Peter Hodges

Awhile back, Pete told me the story of his niece who was coached into cutely stating, “I will crush you with my powers, you will rue the day!”

I figured I had to copy this terrific parenting by Foxbat, so now as you can plainly see from the video below, his daughter now has some competition for evil overlordress of the universe. Along with Pete’s son, it should be interesting to see how this all turns out in about 19 years. As mother of your future leader, I will happily supply freshly baked pie, so pledge your allegiance now.

I was extraordinarily pleased when I managed to convince none other than Christopher Walken to do the voice over for my Eat Meat with Pete event. Since I have a real, live celebrity doing the radio spots for the event, I’ve decided to give you, my loyal readers, the straight audio. We’ll resume our regular podcasts next week.

“Eat Meat With Pete”
Copy by Peter Hodges and Rob Abrams
Dramatic Reading by Christopher Walken (as voiced by Rob Abrams)
Music: “It’s Mr. Walken…Asshole” by Kate Baker

 

 Eat Meat With Pete [2:07m]: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

I recently had the opportunity to interview an M1 Garand rifle. The rifle rests comfortably in a museum, surrounded by other vintage firearms. Each firearm has an amazing story to tell during the day as men, women, and school children file through and peer through the display cases…but the M1 Garand rifle has the most amazing story of all. After the museum closed, I received special permission to bring my laptop and a tape recorder for a special interview with this historic weapon.

I’ve titled this article “Interview with a Murder Machine” on purpose. I want everyone who enjoys their freedom to be aware of the tools used in its defense.

