What's Worse Than The Corruption And Incompetence Of Washington?

The feeble attempts at comedy of its "celebrities." Oy vey! I just watched some (I couldn't bear to watch the whole thing) of the Funniest Celebrity in Washington D.C. contest on C-SPAN. They say Washington can't laugh at itself; after watching that travesty, I'm inclined to think it's because no one there is funny. We're talking excruciatingly bad here, people! More bombs in that room than Iraq! *rim shot* Really, if you want laughs on C-SPAN, you'd have better luck watching House Transportation subcommittee hearings.

The More Things Change...

Are you as sick of the nasty political ads that seem to be on non-stop in the run-up to the election? You know, the ones that want you to think that whoever the opponent is eats children for breakfast while plotting with terrorists to blow up a candy factory full of bunnies and puppies? Depressingly, they're not really that new. At least the Romans could ignore the graffiti better than we can ignore ads. Lucky Romans.

Thin Celebrities And Hypocritical Republicans: A Theory

Dean Dad has a thought about why we as a nation are so fat and why those who go on and on about "values" so often seem to have anything but. Worth a look.

Warning: Grossness Ahead!

Does it make you a narcissist if you find your own body odor (particularly that of your fingers after scratching your crotch) sexy? I mean, I know there are lots of people who like the smell of other people, and I'm sure it has to do with pheremones and stuff, but it is kinda icky to turn yourself on that way. And it's not all the time, either. Sometimes my body odor just stinks. Sometimes, though, it's really hot.

Just throwing that out there. I know you were just dying to know! *LOL*

Ozzie, Ozzie, Ozzie!!! Oy, Oy, Oy!!!

Before I get to the reason for this post, I have to ask: why are Australians all nuts? I mean, I know guys like the Crocodile Hunter (RIP) are considered kinda odd even in their homeland, but Australians in general just seem to be a bit... off. They all seem to delight in running, jumping, climbing, diving, surfing, sky-diving, and any other crazy pastime, the more dangerous the better. I have a theory that it has to do with having such a small population on such a vast continent filled with some of the most venomous animals in the world. Something along the lines of, "Hey, let's get out there and jump off Ayers Rock with no parachute today, for tomorrow we may die from the bite of a ten centimeter snake with venom that boils away all your internal organs!"

Anyway, that opening tangent involving gross generalizations of a nation's people aside, I'll get to the "point": Not only has Australia given the world hot, rugged mens with a hot accent, they've now given us hot rugged mens with a hot accent and the perfect basket. Thanks, Australia!

Sylvia Plath

A previously unpublished poem by Sylvia Plath has been released. I know, isn't it "thrilling"?

Does it make me a terrible person/English major if I admit I never "got" the fuss about old Sylvie and really don't care about her crappy life? I mean, it's tragic when anyone feels so hopeless about life that they stick they're head in the oven, but does that automatically make one a literary genius? Perhaps I'm too hard on her, though. It's not her fault she was portrayed by Gwenyth Paltrow, my antipathy to which is big enough that I'd cheer if she stuck her head in an oven. Fake British cow...

ANYway, if you like Sylvia more than I do, go read "Ennui" (that's the poem).

(Via Books, Inq.)

He Just Wanted To Make Friends!

And then eat the wildlife photographers! Doesn't everyone know that polar bears are unfailingly polite? They never maul to death and then feast on the flesh of someone without a proper introduction!

(Via PhDiva)

WTF?

W. T. F.?!?!?

Happy Halloween!

If You Were A Modern Chinese Man, How Would You Look For A Wife?

Would you, perhaps, post near-naked pictures of yourself and your fabulous body on your blog? If I had his body, I'd certainly consider it! Yum!

Of course, the gays are all over him, trying to "hire" him for the night. *hehehe* We're such a predictable lot, aren't we? Though, to be fair, that picture does look like many of the Manhunt pics I've seen. And as everyone knows, rentboys just have to be "straight"! Jacks they're asking price up. Because what gay man would want to have sex with another gay man? That's just... faggy.

(Via Gawker)

Wuh?

"Yes, Dieter, I shall stand in front of this window in nothing but a white bikini and a Native American feather headdress if I wish to! It shows off my abs perfectly!"

(Via The Pretty Boys Club)

As You May Have Noticed...

I've spruced up the links on the sidebar. A little shuffling, a little adding and deleting, that sort of thing. Please, if you have a blog and, due to my sheer fabulousness, have decided to add me to your link list, just let me know and I'll link back. I'm all about the reciprocity.

Hundred Year Old Pus...

...Oh, I just can't do it. It's too easy. Kitty got a letter from the queen.

(Via PhDiva)

Bird-On-Bird Crime

Pelicans are eating pigeons! There's even video!

(Via Gridskipper via Gawker)

Well, I DON'T Come Cheap, But I'd Like To Think That SOMEONE Likes Me!

You scored as A college textbook. You're an authority on something, you just know it. Everyone else does, too, but that doesn't mean they like you. Since you think very highly of everything you say, you charge a pretty penny to entertain your listeners. Those forced to pay do so grudgingly and try to defray the costs of learning from you by selling portions of their access to your charms to others. As a result of this speedy dissemination of your knowledge, you constantly add to your repertoire--and then hike your price. Despite your usefullness, which is rarely in doubt, nobody likes you. They find you didactic, boring and irrelevant--but still necessary. A college textbook 71% A classic novel 50% Poetry 39% A coloring book 32% An electronics user's manual 25% The back of a froot loops box 25% A paperback romance novel 14% Your Literary Personality created with QuizFarm.com

(Via Books, Inq.)

