Doomsday predictions 12-21-12

I've decided to embark on a new career. It's lucrative, very lucrative, however this career is a rung lower than a used car salesman on the morality ladder.
I'm going to be a doomsayer. 
I'm going to find some minuscule event about four years in the future. This event could be anything astrological, archaeological, or Bill Murray actually agreeing to be in the next Ghostbusters movie. 

Once I have my event, I'm going to write a book proving that this event will somehow eradicate all human life on earth. Once this book has gained a following (and it will) then I'm going to write a second book. This book I'll write under an assumed name. It will refute the 'facts' of the first book, calling it total hokum. I may even create a bitter rivalry between the two authors. To the point where they refuse to be in the same room together. (I may have to hire an actor to play the part of the second author)

Then, I'm going to write a third book, by another 'Author', claiming that the first two 'Authors' wouldn't know the correct date if it bit them in their Y2K. This book would claim that the real date was two years further into the future than the first claim. 

I would continue in this way, leapfrogging predictions, (which some people would buy into) essentially creating my own 'doomsday franchise'. 
After a while, if I got bored, I would write one final book, saying that it's all a load of crap, and we should go back to the Bible. 

The Bible says "No man knows the day or hour..." so how can we, as semi-intelligent human beings, keep believing all this random doomsday crap? 
Every time someone makes some wild prediction, based on a little fact, and lots of hype, people buy into it. And they buy like crazy. Most doomsday books become bestsellers. Is that why these 'Authors' are so eager to predict the end of the world as we know it? Hmm...let me think...

I've got a doomsday prediction for you...There's only one being in this universe who knows when doomsday is, and He ain't tellin'.

Free financial freedom

Hey you!! Yes you! No, not you, YOU! The one sitting right there!
Have you ever wanted money?
Do you have no discernible skills whatsoever?
Do you breathe?
Well then YOU could be making Eighteen Trillion dollars right now, just like I did!!
Sound impossible?
If you email me right now, I mean RIGHT NOW. Don't even finish reading this sentence, email me first, and I will send you this blurb on how to make money just by breathing!
"This can't be real." you say.
Just shut up and send me the email already!!
(Sorry about that, need to back down the caffeine content.)
In this email you must include your name, age, birthdate, social security number, outstanding debts, likes, dislikes, yearly income, recent photo, and last year's income tax return.
If completed correctly, I will send you a link.
This is not any ordinary link.
This is a powerful link to untold riches, fame, fortune, and the key to free financial freedom.
This link will ramble on and on for pages, full of testimonials from untraceable people, saying how fabulously wealthy they are now, thanks to my program.
The most important thing you'll find in this link is another link.
This link will direct you to a link where I give you a PERSONAL LINK.
This is a very special personal link. It is meant for you and no one else.
This link has been set aside specifically for you since the day you were born.
I cannot possibly tell you what's in this link. It's like the Matrix, you cannot be told, you have to see it for yourself.
(Insert ominous music.)
Inside that link is a link to my bank account. (I accept, Visa, Mastercard, Diners club, Discover, Food stamps, SSI, Gold, Silver, and Platinum.)
All this can be yours for the low, low price of only $39 plus shipping.
But, if you act right now, before you even take another breath, I will send you another link for only an additional $39. The shipping is on me.
How can I afford to be so generous? Easy, my system works. I have personally made Eighteen Trillion dollars. And now, because I'm such a nice guy, I want to pass the secret on to you.
So don't delay, act now, I mean right now!! Run to your bank! I don't care if it's two in the morning, rob a convenience store if you have to, just GET ME MY MONEY!!


I don't know about you, but I am sick and tired of seeing these scams in my inbox. Is every single one a scam? I don't know. Are there legitimate ways of making money on the internet? Sure. Are some of these companies on the level? They may exist. Honest politicians may exist, but I haven't seen one.

The truth is, if these people had really discovered the secret to easy wealth on the internet, why would they share it? Wouldn't they be creating their own competition?  If I found a two ton Gold nugget, I wouldn't tell someone else where it was, I'd dig that puppy up and look for more of them. To continue the metaphor, these people dig up the gold, make sure there's no more around, then sell you a map to the site, saying that they found gold, and you can too.
P.T. Barnum would be proud. He would probably have his own web site, and be making millions of dollars a year, selling the internet's version of snake oil.

