About Lewis Shupe
Lewis Shupe spent four years at Stanford University and two years at the University of Southern California, where, through the generosity of both universities, he was awarded two degrees. After spending over four years in Texas keeping the Viet Cong out of the San Antonio area, he pursued a thirty-year career in computer systems design and programming. Included in his sojourn were eight years as an owner of a computer service company in Louisville, Kentucky, and various jobs with various companies that endured his annoying personality with differing degrees of patience. After retiring in 2001, he was enjoying enormously the two hundred rounds of golf per year he was playing, but for some reason known only to his inner child he felt a calling to write this book and rejoin the misery of doing actual work. God works in strange ways, His miracles to perform.
At Stanford, Mr. Shupe majored in mathematics but actually studied basketball. By the grace of the Almighty, the varsity coach there actually liked him and let him play in numerous games, much to the chagrin of many of his friends and teammates, who often viewed him as a liability. During the author’s time in Freshman English (better known as the gulag), he actually had to keep a diary for an entire year. For this effort he received a “C” but actually should have received an “F”, proving once again the existence of God. These books are actually not only an attempt to atone for my ineptitude in English class and to show that I can write a diary, but also to encourage all professors to carry on in the face of incredible stupidity and incurable acne.
The author came to a political awakening late in life, primarily because he kept asking himself “This wasn’t done in the past, so why are we doing this now?” He therefore decided to try to discover what was behind the frivolity at the federal level. He discovered that the federal government had been infected with a cancer, and because he couldn’t go to Washington and give our elected officials chemotherapy or radiation treatment, he decided these books were the next best thing. (The author happens to have lymphoma, so he knows a little about what it takes to cure a serious cancer and it does not involve just hanging out in Congress to see what happens next.)
The author did not want to write this and become known, so if you do not want to buy these books he will not feel offended. By publishing these little tomes he now feels vindicated, and that is enough satisfaction for him. He knows that the golf course will be kinder to him than any potential critics, to whom these books will probably always remain incomprehensible. At least he can go to his grave saying “I tried to tell you.”