Let's Hear It For The Boys Overseas!

(Via The Pretty Boys Club)

Misquotes

No one ever said "Let them eat cake!" or "Beam me up, Scotty!" How disappointing.

(Via Bookninja)

Indiana Jones IV

They've talked about it for years with no real movement, but the fourth Indiana Jones apparently will happen. Details are sketchy, but, owing to Harrison Ford's advancing age and apparent plunge into alcoholism and anorexic-former-TV-star shtupping, it's likely that the fourth movie will be something a bit more sedate, like Indiana Jones and the Denial of Tenure. It's no Ark of the Covenant or Temple of Doom, but I'd probably still go see it. The hypothetical scene where he bullwhips the dean will be worth the price of admission alone!

(Via Defamer; Bread and Circuses)

Well, I'd Probably Get A Little Tired Of Red Sand All Day, Too

The Mars Rover seems to be getting a little bored of Mars.

(Via Bad Astronomy)

Is It Just Me?

Is Borat really all that funny? Funny enough to warrant a movie? Because I've always thought the character terribly annoying and the movie looks, to me, dull and un-funny. So it'll probably be a huge hit. *sigh* But, anyway, am I alone in my opinion?

I Got Nothin', People

The Blogging Muse seems to have deserted me for the past couple of days, so I'll just link to three pug pictures and call it a night. Ciao!

We're Going To Need Trojan Magnum X^100s!

Galaxies are having unprotected sex. So sad. You'd think that after all these billions of years, they'd be aware of and guard against gravitationally transmitted diseases.

R-E-S-P-E-C-T

Angry Black Bitch doesn't want you to tolerate her, but to respect her. I've read/heard these kinds of arguments before and they make me terribly conflicted. (Me? The Ultimate Libra who sees at least ten sides to every argument, so much so that I can hardly choose a position? Well, I never!)

On the one hand, what ABB says is absolutely correct: to indulge in hyperbole, tolerance is really, "Well, we don't like you at all, but we'll refrain from beating you with a bat. Cheers!" No one wants to be reviled, even if allowed to go about life not (generally) being beaten with sticks. It's just not quite enough. And why settle for tolerance when respect is your natural right?

On the other hand, I sometimes want to say to, for instance, gay rights activists (though it applies to most other activists, too), "Yo, my LGBTIQ brethren/sistren/non-genderedren/multi-genderedren, it doesn't happen overnight! Respect and acceptance take time and are hard to get! We're going against thousands of years of history and socialization." Sometimes, then, tolerance is the best you can hope for. But then that just sounds like, "Oh, thank you, society, for giving us a few crumbs and not the full meal that is my right! You're so kind! We'll know our place from now on."

So, like a lot of things in life, I'm of two minds. *sigh* Any thoughts?

Beware The Walrus! (BTW, Does Anyone Else Remember "Adventures in Wonderland" And Get That Reference?)

The year's best wildlife photography has been chosen.

The walrus' eyes are what make the winning picture, I think; they're really freaky in a totally fascinating way.

Happy Birthday...

To Me!!!

Twenty-four years I've graced the world with my presence. To mark this joyous occasion, money, bookstore gift certificates, porn, a good job, and/or a hot stud are all welcome! (In lieu of that, you fuckin' cheapskates, I'll take simple birthday well-wishes. Grudgingly.)

Now, let the one-year-early quarter-life crisis, in which I agonize over my life choices, delcare myself a total failure, and wallow in existential angst, commence!

Another One Of My Existential Ponderings

Life is full of pain and frustration and distress. Every single person has problems that, to them, seem huge and devastating. Yet, at the same time, there is a hierarchy of suffering: my self-inflicted, neurotic distress is nothing compared to the problems of a starving AIDS orphan in Africa. But knowing that there are people in the world that have it worse than you doesn't seem to actually make anyone feel any better or make their problems seem more manageable. So where does one draw the line between sympathy (to others or to one's self) and saying, "Oh, for God's sake, buck up!"?

Watch Out For The Muttslim Brotherhood!

Dogs doing hard time. Damn cat judges and their "minimum sentencing" guidelines!

(Via Defamer)

Saint Francis Of The Sissies, Pray For Us

Pope GayProf XXVIII is in the middle of a gay canonization drive. As my post title shows, there's already a gay Saint Francis, so I'm ineligible, but who else do you think should be beatified?

Just Too Much!

Doggie trailers.

I'm A Little Slow Sometimes

*channeling Sophia* Picture it: me a half-hour ago, checking my email. There was an advertisement from an online porn store for a bargain clearance sale. I click on it to check it out and see that one of the items is called "Military Men Playing Cards." The first thing that comes to mind: "Wow, that's an incredibly specific scenario! I've never heard of a poker fetish before, but I'm sure someone out there gets off on it. Could be kinda hot, actually." The second thing that comes to mind: "Jesus, I'm such an idiot! It's not a movie about 'military men' playing cards, it's actual playing cards with 'military men' ON them!" The third thing that comes to mind: "I should blog about this!"

Fame And Fortune, Here I Come!

6 Steps To Writing A Fantasy Blockbuster

(Via Books, Inq.)

I Was Robbed!

Can you believe that I am not on The Advocate's list of their readers' favorite blogs?!? It's a travesty of justice! I demand a re-count! Don't they know who I am? Don't they know how fabulous and internationally-acclaimed this blog is?