Anymore, I read these scams just for a laugh.
Just to make things clear. You will not make any money from this article.
It's debatable if you will make any money from any of these scams.
They will make money, selling you their so called 'secrets', but in the end, you'll end up with a bunch of very expensive downloads, and questionable content at best.
Good luck! (You'll need it)

Amazon.com: Playback (short story) eBook: Michael Kelso: Kindle Store

Playback - A short story crime/suspense by Michael Kelso

Rated PG for violence

Chapter 1 preview

     The final disk had been pressed. Jacob carefully lifted it out of the machine and placed it in its case. He stuck a ‘demo’ sticker on it and put it in the mailing envelope he had already addressed, along with a letter. It explained that the addressee had been randomly chosen to be in a focus group, testing a popular video game. All they had to do was play the game to the end, then instructions would appear on the screen. Jacob smiled to himself as he picked up the five envelopes and took them to his mailbox, knowing that none of their lives of these unsuspecting people would ever be the same.

     Jacob Anderson was a self made millionaire, but he didn’t plan it that way, it was more luck than anything that got him his money. He had two loves in his life. One was video games. Playing, designing, programming, anything about them. His second love was secret, and not nearly as constructive. He had spent years developing and programming his first commercial game, ‘Playback.’ When it was released, it was hailed as groundbreaking. No one had ever played a game where the player is cast in the role of a serial killer, stalking his prey. Jacob didn’t care about the money. He put on a suit and a pleasant face and accepted the awards. But all he really wanted to do was start work on a sequel so he could go do more ‘research.’ his five unwitting victims were going to help him with that. Along with his silent partner.

     Kevin slowly crept into the room, trying to be as silent as possible. The sleeping form in the bed didn’t stir. He pulled a large knife from his belt. It glinted in the moonlight shining in through the window, bathing the room in an eerie glow. He was almost within striking distance when he stepped on a creaky floorboard. He looked down and silently cursed the floor. When he looked back up, he was staring down the barrel of a forty caliber pistol held by the woman who was soundly sleeping just a moment ago.  She was beautiful. Her flimsy nightgown clung to the curves of her body, distracting him.  Instead of running, or ducking, he just stood there. Her trigger finger got impatient and she started pumping round after round into his chest, knocking him to the floor, in a splatter of blood. She leaned over the bed to look at his lifeless body. Her face frozen in his view, as his life ebbed away. 

’THE END.’

’CONTINUE ?  YES/NO’. 

“Dang, I almost had her that time.” Kevin said, as he selected ’NO’ and tossed the controller onto the couch. He yawned, stretched, and walked upstairs. He didn’t notice the little light flash on his game system showing that it had sent information online. He grabbed two sodas from the fridge, plopped on the living room couch, and handed the other soda to his dad.

“What are we watching?” Kevin asked.

“Footage from my last murder investigation.” Bruce said as he took the soda. “Thanks.” He took a swallow, then looked at Kevin.

“Did she beat you again?”

“Yeah, she always seems to get me at the last second.” Kevin said.

Bruce chuckled.

“Is this where a responsible father should say ’I find it very disturbing that you spend so much time playing a game where you pretend to be a serial killer.’ And ‘What kind of sick mind thinks this stuff up anyway?’”

“Yeah, ok.” Kevin said as he motioned to the TV, where they were videotaping entry and exit wounds on a dead body.  Bruce laughed. 

“Point taken.” 

“But aren’t you supposed to stay away from police work during your time off?” Kevin asked. 

“Yeah” Bruce said “Something about this last case just doesn’t sit right with me.” 

“Isn’t that why you’re off?  Because you couldn’t let it go?” Kevin said.

“Now you sound like Don, it’s not as simple as that.” Bruce said. Kevin could feel his dad tense up. He decided to change the subject. 

“Well, I think you’re a very responsible dad, and I have enough common sense to realize that playing a game won’t turn me into a serial killer.” Kevin said. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going back to the basement to terrorize and kill a certain lady friend of mine.”  Then he looked at his dad and winked. 

“Go get her, boy!” Bruce said, smiling as Kevin strode from the room.

Amazon.com: Cell (Short Story) eBook: Michael Kelso: Kindle Store

Cell...A short story Horror/Suspense by Michael Kelso

Rated PG for violence

Chapter 1 preview

     “Operator…How may I help you?”

 “I need you to give me the number of the phone I am calling from!” Said a man’s desperate voice. 

“I’m sorry sir, I cannot give you that information.” 

“BUT IT’S MY FREAKIN’ PHONE !!” He screamed back.  

