text:
MountainRunner.us
Political Warfare, Public Diplomacy, and Stuff
About Matt (& the dog)
Privacy Policy in Plain English
My Publications, etc.
Link to My Articles at War on the Rocks
Articles here you should read
Quotes you've probably not seen before (soon)
Smith-Mundt
Smith-Mundt Symposium of 2009
PDF: Smith-Mundt Act, Public Law 80-402
Subscribe to Arming for the War We're In
VOA on The Daily Show (Updated)
January 21, 2011 ~ Matt Armstrong ~ 1 Comment
Briefly, opening with "I got a hold of your show on the web and I was so impressed with the heart of it," Jon Stewart began his interview with Kambiz Hosseini and Saman Arbabi, two U.S. Government employees – and U.S. public diplomats – behind "Parazit", a Voice of America program aimed at Iran. The interview, embedded below, followed a brief clip from the show.
Under current law, amended from its original form, if The Daily Show had requested permission from the U.S. Government to broadcast the clip it would have been denied. More on that below.
Two comments. First, kudos to VOA's Persian News Network's "Parazit" for the recognition. Jon Stewart said to Hosseini and Arbabi, "you're like our show but with real guts" and "I'm proud to be considered in the fraternity of humorists that you guys are in."
Second, Jon Stewart once again went to where little media has gone before: an examination of U.S. Government broadcasting – in this case, with high compliments – for the purpose of increasing American awareness in the same. This right of review, to become aware of what we're doing abroad and why, to allow media within the borders of the United States access and permission to comment and rebroadcast or reuse material as they – in this case The Daily Show – see fit was the intent of Congress over six decades ago when the law was originally debated and passed. Today, however, it was against the law for VOA to make the material available to The Daily Show under the Smith-Mundt Act of 1948, as amended. At one time, the material the Act covers was deemed as exempt from requests under the Freedom of Information Act.
The Daily Show With Jon Stewart Mon – Thurs 11p / 10c
Exclusive – Kambiz Hosseini & Saman Arbabi Extended Interview
www.thedailyshow.com
Daily Show Full Episodes Political Humor & Satire Blog The Daily Show on Facebook
Continue reading "VOA on The Daily Show (Updated)
" →
Whither public diplomacy?
January 21, 2011 December 11, 2020 ~ Matt Armstrong ~ 2 Comments
For the practice, theory and organization of public diplomacy, is it helpful for the activities of a foreign government – or non-governmental organization for that matter – in the United States (or elsewhere) to be labeled as public diplomacy? Applying this label could contribute to increased understanding of public diplomacy's methods and value in the Congress, the White House, the public and the media? Or it could be a harmful link to foreign "propaganda" and our own engagement efforts abroad?
Continue reading "Whither public diplomacy?
Opportunity: Congressional Research Awards
January 18, 2011 ~ Matt Armstrong
From the Dirksen Congressional Center:
The Dirksen Congressional Center invites applications for grants to fund research on congressional leadership and the U.S. Congress. A total of up to $35,000 will be available in 2011. Awards range from a few hundred dollars to $3,500. Stipends will be awarded to individuals (not organizations) on a competitive basis. Grants will normally extend for one year. In some circumstances, the Center will make more than one award to a single individual in consecutive years, but not more than three awards to the same person in a five-year period.
Continue reading "Opportunity: Congressional Research Awards
Event: Will Wikileaks Transform American Diplomacy?
This at 4pm, Thursday, 20 January 2011, the Burkle Center at UCLA will host the second of their three-part series on Wikileaks.
The panelists will consider the implications of WikiLeaks' latest release for American diplomacy. Have the media played a responsible or even defensible role by releasing these diplomatic cables? What will be the effect on the future relationship of the media and American diplomats in particular and the media and the American government in general? Are the media supposed to protect the establishment or act as a watchdog in the public interest?
The panelists are Geoffrey Cowen and Ambassador Derek Shearer. The moderator is Kal Raustiala.
More information, including RSVP is at the Burkle Center website.
I'll be there.
The third part of the series is entitled "What are the Legal Implications of Wikileaks?" This will take placed Wednesday, 26 January 2011, at 12:15pm at the UCLA Law School. The moderate is again Kal Raustiala and the panelists are Norman Abrams, David Kaye, Jon Michaels, and Eugene Volokh (blog). RSVP for Part III here.
Cynthia Schneider on Holbrooke and Rembrandt
For another perspective on the late Ambassador Richard Holbrooke, read Ambassador Cynthia Schneider's description of her first meeting with him in 2000. The context Holbrooke's arrival in the Netherlands for the Yugoslav War Crimes Tribunal in The Hague. Holbrooke was the U.S. envoy to the UN and Cynthia was U.S. Ambassador to the Netherlands. The result is a demonstration of a Renaissance Man.
Having heard about Holbrooke's formidable reputation, I had prepared myself to answer any and every question about the Tribunal, but was completely taken aback when the man who had tamed Milosevic asked me about Rembrandt.
Read the whole, brief article here.
Pop Quiz: identify the author or the name of the report and win an Amazon Gift Card
January 13, 2011 ~ Matt Armstrong ~ 4 Comments
The problem with history, I'm told Mark Twain said, is that it repeats. Be the first to identify the source of the following statement and I'll email you a $10 gift card Amazon.com. Answers must be submitted in the comments of this post. You may answer anonymously, but if you want the gift card, I'll need your email. Email addresses entered into the appropriate comment field are not public. This contest closes Wednesday, 19 January, at 8a PT. I have sole discretion in judging the contest. This contest is closed.
Here's the quote:
The adequacy with which the United States as a society is portrayed to the other peoples of the world is a matter of concern to the American people and their Government. Specifically it concerns the Department of State. Modern international relations lie between peoples, not merely governments. Statements on foreign policy are intelligible abroad in the spirit in which they are intended only when other peoples understand the context of national tradition and character which is essential to the meaning of any statement. This is especially true of a collaborative foreign policy which by nature must be open and popular, understood and accepted at home and abroad.
The full answer and the context will be posted when either a winning entry has been submitted or the contest closed. Good luck. I believe this will be more challenging than the first contest, which was won in less than 40 minutes. Good luck.
Revisiting the Civilian Response Corps
The Small Wars Journal recently published a paper from Mike Clauser, a friend who was until recently on the staff of Rep. Mac Thornberry, Republican from Texas (no, his departure was unrelated to the paper). The paper, entitled "Not Just a Job, an Adventure: Drafting the U.S. Civil Service for Counterinsurgencies," is an interesting recommendation to fill the empty billets of the Civilian Response Corps.
In 2007 and 2008, I wrote several posts on the Reserve Corps concept and on the State Department's Office of the Coordinator for Reconstruction and Stabilization (S/CRS), including one for Small Wars Journal entitled "In-sourcing Stabilization and Reconstruction" (and posted on MountainRunner here). I also met with now-retired Amb. John Herbst, who headed S/CRS, several times to discuss S/CRS, the Reserve Corps ideas and other topics. So this is an issue I've delved into, at least at the conceptual level.
Continue reading "Revisiting the Civilian Response Corps
Yes, there is No Smith-Mundt Act in India, nor anywhere else (except Japan?)
My colleague John Brown notes in a post that there is "No Smith-Mundt Act in India." The context was an article by Rajiv Bhatia in which Bhatia wrote Indian diplomats that "rightly maintain that public diplomacy has to do with both foreign an domestic audiences."
John's reference to the Smith-Mundt Act is the artificial division of the world between domestic and foreign based on America's political border. This senseless division is what common understanding of the effect – and purpose – of the Smith-Mundt Act of 1948, as amended. To say this means the Act prevents the Government speaking to Americans is misleading – as is most discussion surrounding the Act – as the division is not on audience but geography.
In John's post, he points us to comments by a Foreign Service Officer regarding the Smith-Mundt Act. These comments require clarification, as they are misleading and not entirely accurate (as I said, most discussion about the Act is ill-informed or inaccurate). Words matter here, which is perhaps ironic considering the Act provide the foundation authorization to use words (among other means of communication) with global audiences (yes, global).
Continue reading "Yes, there is No Smith-Mundt Act in India, nor anywhere else (except Japan?)
RFE/RL President Jeff Gedmin to Depart for Legatum Institute
The Broadcasting Board of Governors announced this morning that Jeff Gedmin has resigned from RFE/RL. Jeff will depart Prague-based RFE/RL at the end of February 2011, four years after taking the helm. He will leave to become the CEO/President of Legatum Institute in London, "investors in industries, individuals and ideas."
Jeff told Josh Rogin that it was "the right time to move on because if I'm telling my people to step out of their comfort zone and be open to growth, I have to be able to take my own advice."
Walter Isaacson, chairman of the BBG, said in a statement, "Jeff's passion for the power of the truth has been a great inspiration for all of us involved in international broadcasting." Walter added that the "Board looks forward to Jeff serving as a valuable adviser in the future."
Dennis Mulhaupt, member of the BBG and chairman of the corporate board of RFE/RL, described Jeff as "an exceptional leader of RFE/RL over the past four years."
RFE/RL is part of the domain overseen by the Broadcasting Board of Governors but operates more independently than the Voice of America. RFE/RL was established in in 1950 as Radio Free Europe (RFE). In 1976, Radio Liberty (RL) and RFE merged. Today, RFE/RL broadcasts in 28 languages to 21 countries, as well as maintaining a robust online presence that is underappreciated. According to RFE/RL, it has over 400 full-time journalists, 750 freelancers and 20 local bureaus.
I wish Jeff the best and congratulate him on leaving RFE/RL better and stronger than when he started.
PUBD510: Technologies and Public Diplomacy, starts this Friday, possibly (but very unlikely) near you
Modern means of communication…has opened up a new world of political processes. Ideas and phrases can now be given an effectiveness greater than the effectiveness of any personality and stronger than any sectional interest.
This Friday is the first meeting of PUBD510: Technologies and Public Diplomacy, the graduate class I'm teaching this semester at the USC Annenberg School of Communication and Journalism. This will be the second semester teaching this subject.
The syllabus is available here (and is subject to change).
