Hope for the Human Family


At the heart of my mythology is a story of the mortal family including our races, our young, our old and those that are so much very different from ourselves.

I created the character Bothar, a giant who is not fully developed mentally. Arimar selects Bothar to be his guide on his journey. He is the seventh son of the seventh generation of the race of Bermules. Arimar sees in him what others do not. Yet, it is his simple nature and gentle mind that endears all to him – to always do good, no matter the cost.

Watch this video.

The boy in this story is the metaphorical embodiment of Bothar. Also watch carefully how one child reacts. In the final book of the trilogy, Last Stand of the Living, this was the reaction I worked so hard over three stories to achieve.

We do not always understand why certain people come into our lives. They change our lives for the better and rise to the stature of giant. And when we realize that the human family must work as one, we will have peace at last.


Man Club – February 2013 Edition (Super Whale Bowl)



For those of you who read my blog you will know that football is in my blood.  My father won two national championships and went undefeated in his time at The University of Oklahoma that built a 47 game win streak in the 1950’s, that still stands today.  However, I did not inherit his genetics.  As a matter of fact, I weighed only 135 pounds as a senior in high school and was a chick repellent, a human mosquito.  I was fast and could throw a ball 70 yards, but if someone hit me, I’d wind up on row 61.  I was a product of the 1970’s when body building and sculpting was bigger than today.  I went from 135 as a senior to 185 six months later and became a chick magnet, more like fly paper.  Today, I weigh 230 pounds.  How in the heck did I go from 135 to 230?

So fellow Man Club members what does this say?  We men are not as manly anymore. Where has Superman, the man of steel gone? We’ve become pudgy, much too soft in the mid-section and instead of cut muscles, we tattoo barbed wire images on our arms, with the hopes it says we are a man.  Some of us tower at 6’6″ but weigh 330 pounds.  We’ve become whales! This must end my fellow man club members.  Beside being deadly unhealthy, we are not appeasing the football gods. I stopped watching pro football over 25 years ago, because it was no longer about the purity of the game and the athlete. Now it’s about cold hard cash, commercials, half naked cheer and pom-pom leaders, brawls before, during and after the game, riots whether you lost or not, and general public chaos.  It was once about healthy and strong young men beating the snot and sweat out of each other, until one side had scored more points. Now we have hit squads and bounties right on the field. Instead of tackling a guy with our helmet to the knees, we manned up and then used our brute force to bring our opponent to the ground.  A lineman could be seen running up the field 30 yards to make a block.  Today, these lineman make it one yard and then take a big mac (Massive Artery Clotting) break, during the 100 commercials.  They aren’t blockers anymore, they are plugs, that’s right, massive human plugs with the simple purpose keeping the D-lineman from flooding in.

So today I drafted section 330, which deals with our members weight:

Section 330

“Each morning a man club member must get up at 4:00 a.m. to recondition his body.  He will commit to losing 5 pounds per day.  He will begin with stretching exercises, then go through a series of weight lifting to tone his muscles and strengthen bone, by lifting fewer pounds but with more repetitions.  He will then run three miles to get his heart rate up and burn those excess stored calories.  He will come back after three hours of exercise and eat a healthy breakfast.  He will continue with healthy eating habits the remainder of the day.  He will refocus his mind away from excessive snacking, TV watching, and video game playing, by reading his  favorite books to exercise the intellectual athlete inside.  He will complete his honey-do’s. In two months, he will be the envy of every ordinary man, and the driving lust of every average woman.” 

ALRIGHT, who is with me?  Rah, Rah! On second thought, what’s wrong with super world whale championship watching on our 60″ HDTV with surround sound, remote control for channel surfing, and bowl of butter popcorn and a few brews?  Who knows maybe we will be able to double our high school weight. Woo hoo! What a sexy accomplishment.

PS – just know this post, although laced with a little humor, addresses a serious issue.  Many of us men are definitely walking heart attacks, bone and joint replacement and diabetes candidates.  Our wife and children are following our example of idleness and packing on the pounds as well.  I say it is time, we men, look honestly in the mirror (a wide mirror) and man-up to be the leaders of our families and the stewards of our bodies. Learn to enjoy the activities of the great outdoors and actual family time. We are headed for a healthcare apocalypse. Where have the super men gone?

Flash Erotic Fiction

It seems as though everyone is writing erotic fiction.  I can’t tell if these are young lonely people, fantasizing about love, or just trying to prove if human combustion from the heated passion of writing is possible.  So I thought I’d give it a try.