(Via Joe. My. God.)

Nope, Just Lazy, Not Psychic

So yesterday's Presentiment of Doom turned out to be nothing but a figment of my overactive and waaaaay over-neurotic imagination. I got there okay, the day went fine (I'm doing mail sorting and data entry, which are boring, but bearable), and I got home okay. I'll be there the rest of this week and probably a little into next week, so that's nice; I need the cash, baby!

Brave New World

Well, I've moved over to Blogger Beta. Hopefully, I haven't just made a terrible, terrible mistake and I lose everything or something.

Happy Thoughts

I'm off to a temp assignment in the morning that, for some reason, I have a Forboding of Doom about. I hope it's just my lazy-ass subconscious not wanting to do any work and not an actual Presentiment of Suckitude. Maybe if I just keep thinking about the guy in the picture below, the inexplicable nerves will go away...

"It Is A Truth Universally Acknowledged That A Young Man In Possesion Of A Large Fortune MUST Be In Want Of A Wife."

Bookworm!

Reeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeally?

Who knew Andy Dick of all people could have such a hot (if a little too on the twink side for my tastes) son? Genes truly are an astounding thing.

Yucatan, Part The First

As you're all aware, I'm a bit of a sci-fi/fantasy geek. From about my freshman year of high school into the middle of college, I also had the dream of being a writer. Thus, my ambition in life was put out a sci-fi or fantasy book at some point. Greater awareness of the vagaries of the publishing industry, a recognition that I might just not have the talent, discipline, or thick hide necessary for a writing life, and a drying up of my creative juices led me to let go of this pipe dream. Everyone wants to write a book; indeed, I've read that more people want to write books than actually read them.

But lately things have been bubbling in the back of my head and I decided to start taking another crack at creative writing. I still doubt I'll ever be published, that anything I write will be of any quality or have anything at all interesting to say to anyone, or that I have the stamina to sit down and write a novel, but I've started forcing myself to, each day, just write a little bit of one of the story ideas I've had stewing.

Below is part of the first story I've written in this manner. I'm rather proud of it simply because I actually did it (does that make any sense?), but I have no illusions about its quality (or lack thereof). The plot is threadbare, the situations and setting cliched, the dialogue stitled and unimaginative, and the character barely at the level of cardboard cut-outs. I haven't even gone back and redrafted it; what you see is pretty much exactly what I initially wrote, so I'm sure there's all kinds of typos, inconsistencies, and clunky phrasings.

I realize that none of you come here really wanting to read my tenth-rate sci-fi drivel. For some insane reason, though, I feel like sharing. If you like it, you can say it; if you don't like it, you can say it; if you don't care, don't read it, or just have nothing to say, you can choose to not say anything at all.

This post contains the first, and thus far longest, section of the story. The other parts will be coming in later posts.

The Yucatan Sector was a galactic backwater. A region of several thousand star systems, most of them lifeless and none possessing native sentient (let alone technologically-advanced) species, combined with its distance from the centers of the human Radiation and Benzott homeworlds, isolation from the main trade routes, and lack of any resource not more cheaply and readily available elsewhere, made it so.

Mainly-human settlers inhabited a mere two dozen or so of its worlds, though only three were of any size or wealth (and even that of a relatively paltry nature, by galactic standards). With its remoteness and resource-poverty, the Yucatan Sector was ignored by the major interstellar powers, allowing its handful of worlds to govern themselves in a loose coalition dominated by Tikal, the largest and most prosperous of the worlds. The disinterest shown to it by the great powers made Tikal in particular a haven for those seeking a “respite” from more civilized areas due to legal difficulties.

The Yucatan Sector’s one sliver of fame came from some versions of a legend that placed the treasure cache of the twenty-fourth century Celestial Abyssinian emperor Teodoro VIII on an unknown planet in the sector, which had briefly been claimed by that fallen empire.

Even this, however, was barely noticed by the galaxy at large. Scholarly consensus placed the cache in either the El Dorado or Hudson sectors down-spiral of the Yucatan, and the efforts to discover the cache were concentrated there.

But at least one treasure-seeker gave credence to the Yucatan location. At that moment, he was sitting at a whistrum table in a seedy bar in Tikal City.

“Ten tokes,” Dr. Jon Redrun said in his clipped Proximan accent. “Aces.”

“Twenty tokes, aces,” the player to his right, a four-armed Lessick immediately replied.

The next player clockwise was lost in thought for a moment. She then gave a snort of disgust, threw down her hand, and declared, “Concede.”

“Too rich for your blood, Nadjah?” the player to her left, a middle-aged human male with dark, gray-streaked hair and a heavy five o’clock shadow asked with a half-teasing, half-sneering smile. “Never were any good at whistrum. Five tokes, knaven.”

Nadjah gave a dirty look to the man and left for the bar. The middle-aged human just chuckled.

“Twenty-five tokes, heart kings,” said the final player of the table, Redrun’s traveling companion, a youngish-looking woman with a husky voice and a small cybernetic implant tracing a crescent around her left eye socket by the name of Ianthe. “Declaration, please.”

The Lessick groaned at Ianthe’s words, which signaled the final round of betting. The toke-tabulator in the middle of the table flashed green and showed on its screen that nearly three hundred tokes were currently in the kitty. After Redrun, the Lessick, and the streak-haired man made their final bets, the tabulator flashed red and announced the final kitty value of three hundred and fifty-five tokes. Ianthe then showed her hand: all diamond knaven. The other three players showed their hands and the tabulator assigned each their earnings. Redrun and the Lessick both only received ten tokes, the streak-haired man received fifty tokes, and Ianthe won the remaining two hundred and eighty-five.