I've structured the class to be a practical education on the conceptual, structural and practical realities of engaging audiences in today's information and human environment. Technology, whether telegraph or Twitter, plays a role in communicate with and among people, but it does not work in a vacuum. My goal is to empower the students to influence decision makers, from DC to the field, through increased understanding of the holistic environment, from authorities to bureaucracies to technologies to relevant audiences (or, if you wish, participants or stakeholders).
If you have any recommendations on improving the syllabus, don't hesitate to share them, either in the comments below or through email.
By the way, the above quote comes from H.G. Wells. More specifically, it comes from an article Wells wrote on China as part of a specially commissioned series for the paper generally titled "The Way the World is Going. The article, entitled "A New China Stirs the World," was published on January 23, 1927.
False flag: social engineering the social network of IO professionals
January 6, 2011 ~ Matt Armstrong ~ 3 Comments
Some colleagues are reporting a phishing expedition to identify and engage Information Operations experts on LinkedIn. They've reported invitations from "George W." who purports to be "Colonel Williams", an "IO professional" in the DC area.
Invitations, with a number of wording variations, has been received by a number of active duty IO personnel recently. Investigation by several others has shown that the profile is for a nonexistent person.
In short, be careful who you let into your social network. While you may not be passing along explicit data, bringing an unknown into your network allows the phisher – who may be a hacker, a curious teenager, looking for the next Wikileaks source or a foreign government – to explore and learn from your network. By bringing the person in, you impart a degree of trust the phisher will certainly leverage to gain additional access.
Continue reading "False flag: social engineering the social network of IO professionals
Call for papers: Strategically Managing America's International Communication
January 5, 2011 December 28, 2020 ~ Matt Armstrong
The U.S. Army War College is co-sponsoring a special issue "Public Relations Review" titled "Strategically Managing America's International Communication in the 21st Century."
This special issue's editors are:
Ray Hiebert, Professor Emeritus, University of Maryland
Frank Kalupa, Professor, James Madison University
Dennis Murphy, Professor, Center for Strategic Leadership, U.S. Army War Colleg
The editors encourage the submission of empirical, conceptual, quantitative and qualitative manuscripts are encouraged along with case studies explicating instructive strategic communication practices. Relevant topics might include cultural considerations, persuasion versus propaganda, ethics, policy influences, messaging, professional training and development, traditional and social media, public opinion and perceptions, reputation, measurement and evaluation, international collaboration, transparency, credibility or the application of social science among other related areas.
All manuscripts will undergo blind peer review.
For more information or to submit a manuscript, contact:
Professor Frank B. Kalupa, frankkalupa@me.com
Professor Dennis M. Murphy, dennis.murphy@us.army.mil
The author's guide for Public Relations Review is available here.
Public Diplomacy: Books, Articles, Websites #54 (by Bruce Gregory)
Courtesy of Bruce Gregory, Professor of Media and Public Affairs, George Washington University.
Intended for teachers of public diplomacy and related courses, here is an update on resources that may be of general interest. Suggestions for future updates are welcome.
Bruce Gregory
Continue reading "Public Diplomacy: Books, Articles, Websites #54 (by Bruce Gregory)
Event: The Role and Relevance of Multilateral Diplomacy in U.S. Foreign Policy
January 4, 2011 ~ Matt Armstrong
The American Foreign Service Association ("The Voice of the Foreign Service") is convening a new series of events linked to the cover story on its monthly flagship publication, the Foreign Service Journal. The first event highlighting the December 2010 FSJ article on multilateral diplomacy will take place at 3p on 11 January at AFSA. A panel to discuss the topic "The Role and Relevance of Multilateral Diplomacy in US Foreign Policy" will include:
Dr. Esther Brimmer, Assistant Secretary of State for International Organization Affairs.
Rep. Russ Carnahan (D-MO), Member of House Foreign Affairs and outgoing chairman of the House Foreign Affairs Subcommittee on International Organizations, Human Rights, and Oversight.
Brett Schaefer, Jay Kingham Fellow in International Regulatory Affairs at the Heritage Foundation's Margaret Thatcher Center for Freedom.
Retired Foreign Service Officer and former Deputy Assistant Secretary of State for International Organization Affairs, Molly Williamson will moderate.
RSVPs are required, and should be sent to events@afsa.org by January 10.
AFSA is located at 2101 E St NW, Washington, DC 20006.
Barry Zorthian, public diplomacy legend, passes away at 90
A legendary member of the old guard of public diplomacy passed away December 30 at the age of 90. Barry Zorthian, seen at right at the 2009 Smith-Mundt Symposium, had a long career in the service of the United States and the media. I'm honored to have known Barry over the past two years.
Barry was born in Turkey in 1920. Emigrating with his family to the US, he graduated from Yale University in 1941 and joined the US Marine Corps, serving as an artillery officer in the Pacific Theater. After the war, Barry worked at CBS Radio in New York and earned a law degree from New York University. He also worked for the Voice of America for 13 years with Voice of America, first as a reporter, then an editor and finally as program manager.
In 1964, after three years in India for the State Department as a deputy public affairs officer. Back then, the public affairs officers worked for the United States Information Agency (or Service as it was known outside the US). Edward R. Murrow, as USIA Director and thus Barry's boss, asked Barry to head the Joint U.S. Public Affairs Office in Vietnam. Barry would say this was the first (and largest ever) joint State and Defense public affairs office. According to Barry, to get around the concern based on Smith-Mundt that the USIA should not be speaking to the US public, Barry was transferred to the State Department and USIA reimbursed State for his pay.
Barry Barry retired from the Marine Corps Reserve as a Colonel in 1973, served as Vice President of Time Inc. (now Time Warner) and served on the Board for International Broadcasting with jurisdiction over Radio Free Europe and Radio Liberty.
In July 2010, his wife Margaret Aylaian Zorthian, died. They had been married for 62 years. Barry is survived by two sons, Greg and Steve.
Comments by Barry Zorthian on public diplomacy at the 2009 Smith-Mundt Symposium in this report and the event's transcript.
Obituary in The Washington Post by Emma Brown
Obituary by The AP
Public Diplomacy (903)
Psychological Struggle (287)
ICT (200)
Private Military Companies (150)
Counterinsurgency (142)
State Department (176)
Strategic Communication (135)
Defense Department (85)
public affairs (79)
Enter your email address to receive new posts by email. You may also subscribe to Mountainrunner Memo for episodic commentary not seen on the blog
Latest Scratchings
Sometimes the commonly accepted fact is not a fact January 19, 2023
The Smith-Mundt Symposium of 2009: a discourse about America's discourse January 13, 2023
The propaganda of "propaganda" January 11, 2023
Who said it, when, and why? Part II (of II) November 29, 2022
Who said it, when, and why? Part I November 29, 2022
It's been said… November 22, 2022
The deficiency of "information" October 3, 2022
We don't have an organizational problem, we have a leadership problem September 21, 2022
Comments and Recollections on the Advisory Commission on Public Diplomacy September 20, 2022
Into the gray zone September 12, 2022
A Reminder that the position of Under Secretary for Public Diplomacy and Public Affairs actually exists August 31, 2022
Organizing for information: leadership is the cornerstone and not a by-product of structure July 8, 2022
Gross Misinformation: we have no idea what we're doing or what we did February 1, 2022
Correcting Misinformation around the Smith-Mundt Act Seventy-Seven Years after it was Introduced January 24, 2022
It is time to do away with the Under Secretary for Public Diplomacy January 14, 2022
Afghanistan Africa BBG Blackwater Broadcasting Broadcasting Board of Governors Bruce Gregory China CobraBoats Conference Congress cultural diplomacy Defense Department development Don Bishop DynCorp global engagement government government broadcasting influence International Broadcasting new media News and Politics now media Old Media PMC politics Private military company private military firm Propaganda PSYOP public affairs public diplomacy Smith-Mundt smith-mundt act Social Media State Department Strategic Communication technology terrorism Top Cat Marine Security Topcat Marine Security USAID USIA VOA
Admin (106)
BBG (32)
Bruce Gregory's List (42)
Civil-Military Relations (81)
Correcting Accepted Wisdom (1)
Cultural Diplomacy (24)
Definitions (1)
Don Bishop's List (12)
Government Broadcasting (67)
Hand-Grenade (1)
Interagency (47)
Marketplace for Loyalty (2)
Non-State Actors (13)
Now Media (89)
Organizing Public Diplomacy (14)
Peacekeeping (33)
Political Warfare (10)
Public Affairs (133)
Smith-Mundt (120)
Smith-Mundt Symposium (10)
State Building (61)
Teaching / Training (11)
Unmanned Warfare (47)
VOA (4)


Barnsteen Advocatuur is the trade name of Jan Van Duijvendijk. As far as I am concerned, all contacts with you are low-threshold and direct. Please do not hesitate to call me for an introductory meeting.
New construction is a relatively straightforward, technical and legal affair. How different is the renovation or transformation of an existing building that may contain hidden technical defects? Just think of the various uncertainties such as reinforcement, construction issues and pollution (soil contamination, asbestos). Where are the pipes located, what is the wear & tear status? Simple old-school contracting agreements will not suffice. What is needed, in addition to alert acting by the designing and executing parties, are integrated contracting forms.
Legal practice is mostly about proper preparation of a project beforehand - not litigation. This means that it is better to engage Barnsteen Advocatuur in the early stages of negotiations, when the impact of proper legal advice is instrumental and the payoff of a clear contract is the highest. It goes without saying that we will take a close look at case law and that we know the textbooks. In order to stay out of court, it is vital to draw up appropriate contracts for the commercial practice of parties who join forces.
If everyone sticks to the arrangements that are made, does everything in the proper sequence, and in accordance with the agreed and well-considered planning, success is guaranteed. In most cases, there are several ways of taking up a matter. But if you jointly agree on a specific way to go forward, you cannot deviate from it at a later stage. As a matter of fact, a contract serves the same purpose as a construction drawing. It is like a railway timetable, enabling all parties involved to see at all times what to do under specific circumstances - and not to check what should have been done in retrospect after things have already gone wrong.
The legal world and the litigation practice, even the Judiciary, often talk about the wonders of 'mediation'. But what is mediation really? Considering the individual interests of stakeholders with an open mind and arriving at a voluntary solution. That is a lot easier to do before the atmosphere turns sour. Well then, why not use these mediation techniques during the preparatory stages of a project? Lateral thinking and creativity, that is what matters.


