"The U.S. Constitution defines a conservative." ~ writer33
Writer33 said he chose that screen name because he's a writer and was 33 on his sign up date.
When I asked writer33 for some background on his life he sent me a link to his Book Publishing site which had some interesting info about him (the author). You'll find that info and a link to writer33's book below.
About The Author
Writer33 entered the military in 1989 following his graduation from high school. He served as a Combat Medic during the Panama, Desert Storm, and many other deployments. He left the military after Desert Storm and reentered in 1996, following his marriage to his wife, Karol.
Karol and Chris
He served as a Multiple Launch Rocket Systems crew chief. On his deployment to White Sands Missile Range, he contemplated the role of the modern soldier. It was here that he started to write short stories. In 1999 he again was discharged from the military.
His passion for the military in his writing continued in college. There, he began his novel, Elective Decisions.
"This book is dedicated to my loving wife, Karol, who kept me writing all this time. Also, to my father-in-law, James Pullis, a true conservative and patriot, and to Ryan J. Morrison, a great mentor who started it all."
I asked writer33 if he could expand on his thoughts about his mentor and father in law. Below he has written some personal thoughts on his mentor. There will be more later in the thread about his father in law.
Ryan J. Morrison
Once in a great while, a person comes along that changes the way you feel about your future. This person makes such an impact that you are forced to accept the inevitable and take action on that new destiny. Rush Limbaugh, Sean Hannity, and a select few others have that ability, an ability to make a person think so hard that they act accordingly.
In March of 2001, in a small community college in Spokane, Washington, I ran into just this person. The class was English 101. A class feared by college freshman because of the dreaded essay. It was in that class that I discovered Ryan J. Morrison, the person that would transform my life for the better. With each essay assignment, my writing got better. He pushed me more than any other English teacher I ever had. Mr. Morrison taught me how to be a better writer. He made me realize that writing was my new destiny, that I had a new career in my prospects. It was Ryan J. Morrison that saw something. He drove me into this career called writing. He pushed me to do better and better. He knew that I would encounter tougher competition in the writing world. He knew it was vicious.
So, I wrote a book, a book that was awful. Really awful. I handed it to him, waited three weeks, and he began to destroy the whole concept of writing. Of course this was fiction. This was different than essays in English class. This was about a career. As usual, I stepped back and took a look at it. He was right. It was awful. I rewrote the whole thing and then threw it in the trash. Why? It was still terrible. No matter how many times I read that book, it was still an awful piece of writing. And I think back to the first book, of Ryan J. Morrison, the man that made it all possible. It was the wife that coined that term, mentor."
Mr. Morrison called. The wife peered over at me, holding the phone out, and said, “Honey. It’s your mentor on the phone.” I grabbed the phone half-smiling. If Ryan was anything, I certainly didn’t count him as my mentor. But as I began to think about whom I should dedicate the book, Elective Decisions to, I instantly thought of Ryan J. Morrison. If it weren’t for him, I would still be looking for a new career. In the end, Ryan J. Morrison became my mentor in writing. He was there when I needed that individual to drive me. And I am forever thankful. ~ writer33
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To read some of the essay's that writer33 has written at Free Republic be sure to click on the titles below, he's one of the best there is at clarifying complex issues. The first Post tells a funny and interesting story of how writer33 found FreeRepublic.com.
Free Republic Duty National Training Center Price of Freedom Free Republic and the New Media Greatest Generation
Here you will find the text of an essay titled "Rush Limbaugh is "The Passion" that was posted on FreeRepublic.com by writer33 on January 26, 2004. Rush Limbaugh is "The Passion" A few days later Rush posted this essay on his website titled "An Amazing Post Supporting Rush on Free Republic January 28, 2004". The story told below explains how this all came about:
Listen to Rush... Live audio of the text below (you may have to be a 24/7 Member in order to access this link)
"I signed off the computer last night in sheer boredom in the midst of the speechifying after the New Hampshire primary, and I went about the house doing other productive, fun things. When I got into work in the morning and fired up the computer, my brother sent me a note, along with seven or eight other people saying you will not believe this post on Free Republic about you. I went there and read it. I was
rendered silent and speechless.
It blew me away.
To have somebody take the time not just to write it, but to even think and feel that is overwhelming to me. At the end of Wednesday's program, Chris Davis called in and I thanked him personally by making him a member of Rush 24/7 and giving him a few items from the EIB Store.
It's just one of the nicest things that somebody I don't even know has ever said about me, Chris, and I can't thank you enough." ~ Rush Limbaugh
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After a poster at Free Republic saw writer33's essay posted over at Rush's web site the poster encouraged Chris to call Rush. Chris did call in and finally got to him with ten minutes remaining in the show.
The mods posted this amazing thread when writer33 told them he was on hold with Rush Limbaugh.
Writer33 (freeper) talks to Rush Limbaugh - was live thread
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As promised above here are some heartfelt thoughts that writer33 wrote about his father in law that gives a few more insights into writer33's background.
Liberalism to Mentor
Then it was 1992. I had survived three years in the U.S. Army, Panama, Desert Storm, and many other nefarious deployments. There I was, working a minimum wage job for Longhorn Security Inc., at the State Department of Transportation. Right from one uniform to the next, albeit a completely different uniform, but a uniform. A blue-collared, short-sleeved shirt with dark blue huffy work pants.