Arlene walked into the room as the college football national championship game just began on ESPN.  She was wearing a silky satin teddy, or doll baby, whatever, it was hot, really hot.  My eyes wondered from the tube to her direction.  She was winking that seductive wink and wrinkling up her lip, with a small trace of tongue appearing and teasing me. At first my eyes veered then my whole head. She had my undivided attention.

Holy cow!  Did you just see that run! Screamed the game analyst. I turned my head back to the tube and screamed my favorite Bobby Bowden curse “Dadgummit!”

Suddenly my attention was diverted again as Arlene ran down the hall shouting ‘REALLY’  and a few obscene words, which I will not utter.  Control yourself Arlene, I thought to myself, coach Bowden would bench a player for such cursing. She was down 0-1.

Suddenly I was trapped in a dilemma.  Watch Arlene or the game.  Now this is what I call pressure.  I was already sweating and my mouth was getting drier and drier. She came back with a silver pole and my lithium charged Milwaukee heavy duty screwdriver set. As I watched her assemble the pole, my attention was back on her.  Of course planting the pole in front of the 60″ TV, was easy to catch my attention. She secured it to the ground and then the ceiling and then proceeded to do the tether ball dance all around it.  My head swayed from side to side as I watched her slink and swirl down the pole.  I was about to give her an Olympic perfect score of 10 hotness, but I lowered myself to see the pass play now in progress and then raised it back up when she was done. My team scored and I missed it. Arlene was now down 0-2.

“That was great honey”, I said.  “I had no idea you could do such things.”

She ran down the hall again and brought in the exercise ball and proceeded to balance it in ways I thought impossible. It was getting hotter in the house, the game was getting near halftime and then the timer in the kitchen went off.  My bacon covered jalapeno nachos were now done.  So I proceeded to the kitchen to open another bottle of beer and wolf down the nachos, just in time to see Arlene roll around, never realizing I had left.  Hey, it was bacon covered I justified to myself.  Now she was 0-3, a strike out, and she went back to the room and torched that new teddy doll barbie thingy outfit, or whatever they call it.

The game ended and after a handful full of TUMS I was ready for the post game action. I came into the room and there she was; my angel, my honey bear, my goddess divine all sprawled out and snoring.  I tore off my jeans and stood on the bed over her in my new Hanes.  “Your loverboy has arrived,” I said with a huge grin on my face.

“REALLY!” She turned and rolled over and resumed the wood cutting.

Appears my chance of scoring was a shut out too.  Not only that she didn’t have the decency to put my tools up.

As you can see, my future as an erotic writer is doomed.  Football, bacon and jalapenos are now my mistress as a middle-aged author.  I may not know women and their complex female code, but I sure know my wife….


That’s right – 50 Shades of Soap Suds, grrrrrrr

The Undefeated – OU’s 47 Game Winning Streak

Wayne Greenlee #71

It sounds like the title of a great epic story, but it is in fact a true story of my father’s involvement with the Oklahoma Sooners football team of the 1950’s, the very one that still holds today the longest winning streak of 47 straight games in division I football.  My father is not a boastful person, at least not to me.  He is a very hardworking and humble man.  Football was a means to an end; it was the opportunity for an education and a path to escape the poverty of his family farm.  Football players today relish the thought of multi-million dollar contracts and endorsements. In the end, the hardest challenge is not of being a sports athlete, but of an intellectual athlete. After the glory days are over it is the conditioned mind and undaunted spirit that must support a man and his family.

So what did football teach my father?  Plenty.  He began in junior high and became a two-time all state player at Breckenridge High School in Texas.  Recruited by Bud Wilkinson, he was also able to convince his best friend, Jerry Tubbs, a future All-American and pro player with the Dallas Cowboys, to join him at OU.  My father was not a super-star but he contributed to the team, not his own statistics.  He learned the value of teamwork, hard work, determination and the mindset of never succumbing to defeat, but to rise and battle on.  He valued his education even higher. While at Oklahoma his team never witnessed defeat.  He is the undefeated. His greatest play came in the 1955 Orange Bowl.  See it here at 1:19 into this YouTube video.