“I’m sorry sir, if you continue in this manner, I will have to give this number to the police.” 

“Fine, give it to the cops, just give it to me first!” 

Loud thumps could be heard in the background. 

“Please, I need this number. It‘s an emergency.” He said, almost pleading.

The operator paused. 

“585-7734” 

“Thank you.”

     Long before this desperate call took place, there was a young man with a simple wish. His name was Tony. Like other lower-middle class teenagers, Tony had problems. His biggest problem was money, he didn’t have any. At 6’2”, he was tall for his age, but thin. He got his jet black hair from his father. Surprising, seeing that his mother was a natural blonde. He wore old, hand me down, jeans that were two sizes too big for him, because that’s all he had. But with the way fashions went, he was actually in style, at least for the moment. That sort of thing never concerned Tony anyway. The problem that weighed most on his mind, was that he was the only one in his class who didn’t have a cell phone. He had begged his parents for one, and they wanted to get him one, but they just couldn’t afford it. So, a determined Tony had gone to the local gas station and talked the owner into giving him a part time job. Tony’s best friend, Zeke, was about as different from Tony as humanly possible. He was nearly a foot shorter than Tony, with bright red hair and a chubby build. Physically they were the odd couple. They met in first grade, when Zeke first moved to town and had no friends. Tony had been the first one to talk to him at school, and they had been best friends ever since. Zeke had told him it not to worry about having a cell phone, that they were overrated, but he was interrupted when he got a call on his own cell. Tony was excited when he first started working, but soon found out that it was a boring, thankless job. After two weeks of working almost every night, he finally got his first paycheck. He tore open the envelope, nearly ripping the check. Reading the numbers, his face fell.

“Umm…Mr. Haskins, there seems to be a mistake.” Tony said.

“My check should be a lot more than this.”

Mr. Haskins patiently took the check and looked it over.

“No, that’s right for the hours you worked.” He said, handing the check back to Tony.

“But what are all these numbers over here?”

“Those are deductions.”

Tony looked at him blankly.

“You mean people are taking my money before I even get it?”

Mr. Haskins laughed.

“Welcome to the real world kid. Didn’t you think you’d have to pay taxes?”

“Taxes, yes. But what is FICA? And why is he taking so much of my money?” Tony said, distressed.

Mr. Haskins laughed even harder.

“Don’t worry kid, you’ll get some of that back in about fifty years.”

The look of horror on Tony’s face made Mr. Haskins go into fits of laughter. He had to walk away just to be able to breathe again.

Tony stared at the check all the way home.

‘This won’t even cover a down payment.’ He thought. ‘I’m gonna be working for a month just to get my phone, let alone keep it.’ He fell asleep with visions of tiny cell phones dancing through his head.

http://www.amazon.com/The-Trail-Short-Story-ebook/dp/B0070RBD8E/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1329267890&sr=1-1


The Trail...A short story Suspense/Horror by Michael Kelso
Rated PG for violence.

Chapter 1 preview

     J. T. dangled over the edge of the cliff.  Peering down at the valley a thousand feet below. staring death right in the teeth, she didn’t really feel fear, just an odd weightlessness and great annoyance.

Sherri and Terra held her by her belt and were slowly pulling her back onto the trail.

“Please don’t do that again.” Terra said.

“What’s wrong with you anyway, short stuff,” Sherri said, “Weren’t your stubby little legs able to stay on the trail?”

“I guess not.” J. T. said.

“Are you alright J. T.?”  Sam asked.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine.”

“Okay then, lets keep moving. It’s another twelve miles to Lookout Point.”

“Why do we do this every year?”  Chelsea whined.

“Because it’s fun.”  Cassandra answered, receiving a hostile stare from Chelsea.

“Fun?” Chelsea said. “Climbing a dangerous trail twenty miles to camp out then go right back down the next day is fun?”

Cassandra laughed, “It’s not that dangerous.”

“Why don’t we ask J. T. if she thinks this trail is dangerous.”

“Okay,” Cassandra conceded, “But it’s still fun.  Last weekend of the summer, all of us together for a campout at Lookout Point, what could be better than that?”

Chelsea thought for a moment. “Aside from the threat of imminent death, it would be fun if it really was all of us.”

Cassandra ignored the dig. “Yeah, I was disappointed George didn’t come too.”

“He still might make it. You know how he is, he’ll be late for his own funeral.”

Cassandra laughed. “You’re probably right.”

