When John Caine, an obscure midlevel banker from Detroit, accepts the opportunity of a lifetime to manage the backroom business functions of an important National Institutes of Health research lab in Bethesda, he believes his ship has finally come in. But his quirky penchant for illicit tinkering results in the creation and accidental release of a powerful new virus with effects no one could have imagined. Only he holds the answer to how it can be stopped, and he's not telling. Caine finds himself confronted with a desperate White House and an onslaught of rage from all quarters of the world's bureaucracies.

Fast paced, provocative, and offbeat, this cautionary story is thick with political satire and intrigue. It occurs in a world of government turned upside down, where Nancy Pelosi is president of a dysfunctional United States under her ultraliberal regime, while George Bush is a convicted felon and Rush Limbaugh a fugitive. Caine's Pestilence brings together present and former U.S. presidents, would-be assassins, two Supreme Court chief justices, familiar national media political commentators, and the infamous prison at Guantanamo Bay, all in a story readers will find engaging and controversial.

Sunday, October 26, 2014

Obama's Tombstone Inscription

As seen on Political Realities

Tuesday, October 14, 2014


short fiction by John Bascom
Copyright © 2014 John G. Bascom

From:                "John Bascom" <john.bee@cheapnet.com> 
To:                   "Eliot Tongas" <Eliot.Eliotstrophybearhunts@AlaskaiNet.com>   
Date:               August 16, 2014
Subject:           Bear Hunt Final Arrangements

Hello, Eliot

I've dropped the check in the mail for the last payment on our fall black bear hunt with you at Que-eye-ow Island.  My son-in-law, Curtis, is sending his today, and this should complete the arrangements for our hunt to end all hunts the week after next.

Just something I wanted to mention to you about Curtis, although it probably isn't really necessary.  He's eagerly looking forward to this and I really want him to have a good time and a successful hunt.  It's also important to his wife, my daughter, Beth, since she feels he needs to do this for his self-esteem.  Unlike me (I've taken mulies and antelope in Montana, whitetails in the Texas brush country to name only a few), he's only shot a handful of small birds and local deer, and badly at that.  I'm afraid he has something of a delicate constitution, being an English literature major in college and all. I think you get the picture. Anyway, he may be in over his head on this hunt.  I'll help him as much as I can, but it would be great if you could be aware of his limitations and go the extra mile to nurse him through this.  And, remember, this is just between the two of us.

I'm looking forward to stalking big bears up the wild rivers and over the Alaskan rain forest mountains of Que-eye-ow Island.  I've been doing a little extra to get in top shape (not that it's needed) like running miles each night and serious weight training daily.  I'm ready!

See you in two weeks.


From:               "Curt Kendall" <curtisken789@gmail.net>
To:                   "Eliot Tongas" <Eliot.Eliotstrophybearhunts@AlaskaiNet.com>   
Date:               August 17, 2014
Subject:           Last Payment

Greetings, Eliot

I just posted the balance of my bear hunt guide fee to you.  I can hardly wait for the hunt to end all hunts to begin aboard your boat, Bruin Cruiser, on Kee-owe-ee Island in barely two short weeks.  I've been reading up on bears and wanted you to know I'll be holding out for a real trophy, one that squares somewhere above 7 ½ feet.  Boone & Crocket record book material.  I'm accustomed to rigorous hunting for long periods and using my advanced skills honed over many hunts to take exceptional animals.  Indeed I am ready, willing and able to do whatever it takes. 

I did want to make you aware on the Q-T of some issues with my hunting partner and father-in-law, John.  He's elderly (up into his 70s, now), quite overweight and getting a little "addled", if you catch my meaning.  He tries hard enough by ambling a few blocks a night or two each week and attempts to exercise now and then with a pair of two-pound dumbbells.  He puts up a good show by telling everyone he is "running" and doing "weight training," an innocent enough exaggeration if not a delusion!  Ha ha. Anyway, my wife, Beth, and I want this to be a great hunt for him as it may be his last, given his age, physical condition, and flagging faculties.  I'm sure you understand.  I'll do what I can to prop him up and humor him along, but if you could be mindful of his "issues" also and make necessary allowances, it would be great.


