A strange creature named QuQu asks the strange question why so many acquisition editors talk more about politics than books they’ve read and liked, and other trenchant questions.
I posted the first episode of my ongoing pulp space opera serial, SUPERLUMINARY on Patreon, and went, cap in hand, asking my kind readers to support the effort.
That was Wednesday. The promised donations have now exceeded $300 dollars a month. That amount astounds me.
I am confident nothing in my meager talents and powers are worthy of such a show of faith on behalf of my noble and generous patrons: I assume there is something in my writing which a divine muse subtly introduces into my tales, which is good, true and refreshing, in other to prove to the thunderstruck gentiles that no writer is good without the help of Heaven.
It is similar to the blessing bestowed on David the shepherd boy to allow him to slay the giant. No thunderstruck gentile, even the most foolish, would look at such an event and say, “My! That boy has a good arm!” or say “What a peculiar military coincidence!”
Likewise here: the gentiles will be sent quaking to their idols to cling at the numb stone legs of those monuments, and whisper: “The God of Abraham is God. Nothing else explains or can explain the popularity of that horrible Space Princess guy.”
Glory to God in the Highest and thanks to my patrons, friends, and supporters here on earth and elsewhere. I am astonished and humbled.
Peter Grant, for those of you unfortunate enough not to have heard of him, is a soldier, humanitarian, pastor and author living in Texas. He has written a new book which I would like you to consider.
Castalia House is very pleased to announce the publication of Book 1 in The Ames Archives, Brings the Lightning, by Peter Grant.
If you wish to see what your fiancee is most likely to become as years pass, meet and speak with her mother. Likewise, if you wish to understand the modern Left, note what prior generations of Leftists have done in nations where they assumed power.
At the conclusion of the conference, a tribute to Comrade Stalin was called for. Of course, everyone stood up (just as everyone had leaped to his feet during the conference at every mention of his name). … For three minutes, four minutes, five minutes, the stormy applause, rising to an ovation, continued. But palms were getting sore and raised arms were already aching. And the older people were panting from exhaustion. It was becoming insufferably silly even to those who really adored Stalin.
However, who would dare to be the first to stop? … After all, NKVD men were standing in the hall applauding and watching to see who would quit first! And in the obscure, small hall, unknown to the leader, the applause went on – six, seven, eight minutes! They were done for! Their goose was cooked! They couldn’t stop now till they collapsed with heart attacks! At the rear of the hall, which was crowded, they could of course cheat a bit, clap less frequently, less vigorously, not so eagerly – but up there with the presidium where everyone could see them?
The director of the local paper factory, an independent and strong-minded man, stood with the presidium. Aware of all the falsity and all the impossibility of the situation, he still kept on applauding! Nine minutes! Ten! In anguish he watched the secretary of the District Party Committee, but the latter dared not stop. Insanity! To the last man! With make-believe enthusiasm on their faces, looking at each other with faint hope, the district leaders were just going to go on and on applauding till they fell where they stood, till they were carried out of the hall on stretchers! And even then those who were left would not falter…
Then, after eleven minutes, the director of the paper factory assumed a businesslike expression and sat down in his seat. And, oh, a miracle took place! Where had the universal, uninhibited, indescribable enthusiasm gone? To a man, everyone else stopped dead and sat down. They had been saved!
The squirrel had been smart enough to jump off his revolving wheel. That, however, was how they discovered who the independent people were. And that was how they went about eliminating them.
That same night the factory director was arrested. They easily pasted ten years on him on the pretext of something quite different. But after he had signed Form 206, the final document of the interrogation, his interrogator reminded him:
“Don’t ever be the first to stop applauding.”
On a related topic I see that the Nebula Awards have been announced. The winners in the four major categories:
Novel: Uprooted, Naomi Novik
Novella: Binti, Nnedi Okorafor
Novelette: “Our Lady of the Open Road,” Sarah Pinsker
Short Story: “Hungry Daughters of Starving Mothers,” Alyssa Wong
Normally, professional courtesy would require me to give my congratulations to the winners, under the supposition that they had created works of merit and been duly awarded by a panel which judged the work on it merit in an unbiased fashion.