They continued to talk, carry on, and have a good time, as Sam led them up the trail. Chelsea stopped whining, and everyone seemed to be having fun. They continued to climb, reveling in the sights of beautiful mountain views. The fragrant flowers, mixed with the smell of pine had a very soothing effect. The squirrels chattering, and the birds chirping made them glad they had come on this trip. They reached a clearing, and Sam came to a stop.

“Let’s take a break.” He said.

They all found a spot to sit and take a drink. Out of curiosity, Sam pulled a pair of binoculars out of his pack and started looking around.

“Wow, you can see everything from here.” He said, “I can even see the parking lot where Sherri tried to kill me.”

“I missed you by a good six inches.” She retorted.

“How you got a driver’s license, I’ll never know.”

Sherri stuck her tongue out at Sam.

“That’s odd,” Sam said, ignoring her. “There’s another car parked there.”

“Maybe it’s George.” Chelsea said

“No, it’s not George’s car.” Sam replied.

“Oh well, someone else is walking the trail today.” Terra said.

Sam looked at the car more closely. There was nothing wrong with it, it just felt wrong and he didn’t know why. He shrugged it off and sat down to take a break.

“Umm, J. T., are you Okay?” Cassandra asked.

“I’m fine, why?”

“You have blood dripping down your chin.”

J. T.’s face turned red with embarrassment.

“It’s not blood, I carry tomato juice in my canteen.” She said, quickly trying to clean herself up.

“Okay.” Cassandra said, slowly backing away.

“Uh, why don’t we get going?” Terra said, trying to avoid watching J. T..

“Yeah, let’s get there so we can relax.” Sam said.

He looked at the parking lot one more time. The sign at the base of the trail that had read ‘Be aware of wild animals’, had a section broken off that was laying in the grass. He shrugged it off and continued up the trail, not knowing that the fallen section of sign said, ‘Bear mating season. Extreme danger. Do not use this trail.’

Chelsea was thinking as they walked up the trail.

‘Something about this year seems a little different. George is late, as usual. Sam is taking the lead, as usual. But the others…I couldn’t believe it when Terra tried to pack her laptop for the trip, but what’s really different is J. T.. Her and Sherri always pick on each other, but this year J. T. isn’t fighting back. It’s like she’s just quietly absorbing it.’

As they continued up the tail, J. T. hung back a little.

“Come on short stuff.” Sherri said, “Get those stumpy little legs moving.”

“I, um…have to use the rest room.” J. T. said hesitantly.

“We’ll wait.” Sam said.

“No, don’t bother. I’ll catch up.”

Half an hour later, J. T. still had not caught up. 

“Maybe someone should go check on her.” Terra said.

“I’ll do it,” Sherri said, “I’ll be back, shortly.” She said with a smile.

Cassandra just rolled her eyes.

“Hey J. T.!” Sherri yelled.  “Where are ya? We wanted to make sure you didn’t fall into an anthill or something.”

“I’m here.” She said from the bushes.

Sherri jumped. “Where?”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m not done yet.”

“Well, I said I would check on you, I’ve checked on you. I think I’m gonna backtrack a bit and see if George made it yet.”

“I’ll tell the others.”

“Thanks, short stuff.”

Sherri walked for a few minutes, oblivious to the shadow watching her.

She paused to look at the beautiful view, when a hand appeared and pushed her over the edge. She plummeted a thousand feet, screaming as she fell.

Writing in the future

What will writing be like in the future?

I don’t know.  Will we have a usb port (or equivalent) embedded in our skulls, with a direct download to our brain, like the matrix?  We already have the ability to instantly download our favorite book to a phone, ipad, kindle, or a dozen other devices just like them.  Will we even have to read, or will the information just be instantly processed into our memories?  The internet can be used to spread almost any information in a heartbeat.  Will book and magazine publishers be obsolete?  As much as people are pushing ‘going green’, will paper even be allowed to be used for actual books?  As much as our society is rushed , will anyone want to, or have the time to sit down and read a book?  Will there be an interface invented to allow dictation by thought?  If so, a ‘writer’ could have his or her book instantly uploaded to the internet (or whatever replaces it), which would be instantly downloaded by people, allowing one person to instantly relate a story to another person.  This amazing ‘new’ technology is very similar to one that has existed for thousands of years… it’s called storytelling.   People used to do it with this brilliant invention called a ’mouth’, and they would download the information with a port in the sides of their head called ’ears.’  

  Welcome to the future.