I’ve always had a soft spot for pulp and penny dreadfuls and other disreputable forms of literature, so I’m delighted to have my story Fistful of Fire published in Crimson Streets, a big ol’ pulpy magazine (I mean, it’s online, so it is not literal in its pulp feel, but you know what they mean). And of course, it is awesome to have a story of mine actually illustrated, which is why the illustration in question is so big, up there.
It’s tough, coming up with ideas for stories and books and things. Hence, the popularity, in writing workshops and such, of writing prompts – little ideas to both spur and limit creativity. But who comes up with the prompts? Some random guy who would have written his own story based on the idea if it was any good? Pff.
Far better to harness the awesome powers of computers and artificial intelligence. Not only were all those great titles produced by leading-edge technology instead of a boring biological brain, but you don’t have to worry about why a neural network didn’t use the idea itself – frankly, it’s got better things to do.
It is kind of horrifying how precisely the main character in this Saturday Morning Breakfast Cereal strip matches my own opinions.
It’s like they were collecting data points at one of my dinner parties.
Well, another Worldcon is in the books. It was a great con with great donuts, culminating in NK Jemisin’s acceptance speech for the Hugo for best novel. Well, it didn’t really culminate in that, for those hanging out for the closing ceremony and so on. But I had an early flight, so I went to bed and arose in the wee hours of the morning to get a cab. And it was then that I witnessed a melancholy scene. There were two groups of people engaged in drunken conversation outside the hotel, which is nothing unusual at Worldcon. But now, only one of the groups contained someone with bright pink hair and a spangly rainbow dress. The other group was three very well-dressed people sharing a wine bottle while one declaimed about “Winston FUCKING Churchill”.
It was sad, seeing San Jose being handed back to normal old wealthy people who like to yell about Churchill.
Then, on the plane home I overheard a snatch of conversation between two Worldcon-goers: “…so that’s how he found out about furries”, which cheered me up.
There’s been a lot of talk about airborne lidar recently, because it has once again been used to find archaeological ruins in a jungle, as opposed to the standard topographic mapping it gets used for day in and day out. It has even gotten into the pages of the comics, ever the spot for cutting-edge news and science, in the form of Mark Trail:
The professor here makes a common error, and we need to push back on it. Lidar is not an acronym, it is a portmanteau of “light” and “radar” (or RADAR, if you prefer, RADAR actually being an acronym for RAdio Detection And Ranging or RAdio Direction And Ranging). Of course, people writing papers in the academic and business world can’t bring themselves to talk about portmanteaux, so they engaged in some revisionist history to turn the word into an acronym so they could just stick that into parentheses after the first use and move on with their lives. Like radar, there was disagreement about exactly which words went into this putative acronym (“LIght Detection And Ranging” or “Laser Imaging Detection And Ranging”) but unlike radar they don’t both have that awkward way of using two letters from one word, so convention has it that the former acronym is expressed as “LiDAR” with a lower-case i to differentiate it.
So shame on you, Mark Trail, for perpetuating the myth that lidar is an acronym, and an extra “tsk” for, having made that error, not picking the version that would fit with your all-caps font.
We’ll save the thrilling discussion of why no one bothers using all caps for certain acronyms like radar and scuba for another day. Also, maybe we’ll get to why that kid Rusty looks like Ted Cruz now.
Today is the 40th anniversary of the first appearance of Garfield! To celebrate, please enjoy some favorites of Internet Manifestation, Garfield Minus Garfield, which gets to the very heart of what makes the strip so deeply melancholy and unsettling, and the horrifying Lasagna Cat, where Garfield strips are acted out by real live people.
Like me, you may have experienced feelings of dread when listening to Uptown Girl, or seen visions of cyclopean ruins when Captain Jack comes on the radio.
Once you’re done working your way through twenty-six years of Galaxy Science Fiction, another possibility is working your way through Tangent Online’s recommended reading for 2017. The fact that my story, Peddler, in Grimdark Magazine happens to be on the list is, of course, incidental.
I’m a bit late to this, since it happened a while ago, but did you know that, thanks to archive.org you can read a good chunk of the run of Galaxy Science Fiction magazine for free?
Well, you can. So go ahead and do it if you enjoy Bradbury and Asimov and so an (and who doesn’t?)