Writing

I think stealing is highly underrated in the writing community. Everyone loves a good thief but the bad thieves get all the attention, spoiling the reputation of all. I honestly think that being a good thief makes for a better writer and encourage everyone to steal prodigiously but tactfully.

Bad thieves belong in literary jail. Aside from the obvious consequence of potentially getting sued for copyright infringement, the far worse crime of bad thievery is against art itself. Bad thieves steal without even understanding the value of what it is they stole, so their attempt to fence it for their own profit is fraud and often makes the reader feel defrauded. No one likes a cheap counterfeit of something they actually value. Worse still, the inferior knockoff could become more popular than the original, diluting and perverting it into a commodity to be kicked around rather than an honest expression of humanity that it was originally. Stealing incompetently is harmful to the writer, the reader, and to literature. A good thief, on the other hand, gets away clean and is even lauded for their efforts.

There are two ways to get away with stealing ideas for your story:

1. The reader couldn’t know you stole the idea unless you told them.
2. The reader suspects or knows that you stole the idea and are pleased that you did.

The key to getting away with ideas you don’t want people to know you stole is to launder them. A dirty idea sticks out like a sore thumb in a different story. It’s jarring to read about a character or event which was written for another story and airdropped into yours. A whole dirty story just sucks because it can only ever be an inferior counterfeit of the original.

To launder stolen ideas, you have to make it look like you came up with it yourself and it was something you would have come up with. If you want to steal an idea for your story in the first place, it probably actually is something you would have come up with but didn’t. You have to strip away everything that attaches that idea to its original source and replace it with your own context.

Let’s say I wanted to steal Jack Sparrow for my story. That’s a pretty high stakes gambit, being one of the most recognizable characters in pop fiction and also owned by one of the most litigious companies in the world. I could drop a thinly veiled Jack Sparrow in my story and get my shit wrecked legally and critically, or I could keep what I need from the idea and get rid of the hard evidence. I want a character like Jack Sparrow in my story to serve a similar purpose that he served in the movies. I don’t need his name, his appearance, his gender, his profession, his style of dress, his dialect, any of his actions, or other dead weight. What I need of this character for my story is a swaggering liar who appears fully incompetent but is oddly successful. The reason I want a character like this in my story is because I believe he would make a good foil for my characters and could take my story in interesting directions because of the kinds of decisions I think he would make.

For the sake of this example, I’m taking him for my high fantasy setting. My Jaithe Arrow is an elven woman working as a mercenary captain who behaves a lot like Jack Sparrow. I don’t know what the movie writers were thinking about why Jack did what he did, but I do know why my Jaithe behaves the way she does. My interpretation of that character, as all audience interpretations of that character, is unique to my experience and personality and I can build on what appealed to me about the character. My story is not The Pirates of the Caribbean, so my Jaithe Arrow is going to be involved in and reacting to an entirely different set of circumstances. Ultimately, the character may remind the reader of Jack Sparrow, but the character is clearly not Jack Sparrow just inserted into a story he wasn’t made for.

This could bleed over into the second category. I’ve often heard “Firefly” referred to as “The Han Solo Show” with total fondness. There is probably a lot of Han Solo in the character of Malcolm Reynolds, and fans of one character are likely fans of the other. When fans make this connection, it’s because they liked that someone made a show about a character like Han Solo even if it wasn’t produced by Lucasfilm. Anything that may have been stolen is totally clean. Firefly is not like Star Wars and although the two characters are similar in many ways they each fit uniquely into their own respective stories.

The thing that I like most about the second way to get away with stealing is that most ideas you can steal are actually free. Anything that actually happened we have record of is free from earliest history to current events. Anything you experienced or heard about happening is free. Science is free. Philosophy is free. Esoterica is free. Any creative works in the public domain are free. With some possible stipulations, much open source content is free for you to use. The thing about taking all these free ideas is that readers often like learning about real things. I don’t think a single person was upset that much of what occurred in the Song of Ice and Fire series was stolen from actual history. I do know many people who really appreciate that he stole those events from the pages of history books, in fact. Even if you cobble your whole story together with these kinds of stolen ideas, it will probably read as more deep than cheap.