text:
Home People · BIA What Makes a Winner
WMAW: "Winning has given me a real sense of achievement"
Amy North · 13 March, 2018
Katie-Joy Woods, winner of the 2017 BIA Customer Focus Award
What really goes into building an award-winning customer relationship? Katie-Joy Woods, bakery technologist at Campden BRI, explains…
"I hadn't entered an award before so I really wasn't expecting to win – but that made it feel even more special," says Katie-Joy Woods, bakery technologist at Campden BRI and winner of the BIA 2017 Customer Focus Award.
"It was a big category and so many people working in the baking industry do a great job of being customer-focused," Woods adds. But her dedication and commitment to the client shone through, despite it being her first experience of developing a functional bakery product.
The project in question involved working with a customer who hoped to gain funding for a medical study looking into nutritional enrichment of flour and its potential health benefits in baked products. Clear goals were set and trials undertaken, which eventually led to a larger ongoing project and a request from the customer for more samples to use in presentations and at trade show exhibits.
"It involved working with wheat breeders right through to producing a finished product, so I gained valuable knowledge about the crucial link between primary production, the quality of the raw ingredients and the final product," she says.
"I've developed a passion for milling since working on the project, so I volunteered to coordinate our harvest testing each year."
Regardless of the nature of the project, regular contact with the client is vital to its success, believes Woods. "We keep our clients up to date with progress via regular calls and interim reports. Nothing can substitute face-to-face contact, though, so we invite our clients to come in to work alongside us in our pilot bakeries so they can touch, smell and see their product first-hand.
"This is really important to the overall success of a project as emails can easily be misinterpreted, which can lead to mistakes. This can cause delays to the project and, if work needs to be repeated, it increases the cost."
The BIA success gained coverage in local papers and on social media, while all members of Campden BRI's bakery and cereals processing department have included the award and logo in their email signatures, helping to raise the profile of the company.
Woods, meanwhile, has become something of a celebrity in the bakery community, thanks to the win.
"I attended the British Society of Bakers autumn conference and people recognised my face even though they had never met me before," she says.
It's an experience she'd definitely recommend. "Winning has given me a real sense of achievement and it has been a big confidence booster. Even if you're a runner-up, attending the awards night is amazing."
Sponsor's comment
"Congratulations to the winner of the 2017 Customer Focus Award, Campden BRI.
"Bakery technologist at Campden BRI, Katie-Joy Woods, worked closely with her customer to ensure the Campden BRI team developed the right product for them and met all their objectives.
"The customer's needs were at the heart of Katie-Joy's work, and their positive relationship and high-level skill set ensured Campden BRI met the brief and developed an appropriate product."
John Lindsay, senior vice-president and chief commercial officer, Europe, CSM Bakery Solutions
csm bakery solutions
Katie-Joy Woods
Customer Focus Award
BSB announces Morrisons' Andy Clegg as main speaker for spring conference
WMAW: 'I'm hoping I can be an inspiration for others'
WMAW: "Enter the awards because you believe in your products"
Iceland and M&S clash over crumpet advert
VIDEO: Baking Industry Award winners on their success

redpajama_set_name: RedPajamaCommonCrawl


text:
in: Actors, Chicago Med actors
Dominic Rains
Crockett Marcel
Show(s):
Chicago Med (regular)
Dominic Rains is an Iranian actor who portrays trauma surgeon Dr. Crockett Marcel in Chicago Med.
Rains is an Iranian-American actor best known for his breakout roles in the Sundance favorite "The Taqwacores" as well as the critically acclaimed "A Girl Walks Home Alone at Night." He received considerable praise for his leading role in the Tribeca Film Festival standout "Burn Country," for which he won best actor accolades, and starred opposite James Franco, Rachel Brosnahan and Melissa Leo.
His most recent TV appearance was as the lead villain in season five of Marvel's "Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D." and recently wrapped a recurring role in Amazon's much anticipated drama series "Tales from the Loop."
Raised in Dallas, Rains attended the University of Texas at Dallas where he majored in biology and criminology.
Dominic Rains at the Internet Movie Database
Chicago Med actors


text:
Church / Family / Life / Missionary Work
Returned Missionary: Early to Home, Pt. 3
August 14, 2017 August 14, 2017 Kelly M.1 Comment
Photo credit: Hays Recruiting Experts Worldwide
The following is the third in a multi-part series. It's my sincere hope that something from my experiences will help those who find themselves in the same situation, dealing with the challenges that come with an earlier-than-expected return from a full-time mission for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. I think all parties involved in this situation — including family and friends — can benefit from the experiences shared here.
I've seen a lot of young men and women leave for and come home from missions over the years, and I've noticed something common among them all, whether they were gone for the entirety of their mission assignments or just a portion. Each of them struggle to find their groove when they come home. Along with this struggle is a yearning to find self-worth in what they decide to do and pursue.
It's interesting to note that, aside from the lengths of their missions, all RMs have similar experiences and challenges when they get home. RMs that served for less time have the added challenge of dealing with the awkwardness of coming home early, but aside from that, the experiences are very similar.
I lived the life of a missionary for eight days, which was enough time for me to get used to a missionary's routine. Early to rise, personal and companion study, class, rinse and repeat. When I got home, it felt weird not having my companion with me. Sound familiar, RMs?
Those whose missions ended earlier than expected need to accept the fact as soon as possible that your situation is what it is. There's no going back and changing the situation once the decision is made to stay home. It might seem like the stigma is still there, that you're being judged for not serving for 18 or 24 months — and maybe in some situations you are being judged unrighteously — but you need to move on. The sooner you do this, the sooner the healing can begin.
Yes, I said healing.
Feeling inferior because you return home early from a mission is damaging to your soul. In my instance, the lion's share of damage was done by me because I bought into that mentality and ran it through my mind for years. In some situations, the damage is caused by others. In all instances, there's one who laughs and takes delight in our suffering. Simply put, anything that does not lift us up is not from God.
In the mid-1980s, situations surrounding RMs who returned early were swept under the rug. People didn't talk about them, didn't want to be anywhere near them. In fact, prior to myself, I only knew of one RM that returned home early. Times have changed since then, as there's more of an open dialogue about missionaries returning home earlier than expected. Perhaps we live in a time when people are more honest and open about their problems.
Whether you served as a missionary for eight days, eight months, 18 months, or however long, the fact is that you served. Any amount of service in the Lord's cause is service well rendered. This, above all, should be the guiding light by which RMs proceed when they come home, for this truth can be the most healing of them all.
Though coming home early can seem sinful or, at least, a transgression, the fact remains that — if it was — the Lord forgives all mistakes when repentance is complete.
Everyone's situation is different. One RM might come home early for medical reasons, another for emotional distress, another for sin, another for … the list goes on and on. In spite of the different reasons for coming home early, there should be one commonality among them all: a desire and commitment to follow the Lord and stay close to Him. If this can become a solid part of your heart and soul, then nothing you've done or endured in the past can stop you from walking uprightly before Him and living worthily of all that He has to offer.
Buck up, RMs, it might seem bleak right now, but as President Monson has said, "Your future is as bright as your faith."
On Regret
Guess what. You're going to regret coming home early from your mission. Whether you came home early because of medical issues, unresolved sin, or for whatever reason, there's going to be a nagging feeling of, "What if?"
This plays into the reality of the pressure LDS young men and women are under to serve full-time missions. For many young men and women, this pressure is a good thing that puts them into a situation where they can learn all of the things a mission has to teach them.
For the returned missionary that comes home early, the regret is centered on the missed experiences and the people they might have reached.
For the returned missionary that served the full assignment, there's regret, too. Perhaps they were less obedient to mission rules than they should've been or maybe they lost focus while on their mission.
As a returned missionary that's decided not to return to the mission field, you need to accept that you'll never again be a full-time missionary as a young adult. There's always the chance that you might be a senior missionary, but until then, you're still a returned missionary.
The regret I felt over coming home early from my mission was massive. I was convinced the Lord was displeased with me. I thought that anything good He had for me in the future was lost. I even thought that all the promises made to me in my patriarchal blessing were null and void because of the error of my ways.
I carried this deep sense of regret with me for many years after my return. In fact, I think I still have a little bit of it with me now. Fortunately, the majority of the regret I feel now is that I believed the lies and misconceptions that the evil one whispered in my ear for so long. I do wish I'd decided to return to the mission field, but I'm not convinced the 20-year-old me could've handled it.
Whether I could've handled going back into the mission field or not is irrelevant. I didn't believe I could at the time, so that was my reality.
We all need to deal with regret. It's part of the human experience.
I dealt with the regret I felt over coming home early poorly. Any time the topic came to mind or was brought up, I went into regret mode. I kept the feelings to myself, but those closest to me knew how I felt and what I was doing to myself.
Every ward I moved to over the years, the question was eventually asked. "Where did you serve your mission?" At first, I'd reply that I served my mission in Provo. Technically, this was true, but it was an explanation I used to avoid the potential for a more in-depth conversation on why I didn't serve for 24 months.
Eventually, I became comfortable saying I didn't serve a full-time mission. For years, this was my reality. Having served for only eight days, that came out to about one percent of the 731 days I would have served had I stayed on my original assignment (1988 was a leap year). That didn't equate to having served a mission to me.
Fast forward to January 2016.
The main speakers for my ward's ward conference were a pair of returned missionaries that came home early. They spoke openly and powerfully about their missionary experiences.
The stake president closed the meeting with a few comments centered around the returned-missionary status of the meeting's speakers.
What he said next was a spiritual experience for me. It was as if the Lord was speaking to me across the 29 years since I returned early. The stake president said that it matters more how faithfully the returned missionaries served on their missions than how long they served their missions.
As I contemplated this comment, I realized that his message was as much for me as it was for the two returned missionaries that spoke. I replayed my eight days as a full-time missionary and recalled that for each of those days, I gave my all to my calling and I did so faithfully.
I further realized that one of the central reasons for serving a mission — bringing souls to Christ — was accomplished in my short time in the MTC. The convert was me.
My mission changed me. It brought me to Christ and taught me that the Atonement is real, that the Lord loves me and wants nothing more than to bring me safely home someday.