I do not know of any other man in my life that has the spirit he has. I do not have the same level of contentment that he displays.  I have witnessed the sacrifice a man can and will make for his family.  In his senior year at OU, his football career came to an end as he broke his leg in two places.  Ironically, a fellow player broke his leg almost exactly in the same manner, in the same game. They threw a coin toss to see who would get surgery first.  My dad lost this coin toss. He admits that he was glad it ended.  He had been approached to play football for Green Bay for $6,000 per year.  He could make $7,000 per year as a geologist.  This should give you some perspective of the difference of our current times versus 1956.  He is a father and a husband and taught me some of life’s greatest wisdom with respect to the adoration and loyalty for a wife. He is a modern day chivalrous knight.  He gets the meaning of “love, honor and cherish until death do you part.”  This is something rarely witnessed these days. He is the undefeated.

The main character in my trilogy “The Chosen One of Allivar” has a combination of qualities I see as truly noble and chivalrous.  Just know the main character, Arimar, is the hero – the undefeated.  I did not have to look far for the inspiration of my hero.  In my mythology, I made family as the main theme.  It is my hope that you see family differently upon the completion of the story.  For when a family stands together beside a man of endearing qualities, it can never, ever, be defeated. Sadly, the men of that gallant stand are now passing from this world.  Their stories must be passed down by their children and grandchildren and by fans who must never forget what it means to be a Sooner.

My first game to witness Sooner magic came in 1971, OU vs Nebraska – the game of the century.  I was very young and I huddled with my sisters shivering on that cold, misty November day.  I was hooked from that very moment.  Because of my father I shook the hands of many of OU’s Saturday heroes. In 2005, the University presented to my father and surviving players with a national championship ring.  You have never seen so many old men tear up.  They even had an autograph session outside the stands the next day to pay tribute to the 50th anniversary of the 1955 National Champions.  These men wondered why so many would stand in line.  It is because the majority of people live ordinary lives, where adventure and victories are only lived through others.  It gives us a sense of belonging.  When we are in the stadiums cheering until we are hoarse, we do so to support the warriors of the gridiron fields.  It is those moments when we are on the same heroic quest, playing a small part to victory. I am honored to play my part.  I just hope current and future players truly understand the meaning of being a man and what doors playing football can open.  Treasure it and do not take it for granted.

Thank you, Dad, for making that stand and passing your wisdom and legacy down to me. I have seen a hero and walked beside him. I call him father. You have and will remain The Undefeated.

Number 71 – C. Wayne Greenlee “Boomer Sooner”

Man Club – February 2012 Edition (Tight Ends Quiz)

The Tight End Huddle

The Tight End Huddle

Sex, sex, sex, sex. Okay that’s enough to get me 8,230,000,000 hits on Google today within ten seconds after publishing. That includes a few billion hits from men on Mars, but females on Venus are not amused.

As I mentioned last month, we men are actually ultra complex. We are just sly and calculating. My comments above just proved it. We use complex algoreisms in our computations. We men invented PeekBook algoreisms so that we could have spies infiltrating the realm of, and further document of the Female Code. Ladies, have you ever seen the signs displayed at baseball and football games? You know the ones; the signals that look like play calls? Nope, those are signals of code like “Wow, did you see the head cheerleader over there?”

But just as we are infiltrating the world of women they too are infiltrating ours. How you ask? Did you notice them sneaking into our weekend sporting events wearing jerseys, serving beer and junk food? Surely this is not just dawning on you? Suckers! Our ladies jump up and down cheering when we get called for a holding penalty. The cheerleaders were chanting “Hold Em, Hold Em!” and dancing suggestively and the wrong signals were sent out. How can you spot a Man Club infiltrator? This is fun, I promise you. Ask them these top ten questions:

  1. How many tight ends are there on a team?
  2. Why does the quarterback place his hand under the tight end’s crotch?
  3. How many interceptions did the tight ends make today?
  4. Name each tight end on first, second, third, fourth and fifth bases?
  5. Why do tight ends slap other’s tight ends ends?
  6. What inning are you in when the tight end is relieved?
  7. Why does the tight end do when there is a squeeze play?
  8. What does a tight end sacrifice in a sacrifice fly?
  9. What do all the tight ends say in the tight end pile up?
  10. How tight is the tight end’s end when the tight game ends? (Make them repeat the question 3 times)

Have tissues ready, you are going to laugh so hard you will cry with all the answers to the questions. This will be the top-selling sequel to “Clueless.”

You see men, women see only one thing during a sporting event, the “Tight Ends!” And they think sex is all we have on our minds. Wow, there are 6 million more hits. So if you are looking for SEO (Search Engine Optimization) just remember sex and tight ends. So build protective walls to your cave and prepare for weekend sieges to your realm. Deprive the ladies of their tight ends and there is no telling how bloody the battle will be.

Carry on my wayward sons!