Peter Hodges: I realize this is a bit odd, talking to a rifle and all, but I couldn’t resist the opportunity to interview you.
M1 Garand: It’s really not a problem. I spend my days teaching people about the role of American patriots in Wars across the globe. I’m happy to spend my remaining days instructing the young.
PH: Let’s start at the beginning, shall we? You were the first semi-automatic rifle to be issued to the infantry of the United States.
M1G: Well, that’s not entirely correct. I was the first semi-automatic rifle to be issued to infantry in the world. I was just in time for the start of World War II. At the time, the Germans were using the bolt action Kar 98, while the Japanese were using the bolt action Type 38. Both suffered from a slow rate-of-fire, but the latter suffered particularly from a weak cartridge design.
PH: Would it be fair to say that you were the best rifle at the beginning of World War II?
M1G: That might be a stretch. There were several proponents of the earlier M1903 Springfield (a bolt action .30-06). Among them were Marines who were used to the reliability and accuracy of the weapon. We had to prove to our men that we were worthy of the additional upkeep and that we were durable enough to survive battlefield conditions.
PH: General Patton once said that you were “the greatest implement of battle ever devised.” That’s high praise.
M1G: Indeed. Patton was enamored of our superiority to opposing rifles. Suddenly, our boys could put more lead on target in a shorter amount of time. The invasion of Europe was a huge success due in no small part to our contributions on the battlefield.
PH: Let’s talk about this specifically for a moment. Were you carried by multiple soldiers, or just one?
M1G: Two soldiers. I was carried first by a young man in the US 36th Division during the invasion of Italy. I was at Monte Cassino, fighting the Reich as they guarded Italy’s territory. The men joked that the Italians were too feeble to fight for their own land, so Germans must spend the blood of the Fatherland to keep their southern borders secure.
PH: History records this as a brutal series of four battles with over 54,000 allied casualties.
M1G: All I know is that the 36th had over 2,000 casualties in 48 hours. Dead, wounded, missing. They advanced into the teeth of the German guns with no armor support. Brave boys…
PH: And did your soldier make it?
M1G: It’s funny, the fortunes of war, you know? My soldier was in the 141st Regiment, which had ceased to exist by the end of that period. Forty men survived, one of them being the boy who carried me. He was a farmboy from the cornfields of Iowa, with the rasp of a Midwestern accent. I remember his corporal teasing him about not having to shave in the field. He made it back to the lines, but his corporal didn’t.
PH: What happened to the 141st?
M1G: For all practical purposes it ceased to exist. The survivors were absorbed into other units, but it was okay. They had seen the elephant. They were all combat veterans, so mostly they were welcomed as brothers. It wasn’t like they came in as a boot.
PH: And your soldier?
M1G: He’d seen such terrible things, but I remember him sitting around a fire with a couple of his new squad mates. It could get pretty cold in Italy in the winter, despite the fact that they brag the climate is like California. Anyway, he was sitting there, huddled into his field jacket, and he says to his mates: “We’re making the world a better place, boys.” They all looked at him strangely. Here’s this hayseed, one short step up from a boy, telling his fellow soldiers about how the world is going to be better. All they’re concerned about is staying warm and having a hot meal. ”How do you figure?” I remember one replying. My soldier just smiled and shook his head. “If you don’t see it now, nothing I say will make you.” It was in that moment that I realized I was proud of this boy; he had become a man sometime over the past few, weary days of battle.
PH: Where else did you serve?
M1G: My soldier was rotated to Britain for the great push across the Channel. He was in the second wave of men to hit dirt at Omaha Beach. It was there that he lost his life under the fire of an MG-42 on the cliffs above. After he was hit, he dropped me, but I could hear him over the roar of gunfire and the crash of the waves. He prayed through his last gasping breath that he had done enough, and that he hadn’t let his mates down.
PH: What happened to you?
M1G: I lay on the beach for a couple of days, the sand and sea water damaging the wood of my stock and the metal in my barrel.I figured I was done at that point. My soldier had cleaned me every night, no matter how tired he was. He had this habit of wetting his front sight before he went into battle. I don’t think it made any difference; it was just an affectation, like a quarterback licking his hands before taking a snap. When he could find oil, he would take a cloth and buff the wood of my stock until I shone.
PH: Someone must have picked you up.
M1G: An ordinance sergeant named Caparelli finally found me and gave me a thorough cleaning. I was packed away at some HQ before being shipped to the front lines and given to a soldier in a unit you might have heard of: the 101st Airborne. I arrived just in time to participate in the Battle of Carentan.
PH: Part of the Battle of the Bulge?
M1G: No, that came a little later. This was when the 101st used a causeway to push a poorly supplied German army back on its heels. They counter-attacked a little later, but the 101st was rescued by elements of the 2nd Armored Division. You have no idea how close those young men were to breaking. They had literally given everything that they had to defend that little French town. Just when they couldn’t give anymore, the cavalry came. It was like a movie. Never have I seen the hand of Providence more clearly than in that moment.
PH: So what do you say to the men, women, boys, and girls who come to the museum to see you?
M1G: I tell them the story of a boy from Iowa who believed so much in his country that he went to Europe…to die for his beliefs. I tell them of an outnumbered company of men, holding fast to rubble and cobblestones against the might of the entire Reich just so the men behind them would have a chance to establish a beach head. I tell them of the cheers of French citizens as we marched across the countryside. I tell them of the weeping of the Jewish people as they were freed from terrible death camps. I tell them of the bravery of boys who barely needed to shave and how they did the impossible time and again. I tell them of an insane dictator cast down by the volunteer armies of free men. I tell them that our freedom is not free. It was bought with toil, sweat, and blood of our grandfathers. I beg them to remember this, so that no other generation must do what that one did.

I have writer’s block.

Maybe you’ve paid attention to the site recently and seen the frequency of posts slow down a bit, or maybe you’ve corresponded with me (there’s a score of so of you out there) and know the story.

Most writers, especially writers that are the top in their field, will constantly be asked “How do I become a professional writer?” I’ve read blogs, reports, articles, and FAQs from these folks; most of them tell me what I already know. I need to write nearly every day. But no one has given me a clear, definitive answer on how to get back on track when you have a severe case of the doldrums.

When I talk about it with my real-life friends (as opposed to my internet friends), the advice I most commonly get is that I should “just write through it.” It’s almost as though I have a cramp in my hamstring, where walking it off is a viable option. Unfortunately for me, it doesn’t work that way. When I don’t have that special spark that makes my words live on page, it’s like fingernails down a chalkboard. It is annoying–so much so that it sets my teeth on edge, makes me irritable, and I question my creative ability.

I’m a far stretch from a professional writer, but I’ve at least had some nibbles and some interest in the work I’ve done so far. I’ve received more encouragement in this regard than a lot of aspiring writers in a shorter amount of time, but despite this, it’s almost as though my muse is dead. I have several great ideas percolating in my head. I even have several projects I’m really excited about, but I can’t seem to harness my brain for the creative power that I need to plough through them.

