The Fun Never Stops

I've just had another story accepted for publication at Nature Physics. "Everything We Know is Wrong" tells the story of a man who discovers the real cause of global warming. Let's just say he doesn't win a Nobel.

Hoodyhoo!

Not the Same Holiday Inn

My story, Not the Same Holiday Inn, is now up at Foliate Oak. Do check it out.

Sad but True

Harry Reid is putting his foot down on congressional obstructionism - Democratic congressional obstructionism, that is. He's like the Dean Wormer of the Senate - "The time has come for someone to put his foot down, and that foot is me."



Or to paraphrase the immortal Babs, "Harry, is it supposed to be this soft?"

Yet Another Theory

Of all the conspiracy theories behind the assassination of John F. Kennedy, this one seems to me to be the most likely.

It doesn't tell us who shot Kennedy. But it does explain why they killed him. And "why?" has been the weakest link in every theory I've ever seen, until today.

Still, it's all speculation. They'll never let us know the truth, because the truth would set us free.

From the Mouths of Babes

This morning, as my oldest son huddled in front the bathroom heater, he made the following observation:

"I'm cold. When I become a daddy like you, I'll be warm."

aside - I serve as a reliable source of heat on cold mornings. Even our cat, God rest his soul, used to put his cold feet on me to warm them up.

He continued, "When daddies get married, they get warm, but when mommies get married, they stay cold."

Truer words were never spoken, my son.

Milestone, or Millstone?

According to Duotrope, I sent off my 500th short story submission today.

That's actually a bit short of the mark, as there are quite a few places I've submitted stories to that aren't listed on Duotrope, for one reason or another. My guess is it's more like 600, if you go all the way back to my first rejections back in college.

Still, the number at the top of the page is a good round one. But I don't know if I should laugh or cry.

Inflation

I remember when I was fifteen, it was all I could do to drink a quart of beer. It would fill me up to the point of popping. I started drinking light beer, just so I could drink enough to catch a buzz without ending up too stuffed to move.

I want my fifteen year old belly back. My 41 year old belly is far too roomy and accommodating.

(Hey kids, this wasn't cool, btw. I'm not advocating, merely observing.)

Meanwhile, in Texas, they think the end of times are nigh, simply because a mile long UFO is buzzing around. They say everything is bigger in Texas.

That Ain't No Hank Williams Song!

My story, "Not the Same Holiday Inn," has been accepted for publication in The Foliate Oak.

This story is a piece of flash fiction drawn from my unpublished novel, Some Day. It is the only scene from the pov of Tater Bud - a partially-deaf young man who is the youngest of the seven Nettle brothers and the only one of the seven with a job (at the hammer handle factory in Walnut Ridge).

In the story, he recalls his first and only love. He only loved once, but he loved completely.

Modern Ship Building

"I cannot imagine any condition which would cause a ship to founder. Modern ship building has gone beyond that." - Captain Smith, Commander of the Titanic

Bad housing/economic news here, here and here.

Our house is currently on the market. If you can call it a market. More like a garage sale. We couldn't have picked a worse time since before we were in high school to try to move. Funny little world, innit?

So earlier this week, our realtor sent me the latest data on comparable home sales in our neighborhood.

Since July, there have been twelve houses sold. Of the those, nine were foreclosures and one was a foreclosure house flip that sold for $20K under market value.

I have nothing more to say about this, except that it blows donkey.

on second thought

I do have something more to say. The reason we want to move is so we can get our kids into a good school district.

Which begs the question, why does where you live determine whether or not you get to go to a good school? The accident of a child's birth should not, in any kind of just world, condemn that child to ignorance and poverty.

What kind of fucked up world do we live in where if you live on this street, you can attend a decent school, but if you live one street over, that's just too bad, so sad, cry me a river. Tell your parents to get off their asses and get a real job and maybe they can afford to move to a better neighborhood.

We happen to be able to afford to move to a better neighborhood. Because of the shitty housing market, we're stuck here, which means our kids are stuck going to subpar schools. And these schools aren't even that bad - we just want better for our kids. If we lived a few miles to the northwest, they'd be stuck in elementary prison.

America is the wealthiest nation in the world. So why don't all American kids have good schools to go to? Why, in God's holy name, does their ZIP Code or for that matter which side of the street they live on determine the quality of their school?

Life isn't fair. I'm a realist. And I know this complaint isn't new or even particularly original. But Good God, people, this is as fundamental as it gets. If we lived in a world in which the government went out and speared to death all the children in a particular ZIP Code, we'd never ever let that action stand. So why is it ok to allow these kids to die slowly over the course of fifty or sixty years of poverty and ignorance brought about by the accident of where they were born? Wouldn't it just be simpler, and less expensive, to kill all the first born of the poor? We would achieve the same results. What matter the day they enter the grave, they're doomed the day they're born.

Good schools for every child is not a fundamental right, but it should be. It has to be, if this country is to survive. How much longer can we last as a nation if only a small percentage of our population is able to get a decent education? We seem to be blind to the icebergs in our path. We think we're too strong a nation to founder, but we're foundering now.

And when we do go down, rest assured, the people who brought us here will be the first off the boat.

"What do you think I am? Do you believe that I'm the sort that would have left that ship as long as there were any women and children on board? That's the thing that hurts, and it hurts all the more because it is so false and baseless. I have searched my mind with deepest care, I have thought long over each single incident that I could recall of that wreck. I'm sure that nothing wrong was done; that I did nothing that I should not have done. My conscience is clear and I have not been a lenient judge of my own acts." -J. Bruce Ismay, Director of the White Star Line, and survivor of the Titanic

A Rose Between Two Thorns

My story "The Prettiest Woman it the Room" is now available in the winter issue of The Rose and Thorn.

Pop over and take a look around.

The Redneck Guide to Effective Rubbernecking

I can understand the natural curiosity people feel when they come across a road accident. It's human nature. You have Good Samaritan feelings - maybe someone needs help. Or maybe you just want to see if there's a dead body or lots of blood. Half the people who watch NASCAR watch it for the wrecks.

What I can't understand is people who will block up three or four lanes of interstate, coming to an almost complete stop, to look at a fender bender.

Here's how you can be a more effective rubbernecker.

1. Are there ambulances or fire trucks? If not, don't slow down. There's nothing to see.
2. Is there more than one police car on the scene? If not, don't slow down. There's nothing to see.
3. Is there debris in the road? If not, don't slow down. There's nothing to see.

Follow these three simple rules and you won't waste your time or mine.

Just remember, everytime you slow down to gawk at a busted tail light, there's somebody behind you wishing to God he could draw a bead on your head.