A thin layer of Republican smarm

Sorry, Congressman Ryan. The layer of smarm wasn't thick enough. The evil soullessness and heartlessness of the modern GOP showed clearly.

The Final Solution to the Conservative Question

Throughout its history, the United States has struggled to deal with the presence in its midst of a people who, while externally and superficially resembling normal Americans, are fundamentally and dangerously different in terms of their culture, habits, thought patterns, and religious beliefs. This subpopulation is known as the Conservatives. The problem of preserving the freedoms, tolerance, and equality on which we Americans have long prided ourselves, albeit often without full justification, while at the same time tolerating this quarrelsome, hostile, alien people amongst us has been termed by some of our best thinkers the Conservative Question.

The urgency of this problem has grown rapidly in recent decades.

At one time, Conservatives could be divided into Not Overly Conservatives, Strong Conservatives, and Utterly Wackadoodle Conservatives. For many years, the Utterly Wackadoodle branch was the smallest and most easily ignored. There was reason to hope that the Not Overly Conservatives could eventually be fully integrated into normal American society. It even seemed possible that the Strong Conservatives would moderate their beliefs in the face of reality, or at least that they could be marginalized and rendered harmless. But in the mid–1960s, the Utterly Wackadoodles began a strong resurgence. Over time, they managed to purge their ranks of all Not Overly Conservatives and most Strong Conservatives. It’s fair to say that now Conservative is nothing more than a synonym for Utterly Wackadoodle.

At the same time, Conservatives merged with the rising tide of religious insanity welling up from America’s mental dark places. Clearly this has not diminished the subrace’s utter wackadoodliness. Instead, it has led to constant attempts to rewrite American history. For example, Conservatives frequently advance the wackadoodle claim that America was founded on religious principles by religious wackadoodles. As their rantings increasingly drown out the sane voices of normal Americans, Conservatives have gone from being amusing zanies to a serious threat to American civilization.

Legally, of course, Conservatives have the same rights as normal Americans. For example, they must be permitted to live where they please, to vote in our elections, and even to marry our people! Understandably, despite the law, normal Americans are outraged at allowing Conservatives such freedoms and have sometimes reacted hostilely. In response, Conservative spokesmen have complained of a “blood libel” being used against them and a “pogrom” being waged against them. While such talk is typical of the absurd hyperbole to which Conservatives are naturally inclined, it is nonetheless true that normal Americans are becoming ever less tolerant of Conservatives, and it conceivable that this unhappiness could some day erupt violently. Thus the presence of Conservatives in America creates a danger to them as well to our national institutions, to which they have from the time of the founding of our nation expressed fundamental hostility.

Nominally, Conservatives worship the same god as the Monotheistic Majority. However, in practice they spend much of their time supplicating and bowing to an aspect of this god unknown to normal Americans: Invisible Hand. In the Conservative religion, Invisible Hand is the most important and powerful of God’s aspects. Invisible Hand controls almost every aspect of daily life, and blind, unquestioning worship of him is the way to solve even the most dire of mankind’s problems — peace, war, hunger, disease, global warming, etc.

This belief system leads to a combination of fatalism (humans can do nothing about such problems because Invisible Hand will either correct them or exacerbate them, and attempting to interfere with his will is presumptuous at the least, and Socialistically European at the worst) and feudalism (the strong must rule because clearly Invisible Hand favors them). This attitude is — or at least ought to be — anathema to all normal Americans.

While paying the same lip service to egalitarianism as do normal Americans, Conservatives are culturally and psychologically inclined toward worship of the strong man.

In politics, this causes them to constantly yearn for the semi–divine Messiah who will save them from the hordes of savages who surround them. This Messiah, they believe, will give them dominion over the nations of the earth. As shown by the examples of Ronald Reagan and George the Lesser Bush, the blanker the slate onto which they can project their poorly disguised homoerotic yearning, the better.

In the social and familial realm, Conservatives stick to their own kind. They are by nature insular and strive to isolate their children from outside influences that could lead them to question the faith and folkways of their parents. Needless to say, they strongly, even violently, disapprove of their children socializing with — or worse, dating or marrying — outsiders. So strong is their aversion to what they deem corrupting influences, that they even clamor to remove such influences from the wider society. Thus they oppose the teaching of certain areas of science in the public schools and the depiction in movies or on television of behavior their narrow–minded morality considers immoral. They hope to see public schools eliminated entirely, replaced by private academies in which children would be exposed only to the narrow, blinkered, provincial view of the world and of history favored by Conservative parents.

In the economic realm, Conservatives idolize the rich, who are clearly Invisible Hand’s favorites, and despise the poor, who must have offended Invisible Hand in some way. In their theology, no man occupies his position on the economic ladder because of forces beyond his control. The strong man they worship climbs to the top of the economic ladder by means of his own vigorous exertions and inner superiority, thus earning the approval of Invisible Hand. Therefore, the richer a man is, the worthier he is of respect, admiration, and emulation. His opinions on any subject at all are worth more than the opinions of anyone else in the same degree as his worth in dollars is greater than theirs.