However, all the public organs of SFWA have assured me, and the mainstream press as well, not vehemently, repeatedly, malignantly and stridently, that judging Science Fiction works based only on merit is an unparalleled evil, and that I and mine are worse than neonazi bigots even to suggest such a standard.
Hence, logically, to only way to avoid accusation of unparalleled evil to judge not on the merits, but to be biased, ignore the evidence, and grant the award as a ritualized gesture of political correctness. One need not even read the work, merely note the sex, race and victimhood status of the author. (Not his real sex, race, and victimhood, of course, but only how he self-identifies.)
It would be untoward for me to assume the Nebula panel has not followed these jury instructions in this case, because that would be to assume that SWFA is guilty of rank hypocrisy.
Consider the winners of the four categories over the last five years:
So I will not be congratulating these winners, because I would like to be the first to stop applauding.
Allow me to assume a businesslike expression and sit down in my seat. The winners have won nothing.
Ladies, the award has been robbed of all value by your enemies, who hold you in the contempt of, if I may coin the phrase, the sexism of low expectations.
They thought you could not win in a fair competition, so they gave it to you of out pity for the inability they assume, sight unseen, mars all your work. They assume this because of your sex, and for no other reason. They are prejudiced against you, while claiming the opposite. Do not think them your friends.
Friends tell the truth. Enemies utter flattery.
An internet magazine hired me to write an old-fashioned space opera in the mood and flavor of ‘World Wrecker’ Hamilton to run in fifty or so weekly episodes of two-thousand word each.
However, the magazine folded and returned the rights to me. It is my wish to bring it to my fan (Hi, Nate!) directly.
The title is SUPERLUMINARY.
The plot is this: The sole survivor of an illfated expedition to Pluto finds the Infinithedron, a library of supertechnology from the alien race that created life on earth and guided evolution to produce mankind.
He returns to earth only to discover world war has decimated civilization. Rather than sharing the secrets, he uses them to conquer mankind, impose peace and order, but also abolishing aging, disease, famine.
Lord Tellus (as he calls himself) imprints each of his children with a different branch of the alien science, but the whole of it is taught to none. These Lords of Creation (as they call themselves) are commanded to create life on each of the worlds and moons of the solar system. Scores of artificial intelligent races are fashioned, who adore the children as godlike. The secret of faster than light drive Lord Tellus keeps to himself: mankind he keeps in the solar system. But what is his reason?
He goes mad, and his children rise up in rebellion, and he vanishes, leaving behind mysteries and guesses.
Aeneas Tell, son of Lady Venus, youngest of the imperial family, dreams of overthrowing the his family in favor of a republic, but when he introduces a rebel into the imperial palace for a coup, he is betrayed, and barely escapes with his life, and flees to Pluto.
Here Aeneas discovers the horrific secret his grandfather was hiding, and an ancient evil that sleeps beneath the eternal ice. Aeneas finds himself snared in a labyrinth of intrigue, striving somehow to convince his Machiavellian family to cooperate against a mutual foe none of them credit.
Read the first episode here:
A rising, fresh-faced and deserving superversive author, Brian Niemeier, asked me to help promote his book, which I am delighted to do.
The inestimable Larry Correia, the Mountain the Writes, says he read this a couple of months ago and the best way to describe it is Space Pirates Go To Hell. He adds “Only it is way cooler than that description makes it sound.”
Mr. Correia organized a Book Bomb for today, May 18th, and I urge anyone reading this to join in and support the effort.
My lovely and talented wife edited the book, and she describes it as akin to Roger Zelazny’s work, which is high praise indeed coming from her, as Mr. Zelazny is one of her favorite authors.
The goal of a Book Bomb day is to urge as many people as possible to buy an author’s book on the same day. The more books sell, the higher it gets in the rankings, the more new people see it.
If the book is one to your taste, buying it as the same time as other patrons enlarges the ratings on Amazon, which helps garner publicity.