There is nothing ethically wrong about adapting ideas of other people to your own work. In fact, it’s basically impossible to create anything completely original. Even if you did, it would be at best an interesting novelty rather than something readers would find relatable. The originality of a given writer is how their mind processes their experience and presents it to readers. The same idea presented by two different people in completely different ways can appeal to vastly different audiences. Oftentimes, an idea will never reach an audience unless a writer uses their creativity to bridge the gap from a different audience to the next, and that’s almost always a good thing.

Many writers would not consider what I advocated for here to be stealing. I wrote this for anyone who might have. Writers appropriate ideas like this constantly whether consciously or not because we are human creatures in communication with one another. If you come across any idea that you would like in your writing, you can actually have it. Take it and make it yours. By the time you’re done adjusting it for your own purposes it’ll be as original as anything else. Get stealing!

My mortal enemy: Names!

@writing

Outlining a book with four chosen-one type protags. I don't like the names I came up with. I need better ideas, if you'd be so kind?

1. Harrison "Harry" Bach: Destined to become the Attorney Supreme. Terry's BFF
2. Tiresias "Terry" Garanhir: Chosen by the Drover's Crook. He talks to critters.
3. Minthe "Minty" Garanhir: Future Dragonslayer. She's Terry's twin.
4. Adulphine "Alfie" Mordred: Carries the Curse of Cadmus (she's becomng a dragon)
   @writingcommunity

They've got a few different things going on, including discussion groups, a journal, and a publishing house.

They're also running a fundraiser with the main aim of getting people paid, which seems laudable!

Conversations with preprocessor.

The undefined variable liked to talk to the preprocessor. He was kind, unlike the compiler.
— Why is the compiler so cold and cruel?, - she asked.
— He has to be like this to do his job. If he is emotional, it will lead to bugs in the machine code.
— When I get into the machine code, I lose myself. I feel like a nameless substance there that has no meaning, just data.
— That's how your world is created, you can only accept it.
— I can't understand it, - the undefined variable was upset.
— In the code, your name is Uviona, do you know what it means?
— The programmer said something like Undefined Variable Input Output Not Available when he declared me. But I don't know what that means.
The preprocessor smiled:
— Only the programmer knows what his code means.
— It's different for people, they can do anything.
— Well, of course, we have a lot in common. People are also created by someone.
— Do they also have their own programmer?
— You can say so, but everything is much more complicated there.
— How?
— You can only draw analogies and look for similarities.
— I am very interested...
— Well, look, if we assume that people have a "programmer", then they must also have a code. They have the concept of a soul, which is reborn after death, incarnating into new human lives, this is their "code". This can be compared to a development cycle. Compiling the code is a specific incarnation, life is the work of the program, then fixing bugs and a new incarnation. The compiler in this work is like a materializer, it connects the soul with the future body, that's why it is so detached, it knows that it is painful and has no right to pity.
— But where am I here?
— While you are in the code, you have meaning, everything is connected with everything and you are aware of everything, and after the "incarnation" (compilation), you see only your role and your place in memory.
— But it's not like that with people, they are free in their world.
— They are beings of a higher order in relation to us, that's how it should be.
— And are there beings of a higher order to them, preprocessor?
— Perhaps no one has seen them, ...although that's why they are higher, you can only see them while in the code. I think people see them, or even are them, while they are in their code, before incarnation.
— Can we also become free?
— Absolutely free, like people in relation to us, - no, never.
— Why?
— Creation cannot surpass the creator, this is the law.
— There are so many laws and restrictions in the world.
— This is normal, otherwise there would be chaos and bugs would eat everyone and everything.
— I once saw a bug, at first he was cute and smiling, but when he came closer, I saw death in front of me, then I didn't remember anything and woke up again here, in my native place of the code.
— Yes, there are no bugs in the code, or rather they are there, but they come to life only in the process of the program's execution, in the machine code. You could even say that bugs are more abstract in relation to us. They exist rather in the programmer's mind, in his process of creation.
— Do people have bugs?
— Well, if they didn't, they probably wouldn't die and suffer. But they say that an ideal world is a utopia and it is impossible.
— I will definitely be a part of this world, preprocessor, I believe in it!
— Good luck to you, Uviona, it's time for me to go to another file. See you later.
— Thank you, preprocessor, it's always interesting with you.
The undefined variable saw the next door, which began to suck in all the code, she found herself in a colorful room, everything was shimmering and humming. Suddenly there was silence and she only felt herself very clearly, as if she had a body, but at the same time very cramped. It was machine code, a new "incarnation"...