Conservatives are true believers in natural aristocracy, class stratification, and the importance of bloodlines. However, they are ashamed to admit to this and pretend to be champions of a classless society, probably in part to make themselves more acceptable to normal Americans. This constant hypocrisy is bad for the health of Conservatives. The solution to the Conservative question proposed below will free them from this constant inner tension and will thus improve their mental and physical health, enabling them to live more pleasant and fulfilling lives — or at least, as fulfilling and pleasant as life can be for a people so inherently mentally and emotionally cramped, embittered, and poisoned.

Conservatives worship authority figures. They listen in rapt and worshipful attention to the ravings of hate–mongering zanies on radio and television, even if the hate–monger is a cigar–chewing walrus or a babbling crying man. They treat as gospel the rambling writings of a blonde female zombie or a sexy but deranged Filipina. This is clear evidence that they are utterly out of place in America and must be isolated to keep the rest of us safe.

One thing must be said for Conservatives: they’re good with money. Perhaps that’s because they think about it so much more than normal Americans do. Or it could be built into their genes, thanks to a long process of selection by means of in–group marriage. Unfortunately, they haven’t used this ability to benefit their country but rather to enrich themselves and add to their power and influence. Normal Americans suspect, with very good reason, that Conservatives quietly control the government and especially the economy. For example, a very brief examination will reveal that throughout its history the Federal Reserve has been dominated by Conservatives. This power is used by Conservatives in the interests only of other Conservatives, for Conservatives always take care of their own.

Of course this only increases the resentment and anger normal Americans feel towards Conservatives, increasing the chance that the isolated incidents of vandalism and assault that we see today will spread and exceed the government’s attempts at control — attempts that Conservatives grumble are halfhearted and insincere.

Normal Americans have many reasons for their anger. In addition to the financial and political control that Conservatives already exert far out of proportion to their numbers, it is widely suspected that the economic and social texts sacred to Conservatives — written in an obscure language understood only by a small number of Conservatives who constitute a virtual priesthood — assert that Conservatives are inherently superior to normal Americans and are destined to rule them. As mentioned earlier, they believe that Invisible Hand will send a Messiah who will lead Conservatives to dominion over all the earth. Many normal Americans are convinced that this has already happened without the help of a Messiah.

The situation has almost reached the boiling point. A solution must be found to the Conservative Problem. Interim solutions — e.g., isolating Conservatives in certain sections of our great cities — will not answer in the long term. No, a final solution is required.

The Final Solution to the Conservative Question is clear. It will be difficult, expensive, and long term, but it is the only humane answer to the question that has been plaguing America for so long. We must start with the following declaration, which is a general statement of purpose: “The United States government views with favor the establishment of a national home for the Conservative people, and will use its best endeavors to facilitate the achievement of this object.”

To fulfill this objective, we must decide on the location of the new homeland.

Conservative leaders with whom this project was discussed proposed choosing some landmass where the number of Conservatives is sufficiently low among the natives and quickly and brutally depopulating the place. Western Europe was high on their list. That some Conservatives would inevitably be among the dead is, in their view, an acceptable price to pay. They assured us that the dead Conservatives would ascend to their version of Heaven because “Invisible Hand will know his own.”

However, while such cold–hearted bloodlust is normal among Conservatives, it is unacceptable to the majority of normal Americans, or at least it should be. Therefore, the humane version of the Final Solution requires a massive, full–bore Manhattan–Project style undertaking to build a large island in the middle of the Pacific Ocean, to be called Handlandia, which will serve as the new Conservative homeland.

Some have suggested that Handlandia should be anchored to the sea bottom, first so that it stays in place and cannot float toward and thus endanger with cultural pollution any civilized country, and second so that Conservatives can be provided with a final lesson in the reality of global warming and rising seas. However, this would require the kind of cruelty and callousness, so common among Conservatives, that should not be exhibited by normal Americans.

The removal of Conservatives to their own homeland means that strict regulation of industry for environmental purposes will finally become possible in the United States. Inevitably, in Handlandia there will be no regulation of any kind for any purpose other than sexual repression.

This means that Handlandian industries will produce copious pollution of the air and runoff into the surrounding seas. This air pollution and runoff must be kept confined to Handlandia. The simplest way to do this is to surround Handlandia with some sort of bubble, a force field that can keep undesirable chemicals from getting out even while permitting desirable chemicals, such as atmospheric gases and rainfall, to enter. Developing the technology to make this bubble possible might sound daunting, but surely Yankee ingenuity will prove to be up to the challenge — especially once it is freed from the cold, dead hand of Conservative interference.