The spiritual experiences I had on my mission were powerful and they strengthened me, put me in situations to be taught and influenced by the Spirit, and pointed me in the direction of the straight and narrow path.
I came to realize that the Lord does not condemn the sinner, He condemns the sin. For many years, I thought I was condemned for not serving the entire two years of my assignment and for deciding not to go back on my mission.
Today, my biggest regret about that time in my life is not that I came home early and didn't return, but that I didn't realize and recognize sooner that the Lord was pleased with the results of my mission. I failed to understand that its purpose was met and a precious child of His had taken important steps along the path to eternal life and exaltation. I spent way too many years believing the lies of the adversary who told me I was a second-class member of the Church and that I'd displeased the Lord.
As I look back now, I understand that though my early return home was difficult and sad for me and those closest to me, the Lord was in the midst of it all, smiling and rejoicing about the experiences that were drawing me closer to Him.
This is not unique to my situation. It's the exact same as it is for your situation. Whatever the reason for your early return from the mission field, the Lord's love and patience far outweigh the challenges and reason behind your early return.
Illness, sin, lack of desire, whatever, they each fall well within the reach of the Atonement and are things the Lord can heal you from.
There's no need to regret coming home early from your mission. Though your friends and family might be disappointed, take courage in knowing that there is One who understands. He knows how you feel, and is the One who will welcome you home with open arms at the terminus of the path of righteousness.
Do not doubt, just believe. Life will be better and happier the sooner you accept this truth and learn to embrace the regret and then lay it at the Lord's feet. It's what He wants you to do.
One thought on "Returned Missionary: Early to Home, Pt. 3"
Douglas Jensen says:
The greatest thing is that life goes on and many further opportunities to do good will present themselves to the willing soul. It's all the same work, and no matter how long someone served a mission–or didn't–we're all just trying to be good people and make a positive difference. That's the same for everyone and the unrighteous judges who want to stigmatize certain people have failed to realize that exact point.


It is a popular Cantonese dish which was eaten by ancient China inhabitants. It has a mix of sweet and salty flavors.
The Sweet and Sour Pork dish is the why people tend to gain weight over the holidays. Overeating this meal is very common and the combination of lack of activity combined with too much food intake equals weight gain. Great strategy if you want to gain 2 pounds in a week.
Cut the pork loin slices into strips; stir-fry the meat in hot oil until it is brown. Drain the juice of the pineapple and then combine it with ¾ cup water, vinegar, soy sauce, brown sugar and salt. Finally, add the mix into the wok.
Cover the wok and simmer the meat until it is tender or around 1 hour. Combine cornstarch with 2 tablespoons of water in a separate cup and stir the mix until it is smooth.
Add the mix of cornstarch to the wok and stir until it is bubbly, once the preparation is bubbly add pineapples pieces, onions and green pepper. Finally the mixture must simmer for about 10 more minutes. Serve hot with rice or noodles.


text:
ZOMBIES: 'We're Alive' Fan Fiction - Chapter 11 - Locked, Loaded, and Locked In
A few years back, I was commissioned to write a story for the 'We're Alive' podcast.
Long story short, it didn't pan out.
But I spent a very long time writing it for it to languish in my computer. I spent that time not only writing it for the 'We're Alive' folks, but mostly for my readers.
So what I've decided to do is publish my initial story here, via my blog, as a work of FAN FICTION, a completely unofficial piece about a character from the series. This is completely unofficial and unauthorized, but I think my work and time spent on this project deserve to see the light of day.
I would like to encourage everyone who might enjoy this fan fiction to check out the officials 'We're Alive' website HERE. It is a fantastic and well-developed world created by a group of professional writers and expert voice actors.
In the meantime, here's the completlely unofficial, unauthorized 'We're Alive' fan fiction, originally entitled (WORKING TITLE: BURT)
From an idea from the creators of the
"WE'RE ALIVE" podcast
Copyright 2011 PRODUCERS OF "WE'RE ALIVE" PODCAST, BOWIE V. IBARRA
11. LOCKED, LOADED, AND LOCKED IN
When Burt finally arrived at the sidewalk just across the street from the store, he sighed in frustrated disappointment.
It was worse than he thought.
Black puffs of smoke were billowing out of one of the windows of 'Locked and Loaded'.
Fire, he thought. "Dammit," he groaned.
Though Burt wanted to run to the building, he knew he had to take a moment to recover. He had dashed down the sidewalk amid the chaos of the city for five city blocks. He had avoided conflicts, mostly adults asking for help. He never changed that thought that they were completely capable of defending themselves.
It was a cruel call to deny people help. But this wasn't about being courteous anymore. Not like many people in the US were courteous anymore. Courtesy goes hand in hand with civilization. Watching the fistfights, desperation, and bloody violence on his run was proof enough to Burt that civility in the City of Montebello was temporarily out of service. The episode at the apartment with the children was proof enough for Burt.
This world had not time for civility. It was about survival.
Burt had a splitting headache. He was very tired, and was feeling like his eyes were trying to close. His vision was blurring. Leaning against a building, Burt caught his breath.
"C'mon, man," he said to himself. "Get moving!"
Burt took off across the street. As dangerous as it was, he moved through the slow and go traffic with precision. He was surprised the streets weren't completely choked with cars, but imagined this section of the city was still maneuverable while other parts weren't.
Jumping over the last vehicle, he tumbled off the hood and fell to the sidewalk. He groaned in pain, looking up at his store and all the people in it as the driver of the car he just tumbled over yelled, "Hey, fuck you, man!"
Anger flooded Burt's heart. But the anger was not against the driver who just insulted him. It was for the people looting the store. He was no killer. But he was going to make a statement that he would do just that if needed.
"Get away from my store!" he shouted.
The people standing around his store turned to him and laughed.
Burt stood up and unslung his M-16. He held it in front of him. A side of him still wanted to unload on the people. Plug every single one of them. Put them away like a Chicago gangster with a Tommy Gun. These were the same idiots he despised, the same ones that started this madness. These crazy people who were going so far as to eat each other. What kind of human does that?
These people needed to be stopped, exterminated like vermin to never infest the city with doom like they did today.
But who was he to decide who lived and died? He was no god. He was just a man with a goal.
There was another method of achieving his goal that was only moments away from being in his hands. He aimed the machine gun just over the heads of the looters and opened fire. The looters scattered like roaches spooked by the sudden illumination of lights in a room. Burt fired short bursts, advancing to the store. Hot shells raced from the rifle onto the pavement, singing the song of a hellborne wind chime. Some people had pistols of their own. Maybe even stolen from the store. They shot at Burt, but were completely missing their target because they were running and shooting wild. As he finished every round in the magazine, he moved to the front door. The people had scattered to Burt's superior firepower.
Laying by the door were two corpses. Both had parts of their bodies dismembered. Their stomachs had been torn open. Their entrails lay in pieces all around the body. Burt didn't realize the bodies were there until he reached the door and he stepped in the pool of blood their bodies had spit out onto the pavement. He coughed in disgust.
Burt ducked his head just under the plume of smoke and walked into the store. Broken glass from the front door crunched under his feet. He didn't know what to expect, but he knew it was not going to be good.
The smoke shrouded the store in mystery. Burt could feel the fire nearby, and immediately moved to where the fire extinguisher had been installed.
As he cleared the smoke, he was shocked at what he saw. The pillaging was exactly as disastrous as he'd imagined.
Grabbing the fire extinguisher off the wall, he turned it on the flames. It wasn't long before the chemical cold of the extinguisher put out the small fires, reducing them to smoky piles of rubble.
Near the front door, Burt could hear yet another gathering of troublemakers. He could see their shadows through the smoke, and hear their chatting.
"Get the hell out of my shop, you bastards!" he shouted.
The stout old man opened fire with precision just over the heads of the looters, quickly making them scatter like pigeons startled at a downtown park. Two of them opened fire with pistols as they ran, making Burt dive behind a wooden case that was now lined with broken glass where pistols used to lie in quiet solitude.
"You just fucked up, old man," shouted a voice.
"Just walk away," said Burt with an exhausted smile.
Lord Humungous.
"I'll spare your life. Just walk away."
"Fuck you, old man," shouted the thug. The crunching of glass below the adversary's feet signaled to Burt that the enemy was making a move.
Burt listened closely to the direction he estimated the sound was coming from. But he could not get a bead on it. He was too tired to concentrate.
I'll be goddamned, thought the old man to himself. Just overwhelm him, thought Burt to himself. Overwhelm him with firepower.
Reloading the M-16, Burt stood up and immediately opened fire.
The boy ducked and jumped out of the way, crying out like a little girl. Burt did not let up. He emptied the M-16 on his own store, making the kid scramble in fear back to the front door.
When the M-16 ran out of ammo, he immediately pulled out his pistol and opened fire. The time between weapons gave the kid a chance to scurry out the door like a scalded dog, running in fear and respect.
"Goddamn right," muttered Burt.
But the smoke, exertion, and hunger was taking its toll. The room was pillaged. He didn't want to look at it anymore. But he had one more thing to check.
Shuffling in an exhausted daze to one of his first safes, he realized it wasn't as safe as he thought.
"All gone," he said, looking inside and sighing. "All gone."
The safe had been forced open. It wasn't a job for amateurs. Few knew about the safe. The only ones who did, who were also capable of opening it, were some of his regular customers. From that list, a modest few had the tools and the talent to pull it off. He was disappointed, if his theory was correct. He couldn't believe they would do that to him. To the store. To Shirley.
There was one safe, though, that only he knew about. Shirley knew about it, too. It was her safe, after all.
Stumbling, Burt hoped against hope that it was unharmed, unopened.
Burt breathed a sigh of relief when he finally arrived and saw it was completely untouched.
"Shirley," he whispered. "You're safe."
Inside the safe was 'Shirley', her favorite gun: a Desert Eagle.
Dropping the fire extinguisher to the floor, Burt leaned against the wall in complete exhaustion. He had reached the store. And though he would have to take out an insurance claim on the entire business, his prized possession in the safe, the one thing that could never be replaced by insurance money, was safe.
There was no sense staying in the store now. It was completely ransacked, vulnerable to anyone and everyone who dared enter. The store could be fixed, repaired. And her gun was still safe.
