Dr. Robert Beeman, author of No More Time For Sorrow
A member of Species Homo Sapiens, Genus WASP-MOFUB: White Anglo Saxon Protestant Male — Old Fat Ugly and Badtempered, Dr. Beeman holds advanced degrees in American Studies and History of Technology. He holds a tractor-trailer license certified for HAZMAT, nuclear warheads, live ammunition, and dead irradiated monkeys. He's logged a quarter-million miles on motorcycles and flies as a private pilot about whose competency there are opinions....
He takes himself seriously in only one respect: he's an American and proud of it. Otherwise, he looks at his life and his desires with tongue firmly in cheek.
He lives on eighty acres behind a half-mile driveway with a herd of deer, six motorcycles, the occasional bear, three tuxedos one of which almost still fits, an English car that is British revenge for the Battle of Trenton from the people who gave us Stonehenge, a 1500-volume library, six computers occasionally networked, a depressingly ordinary wine cellar and Ernie the Rabbit who lives under the deck and has thus far eluded the mated pair of redtail hawks that works his valley.
He cuts firewood, paddles a canoe, vacuums rugs, builds buildings, reads The Bible, attend concerts (Mozart, The Stones), wages a losing battle with his reading backlog, writes technical articles that bore even him, programs computers, does laundry and takes from the grill a meatlike substance that guests occasionally eat. He believes all learning is learning and all data are data.
Widowed due to cancer five years ago after thirty wonderful years of marriage, his current search for a friend, a companion, a partner in adventure, and most assuredly an eager, ardent lover has so far produced offers of marriage from one hundred eighty-two 32-year-old ladies from the Georgian Republic, Caracas, Venezuela, eastern Zimbabwe, and the Chechen Republic. In addition, there has been made availabe to him at a limited time only for ninety-nine ninety-five a simple home-surgical procedure to enlarge his penis [scalpel and disinfectant to be provided in the kit], and, for four hundred dollars, a degree in neurosurgery from the University of Nairobi.
While not currently under indictment, he admits to being sought by postal authorities for questioning in connection with a scheme to sell off the residents of Lompoc, California, as mail-order experimental monkeys.
Long ago when dinosaurs roamed the earth, Dr. Beeman served as an officer, United States Air Force. Today when his country is at war, he finds himself too old to fight and too slow to run away. This book is all he can do, and he hopes his reader will find it in himself to do more.
He believes America is the hope of the world, that the citizens who stand in her defense are the hope of America, and about that he does not joke.