To prevent any possibility of Handlandia creating its own colonial empire, the United States Navy will maintain a large fleet of ships around Handlandia and will monitor all Handlandian communications.

Of course the cost of this undertaking will be immense, but history has shown us that the cost of continuing to tolerate the presence of Conservatives amongst us will be even greater. As it is, after they have been removed, America will face decades of hard work before the damage they have already done is repaired. Moreover, much of the cost can be covered by simply requiring Conservatives to leave their immense wealth, with the exception of their gold (see Principle 5 below), behind them. After all, it’s not as if they really earned it.

Based on consultations with Conservative leaders, the Constitution of Handlandia will be founded on these principles:

1. Everyone in Handlandia will be armed. Indeed, everyone will be required to be armed. Although it is clear from experience and statistics that an armed society, far from being a polite one, is a society where homicide, suicides, and terrible accidents are common, nonetheless the statistically nonsensical and utterly bullshit Gospel of John Lott will be deemed Holy Writ in Handlandia and will be read aloud at such public occasions as Sarah Palin’s Birthday — a.k.a., Lock and Load, Baby! Wink!
2. Despite the horrendous rate of accidental and deliberate bloodshed that Principle 1 will make inevitable, obtaining health care will be entirely up to the individual. Handlandia will do nothing that would subject it to the risk of becoming a European Socialist Hell.
3. Speaking of European Socialist Hell, Handlandia will not require private pensions or provide a government retirement system. Handlandians must provide for themselves. They must work hard and save and invest. Those who fail and find themselves destitute in old age, and those who fall desperately ill … well, that’s Invisible Hand for you.
4. In keeping with what Conservatives have deluded themselves into believing about America’s founding, Handlandia will practice complete integration of church and state. That is, it will do so once a final determination has been made as to which flavor of Christianity is to be the official church. The marketplace will of course decide this. Given Principle 1, inevitably this will not be the marketplace of ideas but rather the marketplace of manly Christian battle. Once the gunfire has died down and the bodies have been buried, the surviving sect, clearly the one favored by Invisible Hand, will assume its rightful place in the halls of government.
5. The unit of currency, the Hand, will be based entirely on gold, with one Hand (Ħ1) equal to one 1000th of an ounce of gold. Handlandia’s initial gold reserves will consist of the private hoards of gold Conservatives have been accumulating for years in fear of a collapse of the dollar.
6. Only English measurement units will be tolerated in Handlandia. Use of metric units will be cause for imprisonment and possible expulsion, if not the death penalty.
7. English will be the official language of Handlandia, preferably spoken with any flavor of Southern US accent, although some flexibility might be allowed in this regard. Anyone caught speaking, writing, or reading any other language will be subject to harsh penalties; see Principle 6.
8. Awarding of the privilege of Handlandian citizenship will be strictly controlled. Of course the initial population — those evacuated from the United States — will be granted citizenship automatically. Anyone directly descended from these founders will become citizens at birth (with one exception, explained below). Immigration will be allowed, and legal immigrants will qualify to apply for citizenship after a continuous residency on Handlandia of 20 years. Potential immigrants will be required to pass a very strict purity test, and they will also be required to prove that their personal wealth is at least Ħ1,000,000. Membership in the Caucasian race will not be a specific requirement for immigration. However, the total number of non–Caucasian Handlandians will be kept to a comfortable, manageable, easily hidden few — enough to provide a token population suitable for trotting out on certain public occasions. Larger numbers of non–Caucasians might be permitted to reside temporarily in Handlandia so they can provide menial labor, be entertainers or athletes, or operate ethnic restaurants. The coastlines of Handlandia will be heavily guarded by a variety of automated and robotic weapons systems. For purposes of public morale, the beaches will be regularly patrolled by squads of stern middle-aged men with large potbellies and very big guns.

Pesky genes from hidden or forgotten or unknown ancestors can have surprising effects.

Inevitably, from time to time, even the most alabaster–skinned of the founders and their descendants will give birth to babies with very dark skin and hair, possibly even curly hair. These babies will not be granted Handlandian citizenship at birth. However, they must not be harmed and must be sent to the United States for adoption. Ensuring their safety will require careful monitoring by the United States of all of the citizens of Handlandia — their communications, their speech, and their activities. This is a good idea in general. We have learned the hard way that it’s never a good idea to turn one’s back on Conservatives or to take one’s eyes off them. Eternal vigilance is the price of liberty.

Provision must also be made for emigration of adult Handlandians.

Some children, despite their genes, will come to reject Conservative ideas as they grow up. Indeed, growing up and rejecting Conservative ideas are closely linked processes. Others will experience a philosophical conversion during adulthood, perhaps due to observing the results of Conservative theory converted into practice. We anticipate that the number of such people will be small initially but will increase steadily and rapidly. The naval fleet mentioned earlier will be ready to transport such emigrants away from Handlandia and back to the United States.