“Not even worth the tokes I put in,” the Lessick said through the voice modulator that was necessary to convert his mostly subsonic growls to Koine. With a sigh (or what the modulator detected was the equivalent), the large alien rose from his chair and ambled towards the lavatory.

Redrun sniffed. “Never liked whistrum. Far too random for my tastes. Much prefer texasem. Takes a little more skill.”

The streak-haired man just chuckled. “Whistrum isn’t as random as it looks. Just takes instinct. I’ve always relied on my instincts. Though it seems the attractive woman to my left has better instincts than I this evening.”

Ianthe gave him a small smile, totally noncommittal as she waved over a squat, flat-topped, tree-trunk-like Ccashguu waiter. “Care for a drink, Redrun? Fellow player whose name I didn’t catch?”

“Kelvin,” offered the heretofore unnamed streak-haired man. “And, yes, I’d love one, if you’re the one paying.” He ordered a whisky from the waiter.

“Marv, Ianthe!” Redrun exclaimed. “I’ll have a Spiral Arm with extra flayer’s milk.”

After taking down Ianthe’s own order, the Ccashguu returned to the bar area to retrieve their drinks and Redrun began making conversation.

“So, Mr. Kelvin…” he began.

“Just Kelvin,” Kelvin corrected.

Redrun restarted. “So, Kelvin, do you happen to know of any salvage or retrieval specialists? Ianthe and I were told that there might be a few hanging about this part of Tikal City.”

Kelvin leaned forward in his chair a bit. “As a matter of fact, I do know a good salvager.”

“Marv!” Redrun exclaimed. Ianthe, used to his boyish enthusiasm, smiled. “Could you give us a name?”

“I just did,” Kelvin declared with a self-satisfied smile. “I’m a salvager.”

“What luck! Do you have a ship?”

“Yep, a nice old Kremlin cargo ship with custom salvaging add-ons,” Kelvin said, pride in his ship evident in the tone of his voice. “The Novastorm looks like an old metal box, but she’s got lots of speed, cargo room, and personality.”

Ianthe, jumping in before another effusion from Redrun, said, “Well, Kelvin, it sounds as though you might be just what we’re looking for, though, of course, we’d like to inspect your ship before actually hiring you. I assume you have a crew?”

“Yes. You met Nadjha before; she’s my assemble/disassemble specialist. Got five others, all old hands. Not going to find a better salvage crew in the Yucatan, that’s for sure.”

“Not much to salvage in the Yucatan,” Ianthe quietly proclaimed. “Any reason a ship like yours would come all the way out here?”

Kelvin just grinned. “Spot of bother with the Pax over on the other end of the Radiation. We were helping ourselves to some scrap from their ‘pacification’ of Eudora. It was outside Eudora’s Oort Cloud, so according to interstellar law it was open season, but you know those plasma-damned Scars; the only law they go by is their own. Still, they’re a pain in the black hole when they get all riled up, so we just blasted for the other end of space. They’ll forget all about us soon. They just started fighting with the Benzott again, I hear.”

The waiter returned just then, its pseudopods grabbing their drinks from the top of its head and placing them on the table. Ianthe proffered her toke slip to pay; no tabs in Tikal.

“Here’s to a new venture!” Redrun toasted.

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Ianthe cautioned. “Kelvin here doesn’t even know what the job is yet, we haven’t definitely offered it to him, and he certainly hasn’t accepted.”

“So what is the job?” Kelvin asked. “As you said, there’s not too much salvage out here. Yucatan hasn’t seen a space battle in centuries, if ever, and these black hole planets don’t produce enough junk to fill a landfill. Me and my crew aren’t pirates, either, so if hijacking’s what you’re after the answer’s automatically no.”

“Nothing like that, I assure you!” Redrun said, straightening up and sounding offended at the very notion that he would even think that of them. “I am a Doctor of Human History and a Nobile of Proxima! Ianthe is a fully-bonded and accredited technologist. We are not pirates!”

Kelvin spread his hands out in a gesture of placation. “Didn’t think you were. Just want to be clear about things, ya dig?”

“Of course,” Ianthe soothed as she took the receipt from the waiter. “It’s good to know where we stand from the beginning.”

Redrun, mollified now, gave a curt nod of agreement. He was a bit prickly when it came to intimations of his honor, but he also didn’t hold a grudge.

“So what is the job?”

Ianthe and Redrun exchanged a look and moved in closer to Kelvin. Ianthe, in a low voice, began. “Have you ever heard of Teodoro’s Cache, Kelvin?”

“Course. Mad human ruler, stacks of platinum and gems, secret vault hidden in the depths of space, it’s all familiar. Salvaged some ships from the Kaat asteroid belt over in El Dorado once when a group of treasure hunters who were looking at some of the bigger planetoids got pounded. Never gave it much thought, though. Maybe it exists or maybe it doesn’t; probably got plundered long ago and the lucky bastid’s just kept quiet.”

Redrun grinned excitedly. “I doubt that, Kelvin, because,” he paused and looked around before almost-whispering, “I’ve figured out where the Cache is and no one’s even looked there before.”

The salvager didn’t respond.

“Yucatan is one of the sectors the legends put the Cache in,” Ianthe continued, “but almost no one has ever looked here because El Dorado and Hudson were part of Celestial Abyssinia for much longer and much more completely than Yucatan and because Teodoro VIII’s pleasure domes were on Kaliban in Hudson, anyway.”