I worked the swing shift from four to eleven p.m.; circulating between three buildings to ensure no one broke in to steal valuable engineering documents. It was a ridiculous, menial job. I was ashamed. I was mad at everyone. Mad at the Army. Mad at the Government-especially the Republicans for putting me in this lowly state. And mad at the world. I was liberal. A well-disciplined liberal. It wasn’t fair. I wasn’t supposed to be here. Evil Republicans, my mind screamed. They put me here!
But there I was another evening shift half over. Sitting at the front desk with my feet propped up, and waiting for the last state employee to leave the building. Why? Because I was in the best place any man could be, right between a Sonic and a Seven Eleven. I was in heaven, foot long chilidog heaven, combine it with the Big Gulp, and bliss followed.
I had acquired a taste for foot long chilidogs. Every evening around seven-when all was quiet, not one state employee working late-I would stroll over to the Sonic and pick up my plump, luscious, foot long chili dog. It was covered in chili, onions, and smothered with melted Velveeta cheese. I can still smell it, sitting in that paper container, while I poked at it with the plastic fork, anxiously waiting to devour the contents as it cooled.
Hungry or not, I had a foot long chilidog. Afterwards, I would always start a round patrolling the buildings. Often times, that included wandering upstairs and viewing the television-though there was no cable, I enjoyed it-even if I had to sneak it in when I could. It made this tedious job better.
One night, I performed my rounds going up to the third floor. The reception up there was outstanding. Right off the elevator, there was a conference room with a long, mahogany-finished table, and fifteen Captain’s leather chairs. At the end of the table was the best television in the entire State Department of Transportation. It picked up a picture anytime. Come snow, rain, sleet, or hail, it was great television viewing.
Feverishly, I turned from one station to the next, avoiding news channels as if they suddenly had developed leprosy. All of a sudden, there he was, sitting in a chair with a big screen behind him. The “loveable little fuzzball”, he so aptly named himself. Rush Limbaugh in the flesh. He began the show recounting the number of days America had been held hostage. He continued by pointing out liberal policies and how wrong they were, executing the liberal philosophies with his own brand of justice. There was something about it. I couldn’t quite explain it.
I was glued to the television, like a man receiving life-saving instructions, fascinated and confused all at once. This man had repudiated everything I had ever come to believe. It was astounding. And I walked from the room with a look of disbelief on my face when the show was over. Later, I went home, disoriented. “Dad,” I said, looking at my father, who was standing at the refrigerator pouring a coke. The man could’ve lived on Coca-Cola. He and my mother drank more Cokes per capita than anyone else in the State of Texas.
He looked up at me, seeing the concern on my face. “Yes, sir,” he gently replied. “You know a man named Rush Limbaugh,” I squeaked out. “I listened to him tonight.” My father smiled as he closed the refrigerator, picked up his glass, and took a sip. “Yep. He’s a big, fat liar. Don’t believe a word he says.” “Oh,” I replied, walking away to the bedroom, still uncertain of the things Rush had said and the political platform he stood on.
The next couple of weeks I tuned in to the Rush Limbaugh Television Show. Even though I had opposing views, there was something about him that I couldn’t let go. Something drew me in. Maybe it was karma. Maybe it was his showmanship. Nevertheless, it continued. Two weeks went by. Three weeks followed. Before long, I started to believe. It didn’t happen fast, but Rush instilled conservative values in me. It was like seeing the light for the very first time. Like a man that had come out of a near death experience and was rejuvenated about his life. That’s what Rush had done for me. He had opened my eyes to the truth.
Yes. The truth, it was what I had tuned in day after day, week after week, and month after month for. RUSH LIMBAUGH HAD INSTILLED THE TRUTH. Something no liberal had ever done for me. My father had taught me that lying was wrong. But Rush had given me a far greater gift. Looking at the cold, ugly truth, no matter what the consequences were. In fact, it was my father-n-law that helped further instill those conservative values in me as well. I met my wife in March of 1995. A year later, I whisked her off to the Justice of the Peace and then into the U.S. Army in April of 1996, serving three years at Ft. Sill, Oklahoma in Charlie Battery 1/14 Field Artillery. During those three years, I became demoralized by President Clinton’s utter lack of respect for the U.S. Military. It was only Rush Limbaugh and my belief that America was the greatest country in the world that kept me going from the beleaguering liberal assault.
On February 25, 1999, I took terminal leave from Ft. Sill, OK, and moved up to Farmington, New Mexico where my father-n-law, James Pullis and his wife, Elma Pullis lived. He was an Anglican Catholic priest. And before you ask, yes, Anglican Catholic priests can be married; nevertheless, being a protestant in the past left me with lots of illusions about Catholicism. And not one of them was true, as I soon discovered during my conversion to the Catholic faith. Yes, I’m a proud Catholic now.
Listening to my father-n-law, a retired 20 year fire fighter that had become a priest, give sermons on Sunday with the core principles and convictions of conservative values only endeared me more to the conservatism. His optimistic views echoed Rush Limbaugh’s daily sentiments and it gave me faith in God and the American way of life. He was always a cheerful person that was a great inspiration in my life. He was a true patriot, starting the first paramedic program in Las Vegas and teaching hundreds of firefighters in emergency medical procedures. Of course, his true legacy lives on the altar of God. He held his faith closely and the American way of life tightly. He diligently performed his duties to his parish, his church, and God, even when his sight was failing in the end. In the end, he had to retire, though he didn’t want to. He was a staunch conservative and I shall forever be grateful I crossed paths with this man. Dad, I loved you and will always remember you’re enduring faith in God and America.
~ writer33
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Thanks so much for your meaningful insights writer33 and for your service to our country.
Take a bow, please...
You Are One of FR's Finest!
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