However, these refugees will not be automatically granted permanent residence and citizenship in the USA. They will be watched carefully for a number of years and will be required to pass very stringent written and oral exams on the United States Constitution, United States history, basic science, and the fundamental importance of secularism, freedom of speech, and gun control to a civilized and peaceful society. If they fail these exams, they will be returned to Handlandia. If they pass, they will still be watched carefully for the rest of their lives. After all, there is some truth to the old saying, “Once a Conservative, always a Conservative.”

In time — probably a short time — these measures will humanely solve the Conservative Problem once and for all.

Church services are held in Tucson

Praise God from whom
All blessings flow.
When bullets are flying,
He is a no-show.

When an earthquake
Is shaking,
A day off
He’s taking.

When a hurricane
Is roaring
He says,
“That’s so boring.”

When hate radio triggers
A dangerous loon
He says, “I can do nothing
To stop those buffoons.

“I can’t make them shut up
Because of free will.
They must have the freedom
To spew out their swill.

“And if a few children
Are killed in a rampage,
To quote some half-human,
That’s collateral damage.

“Now, as for the innocents
Drowned in a flood,
It’s really their free will
That’s the source of the mud.

“They shouldn’t have lived there.
They should have just moved.
With nonsensical logic
Is my innocence proved.”

“But you could have stopped it!
You control even the seasons!”
“Oh? And just who are you
To question God’s reasons?

“God loves all his creatures,
The feathered and finned.
So when people suffer,
Well, maybe they sinned.

“And here is the best part,
My favorite by far:
No death is my doing,
But all escapes are.

“If disaster kills millions,
No prob for God’s fandom.
‘It’s awful, it’s tragic,
But, ya know, it’s just random.’

“But if someone alive
From the carnage should crawl,
‘That’s all the proof needed
That God loves us all!’

“When human skill and human pluck
Preserve a life against all odds,
My fandom sob and raise their hands
And say the credit is all God’s.

“So here, at the end,
Is the name of the game:
I get the credit
And you get the blame.”

Earthmen and Other Aliens now available

On Amazon (Kindle) and Smashwords (various formats). Barnes & Noble, Sony, Apple, etc. should follow during the coming weeks, as Smashwords distributes to them. I’ve also submitted a PDF version to Google for their e-book store. That’s my first attempt at getting a book included there. If that one’s okay, I’ll start putting all of my others on Google, as well.

Links for ordering, the cover image, and a bit of info:

http://www.dvorkin.com/earthoal/

The Story of the Very, Very Earnest Black Swan

Black Swan is a very, very earnest movie about a very, very good but very, very mentally messed-up ballerina, played very, very earnestly by the usually very, very good Natalie Portman, who unfortunately isn’t quite on her toes for this one.

Portman’s character is given a chance at a career-making role, dancing both the white (very, very good) swan and the black (very, very bad) swan in an odd-sounding version of Swan Lake created by an egomaniacal choreographer (is that redundant?). Who is also very, very sleazy. And slimy.

However, she’s very, very repressed, so while she can dance the white swan with technical proficiency, she can’t let her inner black swan come out and be all evil and seductive on the stage. She also has to contend with a very, very domineering mother (well and creepily played by Barbara Hershey) and a very, very (very, very, very) hot rival (well and deliciously played by the very, very (very, very, very) hot Mila Kunis).

The rival has black wings tattooed on her back. Look! A symbol!

Portman’s character is a sick puppy. She has bizarre hallucinations, can’t separate dreams and fantasies from reality, scratches herself till she bleeds, and thinks there’s a real black swan inside her that, from time to time, comes out – e.g., black feathers poking out through the deep scratches she has inflicted on herself, her neck lengthening into a swan’s neck, black wings growing from her back. She wants to destroy the black swan inside her. She wants to liberate and become the black swan inside her. Everything ends messily.

This is psychodrama as filmed by very, very earnest young film students. The movie works so hard at being arty that it fails at being art. Or entertaining.

There is a fair amount of dancing. Unfortunately, it’s almost all scenes of Portman dancing. She’s a fine actress but only an amateur dancer.

There’s a lesbian sex scene, less than convincing, as is usual in movies, but elevated to hotness because Mila Kunis is in it. (Kunis has one of the few good lines in the movie, and she delivers it with verve.)

Don’t waste your time. If you want to see an entertaining dance movie, rent the delightful movie Center Stage, which starred actual professional dancers who turned out to be excellent actors. I think I need to watch that one again to wash away the black taste of swan crap.

Shrieking Zanies on My Screen

Shrieking zanies on my screen
Make this viewer want to scream,
Make this viewer want some booze.
Endless sports on the nightly news.

How they obsess over injuries.
Mangled elbows, damaged knees,
A ruined back or a shattered hip.
“These could cost us the championship!”

