As part of my test to 5th degree black belt in early 2016, I was required to write a thesis on some aspect of taekwondo.

In my standard application of the philosophy, “Excessiveness is excellent,” I wrote two theses…

This is the more universal of the two, applicable to not only taekwondo tournaments, but any martial arts tournament or other multi-event competition where an all-around award is given.

So, without further ado, here are my thoughts and mathematical proofs on how to improve the scoring theory for the award commonly known as “Grand Champion.”


If you’d like to use this methodology, here are some documents that you are welcome to use:





If you have ideas or recommendations for improvement, please share your comments. I love to discuss this sort of stuff!

At the moment, I am in the process of deciding (or at least refining) the topic for my next black belt thesis. As you may or may not know, within the realms of taekwondo where I practice,  a written thesis is an integral part of each black belt promotion from 4th dan onward. I personally enjoy writing theses, and am only stymied by the abundance of topics on which I would like to write. I will stop waffling and pick one and write something on it in the next few months, in anticipation of being allowed/told/volunteered/compelled to test for my 5th degree sometime in 2016. (It’s a complex decision/motivation.)

Anyhoo, while pondering the many possibilities and figuring out all the physical aspects of the testing as well, I reread my 4th dan thesis and just in case someone else wants to read it (I apologize in advance for a few typos. You may not believe this, but I might have procrastinated and delivered it hot off the fingers rather than after a time of considerate editing…)

Here it is, my bit on how to set up a breaking competition and why the rules should be one way or another.

Power Breaking Competition: A Competitor’s Experience and Insights

[this would be an example of that “write what you know” theory.]


[Update: I ended up writing two 5th Dan theses, and here’s one of them:

5th Dan Taekwondo Thesis | Analysis and Revision of Grand Champion Award Methodology and Rules

You know one of the things a writer loves to see? His or her words in print. Real print. Ink on pulverized pulp. So guess what, I’m having a good time lately. A few weeks ago, I kinda got recommended for a columnist position–and they read my blog (this one…) and they didn’t run away screaming, they hired me.

You (and me…hehe) can find my words in print, every Friday. They can also be read online at and So, check out the Portales News Tribune and the Clovis News Journal.

Not that it matters, but the titles are not always mine. Sometimes they keep them, and sometimes they change them.

For your convenience, here are links to all the columns so far. Enjoy!

My Intro Column:

An opinion on the rain:

Some less known facts about longhorns:

An Introduction to Kow-rate, the art of punching and or kicking cows:

Some perspective on wheat harvest:

How to get a 30′ header through a 20′ hole:

The stories that arise from encounters with rattlers:


The Winter Season of festivities and frantic and frightening shopping is upon us. Here’s my gift to start off the Holiday Season.

Pass the Stakes, It’s Thanksgiving
By A.L. Brown

Dinner was on the table.

The turkey was partially carved and my aunt was passing the dressing to her husband, Howie. He never eats the dressing. All those carbs will do him in, he says. I think that a pack a day and a case every weekend will do it first. Me and my cousin have a going bet. She’s a big fan of heart disease. Guess she got it wrong.

It looks like I did too.

I’ve never been much for making the table pretty and proper, but as I stared at it this time, I knew without out a doubt that it was all wrong. Everything was wrong except for the cranberry sauce.

Cranberry sauce is supposed to be red.

The Christmas Ambush
Twas the night before Christmas
And just so no one gets shot
There’s no front door delivery
And we keep the gates locked
Down the road we go
A few miles and more
To pick up the presents
From Grandma’s back porch
After some coffee
We drank hot and black
We said goodnight
And then we made tracks
It was just about then
On the way home
I heard “Rawhide” playing
So I answered phone
It was my dear mother
On her way home from town
Said she needed some gunners
To chase someone down
Of course we were packing
My brother and I
Not to mention little sister
(Better known as deadeye)
We grinned at each other
Our eyes shining bright
And drove on more slowly
And turned off the lights
Then there it was
Parked at our gate
Some kind of red vehicle
Unknown model and make
We waited for word
From all our kinfolk
Till we had them surrounded
With no place to go
We rolled down the windows
And freed up our guns
Turned on the lights
And moved in as one
There in the headlights
We saw real clear
A big ‘ol red sleigh
And some strange lookin’ deer
I guess that the driver
Was takin’ a break
But all of the sudden
He came right awake
Before we could get out
And ask that old man
Just what he was doin’
‘Round our patch of sand
He started a hollerin’
And callin’ some names
Them deer sure paid attention
When he popped them big reins
It’s a good thing our fence
Ain’t too much higher
‘Cause short as is was
They broke the top wire
Early next morning
Under the tree
There was a roll of barb wire
Addressed to me
“I meant no offense!”
Read the short note
“Here’s for the fence,
That my sleigh broke.”
There were lots of presents
More than we’d ever seen
And so many new guns
We took two days to clean
Now Santa’s list
May seem a bit off
When you look up my family
I’ll bet naughty is crossed off
Now if there’s a lesson
In this story somewhere
It’s next time call our uncle
‘Cause he can cover the air

Bad Blood,” the newest zombie story is now available for download.  Set in the same post-apocalyptic world as “Gone Green,” it chronicles yet another Z-Day Incident.

Z-Day.  The end of civilization. The beginning of an age where humanity is scattered, decimated, and engaged in nothing but survival in the face of the zombie hoards.  In this post-apocalyptic wasteland,  one family of gunslingers is having fun. 

“Five strands of rusty barbwire, held up by widely spaced cedar posts. Just a cow fence.  Good enough to keep most bovines from trying to get through, and known to tangle up a zombie now and then, but unfortunately, it don’t do much against smarter foes–like people.  I use the term liberally when I’m talkin’ about rustlers.  They ain’t real smart and callin’ them people is a compliment. But they can work a pair of side-cutters and cut a hole in our fence like the one I was staring at.
“Tracks are still fresh,” I heard Hanna say.  “Musta been made since this mornin’ cause the wind howled all night, as usual.” Sliding off her horse, she squatted down for a better look. “Only one set, Will.” She looked out over the sandy desolation in the direction the tracks led and grinned.
That smile wasn’t what most folks would call pleasant.  It was anticipatory, predatory, two hundred odd years of gunslingin’ lead-dealing history rolled up into a short, skinny, red-headed young’un. 
I reckon mine looked about the same.”