From:               "Curt Kendall" <curtisken789@gmail.net>
To:                   "Beth Kendall" <beffy.boo@hotmail.net>
Date:               September 1, 2014
Subject:           Arrived Magnificent Kee-owe-ee Island

Hey, Babes

Arrived at Bower's Bay on Kee-owe-ee Island  in Southeast Alaska's inside passage.  You wouldn't believe the beauty and isolation of this place.  I'm amazed we can send e-mails over the sat-phone.

I reaffirmed to Dylan, the guide I'll be hunting with (Eliot's assistant—I wanted the younger guide who can keep up with me), that I'm after a nice boar bear, over 7 ½ feet in hide length.  I've been doing my reading and know they sometimes get them that big up here. 

We talked about hunting spots and I insisted on Halla-Luki Creek that empties into Chatham Straight behind some little islets just around from the mouth of Bower's Bay where we're anchored aboard "Bruin Cruiser."   I think the creek name means "Giant Bear" or something like that in Tlingit, the language of the local Indians.  I'm not positive.  Should be salmon running up it now.  It's apparently harder to hunt than some other streams but I learned online it has harbored a few monsters in the past.  I think it's the one.  Anyway, they tried to talk me into hunting one of the smaller and easier streams.  Ha ha.  Might be fine for your dad but they don't know me!  I'm definitely up to it if that's what it takes to get the big one.

And speaking of your old man, he seems eager if clueless, and I mean that in a good way.  I just hope he can handle the extreme hunting.  Eliot's taking him up Brown Creek tomorrow, one with few bears but an easy walk.  Hopefully your dad will enjoy it if nothing else.  I'll keep an eye on him for you.

I miss you but, honestly, am so excited about this hunt it's all I'm thinking about.  I know the time apart doing "our own thing" will actually be good for us.

Expecting to get the big one soon if not tomorrow.  I'll let you know when I do.


From:               "Curt Kendall" <curtisken789@gmail.net>
To:                   "Beth Kendall" <beffy.boo@hotmail.net>    
Date:               September 2, 2014
Subject:           Horrible Halla-Luki Creek Today

Dearest Beth,

Today was rugged.  We hiked up "Big Bear Creek" all day.  It was a tangle of deadfalls and thick brush.  The underwater stones were like boulders.  My feet kept catching between them.  If there had been a bear, I couldn't have seen him at ten yards!  But there was NOTHING.  We heard something ahead a few times, but could never tell what it was.  And my guide, Dylan, kept getting so far in front of me he'd have spooked anything way before I could have been in a position to shoot.  I only fell because I had to rush to keep up with him.  I just can't believe they took me up there.  Still, given the circumstances I think I did extremely well.

I'm going to talk to the guides at dinner and suggest a different place tomorrow with more shooting lanes and a chance to see a nice seven foot bear.

Your dad is still out hunting.  I doubt he saw anything but just hope he's holding up.

Love and miss you,


From:               "John Bascom" <john.bee@cheapnet.com>
To:                   "Nickie Bascom" <nickiegirl@cheapnet.com>
Date:               September 2, 2014
Subject:           End of First Full Hunting Day

Hello, Nickie-Dear, from Que-eye-ow Island

Well, I'm back from hunting up Brown Creek all day and it was interesting.  The going was hard but I did well.  Only fell a couple of times and then just because I was led into impossible areas.  My waders never filled completely with water.  It wasn't hard keeping up with my guide, Eliot, as he stopped to watch and glass for bears frequently.  He actually slowed me down.

The creek was thick with salmon and we saw lots of bears.  I had a shot at a nice boar that Eliot said was nearly seven feet, but my sights were off.  Through no fault of mine, I missed due to a defective scope, and my gun jammed when I tried a follow up shot.  Saw other bears over six and a half feet, but they were too small to take.  Glad I took the time to get in shape and practice with my rifle.  I'm going to re-sight it and check the function of the action tomorrow.