Burt was exhausted. Totally spent. Cashed. He needed food. Water. There might still be both in his office in the back. He could go get it.
But all he wanted to do for the moment was rest.
He won. He got what he wanted. Now it was his body's turn to reward itself. First, with rest. He leaned against a wall and let it support his body as he slid down and sat on the floor.
His eyelids fell across his eyes. No part of his body wanted to move. Every part of his body wanted to rest.
Eyes closed, he could still hear the chaos outside.
Sirens.
Gunshots.
Cries for help.
Cries of terror.
Cries of anguish.
A dog barking.
Car wreck.
More sirens.
Muffled shouts.
Gunfire. Scattered gunfire.
Then, the crunching of glass. Shuffling feet from the smoky front room with the muttering of yet another set of opportunists.
"Get out of my store," shouted Burt, firing three rounds from his pistol into the air.
The feet shuffled back out of the store. Shouts of fearful obscenities faded away as the thieves took off.
Burt hardly opened his eyes. He couldn't. It was as if they were weighed down. He was completely exhausted. His head throbbed with pain. He needed the nap, and let the sounds of pandemonium sing its lullaby to him yet again.
And again, sirens.
Then, the crunching of glass again, a slow crunching of glass from the smoky front room. There was no muttering of opportunists, only the silence of mystery.
"Get out of my store!" shouted Burt. The feet stopped moving.
There was no running like before. So Burt fired the last three rounds into the air again.
Again, silence. Only the sounds of the nightmare city outside could be heard. Burt's lullaby.
"I said get out!" shouted Burt again, trying to force his eyes open. He needed to stand, but his body had shut down.
Silence again. The crunching stopped, but the sound of a person fleeing through the glass was, once again, not heard.
There was something different about the silence. It reminded him of what a big cat walking through a wilderness, preparing to pounce must be like. Silent to find the direction of its prey.
Then, the crunching of glass started again.
Burt wanted to shout again. But he stopped himself. Something about the moment reminded him of playing 'Marco Polo' back at the public pool in Sacramento with his cousins. With eyes closed, he would shout, 'Marco', to which his cousins and friends would reply, 'Polo'. He would try to swim to their voices.
Today, the pool was 'Locked and Loaded'. The water was the smoke. His cousins were strangers in his store.
This was suddenly no game. He was being hunted.
Burt no longer had ammo. He assumed he wouldn't need so much for the run. He also took for granted he could get some here at the store. But it was not to be.
"Dammit," he whispered. He had no energy to fight. He needed to hide.
Then, from the front room, a pair of legs came into view. It's upper body was shrouded in smoke, walking in the haze as if unaffected.
"What the hell?" whispered Burt.
Then, the figure emerged from the smoke. Its face was pale. Its skin, clammy. Its mouth and hands were stained in blood. It wore a white lab coat, and must have been from the nearby scientific facility.
"The cannibals," whispered Burt. "Shit."
Burt had to move. He was in no shape to fight.
A bathroom was just a few feet away to his right. Burt stood up slowly, leaning against the wall for support as he moved to the room. He did not look back as he heard the person vocalize a peculiar but frightening groan.
"Shit," Burt muttered, stumbling towards the door. He moved against it, hoping it was open. It was not.
It gave the ghoul enough time to reach him.
"No!" shouted Burt, shoving the bloody figure away from him. The shove gave Burt just enough time to open the door and fall in the restroom.
Dazed, Burt looked up. The cannibal was picking itself off the ground, ready to pounce.
Burt lunged with all his might to the door, slamming it shut in the face of the creature like a door knock from an insurance salesman. The beast beat at the door as Burt twisted the lock in the gilded knob. He slid down the door, falling to his ass.
This was as far as he was going to go. With the thing outside his door, he was under siege with nothing to fight back with.
"I can wait, you bastard," whispered Burt defiantly.
Within several minutes, the pounding stopped.
Several minutes after that, Burt fell asleep again. The monster didn't get him.
But his diabetes did.
Burt didn't know how long he had rested, but he knew it had to be long enough for that thing to leave.
Rubbing his eyes, he had to figure out his next move. He needed food.
Leaning over, Burt looked under the bathroom door. The tiles were warm where he had been seated.
Burt could see nothing. The monster was gone.
"Dumb bastards," he muttered, chuckling. "Dumb bastards."
Burt got to his feet and walked to the sink. Turning on the faucet, he scooped several handfuls of water into his mouth. He tried to recover. He was still hungry, still low energy.
But he had to get to the office for some food.
He unlocked the door.
He opened it.
Burt felt he could just walk out without fear. But he took his time anyway.
It was a good thing he took his time, too, because as he stepped out, two of the cannibals were standing beside the door, waiting for him to emerge.
"Shit!" he shouted, slamming the door shut again. He twisted the lock in the knob again before the two started banging against the door again.
They're smart, he thought to himself. "Good God," he whispered. "Good God almighty. The sonsabitches were waiting for me."
Burt fell to his ass again.
Unless someone came by soon, he was trapped.
What a wonderful world, he thought to himself, chuckling.
After six minutes or so, the pounding at the door stopped.
After six minutes or so after that, Burt passed out.
After six minutes or so after that, Burt had visions of Max, left alone on the highway.
Somewhere in the layers of his visions, Louie Armstrong was singing.
= = = = = =
"See? I told you someone was inside."
"But he's already dead. What are you doing? Get away from him."
"Maybe… maybe he's not…
"Shit! He's alive…"
SATX
In the republic of Texas
"Pigs on the Wing, pt. 2"
ZombieBloodFights.com
FOR THE REST OF THE STORY, CLICK ON THE WE'RE ALIVE WEBSITE, GO TO 'LISTEN', AND CLICK ON 'CHAPTER 3 - THE NEW ARRIVALS' PART 2 OF 3, 4 min., 20 second mark.
BOWIE VALERIANO IBARRA is an artist living in Texas. He enjoys zombie movies, combat sports, and action/adventure movies. His first book, the zombie horror classic "Down the Road" was picked up by Simon and Schuester in conjunction with Permuted Press.
Bowie earned an Associate in Art from Bee County College, a Bachelor of Fine Arts in Acting and a Masters of Theatre History from Texas State University.
You can learn more about Bowie, his body of written works, watch exclusive videos, and network with him at his official website, ZombieBloodFights.com.
http://www.zombiebloodfights.com
FOLLOW THE CHAPTERS HERE!
CHAPTER 7A
Check out the 'We're Alive' podcast HERE...
Network with Bowie and find his other titles at his official website, ZBFbooks.com.
For the full scoop on the story, join the official ZBFbooks.com Facebook group HERE.
Posted by Bowie Ibarra at 9:13 PM 3 comments:
Labels: book, books, bowie ibarra, down the road, horror, kindle, paperback, podcast, the walking dead, walking dead, we're alive, zbfbooks, zbfbooks.com, zombie, zombies
ZOMBIES: "We're Alive" Fan Fiction - Ch. 10 - Into the Eye of the Storm
10. INTO THE EYE OF THE STORM
As Burt ran deeper into the madness, things were getting much, much rowdier. He had never seen so many fistfights in his life. It was as if the city itself was the source of the problem. The fiery cars and frightened people were the manifestation of the metaphorical spell cast on the city, sending everyone and everything into complete and total pandemonium.
Not since the boy he had knocked out with his big fists and the thugs demanding his weapons had anyone challenged him. In spite of his sputtering energy, his knife, firearms, and size found people actually moving away from him. It was pretty obvious to the people around him that it would not be worth messing around with him for anything. The juice would not be worth the squeeze.
That kind of social power, even in the midst of the chaos, put him in a different position. Though he walked around as a kind of brute capable of swift and brutal offense, he also had the capacity to defend. But he was not about to grant that power for any grown adults who were more than capable of defending themselves.
The problem was seeing children put in this chaotic situation.
Burt watched a trio of older teens brutalizing a kid who couldn't have been more than ten years old. He already passed up a lot of bad situations, but he couldn't pass this up.
Burt dashed to the group. He wound back his fist and smashed the nearest one square in the mouth, knocking the boy against a nearby wall and out cold. Burt slashed toward the next closest adversary with his knife, cutting the boys arm. He could have easily killed the kid, but that was not his goal. He had the power, self-control, and was magnanimous enough to give the kids a choice. He had to set examples first.
"Fuck!" shouted the third boy, turning and running. The cut boy was too shocked to say anything. He just cried out, clasping a hand over the wound and took off. The boy who was KO'd lay face first on the pavement. A small patch of blood was forming on the pavement near his nose.
"Get up, son," said Burt to the young boy, offering a hand that was gladly accepted. The boy was weeping. He was doing his best not to completely break down.
Burt looked around, anxious. He needed to get to the store. But he'd committed to helping the boy now, so he had to finish the job and hope there were no more complications. He was running out of energy and needed to rest. The added stress wasn't helping.
"What's your name, son?" groaned Burt.
Through whimpers, the boy said, "Ronnie."
"Where are your parents, Ronnie?"
"In that apartment complex," he said, pointing to a building just down the street.
As he pointed, he couldn't help but notice blood pouring out of a wound on his arm. It was a bite.
"C'mere, son," said Burt, pulling him close to him and away from the madness. Burt reached down and ripped a piece of t-shirt off of the poleaxed thug. He had nothing to clean the wound with, so he just wrapped the wound with the shirt.
"Hold my hand, Ronnie. And don't let go," said Burt. The duo started running to the apartment complex.
A pawn shop was being looted. Burt couldn't help but imagine (know!?) his own store, Shirley's store, was suffering the same fate. He had to hurry and deliver this kid and get back to his goal. They weaved through the bevy of thieves running out with televisions, DVD players, even movies.
A large crowd was gathered on the sidewalk. They all seemed to be looking at something on the sidewalk.
As the duo edged closer to the group, they could hear general chatter.
"That's disgusting."
"… killed that mother fucker."
"Damn. That's all messed up."
"He ate him?"
Burt could see brief glimpses between the crowd of two bodies lying on the sidewalk. One was a bloody carcass torn open at the stomach. Blood entrails had spilled out around the body.
Beside the body was yet another. This body was dressed in slacks and a dress shirt. Its head had been smashed to a pulp, unrecognizable as even a human head. Brain, bone, and blood sat in a puddle by its remains.
