Americans should not fear talking–and listening–to those whose views we loathe.
[T]his has been our history: to let all speak and to fear no one. That’s a good history to continue.
This is brilliant.
7. So you somehow defied the odds and got published by an actual for-real publisher! What’s the secret to beating the Evil Publishing Company Conspiracy to keep the “little guy” (particularly the ones with the “Unique Artistic Vision) out of publishing?
Well, the key secret to getting published, above and beyond all others, is this: you have to write a good book. That’s the whole thing, right there, in a nutshell.
Did you just read this post? Now click here.
Take off your shoes, you uncircumcised heathen. You are about to tread on holy ground!
Outrageous Fortune by Tim Scott
— A huge romp that loses track of all its threads towards the end and leaves an unsatisfying feeling that not everything has been wrapped up as neatly as the author thought. It’s also horribly mis-titled. His next book is to be called Love In The Time Of Fridges, so this one probably was going to be Don’t You Hate It When This Happens? but something must have gone awry in editing/marketing land. If you like Jasper Fforde‘s bizarre works, you’ll love this book. For most of the book, I kept thinking it was Fforde writing under a pseudonym. Apparently Tim Scott is a real person (who does not have a site or a blog!):
Tim Scott is not Jasper Fforde!
I have no idea yet. I have a few non-fiction books and several Palahniuk novels. I’ll have to see what captures my fancy…
Ammunition by Ken Bruen
— it’s Bruen! He always jumps the Endless Reading Queue. Here’s a quick YouTube video of him. He’s one of my writing gods and has been in the Blogroll since the start. I would have had this read already, but I didn’t get to the NYPL in time. It’s on hold there and now I have to wait until tomorrow. Just what I need: a reason to wake up tomorrow.
I’ll Sleep When I’m Dead: The Dirty Life and Times of Warren Zevon by Crystal Zevon
— bloody hell. This is a two-inch thick book that also weighs a ton. I just couldn’t keep lugging it around. I’ll have to return to it another time.
A poster over at Gear Diary has cloned the electrons of Stephen Fry’s now globally-famous cri de coeur about smartphones and other like pocketable devices.
Go read it here.
Thanks to Jim Moat for the email tip.
Yeah, you still can’t get it from Fry:
We’ve enjoyed extensive web traffic over the past few days. As a result, the Forum and Blog will be shutting down from Saturday 6.00AM-12.00PM (British Summer Time) whilst we upgrade the server.
Please return for the latest on Stephen’s blog and events in the Forum.
And for those of you (which probably includes Fry himself) who doubted I’ve read his novels, here’s one of the many bits I scanned and carry around with me in my PDA (currently a wretched Palm LifeDrive):
Jane’s house found itself somewhere near Onslow Gardens. There was money in her purse, no question, courtesy of her Uncle Michael no doubt, and, like every rich, ignorant girl these days, she passed herself off as an interior decorator.
“People saw what I’d done with the flat,” she said, as the taxi drew up outside a standard South Kensington white-pillared portico, “and asked if I could help them out too.”
The interior lived up to my ripest expectations. Hideous flouncing swags for curtains, raw silk instead of wallpaper, you can picture the whole sham shambles for yourself, I’m sure. Barbarically hideous and as loudly wailing a testament to a wholly futile and empty life as can be imagined. Just how fucking idle, just how rotting bored, do you have to be, I wondered, to sit down and dream up this kind of opulent garbage? She was standing in the middle of the room, eyebrows raised, ready for my gargles of admiration. I took a deep breath.
“This is one of the most revolting rooms I’ve ever stood in all my life. It is exactly as hideous as I expected, and exactly as hideous as ten thousand rooms within pissing distance of here. It’s an insult to the eye and fully as degrading a cocktail of overpriced cliché as can be found outside Beverly Hills. I would no more park my arse on that sofa with its artfully clashing and vibrantly assorted cushions than I would eat a dog-turd. Congratulations on wasting an expensive education, a bankload of money and your whole sad life. Goodbye.”
That’s what I would have said with just two more fingers of whisky inside me. Instead, I managed a broken, “My God, Jane . . .”
“Like isn’t the word . . . it’s, it’s . . .”
“They tell me I have an eye,” she conceded. “Homes and Interiors were here last week, photographing.”
“I’m sure they were,” I said.
“You should have seen the place when I moved in!”
“Such a sense of light and space,” I sighed. Always utterly safe.
“Men don’t usually appreciate such things,” she said with approval, moving to the drinks table.
“Fuck you, you mad, sad bitch,” I said inside, while “Even a man couldn’t fail to be knocked out by this skilful, tasteful blend of the ethnic and the domestic,” said my cowardly outspread arms.
— The Hippopotamus by Stephen Fry; pgs. 21-22
Right then. Hurry off and go buy his books. They are hugely funny, witty, and intelligent.
Previously in this blog:
Someone Bop Stephen Fry On His Noggin, Dammit
Since bloody yesterday I’ve been trying to get to his blog! No go! Argh!
Stephen Fry: I’ve read every damned novel of yours that’s been published in the U.S. Email me your damned blog since it seems I can’t get to it!
Documentary on the making of Thunderbirds & all the other worlds of Gerry Anderson. Features interviews with Gerry Anderson, Ed Bishop, Francis Matthews, Christine Glanville & Derek Meddings. Edited by myself back in 1991 to a radio documentary from the 1980’s.
This is a wonderful little documentary filled with images I’ve never seen before! Taken from a VHS tape, showing some wear.
I’d never seen the A.P. studios before.
Special effects master and pioneer Derek Meddings
One-legged on a scary catwalk: No OSHA!
One of those exciting Derek Meddings explosions!
Look at how large the Angel Interceptor cockpit area was!
Another great Meddings explosion! No one could do it like him!
Terrahawks: behind the scenes
Look at the puppet’s size next to the light meter!
improved quality recording
its a no strings deal
A snarky ad featuring a sorry-assed imitation Scott Tracy:
No! This is Scott Tracy, dammit:
(Of course they would have to use an imitation. The real Scott has too much dignity!)