The Ad Campaign to Save America!

The Ad Campaign to Save America!

Thursday, February 25, 2016


Here at last! Brand New Race is here at last!

Just in time for Black History Month (which I'm 
re-naming American Truth Month -ATM).

As far as I know, BNR is both the world's
First Shirt Pocket Novel and the world's
only First Draft Novel.

I'm having my book release party tonight
here in Chi. If you'd like to be the first kid
on your block to get a copy, send a check/money
order or cash for $8 to:

Lowell Thompson
P.O. Box 408343
Chicago, IL 60640-8343

Or to me via PayPal:

Be sure to include your mailing address.
You should receive your copy within 7 days
from my receipt of your payment.
And Thanks.


Btw:I can hardly wait for your reaction.

Saturday, December 12, 2015


One day in the not too distant future. Our past is finally catching up with U.S. 

The headlines scream that by the next presidential election, “whites” will be a minority in the USA...even among eligible voters.

Some scholars say it’s the beginning of the end of “The White Era”, the welcome twilight of a culture built on the myth of racial supremacy, unlimited greed, mechanized murder and the worship of technology and growth. They see it as a chance to finally end the American “skinocracy” and create a society where “all humans are treated equal”. 

Others say it’s time to double-down on “traditional American values”, close more borders, invent smarter machines, more deadly weapons, and conquer and exploit the oceans and outer space. They say build taller walls between the haves, the have-a-littles and the have-nothings. They promise once again to “Take America Back”.  They don’t say back to exactly where.

A group calling itself WSA (White States of America) writes its White Declaration of Independence saying it's seceding from the Union to form an all-white nation. Then 13 U.S. governors disappear and a note threatening to hang them as traitors thickens the plot. 

Boyd Billings is a cynical, spoiled, star adman who thinks he can “brand” anything. But when his ad agency is given the assignment to counteract centuries of selling the idea of white supremacy and to sell the nation on a new, full-color image of itself, he seems stumped. 

"Brand New Race" tells how Boyd and an eclectic cohort of strange bedfellows scramble to meet the challenge...before it’s too late. It’s race against time, against our past and against humanity’s worst instincts. 

The winner’s prize? The survival of the human species. 



Sunday, November 29, 2015


I missed my own deadline.  If you came to the CBX you already know.
The book is still in my head, but at least I got the cover done.

My new release date is February, which is when the media is interested in books by "blacks".
But I'm changing its name from Black History Month to "American Truth Month". As the name
implies, I want Feb to become the one month to feature books and media that counter the self-deluded narrative that's still being taught in most schools (and reinforced in pop media).

Meanwhile, if you want to order an autographed, collectors edition of the world's first Shirt Pocket Novel, "Brand New Race", send $10, which includes shipping (in the US) to:

Via PayPal:
Lowell Thompson

Or by Mail:
Lowell Thompson
P.O. Box 408343
Chicago, Il 60640-8343

Be sure to include your mailing address.


Wednesday, October 28, 2015



Mark your calendar! Save this date! Don't miss it!
If you wondered when I would finish what I started here in February, here's your answer:

I'm introducing, "Brand New Race", my 4th book and my first novel at the Chicago Book Expo, Nov. 21, 2015. It's happening again this year at Columbia College, 1104 S. Wabash, 11am - 5pm.

And the content of the novel is not the only new thing. The shape and size is "novel" too.

Why? Because "Brand New Race" is the same size and shape as my last non-fiction treatise, "RaceMan Answers". As far as I know, it's the world's first Shirt Pocket Novel.

But wait, there's more - the price is only $5.

So stock up now and avoid the rush. It'll make a great stocking stuffer for your literate friends & family.

Of course, I'll also have copies for sale of, "African Americans in Chicago" and "RaceMan Answers". I might even bring a collectors' edition of my very first book, WHITE FOLKS".

See you there.


Monday, March 9, 2015


Boyd couldn't  believe he'd already been in the office 3 hours. But the clock on the wall never lied.

He only had about 40 minutes left to pull together his ideas before the big meeting. Although he had some stuff that were contenders, he still hasn't come up with the big D - the Devastator - the concept that would make his would-be competitors tremble, go blind and disintegrate into pile of sawdust...or melt like the Wicked Witch.