Other news is second rate
When compared to our team’s fate.
Wars and floods and all the rest
Matter not if our team’s best.

Skip the news. The weather, too.
Our team’s coach said something new!
Something stupid, something dumb.
There are no depths he cannot plumb.

Shrieking zanies want to claim
Insight into next week’s game.
Coach’s tactics, players plans,
Braindead mouthings from the fans.

I don’t learn the vital stuff.
Will the drive to work be tough?
Will the roads be wet or icy,
And the drive home tense and dicey?

Did the Dow Jones take a dive?
Is democracy still alive?
Has the Middle East exploded?
Have our rights still more eroded?

Might as well just change the name.
“Mindless babble about every game
“Every night on every station
“And that’s it for information!”

Sure, a title that is snappy
Makes a TV exec happy.
In any case, the fact remains:
Sportscast zombies want your brains.

Oh, if I were but in charge
The solid news I would enlarge
The sports “reporters” quickly fire
And proper journalists I’d hire.

No pretty faces mouthing fluff
Smirking at you, all that guff,
Endless babble, wasting time,
While repeating right-wing slime.

They’d all have brains and be well read,
With politics from pink to red.
They’d read the news and analyze.
They’d be Democracy’s prying eyes.

They’d tell the truth and pay no heed
To plutocrats and all their greed,
Their lawyers and their paid-for tools,
Their Limbaugh pigs and Coulter ghouls.

We’d know what’s what,
Who sold, who’s bought,
What deals were made,
What rights in trade.

All that would show
Upon your screen
In this sweet world
Of might-have-been.

But cash controls the info flows
And plutocrats know what to ban.
Once tumbrels rolled. Aristo knows
The danger of the thinking man.

And so they hire pretty critters
A stupid hunk, a vapid fox,
Who, sitting on their well-toned sitters,
Grin vainly from the idiot box.

Their voices loud, of dumbness proud,
They flirt and smirk and pose and preen.
And we are left of news bereft
With shrieking zanies on the screen.

Age, relative and absolute

By which I don’t mean “you’re as young as you feel” but rather how one perceives the ages of other people.

When I was somewhere around ten or eleven, I attended some sort of social gathering with people of all ages – most likely some Jewish community event. There was a group of young people there, all in their early twenties, gathered in a group and speaking in their secret generational language and flirting with each other.

I watched them in awe. They were so smooth, so sophisticated, so glamorous, so self-possessed, so in control of themselves and the world. I couldn’t wait to be in my early twenties so that I could be as smooth, etc. as they were!

I’m 67 and I’m still waiting, but never mind that. Now, of course, when I look at young people in their early twenties, I see just barely no longer kids, often trying awkwardly to be smooth, etc. It’s possible that young people in their early twenties now are dramatically different from young people in their early twenties 55+ years ago, but it’s much more likely that the change is in me.

We’ve all experienced this. Throughout most of our lives, “young” is anyone more than a few years, say 5 years, younger than ourselves, and “old” is anyone more than a similar number of years older than ourselves. Look at the photos in your high-school yearbook (You kids today do still have those, don’t you? Why, when I was a lad … ) and you’re astonished at how young and immature those kids look. You don’t remember them that way at all!

Nothing new there. But here’s the thing that’s changed for me. I don’t know when this happened, fairly recently I think, but lately that relative perception of age has given way to a more absolute one. The young aren’t getting younger as I grow older. They’re staying about the same. And “old” doesn’t mean X years older than me. “Old” is a category I’ve moved into myself. Or, on my more denial-of-reality days, am just about to start moving into myself.

I used to be aware of old people referring to themselves and their peers as old people, but that never struck me as odd because to me they were all old people. Now that I’m one myself, officially a senior citizen (What a silly phrase! What if I’d never become naturalized? Would I be a senior resident alien?), I’m speaking the same way.

It seems natural. Although when I think about it, it also seems strange, a bit unsettling.

Rather suddenly, people no longer occupy various positions along a spectrum from very young to very old, with “normal” referring to a narrow band of about 10 years width in the middle of which is yours truly. Now the world is divided into the young and the old, and I know quite well which of those two I’m in.

Earthmen and Other Aliens

Years ago, an editor suggested that I put together a collection of my short stories. I thought it would be a rather skimpy collection, so I put the idea on hold.

This weekend, I decided to take a break from putting off writing Chains and see what stories I have. There are a few that have been published and a few more that should have been published. So, given that I’ve already leaped into the brave, new, revolutionary, world-changing environment of self-published e-books, which means that there’s no agent or editor to dump me if my sales numbers are disappointing, I’ve started putting together a short-story collection.

The title is Earthmen and Other Aliens, which is (almost) a line in one of the stories. I had originally thought to title it The Eye at the Back of the Moon, the title of one of the stories. I decided against that, but it did give me a cover idea.