“I came into the possession of an old crystal disk about a cycle ago,” Redrun said. “I’d been researching the honor codes of the twenty-third century human empires and, since the disk was marked as containing a copy of How To Get Ahead At Court Through Dueling by a Celestial Abyssinian official, I thought it would be an invaluable source for my article.

“When I tired to open and read it, though, all I got was what looked like encrypted information. I tried to sort it all out using some decrypters I found on the GalNet, but it was much too advanced for them.”

“That’s where I came in,” Ianthe said, picking up the story. “Dr. Redrun asked one of his colleagues at the Proximan Technological Innovation Center for some help decrypting it. He couldn’t help, but he did give my name. I’ve done some work in information retrieval from old computers, so I know a lot about breaking old codes. When he came to me on Pasiphae and showed me the disk, I was intrigued; the code used was top-level military grade, so whatever was on it had been very, very important to someone. It took me a while, but I finally decrypted it.”

Redrun, excited now, broke in. “It was a map! Teodoro VIII had every mention of his cache wiped, killed his whole corps of scouts, one of whom must have found the planet for him, and even had the ship that had carried the treasure flown into a red giant. But one of his ministers managed to hide away a copy of the initial scouting reports on the planet chosen to be the site of the Cache! He probably thought he’d wait until Teodoro died and then go an get it for himself, but of course everything went to hell soon afterwards for Celestial Abyssinia, so he probably didn’t get the chance. It’s sat there untouched for two hundred years!”

“What’s in it for me an my crew?” Kelvin asked after a moment of thought.

“Fifty percent, divided however you choose between you,” Ianthe responded. “You’re the experts on retrieving, storing, and shipping materials, so it’s only fair. And if it turns out that our information is wrong or the treasure was already plundered, we’ll still pay you twenty thousand tokes for you time and trouble.”

Kelvin was silent for another minute. Gone was the slightly universe-mocking, devil-may-care attitude of before. Kelvin was a businessbeing and was weighing the offer with a businessbeing’s mind.

Finally, he said, “I’ll have to consult with my crew and you’ll probably want to look at the ship, but I think we have a deal.”

Ianthe smiled widely and Redrun positively beamed. “To our venture!” the professor proclaimed, holding up his drink.

Ianthe and Kelvin held up their glasses as well and toasted the start of a hopefully-profitable adventure.

The Canine American Dream...

...is 4.2 puppies, access to lots of fire hydrants, and a home to call one's own.

Out Of This World!

Literally! (Aren't I just the cleverest little thing when it comes to my post titles? *snort*)

Hiccup Cure? Suuuuuuuuuuuuuuure...

Sounds like some straight guy got a little creative in his justification for having his girlfriend stick her finger up his ass.

The Best Thing The French Ever Gave Us

Frenchies!

(Via Gentlemen's Canine Society)

I Don't Know What I'd Do Without Gabe And Damien

(Via The Pretty Boys Club)

Advice To Authors In Dealing With Editors...

Basically, don't be an inconsiderate, assholey crybaby.

Thanks For Nuffin', Folks!

Well, I figured out what I'm going to be for Halloween all by my little self. *mumble, grumble* Fat lot of good you lot did... *grumble, mumble*

Which Circle Do YOU Belong In?

The Nine Circles of Genre Publishing Hell

(Via Books, Inq.)

They're Freaking Me OUT, Man!

Hippy, trippy bookcovers from Penguin/Pelican. Just how much LSD DID those graphic designers take?

(Via Gawker)

Ladies?

It just occured to me in a flash earlier this evening that my readership seems to be overwhelmingly male. (I can only judge from comments, though, which, truthfully, isn't really that accurate a rubric, but it's all I got.) I'm somewhat concerned about this. Is this blog somehow female unfriendly? I don't want it to be. I love women! (Just not that way.) Is it just that my traffic is heavily skewed towards gay males due to my linking patterns or is there something I'm doing without realizing it that may be turning women off? Where are you, ladies, and why don't you love me?

It Pays To Be A Slut

If you're a queen bee, at any rate.

Yo, Yo, Yo, Yo...

Pug life, y'all!

Autumn Showers

There's something strangely sensual (for me, at least) in taking a hot shower while a chilly autumn-evening breeze wafts through the bathroom window. The combination of hot and cold, shivering and soothing, is almost erotic. I'm just a big ol' weirdo, ain't I.

Do I Amuse You?

Low self-esteem checking in to ask you, fair readers, if the blog's up to snuff. Am I boring you? Too much whining and psychological introspection? Too much talk of dogs? Not enough hot gay porn? What do you think? Holla at me!

Those Abs Just CAN'T Be Real!

(Via The Pretty Boys Club)

Halloween Help

I've never been much into Halloween, even as a child. I love candy and all, but getting dressed up and hoofing about the neighborhood just didn't appeal to me. I stopped dressing up years ago. This year, for the first time in a long time, I have a Halloween party to go to and I need a costume. I've had one good costume idea in my life (I was a calendar one year) and that's about it, so I'm at a bit of a loss. Anyone have any creative suggestions?

Self-Awareness

Admitting you have a problem (self-awareness) is, supposedly, the first step to fixing it. I pride myself on my self-awareness. Frankly, I think I'm too self-aware at times. Certainly, there seems to be something to be said for self-delusion and oblivousness; unaware hypocrites and non-reflective people sure seem to be having a hell of a better time than I do, at any rate. But self-awareness is only a first step in conventional wisdom. I seem to be unable to get past it.