Your loving husband,

From:               "Eliot Tongas" <Eliot.Eliotstrophybearhunts@AlaskaiNet.com>
To:                   "Sara Tongas" <Saratong@AlaskaiNet.com>
Date:               September 2, 2014
Subject:           From Eliot on Kuiu

Hello, Sara

Well, we're off to an unusually shaky start.  The one client, Curt, insisted against our advice that Dylan take him up Halla-Luki, which as you know means Impassable Creek.  Claims he read on the Internet about big bears there, but it's news to me.  We've never taken one up that creek like I tried to tell him.  He floundered and fell several times, and scared off a few doubtless smaller bears Dylan heard splashing while they were chasing salmon in the shallows up ahead.  The client couldn't keep up and came back beat-up and exhausted.  Of course he blamed everything on Dylan.  He originally maintained he would take nothing unless it was over seven and a half feet, but this evening is talking about looking for one "near seven feet." 

The other guy, John, is just as bad.  He kept falling, and even when he didn't I constantly had to stop and wait for him, pretending to be searching the area for bears so as not to embarrass him.  Then he wounded a seven-footer at eighty yards and blamed it on his gun.  Like I haven't heard that excuse before!  And neither can pronounce Kuiu for some reason.  It's getting irritating.

As usual, it's beautiful here and even with the first-day commotion, it's good to be out hunting I guess.  Still, I've been thinking again about the opening at the fish cannery we talked about.

All my love from your husband,


From:               "Curt Kendall" <curtisken789@gmail.net>
To:                   "Beth Kendall" <beffy.boo@hotmail.net>    
Date:               September 3, 2014
Subject:           Unbelievable Brown Creek

My Darling Wife,

I didn't believe anything could be worse than yesterday, but today on Brown Creek took the cake.  The bottom was jagged, slick rubble and I lost my footing nearly every other step.  The walking was so noisy the bears could have heard us coming a mile away.  There were huge downed trees across the entire narrow creek at every bend.  We saw a few tiny cub-like juveniles, but that was it.  And Dylan kept racing ahead of me again.  It was dark by the time we got down to the bay where the skiff had been left for us.  You wouldn't believe the water I drained from my waders back at the boat.  I gave Dylan and Eliot a piece of my mind at dinner this evening. 

And your father is insufferable.  I'm just being honest, not critical.  He rants at dinner with his far-right political drivel and tries to bait me about my centrist political beliefs.  Fortunately our guides see right through him and are sympathetic to my well thought out views as opposed to his psychotic diatribes.  He keeps bragging about the size of the bear he missed yesterday, and the others he saw but "passed on."  I'm sure!  And he's blaming his poor shooting on his gun.  Spare me!  I'm embarrassed for him.  I don't know how or why Nickie puts up with him.

We may take a break tomorrow and do a little fishing to let the bear-thing reset for a day.  It was Eliot's idea, but I think it would be for the best.

I miss you desperately and can't wait to get home.  I'm not sure this trip was such a good idea, but I felt it should happen only because it is probably your father's last chance.  Pray for me.  Still hoping to get that six and a half foot bear and get this over with.


From:               "John Bascom" <john.bee@cheapnet.com>
To:                   "Nickie Bascom" <nickiegirl@cheapnet.com>
Date:               September 3, 2014
Subject:           Second Day

My Dearest Wife,

Well, I started this morning by shooting my rifle at a target Eliot set up on the beach.  Amazingly it was back on "zero."  And the action was working properly again.  I must have bumped it a second time on my way back last night and knocked everything back as it's supposed to be.  Like when I kick the lawn mower at home to get it running.  Go figure.

No bears today, though.  We sat on a hill above the mouth of a tiny creek that comes in from Bower's Bay.  I was looking for wolves Eliot said were often there, or bears fishing in the creek.  It was filled with salmon, but no game.  Eliot seems to think I may have winged that bear the first day up on Brown Creek.  By Alaska law, that would end my bear hunting.  I'm sure I didn't hit it and told Eliot as much, but I hope he didn't bring me to Little Fish Crick just to keep me occupied and away from bears.

