So how long can it go on? Who knows, really. As in all things, we'll see. Excelsior!
(And don't forget Ask Me Anything!, for which I will definitively cease taking queries after tomorrow.)
Who among us would ask our children for a loan, so we could spend money we do not have, on things we do not need? That is precisely what the Democrats in Congress just did. It's irresponsible. And it's no way to strengthen our economy, create jobs, or build a prosperous future for our children.
Alan posted about the reception received the other day that greeted the representatives of the Westboro Baptist Church when they showed up to protest the services for the victims of the Continental Airlines plane crash. Nice to see that these nitwits got nowhere with their shenanigans, thanks to lots of local people who showed up to basically marginalize them and make them invisible. Kind of like the people in the photo above, which includes...my parents!
There they are, at far right. Mom's in the red overcoat, and Dad's beside her, with the ballcap, looking off down the street at something. Cool!
Some fans do have a tendency to forget that the creative folks they love are not simply black boxes, who produce desired product at regular intervals. They’re actually real people who do other things than just what the fans want them to do, because humans from time to time want to do the things they want to do, not the things other people want them to do. Yes, some fans don’t like that, but you know what, screw the type of fan who thinks a writer (or musician, or actor, or whatever) exists only to provide them with the entertainment of their choosing.
I’ll go personal here and talk about my own experience. As most of you know, the books in my Old Man’s War series are my most popular ones; each of the four novels have done very well and even the shorter works are pretty popular. There are people who would be delighted if all I did was write OMW universe books from now until the hopefully long-future date at which I drop. But thing is, at the moment, I have no plans to write any more OMW books. It’s not to say I never will, if I figure out what I want to do with that universe from here. I expect I may. But at the moment: Nope. I’ve got other things I’m working on which at the moment interest me more.
Now, I know this annoys some people — my matrix of ego-surfing search engines alerts me to many incidents of fan entitlement, particularly as regards the OMW universe — but I don’t think they understand what they’re asking for. Yes, I could write OMW #5 at the moment, but I guarantee it would suck, because at the moment I don’t know what I would write about, and thus OMW #5 would simply be a bit of commercial hackery, and it would show. And these same fans would say “Yeah, the series used to be good, but then he started phoning it in around book five.” You know, if I’m going to annoy a fan, I’d prefer to annoy a fan by not writing a book that sucks, than by writing one that does.
With this new concept, I sever all connection with our present-day theatre and its audience: I make a definite and permanent break with present-day forms. Would you like to know what my intention are regarding my plan? In the first place, to carry it out, so far as lies within my power as poet and composer. This will take me at least three full years.
Your shower shoes have fungus growing on them. You'll never make it to The Show if you've got fungus growing on your shower shoes. Think classy, you'll be classy. When you win twenty in The Show, you can let the fungus grow back all over your shower shoes and the press will think you're colorful. Until you win twenty in The Show, however, it means you're a slob.
I dressed slowly in my most comfy sweats and then made my bed -- something I never did. I couldn't put it off any longer. I went to my desk and switched on my old computer.
I hated using the Internet here. My modem was sadly outdated, my free service substandard; just dialing up took so long that I decided to go get myself a bowl of cereal while I waited.
I ate slowly, chewing each bite with care. When I was done, I washed the bowl and spoon, dried them, and put them away. My feet dragged as I climbed the stairs. I went to my CD player first, picking it up off the floor and placing it precisely in the center of the table. I pulled out the headphones, and put them away in the desk drawer. Then I turned the same CD on, turning it down to the point where it was background noise.
With another sigh, I turned to my computer. Naturally, the screen was covered in pop-up ads. I sat in my hard folding chair and began closing all the little windows. Eventually I made it to my favorite search engine. I shot down a few more pop-ups and then typed in one word.
It took an infuriatingly long time, of course. When the results came up, there was a lot to sift through -- everything from movies and TV shows to role-playing games, underground metal, and gothic costume companies.
Then I found a promising site - Vampires A-Z. I waited impatiently for it to load, quickly clicking closed each ad that flashed across the screen. Finally the screen was finished - simple white background with black text, academic-looking.
Due to all the craziness of recent weeks, I am now two episodes behind on my 24 watching. Aieee!!! So I finally started getting caught up, earlier this evening. Now I'm only one episode behind...at least for the next six minutes, because that's when the newest episode airs, which means I'll be right back to being two episodes behind. But I should be able to catch up.
In this episode, Jack and Company busted up Dubaku's operation, destroyed the CIP device...or the CPU device...or the CUP device...or the ICUP device...or whatever it is they're calling it. Yay, Jack! But here I'm getting all sad and stuff because some character who had been introduced in this episode committed a very brave act of self-sacrifice, for which he died. I'll always remember you, Chemical Planet Manager John Brunner!!!