For instance, my bibliomania and OCD wed within the bowels of my neuroses-ridden psyche to produce an obsession for "perfect" books. The merest flaw in spine, board, binding, or dustjacket is enough to send me into a tizzy. In the irrational seas of my subconscious, I feel that, unless each and every book is perfect, it will fall apart and all of its knowledge will be lost to future generations. My library is the bulwark against a new Dark Age following the inevitable Hollywood-type Mad Max apocolypse destroys modern civilization. Only the "fittest," most flawless books will survive to illuminate our descendants and bring them back to a civilized state. Alternately, in fifty years, one of my books will be worth lots of money, but I'll go to sell it and, because the spine has a dent or the dustjacket a wrinkle, they'll tell me it's worthless. And, no, I'm not making this stuff up; I really do believe it (or, I should say, a really nutty part of me does; the rest of me knows this is a crazy, narcissistic notion). I try to assuage my anxieties by purchasing multiple copies of books I deem particularly important. But, since all but a few books can meet my exacting standards, this leads to a cycle of spending and returning that I can ill-afford, considering my poverty-level income. I know that it's crazy and unnecessary, but I can't help it! If I don't "scratch the itch," my anxiety levels jump and I'm mentally tortured into revisiting old patterns. I'm aware of all this, but the awareness doesn't help me in any way. In fact, it only makes me feel worse, since I know I shouldn't be doing it and I'm spending money I don't have and torturing myself. Sometimes, I just feel like taking a torch to the entirety of my book collection and having done with it.

The book thing is only one of several similar conditions involving sex, relationships, social interaction, body image, and more that plague me and that I've touched on before on this blog (ad nauseum, perhaps). So I have all this self-awareness, all this intellectual appreciation of just how irrational and futile all these neuroses are, but I can't seem to hop over Hadrian's Wall to actually defeat the damn barbarians. What can I do?

I'm Not QUITE Nerdy Enough...

...to exclaim, "'CMS 15 CD-ROM OMG!!!'" to the news that the Chicago Manual of Style will be released on CD and on the web, especially since I don't have the money or the need for either, but it's still kinda cool. The Chicago is the granddaddy of style guides and really is a fascinating book, full of interesting tidbits. I got a copy from my editorial mentor upon my college graduation.

(Via Bookslut)

Hippo "Tails"

Hippos have "tails" like "cedars," according to the Bible.

(Via Pharyngula)

Welcome To The USA!

Welcome, Leo! You're a mighty handsome fellow. I hope you enjoy your stay at the Bronx Zoo.

(Via Gawker)

Now I've Seen It All

A mass-murdering teddy bear. Okay, it was a bunch of troubt, but still. Makes one wonder what really caused Paddington to flee from deepest, darkest Peru to Britain. A lack of extradition treaties between the two countries, perhaps?

(Via Gawker)

Fall Has Fallen

Fall's here and it's gorgeous. The sky is blue, the sun is warm, and the air is cool. Perfectly delightful.

On a related note, I'm not the only devotee of autumn out there. It's funny, I, too, still associate Fall with school bulletin boards, too. I also always think of colonial America in perpetual autumn; I guess that's because November was always all about Thanksgiving and the Pilgrims. Interesting explication of the Persephone myth, too, BTW. I'm ashamed to admit that, even though I'm a mythology buff, I never questioned the old "and this is why there's winter" explanation.

Well...

...it's nice to know that my sometimes ridiculously over-the-top love of dogs isn't something new.

I'm Not A Musicals Queen...

But I'd definitely go see this (#6).

But Can The Cat Play The Banjo While Narrating Classic Christmas Tales?

Okay, the original observation is kind of a crazy cat lady sort of notion, but damn if you don't start to see the resemblence when you look at the pictures side to side.

Will Wonders Never Cease?

Do you guys remember those stupid bracelets that started out flat, but when you slapped them onto your wrist they curled up? I remember I was in like elementary school when they were all the rage and schools banned them because some stupid-asses hurt themselves by snapping them on too hard.

Anyway, turns out they may be at the foundations of future flexible electronics. Isn't that wild? What next, will those "Live Strong" bracelets unlock the secrets of artificial intelligence?

(Via Towleroad)

Another List

Top Ten Books on the English Language

(Via Books, Inq.)

Forget The Medicine Cabinet...

...if you're feeling nosy, snoop around a person's bookcase!

(Via Bookninja)

America Is NOT Rome

Well, it just isn't! Though Western civilization is indelibly marked by Roman civilization, and the Founding Fathers and the following generations have been influenced by their notions of what Rome was in shaping this country, comparing the Roman Empire to modern America (with the implication that the American Empire is about to fall right now!) is just silly.

Humans continue to grapple with the same sorts of problems today that they did two thousand years ago. It's therefore easy to see parallels between today's America and the Roman Republic/Empire; the same applies, however, to virtually any culture in human history.

We should certainly study how our predecessors dealt with similar problems and shared similar challenges (we should pay particular attention how well their solutions did, or did not, work), but we must always keep in mind that such study is, at best, study of analogy, not Fate. For all the similarities between us and a past culture such as Rome, there are just as many differences. History can be a guide and a counsellor, but, in the end, we have to realize that we live in our own moment, different from that of any before, and, in the end, we have to decide, to the best of our abilities, how to act and what choices to make.