Curtis has been piece of work.  Apparently he pretty much staggers down the rivers like a drunk and makes so much noise no respectable bear would hang around.  That's what I put together listening to his guide, Dylan, talking with Eliot out of Curt's earshot.  They're going to give him a rest by taking us fishing tomorrow (which is fine by me) and leading him down easier streams after that.

And he is a pain in the backside at dinner, spewing his ultra-liberal crap.  I had to call him out on it a few times to set him straight.  The guides just rolled their eyes; no liberals in the Alaska outback.  I think they respected me for speaking out.

I can't believe what poor Beth has to put up with.  I had no idea.  She is a saint!

Love you tons and can't wait to come home.  Don't know why I did this except to help young Curt.


From:               "John Bascom" <john.bee@cheapnet.com>
To:                   "Beth Kendall" <beffy.boo@hotmail.net>
Date:               September 4, 2014
Subject:           From Kuiu Island

Dearest Daughter Beth,

Just a quick note to say Curt and I are well.  No bear yet, although I nearly bagged a big one but for an equipment malfunction.  Curt is struggling along as best he can and I think, in his own way, is trying.

Remember, Nickie and I will always be here for you.  If you ever need some time to yourself, a place to stay, or simply someone to "talk to," just say the word.  It must be very difficult.  I hate to say "told you so," but…

Thinking of you.  Stay strong.

From:               "Curt Kendall" <curtisken789@gmail.net>
To:                   "Nickie Bascom" <nickiegirl@cheapnet.com>
Date:               September 4, 2014
Subject:           From your son-in-law


First, John is fine, through no doing of his own.  I've been caring for him as best I can.

Spending this time with him has made the cross you bear all too apparent.  You have my undying admiration and respect.  And Beth feels exactly the same.  If you ever are at the "end or your rope," need to talk, to get away, or simply be consoled, remember we will be there for you.  We understand and love you all the more for your trials and tribulations.  Hopefully you will find solace knowing Beth and I share your terrible secret and are ready to support you.

Your devoted son-in-law,

From:               "Eliot Tongas" <Eliot.Eliottetrophybearhunts@AlaskaiNet.com>   
To:                   "Sara Tongas" <Saratong@AlaskaiNet.com>
Date:               September 4, 2014
Subject:           HELP

My Beloved Wife, Sara

Just when I thought it couldn't get worse…

John's rifle turned out to be fine after wounding his bear the first day, although he won't accept that fact.  Keeps insisting he missed and he should still be allowed to take another.  I took him up to Little Fish Crick yesterday, where, as you know, there are no bears.  We wasted the day there looking for "wolves."  Ha ha.  Curt went with Dylan on upper Brown Creek and nearly killed himself again.  He kept trying to get a shot at a few cubs they saw along the way.

And they both do nothing but harangue everyone about their lunatic political beliefs at dinner EVERY night!  It's actually painful.

Tomorrow I'm taking John "wolf-hunting" (sure) again, and Dylan will go down the easy Bower's Creek with Curt.  Only small, if any, bears in it, but at least he won't finish the job of killing himself there, which he seems so set on.

And see if you can get that cannery guy's phone number for me to talk to when I get home.  Seriously.

Miss you,



Check out the complete story "UNDELIVERABLE: ERROR CODE 32776" in Bascom's upcoming book, Beneath a Hunter's Sky in 2015

Friday, September 12, 2014


Kuiu Island, Inside Passage, Alaska

Kuiu Island, Alaska has the largest 
population, and the largest size, black bears in the world.

"Emydon" at sunset

The 50' diesel powered vessel
Emydon (right) was our floating base in the waters of Kuiu Island


Guides Kyle (lft), Eli (rt) and client Curt (ctr)
Sea life such as these breaching humpback whales were abundant in the surrounding waters, in addition to otters, sea lions, seals, bald eagles
Curt's big bear
John & Curt hike to trout stream
John with big Coho caught from stream


John Bascom in Petersburg AK
Look for the Kuiu Island adventure story, "Curt's World Record Kuiu Island Bear Hunting Trophy" in Bascom's upcoming book of outdoor stories Beneath a Hunter's Sky in late 2014