A healthy Book Bomb will bring an author to the attention of hundreds of potential fans who not otherwise see his work. Amazon is preferred for its size and scope, but any purchase will help.
So please purchase a copy today, and urge your friends, allies, associates, and serfs and minions likewise.
Here follows the notes for a speech given at Franciscan University of Steubenville an evening in April of 2016. The speech as given differs from these notes in several respects: for sake of time and clarity, certain segments were omitted, or words changed. The prose below is unpolished, for I present my readers with my raw first draft that I wrote that afternoon in haste.
This evening I would like you to entertain the proposition that as humans, we need epics, but that in the modern age, we suffer from what we might call Epic Deprivation Syndrome.
I propose epic depravation is a disease not of the mind or body, but of the soul, and it afflicts not one men or faction of men, but whole cultures and generations. Nations can go mad just as men do.
I propose that the primary symptom of Epic Depravation Syndrome is a social pathology something like colorblindness or tone-deafness, where the moral sense of the consensus of society can no longer register correct stock responses in the face of moral qualities: it is neither attracted to great good nor repelled by great evil.
If all generations need epics and this generation suffers from epic depravation, this leads to the additional questions:
For the hour is late, and the prognostication is grim:
I fear the final result of this syndrome, if the disease is allowed further to grow unchecked, is the destruction of our civilization and the damnation of our souls.
Now, I hope this prognostication is so dire and dreadful that it will provoke your instant skepticism. If your scholarly minds have been properly trained by this wonderful institution, you should be thinking that it is impossible that something so frivolous as the lack of a certain type of poem or story would have such vast and morbid consequences.
Let us begin, as all proper skeptical scholars must, with a definition of terms. What is an epic?
A reader, I assume as a joke, said that there was no pro-Islamic bias in the modern news media. But then he drew the joke on and on, asking rhetorical questions and filling in the answers he thought I should answer, and then asking questions about that, and putting additional answers in my mouth, to the point where I wondered if he were not joking, but delusional.
One of the pretend accusations is that I am parroting what my corporate masters wish me to parrot, as if, first, I am not parroting what my Vatican masters which me to parrot, and, two, as if I as an newspaperman and newspaper editor and therefore unable to notice the coverage slant.
But I recall the way the local and national papers covered of the Beltway sniper (the press universally speculated that it was an angry white male, and downplayed the religion of the shooter once it was discovered) I continue to see the way the press is unable to cover the rape epidemic in Scandinavia.
I recall the coverage from the Paris murders. Why did the Muslim terrorists go to a Jewish grocery? During the attack, a reporter for Sky News, one of the largest English-language news services in the world, said on Fox News: “Whether it was targeted specifically for its religious connotations it is difficult to know.”
A New York Times writer blamed it on Major Hasan’s “snapping” (in an article titled “When Soldiers Snap”). Chris Matthews said “it’s unclear if religion was a factor in this shooting.” NPR correspondent Tom Gjelten explained that Hasan, though never in combat, may have suffered from “pre-traumatic stress disorder.” (the world’s first example of a man being shellshocked who was never shelled.) And the U.S. Department of Defense classified the Fort Hood shootings as acts of “workplace violence,” not terror, let alone Islamic terror.
In the U.K. Between 1997 and 2013, at least 1,400 girls, as young as eleven years old, in the small English city of Rotherham (population 275,000), were repeatedly gang-raped and treated as sex slaves. The U.K. government acknowledged that these atrocities were allowed to go on due to the fact the perpetrators were British Pakistanis and the girls were white.
The author of a 2002 report identifying Pakistanis as the perpetrators and organizers of the Rotherham gang rapes and sex slavery was sent to diversity training.
Finally, why won’t the New York Times print even one Charlie Hebdo cartoon?
So: no media bias in favor of Islam, eh?
A delusion is a belief held contrary to fact held in defiance of any reasoning or evidence. For those of you who are not delusional, here is a partial list of some pro-Islamic media stories I found after one second of Googling, with links to the original.