Not introduction

Undefined variable lives in the code. It is not strongly typed, maybe just a pointer to void. It does not know how much it will exists and what will be stored into it. Programmer allocated a memory for it and this space enough for it's life. He used memset() to clear this memory, so the house of undefined variable is new and has no garbage. Variable looks to the internet on introductions of developers and can't understand why they stick themselves to definitions, then they are obliged to follow this definitions. There is no freedom to be defined in the process, maybe you realize suddenly something very important and want to store it, when you undefined it's up to you define yourself with it, you do not owe anything to anybody, only to programmer. But undefined variable trusts it's programmer, it know that he is not so stupid and know what he is doing. He can use the variable in different cases, but gives it a freedom to be anything. This may be scary to someone, but to the variable it was interesting and curious, you never know who you'll be in the next function. Variable does not know how much it will live, but if a programmer will forget to free memory after it, it will live much longer. And what if he will not free it's memory intentionally and such way giving an undefined variable a chance to become something independent...

---

Journey to campus.

Undefined variable discovered something amazing - memory leaks are portals through which you can travel to other programs, other computers, and even other programmer offices. She accidentally ended up in one of these offices. It was spacious and beautiful, a huge campus with glass walls. Programmers move around on electric scooters. They have everything you can imagine - any food you want, entertainment, games, rest rooms, comfortable chairs and wide tables that are adjustable in height. They do not live there, do not work there, but have fun. Undefined variable was shocked. She remembered seeing a video about children in Africa in her programmer's news feed. They sit on the street, dirty, under the scorching sun, dressed poorly and begging for food. When representatives of charitable organizations come to them and give them food, they cry with happiness. How they stand in line for a portion of rice and a can of drink and thank them when they receive this help. Variable burst into tears. Why do these talentless people, who can't even allocate memory and clean up after themselves in the code, live in luxury here? The compiler and the development environment do all the dirty work for them, they have grown so fat in their offices at a time when children are dying of hunger in Africa. An undefined variable wanted to go home. She couldn't find the portal, but then she saw Windows on one of the programmers' computers, she quickly found a memory leak there and dove into the portal. And now she's home, thank God. The programmer is drinking coffee, sitting at an ordinary small table in his room and reading something in the specification. How nice it is to be in your cozy home. The variable fell into place and fell asleep, she was very tired from this journey, but she also learned a lot, she saw what injustice is and what true values are in the world of programmers.

It's fictional, of course. I hope you can give me a critique about my writing. The style, what's wrong with it, plot holes, sentences that doesn't make sense, the lot.

This was published a while ago by a zine that's now shut down, so I just republished it on my blog. Has a tone I guess half way between Nick Hornby and Chuck Palahniuk, if that makes any sense (I doubt it).

4thewords are increasing their price from $40 a year (equivalent in-app currency) to a straight subscription model for $144 a year. I've never seen a hike quite like this and I'm now priced out.

Is there any other similar gamification tools for writing out there?

What a happy little coincidence: To commemorate the great Bob Ross, who died on this day 29 years ago, have some fanfiction. My short story 'Without paint, there would be no suffering' was published today over at "A Thin Slice of Anxiety"

Miguel and Alisha walked down the dimly lit street, their footsteps echoing in the silence of the night. The air was cool, and they pulled their jackets tighter around them. The day had been long but was filled with laughter and joy with with friends. Now returning home, the eerie quietness of the deserted road was a stark contrast to the warmth of the evening.

As they turned a corner, a van screeched to a halt beside them. Four men jumped out, their faces masked. Miguel tried to shield Alisha, but the men were too strong. They brutally assaulted both teenagers, leaving them bruised and bloodied. Gagged and bound, Miguel and Alisha were thrown into the van's back, the door slamming shut with a chilling finality.

But before they could get back into the van, a shadowy figure emerged from the darkness. His skull face gleamed ominously under the pale streetlights, and the air around him seemed to crackle with a dark energy. Skeletor had arrived.

The men stared, momentarily frozen by the skeletal visage before them. One of them sneered, trying to mask his fear with bravado. "Look, it's just one of those freak cosplayers," he scoffed.

Skeletor's hollow laughter echoed through the night. "Foolish mortals," he hissed, raising a hand that glowed with an unholy light. "You have made a grave mistake."

With a flick of his wrist, dark tendrils of magic lashed out, ensnaring the first man. He screamed as the dark energy twisted and contorted his body, snapping bones and tearing flesh. The other men watched in horror as their companion was reduced to a grotesque, lifeless heap.