It’s taking time because some of the stories were written on a (gasp!) manual (gasp!) typewriter and now have to be scanned in, and then the scanner’s OCR output has to be corrected. In the case of my first published story, I don’t even have a clean typed copy, only photocopied pages from the magazine. The scanner has been having a fun time making up words to match the marks on those faded pages.

There’s also one story I’ve been wanting to write for a while. I was waiting for a suitable market to appear, so that I could write the story, submit it, be rejected, and feel sorry for myself. I can skip some of those steps and just write the story. Which of course is the way it should work, aahtistically speaking. But that will take some time.

I hope to have the book up on Smashwords and Amazon in a week or two Or three. At most. I hope. Other outlets (B&N, Apple, Sony, etc.) will then follow as Smashwords distributes to them.

And I have a cover for it already:

http://www.dvorkin.com/earthoal/EarthmenOtherAliensCover.jpg

David Dvorkin, cover designer

I created a page to show all of the covers I’ve created for my e-books, my wife’s e-books, and a friend’s e-books.

Zowie! They look even spiffier when they’re all together like that.

The Liberated Writer

Four years ago, I started this blog with a post explaining why I chose the name A Blister to My Eye. I said the function of the blog would be to pressure me to complete the time-travel novel, Time and the Soldier, that I had been fiddling with for ten years.

This evening, Leonore reread that original post and suggested that I post something about what’s happened with that novel and with my attitude toward my writing career.

I finished the novel a while ago. Two years ago, I think. All excited, and convinced that it was the book that would revive my professional writing career, I set about querying agents. I got an agent, a big name with a very big agency. He loved the book and sent it out to a number of editors. There were some rejections and a lot of non-decisions. And then he decided to leave the agenting business and become an editor at a major publishing house.

Realistically, that meant that Time and the Soldier was dead. Reputable agents aren’t interested in representing a book that has already been rejected by some of the editors they would want to send it to. The editors who hadn’t made a decision would be possibilities, but still the pool of possible editors would be too reduced.

So I stewed for a while and felt (very, very, very) sorry for myself for a while. Then I got fitfully to work on the next novel, Chains. I’d finish that, use it to get an agent, and then ask my new agent to rep Time and the Soldier as well. My professional writing career would be revived! Woo hoo!

I worked fitfully on Chains, hampered by self-pity, which was in turn increased by my being laid off in May 2009 and by my realization that there were no jobs to be had and I might never have a dependable pay check again.

While I was laid off, I spent some of my time reissuing my and Leonore’s previously published books as e-books. I found that I really enjoyed designing the covers for them. I had thought that would be a chore because I’ve never had an artistic eye or an eye for design, but thanks to Gimp and then Photoshop, I discovered that I did.

Well, that was fine for the old books, which would otherwise be unseen by the human eye. But Time and the Soldier was a new book and deserved real publication – i.e., a print edition, from a major publisher, that would show up in bookstores and on racks in supermarkets everywhere.

And then, quite recently, I realized that my attitude had changed. I was going to write, in this post, about how that evolution in my attitude happened, but the truth is that I don’t really know quite how it came about. After depression, and then anger, I suddenly came to feel detached from the industry at whose doors I had been hammering for decades.

For a brief time, early in my career, in the 1970s and early 1980s, those doors seemed to have opened for me. I seemed to be inside the room, albeit still standing near the door and looking at the happy crowd at the buffet table near the opposite wall. But some invisible barrier still blocked my way, and then a sinister and ineluctable force reopened the doors behind me and pushed me back out and locked the doors in my face. I.e., my career tanked.

So I was back to hammering at the doors, but the sound of my knocking couldn’t be heard within because of the loud voices of the happy crowd at the buffet table. Extend that metaphor if you really want to.

And then I stopped hammering.

Some time during the last year, the publishing industry became an alien thing to me, a noisy undertaking over there, a crowd of people standing in a field, waving their hands and shouting at each other and pushing and shoving, filled with desperation, trampling each other underfoot. Irrelevant, pointless, foolish, distasteful.

So I published Time and the Soldier as an e-book. I was pleased by my own lack of regret. The book that, for so many years, I had thought of as my ticket back into that room and maybe all the way to the buffet table would now float out there in the ether and be read by … a few dozen people, with luck. I liked that idea!

Then I realized that I was thinking of Chains not as the book that would be ubiquitous in a print edition and would revive my professional writing career but instead as my next e-book. It, too, would be read by a few dozen people if I was lucky. But what mattered was that my change in attitude about publishing changed my attitude toward how I was writing Chains.

