The Thirty Most Incredible Abstract Satellite Images of Earth.
Monday, July 21, 2008
Thursday, July 17, 2008
Can open... worms everywhere
I'm not all that deeply involved in the online spec fic community, so I'm rarely around when Mount Vesuvius erupts. I only ever come in on the tail end of these things. Here's the latest case in point, courtesy of Tobias Buckell's blog. Watch in horror as HelixSF implodes:
http://www.tobiasbuckell.com/2008/07/10/asimovs-forum-ickiness/
http://www.tobiasbuckell.com/2008/07/15/pay-to-um-not-play/
http://www.tobiasbuckell.com/2008/07/15/keeps-digging/
I've dealt with Sanders in the past--in fact, my story "The Makeover Men" is currently in the HelixSF archives--and found him to be a prickly fellow, quick to take offense, ready to engage in confrontation. I don't think I'm going too far out on a limb by making these observations. He wears the label "ornery cuss" as a badge of honor, and I'm not about to hazard a guess as to why. Some folks are just born that way.
I find his use of racial slurs in the above-linked rejection letter disappointing and troubling. I won't be asking for my story to be removed from HelixSF, however. Sanders challenged me on the piece, made me do several re-writes and all in all hounded me into making the best story it could be. He got it, where all the other markets responded along the lines of "Not just no, but hell no!" Sanders published it when he said he would and paid me on time. So "The Makeover Men" stays up at HelixSF.
That's not to say I ever expect to submit there again. I don't condone his words, but then again I won't submit anything to Orson Scott Card's projects anymore either. For my money, Card's been persistently more offensive over the years on a grand scale, the only consequence of his being the spontaneous propagation of Card apologists. The righteous indignation against Sanders seems to be driven at least in part by the fact that Sanders makes it so easy to dislike him. He's become a target of opportunity. Those venomous folks attacking his detractors on the Asimov's boards, however, have no such excuse. In truth, they're the ones that disturb me the most.
The core tragedy--if I may be allowed the hubris to invoke such a mighty word--is once again seeing a member of a marginalized minority using demeaning stereotypes to marginalize a different minority. Native Americans have undergone some of the worst suffering, disenfranchisement and even genocide ever inflicted, yet despite our "enlightened" society, discrimination and stereotyping continues to exist. I just recently finished reading The Chicken Ranch: The True Story of the Best Little Whorehouse in Texas by Jan Hutson, as wretchedly-written a book as there ever was. In a chapter on the history of the La Grange, Texas, area, Hutson launches into a full-blown attack on native people, the native Tonkawa tribe in particular. Stupid, dumb, lazy, lying and thieving are among the kindest descriptions she uses, going on to praise those European settlers who slaughtered the tribe to extinction as doing humanity a favor. I can't say for certain how Sanders would react to such characterization, but I suspect he might find it offensive. That one group could be victimized by such libels and slanders, yet lack the empathy to see the wrongness of their using similar tactics against other groups is equally wrong. It doesn't matter if you're William Sanders or Jan Hutson or Barbara Bush ("We're afearin' them darkie New Orleans refugees will stay in Houston") or Ray Nagin ("We're afearin' then Mexicans will stay here in Nawlins once they done finished rebuilding it")... well, shit folks. It's wrong. In 2008 it shouldn't take a ill-conceived rejection letter, a particularly vicious message board flame war or a long-winded blog post to get that basic point across.
http://www.tobiasbuckell.com/2008/07/10/asimovs-forum-ickiness/
http://www.tobiasbuckell.com/2008/07/15/pay-to-um-not-play/
http://www.tobiasbuckell.com/2008/07/15/keeps-digging/
I've dealt with Sanders in the past--in fact, my story "The Makeover Men" is currently in the HelixSF archives--and found him to be a prickly fellow, quick to take offense, ready to engage in confrontation. I don't think I'm going too far out on a limb by making these observations. He wears the label "ornery cuss" as a badge of honor, and I'm not about to hazard a guess as to why. Some folks are just born that way.