So when he heard the knock he just said "go way". But it wasn't just a knock. It was a more of a drum riff - like something Art Blakey did. So he knew it wouldn't stop.

"OK, you bleepin moron, come in. But don't say a word 'cause I've got a showdown at the corral in 20 minutes. I'm loading my guns."

A tall skinny guy with a big, fat grin walked in.

"Hear the latest?"

"Look man, did you hear me? I can't talk."

"You don't have to. Listen.

Texas just announced it was succeeding from the Union"

"Succeeding? Where did you go to school idiot? It's SECEDING"

"OK Mr. Hawkins, SECEDING...But the NewYorkTimes just reported the governor of Texas has announced they're leaving the union"

"What union, the United Auto Workers? The Teamsters? It couldn't be the teachers."

"The United States of America. Boy, where'd you go to school?"

"I didn't....but I can buy and sell your skinny, sorry ass a thousand times. Come on dude, you broke in here and stopped me on my quest for the neutron bomb of ad campaigns to announce that Texas is threatening to leave the union again? They've been doing that since they lost the Civil War."

"But this time, it looks like they're serious. They just held a press conference and they're all standing in front of this humongous flag with the giant letters WSA on it. They say it stands for the White States of America"

"Is it a white flag."

"Yeah. Why."

"Then...they're  serious."

Copyright, Lowell Thompson Creates, 2015

Thursday, March 5, 2015


Just as he turned the corner, he thought he heard the train. Shit, he thought, then reached
In his right pocket for his phone. It wasn't there. Double shit. He started running, still searching for the phone. By the time he reached the station, he was sure he heard the train pulling in above. He reached for his fare card, happy at least it was there. He tapped the card. It made that noise he hated. He tapped again. No go. When he looked up at the new sign that showed the train schedule it said, "DownTown - ARRIVED. He glanced over at the attendant booth. She was asleep.

So he did something he hadn't done since high school - he took three steps back and ran and jumped  the turnstile.

But by the time he got half way up the stairs, he heard the dreaded two words in that friendly robot voice he hated, "doors closing". Without thinking he shouted, "HOLD IT. HOLD THAT BLEEPIN TRAIN" and doubled his speed. At the top of the stair he saw the back of the last person push into the car and the door begin to close. Then he saw an arm come out of nowhere and the door hit it and bounced back. He ran to the closest car and jumped on.

He made it. He made it! And even though it was 12 degrees, he was sweating like Stock Yards pig. He looked down toward the other end of the car and he saw an old black guy smiling.

As Boyd walked toward him, looking for a seat... the car was unusually full for so early in the morning. And everyone seemed to be reading the paper. The headline "WHITES A U.S. MINORITY SOONER THAN THOUGHT" was visible everywhere. When he got close to the old man, he finally saw a open seat...right across from him. He'd seen him many  times before, sometimes balled up sleeping or reading a book or a paper.

"Thank you sir", Boyd said, tipping his invisible hat. Then he opened his wallet, pulled out a $20 bill and offered it. But the old guy just smiled and shook his head from side to side.

"You're welcome...sir".

Boyd noticed that the old man had a copy of the paper. He had a whole stack. But when he went to look for his own, it was gone, lost in the rush to catch the train. The old man seemed to sense his thoughts and looked at his stack and looked at Boyd. "Want one? They're free."

He handed the paper to Boyd without waiting for his answer.

This was a rare thing for him. He couldn't remember the last time he'd actually read a newspaper. Only old folks - old poor folk, no, old, stupid, poor folks read newspapers..and magazines. But he wanted to find out just how long whitefolks had. And judging by the pale stares on the faces of his fellow caucasian passengers, not long.

But he noticed something else (or was it just his imagination) all the "colored" faces on the train seemed to be smiling....especially the old man's.

Friday, February 27, 2015


Boyd Billings was headed downtown at his usual time, 6:45 am, when, out of the corner of his eye he saw the headline blasting from the RedEye news box.

He did a double-take and quickly snatched a paper, without breaking his stride. He was already a second or two behind and didn't want to miss this train. It would be a whole 7 minutes until the next one...and it was freezing. The windchill had to be 20 below.

Copyright, Lowell Thompson Creates, 2015