I’m writing it exactly the way I want to write it. It may end up being very long. Or not. It will have a lot of dialog about many different subjects not related to the main plot. It will be discursive and recursive. It will have many points of view and will jump about between them. It will have characters ranting about this and that – political, social, and literary rants that will of course reflect my own attitudes. I’m already enjoying writing Chains more than I’ve enjoyed writing a book in a long time. It’s a wonderful feeling of artistic liberation.

I’ve already created the cover for Chains, and it’s pretty damned zowie, if I do say so myself, and I do. There’ll be other books after Chains, all of them with zowie covers. There’ll be a collection of short stories, a horror novel, a fantasy novel, and, and, and ...

I’m a writer again! And it feels great.

The perfect job!

I just got this in e-mail. Name of supposed sender has been replaced by XXX just in case it’s a real person.

Who could resist this offer?

For ,

I'm XXX. I am personnel managr of our Company.
Our department noticed your CV on Jo.b site ,
Our department sure  u're fit for the position
of Financial manager.

For more info concerning available j.ob.


This may be the perfect complement to your current
jo.b.

If u're want to start, contact me for the next step
of the process.

With respect

Time and the Soldier e-book

Did I not post about this here? Apparently not. What a shocking oversight!

After much sturm und drang and up and down and elation and depression and … you get the picture. After months and years of all of that, I came to a writing-career decision that, for me, was very, very major. Namely, no more with the agents and editors and publishing companies. Embrace the e-book revolution, I told myself. So I published Time and the Soldier as an e-book, putting aside all thoughts of seeing it published physically, let alone seeing it on the racks in the local supermarket.

Which is also to say, I self-published it. Better than having it gather virtual dust on my hard drive, unread by anyone else. It may only be read by a few other people, but that’s still a few more than would read it if it never left my PC. And it will be around and available for purchase forever, or at least for a very long time.

And it has a very spiffy cover, which I created myself via the magic of Photoshop.

Details, including links to buy it in Kindle and various other formats, here: http://www.dvorkin.com/timsol

Too bad I’m not a famous blogger. The book would be virtually flying off the virtual shelves within seconds after I post this.

How We Became Breast Cancer Thrivers

This is a new free ebook. It’s a collection of essays by breast cancer survivors who have a positive attitude about their experience with the disease. Leonore is one of the contributors; her piece is on pages 73-70.

The book was edited by Beverly Vote, who publishes The Breast Cancer Wellness Magazine. You can read about the book on our Web site or on the magazine’s site. If you go to the magazine’s site, click on the link titled “Download E-Book” in small print to the right of the cover image. That opens the PDF version of the book, which is much easier to read than the digital version that the “View Now” link takes you to.

Sniffle, sniffle

I just saw the following announcement of a short story sale. Names disguised to protect them. And possibly me.

Xxx has a narrative poem, “xxx,” in Xxxxx, an anthology of stories around why women are blamed for everything. The book is edited by Xxx and available on Amazon and other venues.

As We Know It

“If we don’t act now, civilization, AS WE KNOW IT, will be destroyed.”

“If we don’t stop this asteroid, it will mean the end of LIFE AS WE KNOW IT"!”

But civilization/life as we don’t know it will be fine?

I really hate that kind of meaningless, reflexive verbiage. It gets added to proclamations, I think because the speaker has heard it so often that he thinks it’s necessary, even though it adds nothing to his statement. Or else because he’s a kneejerk twit.

There are other examples. After Nixon used the phrase “at this point in time”, perhaps during the Watergate crisis, everyone started saying “at this point in time” when they meant “now". Now, damn it, now!

Nixon was the first person I heard say, “I misspoke myself,” instead of, “I was mistaken,” or “I am a pile-of-shit, amoral, soulless, lying crook.” After that, other speakers started using that phrase. Which is okay if you’re a pile-of-shit, amoral, soulless, lying crook. If not, you should probably avoid it and just say something like, “Sorry, I spoke carelessly.”

The first person I heard say “with all due respect” was Jimmy Carter. It was during one of the presidential debates, either in 1976 when he was debating the silly but not evil Gerald Ford or in 1980 when he was debating the Good-God-what-an-evil-pile-of-stupid-shit Ronald Reagan. If I weren’t so old and if I hadn’t drunk so much bourbon, perhaps I’d remember which it was. Not that it matters. Silly but not evil on one hand. Evil pile of stupid shit on the other. Or Republican presidential nominee, for brevity’s sake.

(I think it was 1976, and I think it was in response to Ford clumsily misspeaking himself at that point in time about how East Germans or Poles saw themselves in relation to the Soviet Union. As we knew it.)

I remember being astonished at Carter’s using that phrase. Respect? I thought. For that gray space on the podium? Are you kidding? What respect could you, a highly intelligent, technically educated, well spoken man possibly have for that creature? Why did Carter say it? Was he trying, kindly, to soften the blow before demonstrating how brain dead the Republican was?