I find his use of racial slurs in the above-linked rejection letter disappointing and troubling. I won't be asking for my story to be removed from HelixSF, however. Sanders challenged me on the piece, made me do several re-writes and all in all hounded me into making the best story it could be. He got it, where all the other markets responded along the lines of "Not just no, but hell no!" Sanders published it when he said he would and paid me on time. So "The Makeover Men" stays up at HelixSF.
That's not to say I ever expect to submit there again. I don't condone his words, but then again I won't submit anything to Orson Scott Card's projects anymore either. For my money, Card's been persistently more offensive over the years on a grand scale, the only consequence of his being the spontaneous propagation of Card apologists. The righteous indignation against Sanders seems to be driven at least in part by the fact that Sanders makes it so easy to dislike him. He's become a target of opportunity. Those venomous folks attacking his detractors on the Asimov's boards, however, have no such excuse. In truth, they're the ones that disturb me the most.
The core tragedy--if I may be allowed the hubris to invoke such a mighty word--is once again seeing a member of a marginalized minority using demeaning stereotypes to marginalize a different minority. Native Americans have undergone some of the worst suffering, disenfranchisement and even genocide ever inflicted, yet despite our "enlightened" society, discrimination and stereotyping continues to exist. I just recently finished reading The Chicken Ranch: The True Story of the Best Little Whorehouse in Texas by Jan Hutson, as wretchedly-written a book as there ever was. In a chapter on the history of the La Grange, Texas, area, Hutson launches into a full-blown attack on native people, the native Tonkawa tribe in particular. Stupid, dumb, lazy, lying and thieving are among the kindest descriptions she uses, going on to praise those European settlers who slaughtered the tribe to extinction as doing humanity a favor. I can't say for certain how Sanders would react to such characterization, but I suspect he might find it offensive. That one group could be victimized by such libels and slanders, yet lack the empathy to see the wrongness of their using similar tactics against other groups is equally wrong. It doesn't matter if you're William Sanders or Jan Hutson or Barbara Bush ("We're afearin' them darkie New Orleans refugees will stay in Houston") or Ray Nagin ("We're afearin' then Mexicans will stay here in Nawlins once they done finished rebuilding it")... well, shit folks. It's wrong. In 2008 it shouldn't take a ill-conceived rejection letter, a particularly vicious message board flame war or a long-winded blog post to get that basic point across.
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
MEMORY: 18
Emperor Camargo smiled. “Indeed you are, Flavius. A very lucky man, indeed. Not many men get a second chance at life, or a third or a fourth or whatever the case may be in your unique situation.”
“All things being equal, I’d just as soon make this chance last a while. There’s nae anything pleasant about dying.”
“Truer words, Flavius. Truer words.” Emperor Camargo waggled a finger in Flavius’ face. “As a man who disdains death in all its forms, I have a warning for you. Please, Flavius, take it in the spirit of genuine compassion and concern for your well-being in which I offer it.”
“Er...”
“Within the various layers of the Empress Malinche’s garments are woven threads of nuse which have been steeped in the blood of your predecessor. Should they be loosed--that is, should the Empress happen to become disrobed in your presence--the nuse would immediately seek you out and do as nuse is wont to do.” The Emperor suppressed a small shudder. “No offense to your integrity is meant, you understand. It’s actually more a symbolic gesture than anything else. You know how dramatic court politics can be.”
“We are thanking you for the deliverings of such courtesy,” interrupted Parric. “I am assuring you, Flavius’ attentions lie far away from scandal.”
“Right. Furthest thing from my mind,” Flavius said, pointedly averting his gaze from the Empress’ direction. Even so, he could feel her stare boring into him.
“Our journeying is proving most stressful,” Parric added. “Our enemies leave us little opportunity for thinking of anything save food and sheltering.”
“Enemies?” Emperor Camargo raised an eyebrow.
“A longing story,” answered Parric.
“They always are,” Emperor Camargo agreed. “You’ll have to illuminate me as to the circumstances of your latest adventures over dinner. I confess we were just about to sit down to sup when word reached us regarding your unexpected arrival. It’s not a formal dinner, I fear--simple fare for a quiet evening--but you will, of course, join the Empress and myself to dine. I’m certain the chefs remember your distinctive dietary requirements, Parric, and can prepare something acceptable for you in short order. Flavius, as I recall, may eat freely from our table with no distress.”