"Don't look, Ronnie," said Burt, gagging.
Ronnie only needed a glimpse to comply as they passed the people. The sight charged Ronnie with fear that Burt could feel when the boy grasped his hand even harder.
As they passed the group, a man ran past them. He was holding his arm. Blood was seeping from under his hand and fingers. The man was followed by a group of youths with bats and lead pipes. They knocked Ronnie out of Burt's grip, but ran past them.
Burt helped the boy back up. They watched in horror as the guy was cornered and savagely beaten.
"C'mon, Ronnie," said Burt. They were only a few yards away from the apartment building. But more to the point, Burt was only a few blocks away from 'Locked and Loaded'.
They entered the lobby to the complex and were greeted with more mayhem. People ran to and fro. A young Asian child stood frozen in fear and crying amid the crowd. Another two bodies lay with completely smashed skulls up against the wall.
"At the end of the hall," said Ronnie. Burt could tell the boy's spirits had been lifted. There was now an air of hope in the little boy's voice as they made their way through the crowd. It gave Burt hope that this run was not futile in spite of the boys growing pale complexion.
Before long, they were at the door. Ronnie began to knock furiously.
"Mom! Dad! It's me!"
The door was unlocked and thrown open to the grateful faces of his mother and father.
"Ronnie!" shouted his mother with tears of joy shooting out of her eyes like a leaky pipe.
Ronnie's father offered a hand to Burt. "Did you help him?" he asked.
"Yes," said Burt. "You need to look at his arm, though."
The mother immediately checked the boy. "Oh, God," she said, but regained her composure. "It's no problem. We can take care of it," she said, taking him to a kitchen just a few feet away from the door.
"Thank you, sir," said the man. "You can come in with us if you'd like," he offered.
"No, thank you. I've got to check on my store," said Burt.
The mom grimaced in the kitchen, where she was already treating the boy's wound. "News has nothing but bad news. So good luck," she said.
"Thanks," said Burt, turning to leave.
"Thank you, sir," shouted the lady. Burt just waved and nodded as the door closed.
Burt moved only a few more paces down the hallway when he began to feel dizzy again. He eased himself against the wall to take a moment to catch his breath. His vision was blurring.
Reaching into his pocket, he put the last of the crackers into his mouth. A water fountain nearby helped him wash it down.
Turning and looking at the lobby, it was a maelstrom of panic. People dashed all about. People were yelling. There was yet another vicious fight in a corner. The small Asian child still stood alone, frozen in fear and crying. That was before a blonde man picked up the boy and dashed to a nearby door. The man threw it open and went in, the child crying in terror.
It took a moment for Burt to absorb what just happened. All he wanted to do was leave. He was running out of energy, and he still needed to get to the shop. Who knows what it was going to be like there. But he couldn't. The moment he witnessed was just too strange. Too creepy. Too wrong.
Complications, thought Burt. He needed to investigate.
He walked to a nearby lobby water fountain and splashed his face with water. Then he walked to the door and knocked. "Hello in there," he shouted.
"Get away from my door," he heard the man shout. The boy was still crying.
Burt didn't know what to say, and contemplated walking away again. But he'd already commited to action, like with Ronnie. His head ached. His eyes burned. You've got to finish this now, he thought.
"I just need to know… if the kid's okay."
What the hell kind of question was that? he thought to himself.
The door chain-lock rattled against the wooden barrier and the door opened.
"What do you want?" shouted the man.
Burt couldn't finish the statement. Behind the man, he saw the small boy tied by a belt to a small chair. He was weeping in fear. It was a very different fear than in the hallway. This was a fear without hope.
There was no need for words anymore. With a burst of adrenaline, Burt rammed the door open with his shoulder. The movement knocked the man back. Burt was in the room.
The man swung at Burt. Like an old machine being kicked back to life, Burt caught the wild and desperate punch under his arm. Then, with a sweep of the blonde's leg, Burt Judo-tossed the man to the ground, just like Lombardo had taught him years ago.
Burt immediately pulled his sidearms and pointed them at the man. He had the blonde dead to rights. The man froze in fear on the floor.
"What the hell's going on here?" asked Burt.
"Listen," said the man, weeping like a child caught in the act of wrongdoing. "Please, just… please."
"Johnny," came a voice from the door. Burt and the man turned to look.
At the door was an Asian woman. She stood in horror at the door, looking at the scene, stunned.
"Is that your child?" asked Burt.
"Yes," she replied. "What's going on?"
"Is this the boys father?" asked Burt, glaring at the man. He already knew the answer, but needed confirmation.
"No," she replied.
Burt waved for her to untie her child. "This guy grabbed your kid out of the hallway."
"What?" she cried, unbuckling the belt to the grateful embrace of her child.
"Please," begged the man. "Please."
Burt groaned. Crisis averted. He had to make his move. This was now out of his hands. He had somewhere to be. This had to be sorted out now between these two people.
So Burt washed his hands of the situation.
"I'm not the guy you need to be talking to, dirtbag," he said, offering one of his pistols to the woman. "You two need to sort this out."
The woman took the pistol. Her face had melted into the perfect picture of murderous maternal rage.
Burt stepped out of the room.
As Burt walked away from the apartment, he could hear the man cry out before three gunshots rang through the air. It was followed by the terrified cry of the child. Some people who did hear it were startled, but it was only a symptom of the sickness that was enveloping the city in terror. They all had heard gunshots throughout the day. It was now commonplace, nothing new.
They all had places to be.
So did Burt.
Posted by Bowie Ibarra at 3:17 PM No comments:
ZOMBIES: "We're Alive" Fan Fiction - Ch. 9 - Burt Makes His Run
9. BURT MAKES HIS RUN
With his soul on fire, his M-16 slung over a shoulder, pistols on his hip, and his KA-BAR concealed against his hand and arm, Burt left his apartment.
Locking up his home, he could feel the tension of the city wash over him. He could hear television sets behind closed doors rattling off the news he was just watching. Even muffled, he could still hear the urgency in the voices.
Cracks of gunfire danced in the air. Burt could identify pistols and sub-machine guns. Shouts, cries, and screams sang a song of terror accompanied by the music of the firearms.
There was no doubt about it. Los Angeles county had fallen into the depths of chaos. Burt sighed. It was a sad and familiar sound that danced over the cityscape, one he hadn't heard in years.
It was the sound of a battlefield.
Before Burt could make his way down the stairs to his vehicle, a hand grabbed his jacket sleeve. It took Burt by surprise. His training took over as he twisted his hand away. He shoved the attacker away and positioned his knife to jab once he identified his attacker.
"Please, don't hurt me," shouted the lady with fear. She held up her hands. Sweat laced her brow, making some of her middle-aged blonde hair stick to her forehead. "I need your help."
Good God almighty, thought Burt to himself. Jerkoffs and idiots of the riots he could deal with. These so-called cannibals or risen dead? He'll have to wait and see for himself.
But desperate people, people outside of the chaos looking for help? This would be tough.
"Please. My boyfriend…one of those people bit him. He's sick. I need your help."
She needs my gun, Burt thought to himself, watching her eyes fall to his sidearms. Stay focused, Burt, he said to himself.
"I can't help you, lady. I'm sorry," he said, moving down the stairs to his car.
The lady made a desperate move, grabbing his coat.
"Please! Help me!"
Burt snatched her hand away quickly again and shoved her away. Burt couldn't believe how desperate she was, having already threatened her with the knife. He had enough sense not to stab her, even though his conditioned impulse was there. This didn't need to escalate. The lady needed to get the message.
"I said no, lady!" shouted Burt. "Now get the hell away from me!"
Suddenly, three flights above them, something snarled with primal anger. They both looked up to see what appeared to be a drunken man. Saliva dripped from his mouth, and he looked at Burt with bizarre anger.
"Jimmy," shouted the lady. "No!"
The woman immediately rose to her feet, running up the stairs.
Burt wanted no part of the domestic dispute and ran down the stairs to the parking lot.
Clearing the apartment building, he was able to look out on the city. Plumes of smoke drifted into the sky like toxic smoke from the mouth of a dying dragon. The same symphony of mayhem Burt heard as he left his apartment beat its steady rhythm. The gunshots and shouts of terror were the classical music of human-made pandemonium. A variation on a theme of conflict played throughout the course of human existence, as conducted by Toscanini, Solti, Williams, or even James Levine or Leonard Bernstein. The sound and the fury.
Dashing to his car, he could feel the adrenaline pushing him forward. It was providing energy he was going to need.
As he got to his car, he looked out toward the street. It was packed with cars honking in a cacophony of fearful frustration.
"I'll never get out of here," Burt groaned. Standing still in a line of cars would also leave him vulnerable to attack or carjacking.
"Goddammit," he groaned.
A set of hands grabbed him by the shoulder.
Burt growled, knocking the hands away and shouting, "Lady! I already told you…"
But when he turned around, it wasn't the lady. It was a man. But it wasn't any ordinary man. This man had thick red slime around his mouth that Burt could only deduce was congealing blood.
"Shit!" he shouted as it grabbed him again, opening its mouth wide for a bite. It's one of them.
The monster shoved Burt into his own car, pushing him down on the hood. It snarled as it tried to bite him.
Burt was strong enough to hold the monster off with one hand while stabbing it several times with its knife. Blood dripped from its wounds and it backed off against an adjacent car.
Burt drew his M-16 when he heard a blast. The monster's head burst, splashing all over Burt and the cars.
"Jesus Christ!" shouted Burt. He watched the executed attacker fall to the ground.
"I tried to tell you," said a voice. Burt turned around to see Guerra, brandishing the shotgun he had sold him.
"Jesus, Mike," said Burt. "You just killed the guy."
"He attacked you."
"Was that one of those…"
"Cannibals? I'm pretty sure it was."
Burt looked back at the body. It's arm was quivering as blood poured out of its wounded head.
Burt couldn't take it. He ran to a bush by the apartment complex and threw up. It was more of a dry heave as he had hardly eaten.
"You're going to have fun today," said Mike.
"Fuck you, Guerra," said Burt, pulling himself together. "What the hell are you doing out here?"
"Corner store," he said, holding up bag filled with sodas. "We needed something to drink."
"No water?"
"There was water. But I figured I should grab the RC while it was still on the shelves."
