As promised…
Planetary: Luna in paperback on Amazon
Technically, this is due to the common sense and sense of fairplay for which the subjects of Her Majesty the Queen have always been justly lauded, particularly those voters in the north country, coal miners and manual laborers, who realized that the Labor Party had betrayed their interests and hated their nation, and generally despised them.
Nonetheless I list it here as a victory for Trump, since the same wind fills his sails as theirs.
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Jagi, here. You may have heard that the Planetary anthology series has changed publishers and is now coming out from Tuscany Bay Books (TBB).
Today, TBB launches Planetary: Luna. I am particularly proud of this book because I was the co-editor before it moved to its new home. (I bowed out because I wasn’t needed.) This book includes excellent stories from many great authors. It also includes two works that might be of particular interest to readers here:
“Merry by Gaslight” — a background story of one of the students at Roanoke Academy
“Mask of Dhuran Zur” — one of the first stories John ever finished. I remember being creeped out by it in the 1980s. So nice for it to finally see the light of day, or, at least, the moon.
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Britain says farewell to the European Union, and waves the Union Jack.
This is perhaps the greatest moment of political theater in history. Hail Britannia and God Save the Queen!
In return, the Mairead McGuinness cuts off his mike, and belittles him.
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This is from the Wikipedia article on CITIES IN FLIGHT by James Blish:
They Shall Have Stars (1956) (also published under the title Year 2018!) … is set in the near future (the book begins in 2013).
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Wherefore by their Fruits, Episode 15 The Predicant, is now posted.
In which Princox hears a mystery and resolves a mystery.
CT scans show that my aunt’s brain is swollen (no bleeding) but she’s in a coma and hasn’t woken up. My family will be bringing her out of the hospital soon and will be caring for her at home. Thank you all for your prayers.
Chartered Management Institute head Ann Francke said sports banter can exclude women and lead to laddish behaviour such as chat about sexual conquests.
“A lot of women, in particular, feel left out,” she told the BBC’s Today programme.
“They don’t follow those sports and they don’t like either being forced to talk about them or not being included.”
“I have nothing against sports enthusiasts or cricket fans – that’s great,” she said.
“But the issue is many people aren’t cricket fans,” she added, arguing bosses should crack down on sports banter.
Ms Francke is concerned that discussing football … can disproportionately exclude women and divide offices.
“It’s a gateway to more laddish behavior and – if it just goes unchecked – it’s a signal of a more laddish culture,” she said.
“It’s very easy for it to escalate from [sports] talk and chat to slapping each other on the back and talking about their conquests at the weekend.”
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This is the prayer I said daily for a week, when I was taking the scapular. Perhaps I should make it a daily habit.
A preliminary remark: It is the “desire of being consulted” that really appeals to my particular worldly pride. It is hard indeed to pray to be delivered of this sweet, sweet temptation.
Pity poor Saint Augustine trying to pray for continence when he had a hot Mediterranean babe as a concubine! A philosopher’s craving to be seen as wise is just as potent and degrading. That is what makes we intellectuals so insufferable.
If you think it is hard for a rich man to get in the heaven, how much harder for those rich in book-learning and word-cunning.
And, oh, it is hard for a writer to crave that other get his fame, but then again, the world will do that to good and honest writers whether we ask it or not — the Sad Puppies affair with the 2016 Hugo Awards proved that — so we might as well ask it:
O Jesus! meek and humble of heart, Hear me.
From the desire of being esteemed, Deliver me, Jesus.
From the desire of being loved, Deliver me, Jesus.
From the desire of being extolled, Deliver me, Jesus.
From the desire of being honored, Deliver me, Jesus.
From the desire of being praised, Deliver me, Jesus.
From the desire of being preferred to others, Deliver me, Jesus.
From the desire of being consulted, Deliver me, Jesus.
From the desire of being approved, Deliver me, Jesus.
From the fear of being humiliated, Deliver me, Jesus.
From the fear of being despised, Deliver me, Jesus.
From the fear of suffering rebukes, Deliver me, Jesus.
From the fear of being calumniated, Deliver me, Jesus.
From the fear of being forgotten, Deliver me, Jesus.
From the fear of being ridiculed, Deliver me, Jesus.
From the fear of being wronged, Deliver me, Jesus.
From the fear of being suspected, Deliver me, Jesus.That others may be loved more than I, Jesus, grant me the grace to desire it.