Saturday, May 24, 2014

FEAR & DEATH--Part 2

by John Bascom (Copyright 2014)

Eight(Part 2) Fear and Death Above the M'Kunga

(From Part 1)…I picked up the center of the buffalo's chest in the crosshairs.  Still, Wil had said the third one from the front and this one was only slightly farther back in the shifting herd.  I wasn't sure.
"The one I'm looking at is directly in front.  Between the two trees," I said.
"Yes, the bull between the trees," Wil said urgently.
"The one closest to us.  He's looking straight at us."
"No," Wil said.  "He's looking forward, and his head is partially behind that…no, wait.  Yes, I see, he's looking at us now."
"Closest, the bull looking at us, standing between two trees.  I can see his bosses and penis."
"Yes," Wil said impatiently.  "It's the only bull in the herd.  Between the trees, looking at us."
"I'm sure it's a bull," I said.  "Should I shoot?"
All the other animals had stopped and were now staring in our direction.  I was certain they were about to bolt."
"Yes.  That's it. Shoot!"
With the bull's quartering stance, I realized a center-chest hold, if pulled accidentally only slightly to my right, would risk angling between the brisket and away-shoulder, mostly missing the heart and lungs and risking a dangerously wounded Cape buffalo.  I moved the crosshairs slightly, between the brisket and shoulder positioned closest to my left, steadied the rifle, exhaled, drew a half-breath and held it, then smoothly squeezed off a shot.
Everyone was oddly quiet for several moments.
"It didn't look hit," Wil said.
"I had a pretty solid hold on his chest," I said.
"I didn't hear the bullet impact.  Are you sure you hit it?"
"Pretty sure." 
We all moved down to the area where the herd had been.  The trackers—everyone—searched the ground methodically.  No blood or hair.  No sign of a hit of any kind.
Levi and Gift led us along the track the buffalos had taken.  Their compressed hoof prints and the trampled ground were obvious.  We worked along their trail for about twenty minutes, about three-hundred-fifty yards or roughly a quarter mile by my estimate.  The trackers would cast to the left or right occasionally to see if an animal had straggled or stumbled on the edge of the herd.  The bush had thinned but there was thicker jesse just ahead as we paused to consider our next move.
"You're sure you hit something," Wil said, more as a statement seeking a reassuring response than a question.  "We can't find anything."
I was beginning to doubt myself.
Everyone was just standing around, waiting.  Wil lit a cigarette.  No one made eye contact with me.
It was Gilbert, the despised game ranger, who moved forward toward the leading edge of the thick jesse stand that stretched as far as one could see.  Gilbert, the optimist, thinking outside the box, with his positive attitude and friendly disposition.  Gilbert, who liked and generally wished to help people.  Who liked and helped me.
He moved up about thirty yards and a few yards to our left, then stooped to better see beneath the overhanging jesse bows.  He stretched his neck and head forward, paused, and pointed with his finger.
We all rushed over.  I squatted and looked beneath the jesse in the direction he was pointing.  There, some eighty odd yards ahead, lay the unmistakable black carcass of a Cape buffalo.