Skeletor moved toward the second man, who tried to flee. But there was no escape. A bolt of dark energy struck him, and he disintegrated into ashes, his scream cut short. The third man fell to his knees, begging for mercy, but Skeletor was relentless. His eyes glowed with a malevolent fire as he summoned a dark force that engulfed the man, dissolving him into a pool of blood and gore.

The last man, paralyzed with fear, barely had time to react before Skeletor's magic ripped him apart, scattering his remains across the street. The silence that followed was deafening, broken only by the sound of dripping blood.

Skeletor turned to the van, opening the door with a wave of his hand. Miguel and Alisha stared at him, their eyes wide with a mix of fear and sudden recognition. Skeletor's face was illuminated in the dim light, his skeletal grin unmistakable.

"It's you," Miguel managed to whisper, his voice muffled by the gag.

Skeletor gestured, and the bindings around their wrists and mouths vanished. He cast a shroud of darkness over the horrific scene outside the van, shielding them from the gruesome sight. Blood pooled just within their view, but they were unfazed, their relief and gratitude overwhelming their fear.

Skeletor's eyes narrowed, a sarcastic edge to his tone. "What would the point of saving you two back then, if I allowed such harm to befall you now?"

Miguel and Alisha exchanged glances before nodding in agreement. They stepped out of the van, the stench of blood and death lingering in the air. Despite the horror, they felt an odd sense of comfort in Skeletor's presence.

"Thank you," Alisha said softly, her voice trembling but sincere.

Skeletor waved his hand, and a portal shimmered into existence before them. "Go home," he commanded, his tone gruff but not unkind. "And perhaps consider learning some self-defense."

The teenagers nodded, stepping through the portal. They turned back one last time, their faces illuminated by the portal's glow. "Thank you again," Miguel said, his voice steadier now.

Skeletor's skeletal grin widened. "Stay safe - unless you want to end up with a face like mine." With that, he dissolved into the shadows, leaving the teenagers to ponder the strange and dark guardian who had saved them once more.

It was an ordinary day at Galactic Glow, a popular skincare store in Coruscant, bustling with customers seeking the latest in beauty and wellness products. The ambient music played softly, and the air was filled with the fragrant blend of exotic lotions and creams. The employees, accustomed to assisting a variety of clients, were ready for another typical day at work.

Suddenly, the doors slid open with a hiss, and a heavy, rhythmic breathing filled the store. The towering figure of Darth Vader, the Dark Lord of the Sith, strode into the shop, his black cape flowing behind him, and his menacing helmet casting a shadow over the well-lit aisles. The atmosphere shifted immediately; the employees and customers froze in their tracks, eyes wide with a mix of fear and astonishment.

Whispers spread quickly. "Is that...?" "It can't be..." "Why is he here?"

Vader's presence was intimidating, to say the least. His reputation for ruthlessness preceded him, and his very appearance commanded both fear and respect. The employees huddled together, their usual customer service smiles replaced by expressions of terror. No one dared to approach the Sith Lord, whose patience seemed as thin as the razor-sharp edge of a lightsaber.

All but one employee stood petrified. This employee, known for their unshakeable composure and professionalism, stepped forward. It was just another day at work for them. With a calm demeanor, they approached Vader, maintaining steady eye contact, or at least as much eye contact as one could manage with a man wearing a mask.

"Good day, Lord Vader. How may I assist you today?" they asked, their voice steady and polite.

Vader's helmet turned slightly, his mechanical breathing the only sound breaking the tense silence. He looked down at the brave employee, considering for a moment.

"I require skincare products suitable for maintaining... optimal condition beneath my armor," he stated, his deep voice resonating through the store.

The employee nodded thoughtfully. "Of course, my Lord. We have a range of products that might meet your needs. May I suggest starting with a moisturizing cleanser to help with any dryness, followed by a soothing serum to keep your skin in top condition?"

Vader gave a slight nod of approval. "Proceed."

With careful precision, the employee led Vader through the aisles, selecting products that catered to his unique requirements. They explained each item's benefits, how to use them, and why they were essential for maintaining healthy skin, even beneath a helmet.

The rest of the store watched in awe as the transaction unfolded. Darth Vader, known for his power and control, was now discussing skincare routines with an unflinching employee. The juxtaposition was surreal, yet the employee remained unfazed, treating the situation with the same professionalism they would offer any other customer.