That others may be esteemed more than I, Jesus, grant me the grace to desire it.
That, in the opinion of the world, others may increase and I may decrease, Jesus, grant me the grace to desire it.
That others may be chosen and I set aside, Jesus, grant me the grace to desire it.
That others may be praised and I unnoticed, Jesus, grant me the grace to desire it.
That others may be preferred to me in everything, Jesus, grant me the grace to desire it.
That others may become holier than I, provided that I may become as holy as I should, Jesus, grant me the grace to desire it.
After prayer and reflection, I feel I owe you and my other readers an apology. You and I have exchanged insults, which, until now, I thought was the normal roughhousing and horseplay two men of equal status, wit, and maturity (or lack thereof) could exchange with no harm done and no hard feelings.
But, at the promptings of the Holy Spirit, I now realize that this was far from the case, even the opposite of the truth. A man of my age, wit, and status should not mock someone of yours. The contest is uneven.
I should have found a way to tell you the horrible truth about your life, not to mention the peril to your mortal soul, without overstepping the bounds of courtesy and Christian charity.
I should have all this time been treating you as a beloved child of heaven, made in the holy image and likeness of Almighty God.
Because, like it or not, that is the truth about you. It is a truth too good to be true, and a truth too hard for you to accept.
I do not ask you for forgiveness, since I know you well enough to know how such a petition would be heard, but I make this public confession to assure my other readers that I seek to mend my ways and will attempt avoid the further temptation.
Any prayers from the faithful to high heaven to aid my endless struggle against my own overweening pride would be appreciated.
Sarcasm and contempt are my daily speech, and this is the talk from hell. Heavenly words are more beautiful and more biting, because less shallow.
May heaven grant me the strength of mind and wideness of heart to leave my shallow nature behind. Only the weak minded are ruled by emotions and passions. I am shamed to count myself this day among their number.
A reader with the rangiferine yet accipitrine name of Rudolph Harrier writes with this note on the insidious attempt of Minitru to weft an embarrassing revelation into the Memory Hole.
Somewhat off topic, somewhat related in the sense that it deals with the enemy’s control of the narrative.
George Stephanopoulos was caught on air making a motion to cut off Trump’s lawyer:
This appeared on the CNN livestream. Then within minutes it disappeared from there. The linked video is a poor quality recording of a TV screen.
I found the video by using a Bing search restricted to youtube for the query “Stephanopoulos cuts off trump lawyer.” It showed up as the first result.
Searching on youtube itself, I could not find the video, nor any other video of the event for that matter. Instead I got pages and pages of videos from mainstream news, almost entirely critical of President Trump. I didn’t even get a video relating to Stephanopoulos until the sixth result.
We need to develop and support alternative institutions, including for basic enough services as simple searches.
My comment: I hope I am not the only one old enough to remember when Mr. Stephanopoulos was the personal lick-spittle lackey and hatchetman for Bill Clinton, the boy in charge of threatening rape victims and ex lovers of the Adulterer in Chief into silence, and orchestrating their harassment and defamation.
The idea of imagining this fawning Renfield to be an objective journalist is beyond parody.
NUMBER ONE IN THEORIES OF HUMOR!!!
Another participation trophey. Looking at the figures, I believe that there were zero other books in this category, and I sold one volume to one of my beloved readers. That put me at the top in this category.
Science Fiction Grandmaster John C Wright laments, analyzes, and autopsies the horrific story-telling of a film that, for so many of us, was the last hope for STAR WARS, the last dime we will ever spend on this once-beloved franchise, and the last straw that broke our patience.
Jagi, here.
Some of you may have heard, but Superversive Press–the publishing company that was publishing John’s more recent books and some of his older ones–has shut down. This means that any links you have for John’s new books are no longer any good.
The non-fiction and possibly, in the future, some fiction collections, are now posted on Amazon directly by us.
Wherefore by their Fruits, Episode 14 The Ballaragg, is now posted.
Those who gaze upon the heavens’ lights are strangely changed.
In which Princox is scolded and denounced as a proditor, but perhaps he has a hidden mistigris.
Part of an ongoing screed. This is the shortest guest column of all time. It is from a man with an abbreviated last name, Richard A:
People who are prepared to take him strictly literally on his 0% survival rate, though, ought not to be calling him out then, on the weight of the weapons.
A five-pound sword was way more common than warrior women who could survive a real melee against warrior men