Idiot, thought Burt. "Good one," said Burt.
"Where are you going?" asked Guerra.
"Locked and Loaded."
"Good luck with that. They've been looting that area for the past hour."
Burt groaned. "Thanks for the intel."
"I'm going back up to the apartment. Come by if you make it back," said Guerra running off.
Burt turned around and looked at the street again. It was as if the street found a way to get more congested between the time he was looking at it up to now.
"Here goes nothing," he said, trotting toward the street. It was only several city blocks away, but considering the danger in the streets, it might as well have been in Temecula or Fresno.
But his drive was still unaffected. Nothing was going to stop him from getting to 'Locked and Loaded'.
From behind a car, a teenager jumped out at Burt, pointing a gun at him.
"Drop the knife, old man!" he shouted, "and give me your shit!"
Not again, he thought to himself. "You need to take a minute, kid," he said, raising his hands. "Do you see what's going on out there?" The boy was about to get a surprise. He was just a boy. Burt had put himself in a game of life and death on the streets. But unlike Guerra, he didn't want blood on his hands. Especially with an idiot kid he could handle.
"I'll shot you in the face, motherfu…"
All Burt heard was Lombardo's voice saying one of the most basic fundamentals of hand to hand combat: Commit.
And he did.
Burt grabbed the barrel of the pistol and moved it away from his face, out of the line of fire with only a move of a few inches. Simultaneously, he popped the boy in the face multiple times. Burt's massive fists turned the boy's nose and mouth to mush.
The second punch had already knocked him out. And when the back of the boy's head hit the pavement, his arms and legs froze in an awkward and stiff position. He looked like a red-headed Ken doll that had been discarded by a child.
Burt picked himself off the ground, checking the requisitioned weapon for ammunition.
It was empty.
"Stupid child," he muttered, discarding the weapon.
The boy was puffing with an awkward breath, still stuck in the awkward pose as Burt dashed off, leaving the kid behind.
As Burt turned a corner, the boy was attacked by one of the ghastly cannibals as he lay on the ground, helpless. Though he was completely healthy and alive, he was still paralyzed by the concussion. The infected monster grabbed his still-stiff arm and bit. The pain made the boy respond, but only with a grunt. He began to pant, perhaps in a seizure.
The ghoul simply chewed on the chunk as the boy bled from the now-shaking arm.
The road to 'Locked and Loaded' was littered with catastrophe. Cars stood idle. Cars wrecked. Cars burning. The drivers burned beyond recognition, black silhouettes of humans who had been alive, perhaps only minutes before.
People were running and shouting at each other. People were fighting each other. It was every man for himself on the streets of Montebello. The same fearful desperation that hid behind apartment doors was now unleashed on the city streets.
Burt made it to a street corner when he heard a shout.
"Hey! Gimmie that gun, mother fucker!"
Burt turned to see a gang of four street thugs race at him with knives drawn.
"Goddammit," thought Burt. His knife was drawn, but he needed something more. His M-16 would mow them down, but there were so many others who could be hit by his fire. He didn't want to do it, but it was his only choice.
Before he could unsling his M-16, gunshots were fired. They were flying from behind him. Burt fell to the ground, unhurt, and scrambled for cover behind a city trash can.
Burt watched as two of the gang thugs were hit, falling to the ground, wounded. The other gang members ran, or just dove for cover as Burt heard another voice.
"Hey, old man! Let's get out of here!"
Burt looked up to see a man in a Navy blue F-350 waving him in.
"C'mon, guy," said the man, firing more rounds at the gang.
Burt knew he could not trust the man at this point, but the guy had wheels. He could still get him out of the tight spot, and maybe drive him to the shop.
Slowly getting up, Burt ran to the truck after unholstering one of his pistols. If this guy was going to blast him, he would be ready with an answer of his own.
Burt noticed his equilibrium was off as he stood up. He was light-headed.
The crackers, he thought, keeping his pistol at ready as he kept an eye on the guy that was still firing out his driver-side window.
As Burt passed by the front of the vehicle, he couldn't help but notice blood lining the hood. There were several dents in the hood, too. A patch of hair was visible on the grill guard.
Goddammit, thought Burt, hoping he made a good call.
Burt jumped in the vehicle.
"How the hell did you get this far?" asked Burt. "The street is bottlenecked with traffic."
"Sidewalks make great roads," said the guy.
Jesus Christ, thought Burt. This guy is a certified maniac.
Burt reached into his jacket. While he had the moment, he might as well pop some crackers into his mouth. Most of the crackers had crumbled into small pieces, so he scooped what he could into his mouth.
"It's a field day for dumbasses," shouted the man. His eyes were wide and bloodshot. He was wearing a stylish button-down shirt that was opened wide. A medallion hung around his sweaty chest. His scruffy blonde hair had not been washed in days. Burt observed several tiny plastic ziplock bags scattered on the seats and floorboards. He imagined the remnants of white powder in the bags were not flour.
Bastard's coked up, he thought to himself.
"It's like Baby Jesus come out of the sky and unleashed the dumb fucks," shouted the man. "You can shoot 'em now. You know that, right?"
"No," said Burt. "No, I didn't know that."
"Destroy the brain, they said," shouted the man, indicating his gold-plated custom .44, waggling it in his hand. "Destroy the brain!" he shouted, firing at people out his window.
Christ, thought Burt. Who the fuck is more dangerous? The people or those cannibals?
Burt tumbled against the door as the man swerved to hit two people with his vehicle.
"Fuck yeah!" shouted the man as Burt was bumped up in his seat as the truck rolled over the two pedestrians.
"Christ, man," shouted Burt. "Were they even those cannibals?"
"Probably," said the man. "Better safe than sorry, right?"
"Right," said Burt with a grim nod.
The guy started to reload, using his knees to steer the truck. It rocked violently, hitting the side of vehicles on the street as it moved forward relentlessly. He put his hands back on the wheel just enough to regain control of the vehicle.
"I brought you on so you could use those guns of yours. Why don't you have at it?" he said, looking menacingly at Burt.
Bastard's going to shoot me, thought Burt. "Good idea," he said.
The man flicked back the .44, loading the first round as they neared an intersection. "Let 'em have it!" shouted the man, pointing his gun out the window.
Burt's eyes widened as he saw an out of control big rig speed into the intersection as the Ford did, too. The big diesel beast was knocking cars out of the way like a shark fin through water. It clobbered the F-150 right at the driver side door he had just pointed his gun out of.
The truck forced the guy's wrist to turn inward. It was moving so fast that his arm could not stand the force. Though his body shifted to absorb the collision, his arm snapped just below the elbow, splintering bone and jamming it up and out of his flesh. Bone tore through his skin like two hands tearing fabric.
The rig smashed into the truck, sending the guy face-first into the rig. His nose and cheek were smacked by the steel workhorse, sending blood splashing out of deep wounds in his face. He was flung towards Burt as his driver side airbag blew open, smacking him on his rebounding face as the truck spun near 180 degrees, shucked aside by the rig as it proceeded on its out-of-control demolition derby.
Rattled and surprisingly not injured, Burt knew this was his chance to make a break for it.
As Burt opened the door, the man groaned, reaching out to Burt with his good hand, coated red with his own blood.
"Hey, dude," the guy groaned. "Help me."
Without a word, Burt just slammed the door and ran off.
Burt was now only a few short blocks away. But more chaos was just ahead as well, waiting for him.
Posted by Bowie Ibarra at 3:35 PM 1 comment:
ZOMBIES: 'We're Alive' Fan Fiction - Chapter 11 -...
ZOMBIES: "We're Alive" Fan Fiction - Ch. 10 - Into...
ZOMBIES: "We're Alive" Fan Fiction - Ch. 9 - Burt...
ZOMBIES - "We're Alive" Fan Fiction - Chapter 8: T...
ZOMBIES: 'We're Alive' Fan Fiction - Chapter 7E. ...
ZOMBIES: 'We're Alive' Fan Fiction - Chapter 7D - ...
ZOMBIES: "We're Alive" Fan Fiction - 7C - Summer ...
ZOMBIES: "We're Alive" Fan Fiction - CHAPTER 7B -...


text:
Tennessee Travel Guide
Photo by Bob Carr/NPS
why you should visit Tennessee now
Tennessee is awash in history—it was critical to the development of several genres of music, from country and jazz to blues and bluegrass; home to some of the most important battles of the Civil War; and the site of many major events in the struggle for civil rights. Nashville and Memphis are two of… the most vibrant cities for live music in the country. Outdoor buffs can enjoy numerous hunting and fishing opportunities as well as several state and natural parks, including the most-visited national park in the country, the Great Smoky Mountains National Park.
What to know before you go to Tennessee
When's the best time to go to to Tennessee?
As in many Southern states, summers in Tennessee are muggy, with high humidity and temperatures that can make being outdoors pretty intolerable. Winters are comparatively mild—except for in mountainous Eastern Tennessee—though they can also be quite wet. Fortunately, the shoulder seasons of spring and fall are glorious, with wildflowers blanketing the rolling hills of Middle Tennessee in May and brightly colored leaves painting the eastern forests come October.
How to get around Tennessee
Many major airlines service Tennessee's four largest cities, Nashville (BNA), Memphis (MEM), Chattanooga (CHA), and Knoxville (TYS), though some flights require connections through other hubs like Atlanta, Dallas, and Charlotte. Once you're on the ground, three major highways crisscross the state, with I-40 connecting Memphis, Nashville, and Knoxville; I-24 running between Nashville and Chattanooga; and I-65 bisecting the state north to south. These scenic freeways can get you anywhere in the state and offer views of the mountains in the east, the hills of Middle Tennessee, and the gradual flattening of the topography as you approach the Mississippi River on the western border.
Tennesseans love their cars, so urban cores can get crowded during rush hour and on-street parking can be hard to find. Consider, as the locals do, using a commercial garage. This dedication to personal vehicles also means that public transit options are lacking in the major cities, but rideshare services have become a popular alternative.