“Your Imperial Majesty’s hospitality is knowing no bounds,” said Parric, bowing slightly.
“Now, not to put this matter too delicately,” said the Emperor, lowering his voice, “but you reek. Terribly so. Flavius in particular. Your previous rooms are currently unoccupied, so you may go to them and refresh yourselves. You may join us in the petite dining hall thereafter.”
Flavius opened his mouth to answer, then thought better of it, sniffing himself instead.
Emperor Camargo gestured toward the gathered staff, and immediately a squat creature that’d been lurking in the background trotted forward on all fours. Little more than half the size of Flavius, it’s stocky body was covered with knobby blue-gray skin with thick tufts of black hair growing at the joints. Round, dark eyes dominated its flat face, and irregular teeth jutted up from a pronounced underbite. The turquoise livery it wore seemed particularly ill-fitting.
“This peq will guide you to your rooms. If you’re in need of anything, all you need do is ask.” The Emperor look down at the peq. “Isn’t that right, peq?”
“Quite right, Your Imperial Majesty,” the peq answered in a throaty, rumbling voice. “Our pleasure is to but serve. The guests will be extended every courtesy.”
“Excellent. Then I will see you shortly.” Emperor Camargo abruptly turned and returned to the dias, where Empress Malinche rose to greet him. The staff were already filing out of the hall.
Without further ceremony, the peq turned and trotted off toward an open door, so quickly that Flavius and Parric had to scramble to catch up.
“Well, that dinnae go the way I’d expected.”
“Indeeding. Emperor Camargo is a little too happy to be seeing us, I fear,” Parric said. “I’m finding our initial receptioning by his militia is less troubling.”
“Maybe he feels a wee bit guilty for killing me,” Flavius suggested.
Parric’s antennae turned toward Flavius.
“Yer right. Royalty nae ever feels guilt,” Flavius sighed. “Maybe the peq knows something. Ho, lad, ya look familiar. Did we meet on our last visit?”
“Maybe, maybe not. I couldn’t say for certain,” the peq answered, his stumpy tail bobbing energetically as turned and led them up a flight of stairs. “You smell familiar, sirs, but guests of your sort all look alike to me.”
“What’s the word among the staff, eh? What’re they saying about us?” Flavius scanned the corridor walls as he talked. The surroundings did look familiar now. “Do ye ken what the Emperor’s feelings are?”
“I wouldn’t presume to know His Imperial Majesty’s feelings on any matter, sirs. Our pleasure is to but serve.” The peq stopped before a familiar door and stood up on his hind legs to open the latch. He gestured to Flavius with his forearm. “Your room, sir. Do you know how to operate the flow valves in the spherical bath? My apologies, sir, but I have to ask. More often than not our otherwhere guests don’t know.”
“No need to apologize, lad. Yer just doing yer job.”
“Thank you, sir. If only our guests last week were as understanding.” The peq dropped back down to all fours and motioned to Parric. “If the T'ul-us Tzan would follow me...?”
Parric turned to Flavius. “We’ll be talking more later. But for now, be staying out of trouble. More importanting, be staying out of the Empress.”
“Ya think?” Flavius answered, sending Parric off with a rude gesture. As he closed the door, the memory of nude Empress filled his thoughts, mixed with that of her intense gaze in the audience hall. Flavius slumped back against the door, suddenly very drained. “Easier said than done, Parric. Easier said than done.”
The Canadian Interrogations
News of the imminent economic collapse got you down?
Check out the Gitmo video of this Canadian interrogator trying to get a young detainee to "relax and eat your hamburger" while the detainee talks about how he has lost his eyes and feet, then sings/prays to himself through his sobs after left alone in the chamber, chanting what sounds like "help me" over and over. When the prisoner begs to return to Canada, the interrogator says he wants the prisoner to help him stay in Cuba.
"The weather's nice," he says. "No snow."