Part 2

We quickly moved up through the jesse stand, stopping about thirty feet from the big
animal laying lifeless on his side.  Wil approached the downed buffalo carefully and nudged his head with the barrel of his rifle.
"He's a bull all right, but not the one I wanted you to shoot.  He's a younger one."
I surprised myself with the overwhelming feelings of joy and accomplishment that swept through me.  I was ecstatic, beaming I'm sure from ear to ear.  I walked up near the animal to admire him.  He was as magnificent in death as he had been staring sullenly at me a up near the crest of the hill a few minutes before.  He had gone perhaps four hundred yards before collapsing in the thick brush.  I knew an average human track runner could cover a hundred yards in just over ten seconds.  With the speed at which that herd took off at my shot, it couldn't have been over forty-five seconds, well under a minute, for my buffalo to run down here and die in this jesse stand.  I was glad it had been quick.
"Nickie's going to go crazy."  I meant to say it to myself but realized I had said it aloud.
I moved closer to the bull and inspected him carefully.  My shot had hit very near my precise point of aim, slightly above by only a few inches and perhaps an inch left.  The bloody wound on his front chest between the brisket and the animal's right shoulder displayed the track of the bullet on his hide as it had entered from the front, angling in such a way that it would travel through its body back and across to the organs behind on the other side.  It was clear the right lung had been raked from front to back, the crossing bullet probably hitting the rearward portion of the left lung as well, and going back into the body through its liver and deeper organs.  There was no exit wound.  I doubt the bull ever really knew what hit him.
My spirits were soaring, the adrenalin doing its work now more so than during the stalk or the shot.  I had thought upon our arrival in Africa that taking a buffalo was secondary to experiencing the bush and its animals.  But I understood now I had been wrong.  This was the thrilling and fulfilling culmination that had turned our safari into an unforgettable experience.
"We try not to shoot the younger ones," Wil said in his scolding tone.
"Look, Wil," I said, grinning.  I was not about to allow his condescension to dampen my moment.  "Shit happens.  I know shooting old animals is important to you.  And it's good with me, too.  But I described what I was looking at in detail three times so you'd understand.  And asked for your permission to shoot."
"I was talking about the older one between the tree and the bush."
This was the first he had mentioned bush.  It had been "between the two trees."
"You said it was the only bull in the herd.  I saw the bosses and penis sheath on this one right away."
"The older bull was farther forward, behind the brush.  He's the one I wanted you to take."
"You might have said as much, Wil.  I'd have been glad to do it.  But I didn't see any animal in that herd larger than this one.  And this one was clearly a bull."
"The older ones aren't necessarily always bigger."
"For my money, I shot the bull I wanted.  The one I described in detail and you cleared me to shoot.  If there was a miscommunication…well…you need to be more careful next time.  But I'm here to tell you I couldn't be happier.  This is what I came for."  I think I was close to laughing, not at Wil but purely from joy and excitement.  "I'm sorry if you're upset, but I'm the happiest man in Africa."
At that moment a visible change came over Wil.  A smile spread across his face, something that had not previously occurred while we took game together.  He spontaneously clasped my shoulder, another first.
"You came here to take your buffalo and you did it," he blurted, not measuring his words now.  "You kept up during our climb up here and while we maneuvered in on that herd.  It wasn't an easy thing, especially for a man who has reached seventy and has had health issues.  And your shot was spot on.  It was quite the achievement." 
He was grinning the whole time, his demeanor all at once joyful and spontaneous, like mine.  It was as if the death of that Nyati in the thick jesse in the hills above the M'Kunga had caused something in Wil and me to die along with it.  For Wil it seemed to be the awful weight of command, the fear of failure, purged by my joy at taking my buffalo bull.  A perfect completion of our safari.  It was as if the anger and discontent that seemed to simmer beneath Wil's surface had died along with that animal. 
And for me the thing that died on the hillside was the fear that I, battling cancer and reaching seventy, had passed a tipping point.  That I no longer could do the things I loved or achieve the things I once had.  I felt redeemed and resurrected by the sacrifice of my beautiful Cape buffalo bull.  And I somehow knew my strange dreams had become a thing of the past.
"It was an exciting kill," Wil grinned, "with its twists and turns."
"Fear and death in the hills above the M'Kunga," I laughed.  Perhaps I should have phrased it …the death of fear…

Wil lifted his radio to call in Mafios with Nickie and the truck.  I couldn't wait for her to arrive.

Look for "AFRICA SAFARI JOURNAL" and other stories in Bascom's upcoming book, "Follow Him Up the Mountain" to be published late in 2014

Tuesday, October 30, 2012


Praise for Caine's Pestilence
from readers and reviewers 

Wyblog US

I could summarize my review in three words: Read. This. Book… Caine's Pestilence is a masterstroke of satirical genius…I couldn't put it down. (Chris Wysocki August 21, 2011 www.wyblog.us) 



One of the most compelling and unusual books I have ever had the pleasure of reading...totally original and both comedic and horrifying at the same time.  From the time I opened the first page, it made me want to read it straight through…if you decide to read only one book this year, it should be Caine’s Pestilence.  (LD Jackson Oct. 2, 2011 www.ldjackson.net 