Food and Drink to try in Tennessee
In Tennessee, the best food is based on home cooking. Restaurants like Gus's World Famous Fried Chicken in Mason and The Loveless Cafe outside of Nashville let southern staples like fried chicken and country ham shine in their humble roots, while spots like The Barn at Blackberry Farm in Walland and Husk in Nashville elevate folksy recipes into gourmet Appalachian cuisine. Each region of the state has specialty foods worth a pilgrimage, including Memphis-style dry ribs, the infernally spicy Nashville hot chicken, and even the unusual vinegar pie from the Tri-Cities in the northeast corner of Tennessee. While not as prolific as Kentucky bourbon, Tennessee whiskey also occupies an important spot in the hearts of many locals.
Culture in Tennessee
Tennessee is generally conservative, though liberal sentiments are more common in urban areas. Music brings everyone together, with major festivals across the state including the Beale Street Music Festival in Memphis, the CMA Fest in Nashville, the Bristol Rhythm & Roots Reunion, and Bonnaroo, a multi-genre music and camping festival in Manchester that's one of the biggest gatherings of talent and fans in the nation every summer. Visual arts are also important, especially in the major cities of Memphis, Nashville, and Chattanooga, where you can find many worthwhile museums and public art installations.
Can't Miss things to do in Tennessee
Tennessee is known as the home of several important musical styles, with shrines to each one that are well worth visiting. Elvis Presley's Memphis home, Graceland, is a mecca for fans of the King of Rock 'n' Roll, while Nashville's Ryman Auditorium, known as "The Mother Church of Country Music," still hosts live performances on its fabled stage. In Bristol, the Birthplace of Country Music Museum opened in 2014 with exhibits detailing the legendary 1927 Bristol Sessions, during which recordings by icons like Jimmie Rodgers and the Carter Family introduced the music of Appalachia to the rest of the nation.
Visitors to Tennessee need to think about covering their skin with sunscreen during the summers, bug spray for the mosquitos that can get a little intense around sunset, and layers of clothing in the fall that can be peeled off as the days warm from chilly to quite pleasant. The state also stretches across two times zones, so be cognizant of that fact if you're planning to drive from Nashville to East Tennessee.
Nashville Scene
Nashville Guru
Tennessee Whiskey Trail
read before you go
The Essential Guide to Memphis
An important center of Tennessee's Mid-South region, Memphis is known for its music, from blues to soul to gospel; its b [...]
The Essential Guide to the Great Smoky Mountains
Some of the oldest mountains in the country, the Smokies make up the southern end of the Appalachians, offering beautifu [...]
Tennessee's Coolest City? It's All About Knoxville
Where to Go in Nashville Right Now
A Chef's Guide to Eating in Nashville
The Best Day Trips from Nashville
Beyond Blues & BBQ: How Memphis Transformed Into an Essential Southern Stop
The Best Day Trips from Memphis
How to Improve on a Firefly-Lit Summer Evening in Eastern Tennessee? Just Add Champagne
The Best Bakery in America Is in . . . Knoxville, Tennessee?
SEE MORE﹀
The Best Hotels in Tennessee
more about Tennessee
The First Museum Devoted to African American Music Is Opening in Nashville
New Nashville Mural Highlights Dolly Parton's Black Lives Matter Quote
A Dolly Parton–Inspired Rooftop Bar Just Opened in Nashville
Thousands of Fireflies Will Create a Spectacular Light Show in the Great Smoky Mountains
11 Crowd-Free National Parks You Should Visit Instead
This Nashville Hotel Lets You Be a Rock Star During Your Visit
Booze It up at East Nashville's Hippest New Hotel
Guide Editor
Chris Chamberlain is a food, drink, and travel writer based in his hometown of Nashville. One of the rare unicorns actually born in Music City, he has lived there his entire life except for four years in California, where he studied at Stanford and learned how to manipulate chopsticks. He is a regular contributor to Nashville Scene, StyleBlueprint, Sounds Like Nashville, The Local Palate, Thrillist, and Foodie Travel USA, and the author of The Southern Foodie, The Southern Foodie's Guide to the Pig, and Nashville Beer: A Heady History of Music City Brewing.


text:
New method ensures complex programs are bug-free without testing
The system targets software that runs using concurrent execution, a widespread method for boosting performance, and proves whether a program will output what it's supposed to.
Multithreading is one common form of concurrent execution, allowing different instructions in a program to be processed simultaneously by one or more CPU cores.
A team of researchers have devised a way to verify that a class of complex programs is bug-free without the need for traditional software testing. Called Armada, the system makes use of a technique called formal verification to prove whether a piece of software will output what it's supposed to. It targets software that runs using concurrent execution, a widespread method for boosting performance, which has long been a particularly challenging feature to apply this technique to.
The collaborative effort between the University of Michigan, Microsoft Research, and Carnegie Mellon was recognized at ACM's Programming Language Design and Implementation conference (PDLI 2020) with a Distinguished Paper Award.
Concurrent programs are known for their complexity, but have been a vital tool for increasing performance after the raw speed of processors began to plateau. Through a variety of different methods, the technique boils down to running multiple instructions in a program simultaneously. A common example of this is making use of multiple cores of a CPU at once.
Formal verification, on the other hand, is a means to demonstrate that a program will always output correct values without having to test it with a full range of possible inputs. By reasoning about the program as a mathematical proof, programmers can demonstrate that bugs or errors are impossible and that its execution is airtight. This overcomes the shortcoming common to all programs, even without concurrency, that testing something exhaustively can be either impractical or actually impossible.
"Fundamentally, unless you try all the possible inputs, you may miss something," says Prof. Manos Kapritsos, co-author on the paper. "And in practice, people do miss things. The systems we're talking about are very complex, there's no way that they can exhaustively try all the behaviors of the system."
Formal verification offers an alternative to this need for exhaustive testing. But the process of generating a satisfactory proof turns out to be very difficult and time-consuming, especially as you delve into programs with the added complexity of concurrency.
"The main challenge in concurrent programs comes from the need to coordinate many different threads of code together," says Upamanyu Sharma, co-author who worked on the project as an undergraduate at U-M. "To verify that multi-threaded programs are correct, we have to reason about the huge number of interleavings that are possible when multiple methods run at the same time."
This huge number of branching possibilities is difficult to conceptualize and express through logical formulas.
Armada allows a developer to write a short description of their software and the proof methods they want to use, and then generates a significantly longer full proof automatically.
To date, a variety of proof methods have been designed to deal with different types of concurrency. In this project, the researchers set out to design a single framework that allows a user to apply many of these techniques to verify a single program, with the ultimate goal of cutting down the effort up front as much as possible.
Armada works by passing a system designed with concurrency through a series of transformations until it's broken down into a much simpler representation. The developer just has to prove that each simplified step really is representative of the more complex program from the previous step. To do this, the developer uses Armada's high-level syntax to describe the simpler program and indicate one of the proof methods needed to support the transformation.
"After every transformation, you want to reason that the system maintains its correctness or is equivalent to the previous one," Kapritsos explains.
The proof itself is then generated automatically for each step by Armada and run through a prover for verification. In the event the proof fails, the user changes their description or proof method and generates a new one.
In the end, the developer has a simple, high-level specification for the entire system. They haven't made any changes to the system itself, just reasoned about its functionality in increasingly abstract steps that are each still representative of the functioning of the whole program.
"Part of the goal is to support high performance," says Kapritsos. "We don't want you to rewrite your system just so it can be verifiable."
In the world of verifying concurrent programs, this is perhaps the most low-effort technique available. In demonstrations, the team used Armada to verify four concurrent case studies and show that it achieves performance equivalent to that of unverified code.
In one test, the team used Armada to verify a data structure implementation Kapritsos deems "notoriously difficult to reason about." Called a lock-free queue, the structure is a standard queue (in which the first data stored is the first to be removed) without the locking mechanism typically needed to ensure that only one thread can access a resource at a time in a concurrent program. This implementation provides better concurrent performance over a locking queue, akin to using a roundabout instead of a stoplight for traffic control.
Removing that lock introduces a lot of subtlety to the algorithm, and typically requires long, tedious case analyses to prove its correctness. Using Armada, the team generated such a proof that ended up 24,540 lines of code long – while only writing 70 lines of code themselves.
Armada uses a verifier to determine that any proof methods in its library are sound, and it can be extended with more proof methods in the future.
The authors hope that this shorter pipeline will encourage the broader use of formal verification outside of the most critical systems where the technique is already justified.
"The aim of our work was to show that it is possible to verify high-performance concurrent code with little effort," says Sharma. "While successful in this endeavor, 'low-effort' is relative, and verification is already associated with a great deal of time and energy. For less critical applications, program testing and some static analysis is usually deemed sufficient, especially given its comparatively low cost, even though they do not provide strong guarantees of correctness."
"This is not the end, you can always reduce the effort even more," Kapritsos says, "but we're trying to leverage as much automation as possible, making it as simple as we can for the programmer to take any of these steps."
Broader adoption will rely on continued efforts to lower the cost of formally verifying real systems, he says, one day finally tipping the balance against easier, but incomplete, techniques.
"Some people say that verification of concurrent programs lags behind non-concurrent programs by a decade," Sharma says, "and there is plenty of work to be done."
This system was presented in the paper "Armada: Low-Effort Verification of High-Performance Concurrent Programs."
Algorithms, Languages & Databases; Honors and Awards; Manos Kapritsos; Research News


Waist shape: termites have straight waists.
Antennae: termites have two straight antennae.
Legs: termites have six short, stubby legs.
Wings: termites have four wings that each measure the same length of their bodies.
Winged termites: the termites that are most likely to make an appearance in a home. They are black or dark brown in color.
Worker termites: these termites have six legs and two antennae. They are white in color and their bodies do not have wings.
Soldier termites: these termites have pincers near their heads, two antennae, and six legs. They are brown in color and their bodies do not have wings.
Dampwood termites: these termites flock to rotten wood, mulch, and other damp places. They are frequently found near water and enter structures through wood foundations resting in damp soil.
Drywood termites: these termites do not require water to survive. Curiously, they're often found close to the coastline.
Formosan termites: these termites are less common than the others, but the damage they cause is severe.
Need More Info About What Termites Look Like?
At Green Pest Solutions, we've had years of experience dealing with every type of termite. So contact us right away if you've seen an insect that resembles a termite in your home or business. When it comes to termites, there's no time to lose. So call today for a free estimate or for an emergency visit at 877-636-9469.