So what do I do? Anyone have any thoughts?

I should mention that as a consequence, I’m finding all forms of media distasteful. I don’t want to listen to music, my reading has slowed down (both casual and professional), and I don’t constantly scour the internet for things to know. I need a mental (and physical) break in the worst way, I suppose.

The picture in the post below  says it all. Those of you who have come to understand Pete, know that should an opportunity present itself, he would take the helm of the ship that we lovingly call Mother Terra.  Paying homage to the old addage that the apple doesn’t fall from the tree, we can see budding overlordship in those hungry baby blue and beautiful eyes sported by his son.

So to make his impending reign a little more fruitful, I’ve come up with a few pointers for the future leader of the universe, (because we’ll be well on our way to exploring the solar system by the time Baby Hodges grows up) to help guide and train him in the craft of evil overlordship.

Find yourself a trusted advisor.

This will be very important as you start to build your empire. Two brains are better than one, but three is a crowd when it comes to the opinion department, so limit this special position to just one person. Your XO will be undoubtedly loyal, protect you and give his/her life for the cause. He/she will also make excellent mixed drinks.

**I humbly offer my daughter Allyson for the ’trusted advisor’ position, but with one caveat.  Don’t piss her off. Capable of the “I hate you and will see you in hell” stare,  you might find your teenage self stripped bare and tied to a tree covered in honey…

…near a cave…

…filled with bears.

Surround yourself with slightly brilliant people.

Make sure your posse is smart, but not too smart. They should have enough intelligence to suggest courses of action, however not witty enough to get angry at you for wholly modifying the content and making it your own. No one likes a messy Overlord ‘democracy’. History has proven this type of government just doesn’t seem to work. Go figure. Like Communism, it just seems to work on paper but the application doesn’t gel in the real world.

Build an army.

You can choose from humans or monkeys, but please be aware that monkeys take direction a lot better if you bother with sign language. Oh, and find some way to give them genetically altered wings, because really; who wasn’t freaked out by the murderous flying primates in the Wizard of Oz?

Destroy your enemies at any sign of disagreement. (even if it’s one of your own)

Diplomacy is so 20th centry. Kill anyone who openly opposes you. If it worked for Queen Elizabeth I, it can work for you. On the friendly fire side; If it just so happens that your LT returns from Starbucks with a tall half cafe latte with 2 packets of Splenda and you really ordered a venti half cafe latte with sugar, it’s time to end him. If he can’t get a simple coffee order correct, take a page from the motto; ”Boom, headshot!” Make it very clear to your minions that they are not to upset Overlord Hodges. Get the damn orders (even if it’s just coffee) right!

Have a harem.

Sorry, Baby Hodges is only well; a baby. So we’ll discuss this at a time where girls are more interesting and more uh, legal.

Build an arsenal early.

You don’t want to find yourself only armed with a frozen chicken leg and an old bullet-less rifle when the rebellion is landing at your shores. Invest in military technology at an early age! It’s lasergun, pew-pew-pew all the way and you will need to keep up with the latest trends in decapitation, murder and torture. Ask Dick Cheney before his third heart fails. He seems to be really good with that kind of strategery.

I will continue to come up with new ideas of my own for his Overlordship Hodges and please feel free to add your own in the comments section below. Afterall, we have to start early if we want the coup to be successful. Keep your eyes out for more helpful hints in the coming days/months/weeks/years…

In case you’re wondering what the cutest seven month old in the world looks like:

Just because we like you, yes you! (and to make up for our cakeassery last week)– Here’s another podcast!

This story takes place in a not too distant future. While there are no ongoing wars, the price has been high. Every movement is monitored, every scientific discovery hoarded, and everyone is fearful of the government claiming to protect them.  Enter David; a scientist ready to pay the price for freedom.

“The Price of Freedom - Part One”
Story by Peter Hodges
Dramatic Reading by Kate Baker
Music: “Harlequin Clowns” & “Congratulations on Choosing C.R.S” by Howard Shore and “Corn Copters” & “Corn Hives” by Mark Snow

 

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