If you watch the video at CBS News, you get the extra treat of having it wrapped in some American consumer advertising. I got one for Exxon/Mobil, and another for MasterCard. Do they have some kind of placement algorithm that determines which spots are most suitable to accompany prurient viewing of interrogation videos?
CBS News: Katie Couric meets Omar Khadr.
Hamburger, well-done, from Camp X-Ray prison canteen: $2.78.
Orange jumpsuit: $12.95.
Black blob digitally inserted over heads of interrogator: $.0003.
Learning that a Gitmo interrogator has a dorky North Woods accent, more Garrison Keeler than Kiefer Sutherland: priceless.
NYT: "Blurry Peek at Questioning of a Guantánamo Inmate"
Check out the Gitmo video of this Canadian interrogator trying to get a young detainee to "relax and eat your hamburger" while the detainee talks about how he has lost his eyes and feet, then sings/prays to himself through his sobs after left alone in the chamber, chanting what sounds like "help me" over and over. When the prisoner begs to return to Canada, the interrogator says he wants the prisoner to help him stay in Cuba.
"The weather's nice," he says. "No snow."
If you watch the video at CBS News, you get the extra treat of having it wrapped in some American consumer advertising. I got one for Exxon/Mobil, and another for MasterCard. Do they have some kind of placement algorithm that determines which spots are most suitable to accompany prurient viewing of interrogation videos?
CBS News: Katie Couric meets Omar Khadr.
Hamburger, well-done, from Camp X-Ray prison canteen: $2.78.
Orange jumpsuit: $12.95.
Black blob digitally inserted over heads of interrogator: $.0003.
Learning that a Gitmo interrogator has a dorky North Woods accent, more Garrison Keeler than Kiefer Sutherland: priceless.
NYT: "Blurry Peek at Questioning of a Guantánamo Inmate"
Lost Books, Part I revised
First, the good news. Greg Egan's excellent novel Distress is back in print, from Orion.
The bad news is that, sadly, I cannot say the same for the novel I'm reading at present - Black Alice, by John Sladek and the late Tom Disch.
The bad news is that, sadly, I cannot say the same for the novel I'm reading at present - Black Alice, by John Sladek and the late Tom Disch.
Sunday, July 13, 2008
Take me to your leaders
Nothing matches the thrill of an awesome new bookstore in your town.
Domy Books, Austin (also Houston). Contemporary art, avant poetry, comix, vinyl toys, conspiracy & insurrection, 33 1/3, eclectic DVDs, readings and performances. What else do you need?
Cesar Chavez 1 block East of I-35, between the library and the payday loan store.
Saturday, July 12, 2008
Fast Forward 2
Through the benevolence of the brilliant Lou Anders, the only editor in science fiction who can actually see the future, I have a story in the upcoming Pyr Books anthology edited by Lou, Fast Forward 2.
The anthology includes an amazing selection of work by many of my science fictional betters -- including stories by Paolo Bacigalupi, Ian McDonald, Nancy Kress, and Marvel Team-Up worthy collaborations (!) between Cory Doctorow and Benjamin Rosenbaum, Karl Schroeder and Tobias S. Buckell, and Mike Resnick and Pat Cadigan. I am very excited to be included in this number, and having peeked ahead at the galleys, I can assure you it's some outstanding work.
Lou has just shared with us the cover art from San Antonio's John Picacio (photo above), which has some wonderful and somewhat uncharacteristic whimsy, playing on the 21st century reworking of pulp tropes by featuring prominently a flying ape in a metal suit. John discusses his inspiration for the piece on his blog here.
My story? Thanks to Lou's invitation to this pop cult postmodernist to generate some actual, honest-to-god, set-in-the-future-with-plausible-technological-extrapolation *science fiction*, I discovered the joy of true scif. The Hollywood pitch would be something like "Ribofunk 21st century Jake Barnes gets prosthetic substitute for what he lost in the war." Because, you know, contemporary science fiction just doesn't have enough amputee sex. It also includes a tree that grows Prozac, an installation of bio-art grown from the stem cells of celebrities, and a permanent Burning Man of the ultra-rich installed somewhere beyond Marfa TX.
It will be out in October.
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