Free Republic

(H)ighly recommend, but …more scary than Stephen King's "IT" which, to this day, still causes goosebumples when I think of the clown-monster.  I will not even try to offer up a glimpse of the terror and horrible events that are part of the plot, and I do mean PLOT!!  Get it and set aside an evening to read it. Make sure the doors and windows are locked and unplug the phone! (GRRR…Free Republic, Sept. 7, 2011,


By Melinda Le Baron—October 30—Goodreads...very tightly plotted... dialogue is priceless...pacing lickety-split quick...ending so surprising you could have knocked me over...perfect for people who like finishing novels with a smile...by far this book is singular in its execution.


BGabby--January 20--Goodreads...I loved this book! Nancy Pelosi as president? G W Bush imprisoned for war crimes? The hopelessly politically correct doublespeak? I haven't laughed this hard at a political novel since Tricky Dicky and Good As Gold...All I know is that I'm keeping this one to enjoy again.


Amazon.com Reader Reviews 

NEW  5.0 out of 5 stars By  Joyce Metzger--July 4--Savage Satire Coupled With Dark Intrigue...excellent...A thought-provoking story...(author) writes from dedicated research and true life experience

By Psychonate--Sept 1--awesome book! Amazingly entertaining...down right scary! Should be a requirement for students.  Finished in two days and that's only because I had to sleep and work.

By Dannette—March 26… rides the fence of politics beautifully, with a spot-on sense of timing and humor.  I found myself laughing countless times at the irony 


By "cobweb"—October 9…Spellbinding with an edgy awareness that the ridiculous situation inching Caine to his death is uncannily possible… Caine's observations, inappropriate humor and irreverent satire bind this twisted plot into an intriguing read and a wakeful night… Totally great reading and we want more. 


By Daune Robinson—April 14…can't remember the last time I enjoyed finding a new author this much - well, yes, I can - it was when I read Watchers and fell in love with Dean Koontz! This book was a pleasure to read. I laughed, cried, screamed and could not put it down. Read it! 

Saturday, November 12, 2011

CNBC Comments on Caine's Pestilence


Political Satire Novel Lampoons Nancy Pelosi, Liberals

"One of the most compelling and unusual books ...ever"  Political Realities


GLADWIN, Mich., -- Caine's Pestilence, a novel melding biotech mystery and political satire, has been released by Canniche Cove Publishing. Written by new author John Bascom, the fictional work unfolds in a surreal 2015  where Nancy Pelosi is president and the ultra-liberal wing of the Democratic Party firmly controls America.

The novel is distinctive in that it defies standard classifications of literary genre, containing elements of action-adventure, biotech science fiction, humor, and political parody. Bascom uses actual public figures as characters. In addition to Pelosi, Minnesota Senator Al Franken is the chief justice of the Supreme Court, while Rush Limbaugh is a fugitive beaming bootleg broadcasts into the US from Canada.

John Bascom, author
"I wanted to write something absolutely unique," Bascom says, "something that would give voice to my concerns about the destructiveness of the liberal agenda taking hold in our country, but in a way that avoids rants or preaching and is delivered in an entertaining, engaging way." Bascom's story unfolds from the pen of the simple, hapless central character, John Caine, writing his memoirs from his death-row cell. An obscure administrator at the National Institutes of Health, Caine fortuitously creates a biological agent that, accidentally released into the population, changes the perceptions of ordinary people about the liberal agenda. The Pelosi administration then goes crazy and Caine is persecuted mercilessly in their efforts to stop it.

The author's mission of entertaining and engaging has met with success according to the conservative Wyblog.us, who calls Caine's Pestilence "...a masterstroke of satirical genius" and tells the blog's fans to Read. This. Book. Today! And the blog Political Realities says it's "...one of the most compelling and unusual books I have ever had the pleasure of reading." Individual Amazon reader-reviewers awarded the maximum 5 stars on average overall.

Caine's Pestilence is available in softcover or Kindle at Amazon.com and as a Nook eBook from Barnes & Noble.