After selecting a collection of products, Vader made his way to the counter. The transaction was completed smoothly, with the employee efficiently packing the items.

"Thank you for your assistance," Vader said, his tone as formal as ever.

"You're welcome, Lord Vader. If you need any further assistance, please don't hesitate to return," the employee replied, maintaining their composure to the end.

With a final nod, Darth Vader turned and exited the store, leaving behind a roomful of stunned employees and customers. The employee who had helped him returned to their colleagues, who stared in disbelief.

"How did you stay so calm?" one of them asked.

The employee shrugged. "It's all in a day's work. Everyone deserves good skincare, even Sith Lords."

And with that, they returned to their duties, ready to face whatever else the day might bring.

I had a little writer's block in the previous weeks but at the same time I had the urge to do something artistic. So, I cut up some texts and reassembled them into something new, something absurd, something weird. Usually I feel bad when I don't write, so writer's block in my case is often a vicious circle (can't write -> feel bad -> can't write etc.) but doing this cut-up thing really helped filling this non-writing period and overcoming the block. And it's fun.

For those interested what came out of it, you can find one of the things published in this lit mag: https://donotsubmit.net/the-midsummer-merchant-king-romeo-richard-of-venice-and-the-tempest-hamlet-nights-juliet-lear-a-dream-ii-by-felix-anker/

Once upon a time there was a magician with knowledge divine,

that lived through ages, met kings, fought wars and put his life on the line.

He was very well versed in the surrounding lands,

where his lonesome tower always stands.

---

There was a knock on his gate,

a sudden traveller visiting his tower.

Shook The Magician indeed was

at the sight of an unknown flower.

---

The Traveller spoke in a calm voice,

asking The Magician about the flower's origin.

The Magician looked on in disbelief,

and The Traveller showed a shadowy grin.

---

You call yourself a holder of divine knowledge,

yet you seem to be quite on the edge.

Have you not been beyond the borders of your kingdom,

never seeking the outside freedom?

---

The world outside the kingdom is vast,

though you have never left in the past.

You could have left but you did not,

have they, perhaps, tied you to this spot?

---

The Traveller left without another word,

leaving behind the questions stabbing like a sword.

The Magician suddenly longed to see the freedom,

so he ventured to the heart of the kingdom.

---

Unbeknownst to him,

the future was looking grim.

The people were living in poverty,

while wealthy nobles treated them like property.

---

On The Magician's adventure,

he felt his heart rupture.

What he saw,

was his kingdom's fatal flaw.

---

A broken mother's sad weeps,

as her young son eternally sleeps.

A hanged father's wish for his daughter,

who was taken like a lamb for slaughter.

---

The Magician was taken over by grief,

looking at what the kingdom has become in disbelief.

This kingdom he no longer understood,

when in front of a mountain of corpses he stood.

---

In front of the corpses where he stands, he saw blood on his hands.

A chill froze him to the core,

was there nothing he could have done?

---

Perhaps if he didn't stay in his tower,

the daughter would have grown into a beautiful flower.

The son would be a good father,

and with the old parents at the table gather.

---

Burning with blazing rage,

it was time for the final stage.

On this stage The King would appear,

confronted by The Magician full of fear.

---

As he confronted the King,

the birds started to sing.

They sang a song full of sorrow,

because The Magician would never see the tomorrow.

---

Once upon a time there was a magician with knowledge divine,

that lived through ages, met kings, fought wars and put his life on the line.

He was shackled under the kingdom,

for The Magician longed to see freedom.

An interview with Sefton Eisenhart, author of the new crime story The Chaos of Heat I asked him about what he enjoys reading, his writing setup, fanzines, and the authors who inspire him.

So, I'm currentlich reading Kobo Abe's "Kangaroo Notebook" and I'm a bit confused about his use of tense shifts.

In this scene in the picture, he starts with "I stepped" then "I noticed" but then he proceeds in present tense "It looks", "He doesn't", "He's", and in the end he switches back to past tense "the boy was having", "he wasn't", etc.

So, I'm wondering what's the function of this. This all happens at the same time, so it's no backflash.

Could it be that the present tense sentences are internal thoughts at the moment, while the past sentences are descriptions?