(Via rogueclassicism)

Didn't You Know That All Superheroes Get Their Outfits From This Faaaaaabulous Little Man Known Only As "The Designer"?

Top Ten Skimpiest Superhero Outfits

(Via Gay.Fleshbot)

Pimpin'

Scott is peddling that sweet, taut ass of his. He's such a ho.

Pup Portraits

A museum to visit if I ever get back to NYC. Who could resist a gallery full of cute pooch pics? Not I!

(Via Gentlemans Canine Society)

A Tolkein Two'fer

A one...

A review of a fascinating-looking new book on Tolkein and the OED.

And a two...

Tolkein's son, Christopher, will be publishing a "new"-ish book next spring.

Enter The Copywriter

Not being in advertising, I don't get half the jokes, but it's still funny. Copyranter'd find it absolutely hysterical. I'd be the Lowly Proofreader, BTW.

Byzantine Emperors... In The News?!?!?

One upside to the whole Pope Benedict-remarks-about-Islam thingie (you can go elsewhere to get it analyzed, condemned, and/or defended) is that, for the first time in... well, ever, a Byzantine emperor is in the news. As a longtime fan of Byzantine history, it's cool and exciting to hear Jon Stewart say Manuel II Paleologus.

The Byzantines really deserve more attention, BTW. The history is fascinating, the characters riveting, and the scandal delicious.

Warning: May Cause Sugar Shock

Puppies fight TO THE DEATH! Or nap time. Whatevs.

I'd Feel So Much Safer...

...if my city's water system was being protected by fish! And Army fish at that! ("Ten hut!" *bubble, bubble, bubble*) Wouldn't you?

Seriously, it is kinda cool that nature provides such a reliable "mechanism", but it is also kinda laughable (obviously) that NYC is being protected by fish.

(Via Gawker)

Steamy!

The sex lives of lichens! I know, go take a cold shower after reading that one.

Someday, I'm Going To Have A Library In My House And It'll Have A Catalogue And Everything!

Until, then, unfortunately, all I can do is read such things as this and dream of my future organizational schema.

(Via Bookninja)

Where Is That Coke-Head Freud When You Need Him?

(Warning to any straight people and/or readers who come just for the nerdy stuff: some graphic gay sex talk ahead.)

So, in the past week or two I've had two (that I remember) separate dreams in which I engage in some major rimming action. I'm talking diving in there and eating that asshole out. What does it mean? Rimming really doesn't come up in those "1000 Dreams Interpreted" books. Is it a premonition of things to come (please, please, please, please)? My body trying to tell me I have colon cancer? Or is a cigar just a cigar and all it means is I really, really need some action? It must have some significance since I keep dreaming about it.

All theories welcome!

Free

I'm not one of those "Everyone come out NOW!" activist-types. It really is just not that easy. A lot of people really would face hefty consequences (ostracism, loss of income, harassment, physical harm, even death). It's hard even without fear of consequences. Even someone like me, with really little to fear, still hasn't gotten the gumption to come out to my father and grandmother.

But to any readers who may be in the closet, there is one thing about coming out I think you should consider: freedom. Just something to think about.

Damn Liberals!

The damn liberals are at it again! Now they're conspiring on the naming of [dwarf] planets to subtly/extraterrestrially criticize President Bush! Outrageous!

Agatha Christie Week

We've already issed the auction, unfortunately, but, since I've long been a fan of Agatha Christie's mysteries, I can't help but acknowledge that this is Agatha Christie Week. Murders (genteelly, of course) for everyone!

(Via Books, Inq.; Bookninja)

Many Worlds In One (Again)

More blogger reviews here and here about Many Worlds in One. On the whole, both are rather positive, especially with regards to the writing itself. Both bloggers have issues with some of the assumptions and reasonings Dr. Vilenkin makes, though, and these issues are definitely to be considered. Not all theoretical physicists/cosmologists buy all the multiverse/eternal inflation arguments (at least as currently presented) that lay at the core of the book. I think it is always useful for us, as laypeople, to keep this in mind when reading any sort of popularization: experts often disagree amongst themselves over many issues.

Good Question, Good Answer

Thanks to the kindness and knowledge of Mr. Dave Lull, Chad's good question now has an answer.

Backlog: Gwennie

If Gwenyth Paltrow actually looked like this, I'd probably like her a lot better.

Backlog: Contemplating Nerdiness

I may not agree with Sean's resistance to taking pride the terms "nerd" and "geek," but it's still worth reading. My view is that we should/can celebrate the good aspects of nerdiness/geekiness, while also challanging and changing the negative connotations. But everyone's entitled to their own opinion.

On the humorous side, a discussion of the terms "nerd" and "geek" in comic form.

Pardon The Interruption

Sorry, folks, for the lack of posts the last two days; I was having some Internet trouble. You probably didn't even notice, but I certainly did! I was going crazy without the Internet! I'm back now, though, so the wit and genius that is this blog will resume. Yay!

Miss Kylie

I've known for sometime about Kylie Minogue being a big international pop star/gay icon who, for some reason, has made only occasional blips on the American radar. She's often been compared to Madonna (except, of course, not as big in the US). And I must admit that, since she really came into my consciousness with "Can't Get You Out Of My Head" a few years ago (I dare you, BTW, to listen to that song without a serious case of Ohrwurmen!), I've had a soft-spot for her. She just seemed so fabulous and sweet and funny in her interviews and appearances.

