yelling at us for over fifty years, narratives that are belied by the results of their failed policies.

So they’ve become  The Election Deniers    specifically to discredit the President-Elect, to undermine his presidency before it begins by casting doubt on whether or not he is the legitimate president. For Obama, who has consistently shown himself to be petty and spiteful, maybe it’s payback for Trump’s birther-issue stuff even more than trying to protect his legacy,  a legacy only he thinks, like that naked emperor, is a good one.

That’s why now.  And the more they hold to the moral high ground,  the more lowdown they are. The more lowdown they are seen to be.

The Election Deniers   : the more they deny, the greater the chance they lose more and more of their support base and their power.

Pick up a copy of my published works here: 

By Peter Weiss


They Didn’t Mention Papa
Copyright © 1969; 2014 by Peter Weiss
All rights reserved.

This is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.

troops returning

“Kisses don’t express what I feel,” Nathan whispers.

Pearl sits down on the bed and motions him to her. He joins her, putting his head in her lap, taking her hand in his own. They look deeply into one another’s eyes, as though they can communicate this way, without words or tones. For several minutes, there is neither motion nor sound.

“I want to see Papa today.” Nathan breaks the silence.

“You’ll have to take me with you. I’ll never let you go again.”

They leave the room together, arm in arm, and move to the living room where Nathan greets the rest of his brothers and sisters. Mama goes to the kitchen with one of her daughters to prepare a snack. Pearl and Nathan sit on the couch, surrounded by his siblings.

“Did they treat you bad?”

“Not too bad.” Nathan looks at them. There’s so much to say, but where should I start? “That’s all over now. I’m glad to be home.”

Outside the rain continues to fall. Is it over? Nathan wonders. I don’t feel like I can ever forget it. Papa objected to my enlisting. It hurt him to see me go against him.

The windows are steamed. Nathan sees Papa’s face in one of them. Pearl presses against him, sitting as close as she can without being on his lap. I couldn’t even be here with him when he died, Nathan thinks.

“Did Papa have much pain?”

“It was sudden and fast,” Max says.

“He prayed for you at the end,” his sister Tillie says. “He told Mama he loved her and prayed for you.”

“God answered his prayers,” Mama calls from the kitchen.  “‘God,’ he said looking at me, ‘save my baby Nathan.’ Every night and every morning he said ‘God save my baby and take me if one of us must die.’ And at the end he thanked Him. ‘Thank you God,’ he said. ‘Now I know my son is safe.’”

Nathan can say nothing. It was like Papa. He loved God and spent his whole life following Him, understanding Him, knowing Him. I hope Papa understands how I love him.

“Come.” Mama claps her hands. “I have food for all.” Nathan grabs Max’s arm, and holds him in the living room. “Where’s Papa?”

“In Mount Zion. You know where it is?”

“Yeah. I have to go see him.”

Max reaches into his pocket and pulls out a set of keys. “Here, take my car.”

“Thanks, Max.” Nathan and Pearl go to Mama. Nathan explains that he can’t eat now, that he must see Papa. Mama is disappointed yet glad to see how much Nathan really does love him. She’s not surprised at all.

“Go,” she says to both of them, kissing each on the forehead. “I keep the food warm and you eat when you come back.”

The rain is falling harder, as though the storm has reached a peak. It’s been so long since I’ve driven, Nathan thinks. He remembers learning to drive on his brother Sam’s laundry truck.

Pick up a copy of my published works here: 

Books by Peter Weiss.


media biasDoom and gloom!

For longer than two years now the only narrative we’ve heard in America is of the evil Trump presidency. More than 90% of all mainstream media articles about the President are negative. He is called every ist in the book and then some. His family is demeaned. The first lady is denigrated. His children are the subjects of vile threats and horrific statements that would never be tolerated if aimed at any left-wing politician.

Contrast that to the Obamas. The Obamas have always been treated by the media with kid gloves, respect and decency. There have been moments, of course, but they are few and far between. Michelle is treated like a queen. Barack is treated like a deity. Michelle and Barack’s children are never in the  media and never were for as long as he was president and beyond. Their only media shoots were those their parents chose for them.

There’s something wrong with this picture!

What’s wrong with the picture is not about the Trumps or the Obamas. It is about the media. The media which was once a fair and honest media is no longer that. Because it is no longer that, because it is now a much-more-than-biased media, America is in peril.

Go to the land of dictators. Go to countries where there are coup d’états. The first thing any dictator seeking to take power does is blackout the media. S/he keeps the media blacked out until s/he controls it, and once controlled it is only allowed to broadcast what the new leader wants broadcasted.

The reason for this is quite simple. The incoming dictator knows that controlling what the people see and hear will give him/her power. Control the media, control what the people think. Oh, you might not control what the people think. But you can certainly control the information they receive. When information is controlled and limited, a great number of the people will surely follow the narrative being given. Control what is said. Say it over and over and over again, loud enough, often enough. Make sure nothing else is heard. This is the way to control people, to make them believe what it is you want them to believe.

Only in America can the news media hide under the protections of the Constitution, claim themselves to be a free and honest press when clearly they are far from that. For much, much longer than Donald Trump, the media have been selling the American people a left-wing narrative that is clearly false and definitely misleading.

The case of Jim Acosta and CNN is a metaphor for the biased press claiming to be a free, fair press. All one has to do is look at it, see Acosta’s behavior and listen to his words. Then one would see he is far from being an honest journalist. He is an opinionated hack hiding under the First Amendment of the Constitution.