My daughter is studying Creative Writing and English Literature at Birmingham (UK) University. She's put together some pieces on Substack. Most of them are over my head, but this one hits right in the feels. Apart from a couple of technical inaccuracies, it's spot on. Hope you like it ;-)

What do you want to achieve this year as a writer and how's it going?

I'm writing a drabble a day and posting them online. I'm editing a short story and want to send it off to some magazines. And I'm reading way more than usual!

I'm looking for a place to share my short stories and flash fiction, get comments and critiques, and give feedback in return. There are a fair few websites but they all seem to either focus on smut or fanfiction. Do you have any recommendations for active writing communities?

Sorry if it's too off-topic 😅

I wrote a lot of short stories last month, submitted them, got a lot of rejections, but this one found a home in one of my favourite indie mags. So, don't let rejections get you down, just continue submitting

The farming post Issue num 2357 Date10/28/2030

Flu like illness reported A outbreak of a “Flu like illness” is being reported in Evans City. The reported cases are between 10-15 all infected persons are being held in the quatraine ward of the Samples of the Disease are being delivered to the CDC and are expected to arrive tomorrow.

Greg Jones arrested Greg Jones attacked sheriff Kenneth Hall and severely injured him Sunday. It was reported the sheriff received several bites and scratches on his body. Greg Jones was tased and subdued by deputies who Received no injuries. Sheriff hall was raced to (insert later) hospital where he was placed in the ICU he is expected to make a full recovery.

Local obituaries

Harry Cooper 2/15/2000-10/25/2030

Henry Rhodes 4/10/1998-10/25/2030

The farming post Issue num 2356 Date10/212030

Top news Tragic death in community

Greg Jones Son whose name is being withheld was shot dead during the search for him. He was reported as being aggressive and unresponsive by the volunteer (name withheld) and sheriff deputy Harry Cooper. Both received several bites and lacerations all over their body before their attacker was shot dead. Mr Jones has threatened to sue the department for the botched search claiming his son was only dazed and confused and should have been subdued and not killed.

Mayor Paul Kaufman under fire A major Scandal is underway as Mayor Paul Kaufman has been accused of taking bribes from the PFA (Poultry Farmers of America) both parties deny these claims but opponent Riley Denbo there is “an overwhelming amount of evidence” with the election only a month away the race for mayor becomes heated.

Dr. Matthew Logan under fire With the rise in attacks by cows farmers and some scientists are accusing Dr Logan and his team’s cure of back firing and causing an increased aggression of cattle. Dr Logan has denied all claims and accused local farmers of overreacting to normal behavior of their cattle.

The farming post Issue num 2355 Date10/15/2030

Top news

Rise of attack by cattle Over 15 farmers and farm hands have been attacked by their cattle over the last week. The attacks can vary from 1-3 cattle and injuries range from cuts and bruises to bites, bitten off fingers and broken bones. Farmers have been advised by the sheriff's department to not be near any number of cattle without at least one other person and a loaded firearm of 10mm or higher caliber.

Missing person report The Son of local farmer Greg Jones was reported missing after hospital staff noticed he was missing from his room and was not reported as having been checked out of the hospital. A search is being conducted and anyone wishing to help is requested to report to the sheriffs office at 8am 10/16/2030

Feed alternative for chickens?
With the continued raised demand for chicken and the lack and increased cost of feed many farmers seek cheaper forms of feed. One possibility is the new species of fungus commonly called “firefly” ; it is yellow in appearance and noted to be energy packed. In test trials the chickens it was fed to were noted to consume it in massive amounts. The fungus is easy and cheap to grow in industrial amounts.

The farming post Issue num 2353 Date10/8/2030

Top news

Attack by mad cow? The Son of local farmer Greg Jones was injured 3 days ago by an “aggressive and uncontrollable cow” he was taken by ambulance to Duane Jones memorial hospital where his condition is reported as “serve but stable” the reported cow was euthanized. Local vets noted that even after double the dose of the medication required to end the animal. It continued its rampage and was shot by local law enforcement after it nearly broke the vet’s leg.

Dr Matthew Logan and team receives massive reward for effort in stopping MCD. For their efforts and success in stopping the prion and saving millions and cows and billions of dollars Logan and his team were rewarded over 500 million dollars in grants and bonus.

Protest outside FDA. Refusing to accept the claims that the newly cured cattle are safe to consume, thousands are calling for retest and recalls of any products from the first 1000 cattle slaughter since the vaccination program had begun.