David Dykstal

Something’s gotta give. I can either continue to fiddle with blot or just go whole hog with micro.blog. I like blot a lot, but once you start playing with your own themes, well, it turns into a time suck.

Remembering this from a while back. Still true.

Carmine was awake but knew she was drugged. “Some sort of opiate,” she mused. Breathing was a little easier now that it was taking effect, but oh, so sleepy. But she forced herself to stay awake. She was worried. She had failed and failure in her business was not tolerated.

The KVM experiment failed. The display emulation doesn’t match the monitor and fools the attached computers. They won’t drive it to its full resolution. It was also cable hell. I knew the cable mess was going to be bad, but not this bad.

Fired up the new Intel NUC i3 running an Ubuntu Linux variant yesterday. Not a bad little machine. Now I need to get a KVM to control all these beasts. It’s like a vacuum cleaner for money.

Mark and Betty joined Lt. Davis for the ride back to the hospital. “Carmine has threads everywhere,” Davis was saying, “There are the usual suspects: Russia, China, Iran, even North Korea, but she works both sides, apparently the CIA has used her on more than one occasion.”

Done. All five systems updated to Catalina. No problems noticed as yet.

Me: knock knock Grandson: who’s there Me: deciduous GS: deciduous who? Me (as Elvis): ๐ŸŽถ deciduous high class, but that was just a lie ๐ŸŽถ GS: huh?

I’ll see myself out …

I have a dedicated Linux box arriving soon. I’m done with the gyrations of living with VMware. It’s good for casual use, but I struggled with the office VPN and 2 layers of key remapping.

Moving from 13โ€ MacBook Pro to 16โ€ MacBook Pro. It’s all about the screen real estate. I can work directly on the 16โ€. I always found myself wanting to hook the 13โ€ to a monitor.

Itโ€™s 8:30pm and I canโ€™t keep my eyes open.

Carmine was waking up. She was in real pain. “She’s breathing on her own now,” she heard someone say. “Yeah,” she thought, “but every breath hurts like hell. This must be Hell. Not like I imagined.” She groaned. “That second dose must have worked,” the voice said. “Huh? Dose?”

Spent the day sizing and hanging coats for our annual Christmas Anonymous Store Day. Tomorrow, folks whoโ€™ve registered through their social service agencies will come and be able to pick up gifts and winter clothing for their families. Busy day tomorrow!

Davis continued, “There’s a lot we know about Carmine, but there’s a lot more we don’t. My friends at the FBI have hinted as much. I’ve already called them in.” Betty calmed down a little, “Davis, I trust you. Your record is better than most, even better than your FBI friends.”

Is @blot down? I’m getting time-out and cert errors.

Davis turned to Mark and Betty, “I’m gonna need details.” Mark told his bit then Betty hers. Betty was shaking with rage as she recounted Carmine’s words and added, “She’s got to be lying! There’s no way she could have engineered that crash!” “Don’t be too sure,” countered Davis.

My ##mbnov story has taken a life of its own. I blame @amit ๐Ÿ˜. I’ll continue to post until I reach some resolution but I’m removing the tag. I have no aspirations to include fiction writing in my retirement activities and that’s probably a good thing.

An EMT hooked Carmine up to oxygen and continued to work on her. About two minutes later he gave a thumbs up. “Heartbeat!” As the team prepared her for transfer to the ER, carefully storing the dart pouch and antidote, Lt. Davis said, “Guard’s already at the ER.” #mbnov++

Betty called 911 while Mark continued CPR. It didn’t take long, perhaps 10 minutes. The EMTs arrived and took over. Lt. Davis arrived and barked at the EMTs. “I’ll post a guard in the ER. She’ll be extremely dangerous if she lives. Look for the poison she’s got on her.” #mbnov++

I was considering submitting these flash fiction episodes to the 2020 Bulwer Lytton Fiction Contest, but the rules state that they have to be previously unpublished. Just my luck.

Carmine had stopped breathing. Betty checked for a pulse. Nothing.

She started CPR. “Wake up! Damn it!” she muttered between breaths.

She felt Carmine’s ribs crack under the pressure of her pumping.

Five minutes passed, then ten. She was exhausted.

Mark took over.


It’s vs its. They’re vs their. You’re vs your. I KNOW THE DIFFERENCE! Why don’t my fingers know before I hit the post button? Sigh.

I’ve been using Tower as a git client for a few years. I like it, but it’s time to get my command line git chops up to snuff again. Use it or lose it.

Carmine coughed and swallowed.

Betty unlocked her phone and handed it to Mark, “Call Lt. Davis. Get him here ASAP.”

Mark protested, “It’s nearly one a.m.!”

“I don’t care. Wake him up. Tell him we have Carmine. He’ll come.”

Betty turned her attention back to Carmine.


“Don’t be an idiot,” Betty hissed at Mark, “of course I’m going to try.” She bent down to Carmine’s mouth. She was breathing, but it almost not noticeable. She unstopped one of the vials and slowly poured the contents in hoping Carmine would swallow and not aspirate. ##mbnov++