The fact of the matter is the Democrats through the biased mainstream media control the narratives the American people are being fed. This is dangerous, more so than any external enemies. Thus it is one of the greatest threats to America’s freedoms.

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Books by Peter Weiss.


pigs-flyFor years now our government has been running a Kabuki Theater on us. Every day we see the same crap over and over. We’re told one thing, but the government’s interests go somewhere else. We’re told the government cares and “will get to the bottom of what’s going on,” but it never does. Congressional approval hovers around 18%. About 50% of Congressmen are millionaires and more than 60% of Senators are millionaires. Their median net worth is more than one million dollars and thus one lawmaker’s net worth is more than eighteen regular American households combined. No wonder Nancy Pelosi referred to the tax cuts as crumbs.

We’ve come to insanity, of course. The informal definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results. In this regard we fought the war on poverty for more than 50 years without actually putting a dent in poverty in America or changing the demographics of the poor. In this regard, we’ve spent more and more and more money per capita on education and yet we rank approximately fifteenth in the world in education. And that’s being kind of kind.

It gets worse, not better. The Democrats, who have been mostly in charge of our inner cities, have managed to create and sustain urban centers where poverty abounds, murder rates soar, crime is rampant, education is poor and the homeless litter the streets defecating wherever they choose while the police are instructed not to bother them.

Of course when asked about it the Democrats will continually blame other people and other things while they make sanctuary cities which allow more poor, more ignorant, more culturally dissociated people to roam freely and use the limited resources that are available. The Democrats insist they have no culpability and they insist that they are looking after the best interests of the American citizens. They are only power-hungry, and like the laws of Social Darwinism” dictate, they are only striving to keep power. Or, as what happens when the goals shift from wanting to do good by servicing the American citizens who elected them to keeping and increasing their power, they have lost their way, gone amok if you will.

Kabuki theater.

If the Democrats cared for the American people they would denounce what happened to Justice Kavanaugh. They would uphold innocent until proven guilty. They would denounce the bias in the media. They would castigate people like Louis Farrakhan and distance themselves from people like Harvey Weinstein, Bill Clinton and Keith Ellison. They would be willing to accept a deal on DACA and secure the borders while working with the Republicans and the President on Immigration reform. They would own up to their search and destroy mission against President Trump and they would surely denounce personal attacks against his family.

But pigs don’t fly.

Pick up a copy of my published works here: 

By Peter Weiss


stupidityThis was originally posted on July 11, 2017.

How stupid are we?

Talking about America, there seems to be no limit to the depth of our stupidity, the depth of the pit of stupidity we have fallen into. It’s rather amazing actually. Think about it. When the Soviet Union collapsed and the Berlin wall came down, the United States was the only world power. In the thirty years since then we have allowed Russia to regain its world-power status and we have allowed China to become a world power. China’s economy has overtaken ours and just recently, for the first time ever, the dollar is no longer   the  world currency.

So how stupid are we? Well, how stupid can you be?

The war on poverty has been going on for fifty-two years, since 1965. We’ve poured  twenty-three billion dollars into it. That’s 23,000,000,000. For that money there has been no real noticeable change in the poverty rate and no real change in the demographics of the people in poverty. Yet we continue down the same road. Stupid?

As regards education, we spend more per capita than any other country and yet we still rank only fifteenth in the world in education. Now that’s not a big bang for the buck. Furthermore, segregation was outlawed in 1954 and yet our schools are becoming more and more segregated. The rate at which segregation is occurring continues to increase.

Stupid?

It gets better. There are those who fought against segregation who now insist they have a right to their own spaces, or they insist that whites not be allowed into certain spaces. Well then…

Stupid? You bet

Just as stupid and actually most dangerous to our society is the disregard shown for logic and facts. Replacing logic and facts are feelings and subjectivity. The gender identity laws exemplify this. But that raises a controversial issue and God forbid that should happen. So let’s put it this way. Mr. X doesn’t have any cash and can’t buy that five-dollar super mochaccino he wants because he left his wallet in his Porsche. He feels poor. He identifies with poor people at that moment. In accordance with the gender identity rules, he   is poor. He identifies himself as poor, ergo, by the new rules, he is poor. If that happened on April 15th, Mr. X should be eligible for not paying taxes and even getting an earned income credit.

Stupid? Beyond stupid. How stupid can we be?

Let’s see. Remember “you have to sign it to see what’s in it?” Stupid? Well, what’s even more stupid is that she’s still in office and the head of her party.   She’s   not stupid. She didn’t have to read it because she doesn’t have to deal with it. She and her cronies voted themselves an exception so they could stay on the government congressional plan. That’s the Cadillac of Cadillacs plan.

Stupid? Not them! Us. More than half of them are millionaires And they way their positions work, they don’t really have to pay for anything. Our tax dollars pay for everything. Or, they’re having a great, self-enriching time on our dime. So how stupid can we be?

Russia. Russia’s goal is to create chaos here in America. Well, look at what our media have been pushing for the last eight months or so. Look at what the party of opposition has done. How stupid are we as a people and as a nation? Haven’t we played right into Putin’s hands? Stupid.

Well, aren’t we stupid for allowing all this to go on? Aren’t we more stupid for continuing to fund it?

Finally, as the liberals push left toward the welfare state and socialism, history tells us that capitalism and the free market pay for the bulk of all charity work done throughout the world. It also tells us that no socialist government thus far has ever managed to succeed. Why would we push toward that which we know will fail?

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Really, how stupid are we?

Pick up a copy of my published works here: 

By Peter Weiss