Why bother? If you don’t respect the other guy’s opinion, don’t bother with the empty phrase “with all due respect”. If you’re predicting the end of the world, then predict it; don’t add excess words like “as we know it”. If you’re a Democratic candidate debating your opponent, just say, “You’re an astonishingly stupid pile of evil shit, and the policies you propose would destroy civilization. You need to be shut away in a loony bin right now. Jerk.”

David’s Definitions for October 2010

Bromidic

An adjective describing platitudes, trite sayings, clichés. A person who constantly utters such stuff can also be called bromidic. This describes a lot of politicians and speakers at graduations. In the great musical "South Pacific," Nellie Forbush describes herself as bromidic - boring, ordinary, and "a cliché coming true." The adjective bromidic comes from the noun bromide, which refers to such platitudes and clichés. A person who tends to utter bromides can also be called a bromide. In turn, bromide comes from chemistry. Yes, chemistry! Not because chemistry is a cliche, but because a bromide is a compound of the element bromine and some other element, and 100 years ago, certain bromides, in particular potassium bromide, also called bromide of potassium, were commonly used as sedatives. Hence bromide came to mean something that puts you to sleep - like the typical graduation speech. Interestingly, the element bromine, where all of this started, has a very pungent smell, and the name bromine comes from a Greek word that refers to the stench of billy goats, which is not something that any of us would consider bromidic.

(Will be published in the October 2010 issue of Denver's Community News.)

The Scrabble word score of bromidic is 15.
You can find that out here:
http://www.dvorkin.com/scrabscor.html

I'm collecting all of these at:
http://www.dvorkin.com/davidsdefs.html

Fascinating Word Facts

Did you know that:

The words "race car" spelled backwards still spell "race car"?

"Eat" is the only word that, if you take the first letter and move it to the last, spells its past tense, "ate."

And if you rearrange the letters in "Tea Party Republicans," and add just a few more letters, it spells: "Shut the fuck up, you free-loading, progress-blocking, benefit-grabbing, resource-sucking, violent, hypocritical douche bags, and deal with the fact that you nearly wrecked the country under Bush and that our President is black, so get used to it."

Isn't that interesting?

David’s Definitions for September 2010

Senile

Nowadays, we use this word to mean old and infirm, weak from old age. This usage dates from the mid-19th century. Originally, the word just meant having to do with old age. It comes from a Latin word meaning old. Other words that derive from the same Latin root are senior, senescent (growing old, characteristic of being old), and the Spanish title señor. The medieval English word seneschal, a senior servant, comes from the same root combined with a Germanic word, skalk, for servant. I haven't been able to find out if skalk has any connection to our word skulk, which can mean to evade work. Presumably, one of the duties of the seneschal was to make sure that the lower-level servants didn't skulk.

(Will be published in the September 2010 issue of Denver's Community News.)

The Scrabble word score of senile is 6.
You can find that out here:
http://www.dvorkin.com/scrabscor.html

I'm collecting all of these at:
http://www.dvorkin.com/davidsdefs.html

David’s Definitions for August 2010

Risible

Laughable, but in a negative sense. You wouldn't call a comedian's jokes risible if you liked them. If he was a painfully bad comedian, you could say that his attempt at comedy was risible. This is not a common word in modern English. It usually only shows up in pompously written book or movie reviews or political essays - the sort of thing written by people who can't see that their stuffy prose isn't admirable but is instead risible. The word appeared in English in the 1500s. Back then, it meant able to laugh, capable of laughing. By the 1700s, it had come to mean evoking laughter, laughable, but it didn't have a negative connotation yet. That's more modern. The root is the Latin word ridere, to laugh. Our word "deride" comes from the Latin combination de (down) combined with ridere. Someone who uses "risible" in ordinary speech is likely to encounter derision.

(Will be published in the August 2010 issue of Denver's Community News.)

I'm collecting all of these at:
http://www.dvorkin.com/davidsdefs.html

But doctors urge caution blah blah alcohol blah blah

Last night, TV news carried yet another story about the benefits of alcohol. This one concerned the new Dutch report of a correlation between moderate alcohol consumption and reduced risk of several types of arthritis.

After the teaser for that news item, I said to Leonore, “I bet they’ll quote doctors warning people solemnly about the dangers of alcohol.” Of course I was right. Doctors caution against blah blah blah. Because of course if they didn’t give us those warnings, we’d all rush out and drink ourselves into the gutter and divorce and bank robbery and liver failure.

I’ve seen articles about the benefits of tea and coffee, and those lacked solemn warnings against taking up tea and coffee drinking. Yet historically tea and coffee houses have led to far more revolution than alcohol ever did. Possibly to more social unrest and planning of bank robberies, too, but I lack solid data regarding those.

Only when it concerns alcohol does the medical establishment – or maybe it’s the medical journalism establishment – feel the need to moralize, the conviction that without their stewardship we’d all go to Hell. Twits.