Last night, BBCAmerica broadcast a concert she gave a while back called "Showgirl." Amazing! And really more of a gay burlesque show with music, with hot male dancers (seriously, these guys were outrageously fuckable), outrageous outfits, huge and elaborate sets, outstanding choreography, and sparkly costumes. It was the epitome of that over-used and tired gay adjective, "fabulous." Girl knows how to give a show! Madonna's too busy tying red strings to her wrist, crucifying herself, and getting rid of her Gays these days to even think about putting on something like this.

Then was an interview done with her just recently. She went through a year a treatment of breast cancer and is only now getting back into the public eye. The interview only confirmed my good opinion of her. So, Viva Miss Kylie!

A Subspecies Of Bibliophile...

...the bookplate connosieur.

(Via Books, Inq.)

But Can I Have Something Other Than Bodices Ripped?

You Should Be a Romance Novelist

You see the world as it should be, and this goes double for all matters of the heart. You can find the romance in any situation, and you would make a talented romance story writer... And while you may be a traditional romantic, you're just as likely to be drawn to quirky or dark love stories. As long as it deals with infatuation, heartbreak, and soulmates - you could write it.

What Type of Writer Should You Be?

(Via Books, Inq.)

Nothing Like This Ever Happens On MY Local News

Investigative reporter beatdown in San Diego! My favorite part is the serious "bite on the shoulder." What's up with that wimpy punch, though? I could throw a better punch than that guy! Hell, this guy could probably throw a better punch!

You Know, I Never Thought Of It, But The Eagles WOULD Have Made Things Much Easier

How The Lord of the Rings should have ended.

(Via Bookninja)

Good Question

Chad asks in a comment to this post, "[D]o you know any good online resources (preferably ones that won't cost me $200 a year like Publishers' Weekly!) to search for reviews?" Good question, I think. Anyone know?

Hooray!

Bill is back!

Steve Irwin

Steve Irwin, "The Crocodile Hunter," has died. As with other bloggers, I'm shocked and more saddened than I'd thought I would be at the news. I mean, it's not like I actually knew him or anything. And who hasn't seen him wrestle an alligator or pick up a venomous snake and procede to kiss it or something and not thought, "Damn, that dude is soooo going to get killed one day!"? But then he actually went and did get killed and it's all very sad. And it wasn't even a croc he was bugging or a snake he was handling, it was a stingray he just happened to swim over, startle, and get a barb plunged into his chest. It's a total freak accident involving an animal that, apparently, rarely attacks and almost never kills, especially when compared to some of the other animals he handled constantly without incident. Incredible. The universe has a really sick sense of humor.

No matter what you thought of his "Crazy Aussie" schtick (which, from what I can, tell really is how he was), no matter how you might have disapproved of his methods (some people think he was too confrontational with animals and too familiar), you can't deny that he loved animals, loved to educate people about animals, and fought to conserve them. My thoughts are with his family, who lost a loving husband and father, and the whole animal kingdom, which lost a friend and a champion. I offer a "Crikey!" in your memory.

Book Notes

Well, well, well: Google Book Search is actually leading people to buy books! You mean it isn't the End of the World and the destruction of All That Is Holy?!?!? Well, get my smelling salts!

Sarcasm aside, the tragedy of it all is that I doubt the authors' association and the publishers that have sued Google over their scanning program will ever even acknowledge this finding. They'll keep on keeping on decrying Google as an "intellectual pirate" or some such while the world and the publishing industry pass them by. (Wow, I really starting to sound like Grumpy Old Bookman, don't I? I'm so proud of myself!)

On a different track, Frank explains just how hard the book reviewing racket is these days. Hey, Frank, I'll be needing a job soon; I'll be your "Guy Friday"!

A Sad Day In The Gay Blogosphere

Toby of Vividblurry and Brian of Faggoty-Ass Faggot have both decided to take a break from blogging, at least for now. Hopefully, they won't be away long.

*Hehehehehe*

The Joy of Christmas Cards

A woman walks into the Post Office to buy stamps for her Christmas cards.

"What denomination?" asks the clerk.

"Oh, good heavens! Have we come to this?" said the woman. "Well, give me 50 Baptist and 50 Catholic and one Methodist."

(Via Comedy Central's Joke of the Day Newsletter)

Pretty Please?

As I mentioned a while back, I had a very minor part in the composition of a book called Many Worlds in One: The Search for Other Universes by Dr. Alex Vilenkin. Well, I feel kinda weird asking this, but, if you have any inerest in science or cosmology or just a thought-provoking read, could you please buy it? I've spoken with Dr. Vilenkin this week and he's a bit depressed; he thinks the sales aren't what they should be and that reviews are not as forthcoming as he'd hoped. I explained to him that publishing is a dire business (just ask Grumpy Old Bookman), that, from what I can tell, sales of the book are pretty good for a fairly niche publication, and that reviews take time to trickle in due to staff shortages and lag time in getting them written (just ask Frank). And he's actually gotten some very positive notices in Publisher's Weekly, New Scientist, and Seed.

Still, I feel bad, so I'm reminding y'all about the book and asking you to consider purchasing it. And, yes, since I did have a small role in its writing and got a mention in the acknowledgments and everything, there is some ego involved. I want "my book" to be a bestseller, damnit!

Illustrations Of Yesteryear

Pictures From Old Books. Sorta says it, I think.

(Via Books, Inq.)

The Beleaugered Apostrophe

Time to dump the apostrophe? Not quite yet, I think. It still has its uses, though I agree some of the rules involving it can (and, in a few decades, probably will) be discarded.

(Via Books, Inq.)