In the Fahrenheit 451 sense, that is. For those three or four individuals out there not aware of the book, it was set in a world where literature was banned and burned on sight, for reasons which were never adequately explained; and apparently the only way to keep books alive was to memorize them – probably because 99% of Golden Age SF/Fantasy writers were all about the flying cars, rather than convenient and ubiquitous data storage.
Not that I don’t love Ray Bradbury’s stuff anyway.
Anyway, I’m Gilbert Keith Chesterton’s Lepanto. I know that one so well that I can rap it Beastie Boys style (never listen to Licensed to Ill three times running while on a trip, is all I’m saying).
“Neoconservative” and “neocon” have become terms of abuse, denoting right-wing extremism. But the original neoconservatives began mostly as left-leaning intellectuals who only deserted the Democratic Party after it fell under the influence of the counterculture during the Vietnam War. With Barack Obama about to become president, is there any chance neoconservatives will finally return to the roost?
A month or two ago, the question would have seemed preposterous.
It’s a literary reference, you semi-literate barking moonbats.
Hi. I’m going to spoil your appreciation of the day now.
Oh, not all of you. The people who are ordinary, decent Democrats – or just happy that we’re going to finally have as President somebody who isn’t an old white guy – go ahead and have a good time at the Inauguration. I plan to eat wings and watch it on TV, myself, but that’s because I live in the DC area, which means that I know what the traffic is going to be like. Heck, I wouldn’t be there for McCain’s, if he had won. Anyway, you folks don’t bother finishing this little essay: I don’t want to spoil your day. Hope it’s a good one for you.
But as for the rest of you. The Maoists. The Stalinists. The Klansmen. The anti-Semites. The blackshirt anarchists. The unwashed antiglobos. The summer patriot celebrities. The 9/11 Troofers. The Che-worshippers. The neo-Nazis. The deep ecologists. The PETA freakazoids. The World Can’t Wait losers. The Code Pink soldier-haters. The International ANSWER seditionists. The ACORN election-fraud enthusiasts. Every single one of you who screamed and ranted and threw garbage cans and put on bandannas and plotted attacks (incompetently) and waved around giant paper-mache heads… yeah. You people.
Thanks to Glenn Reynolds, I’ve got Tremors stuck in my head. Ever see it? It was one of those movies where a bunch of actors did a better job than they were really supposed to with a script that was just a touch better than it had any right being and a plot that was remarkably fresh for being in a can for forty years. I say this with all love and affection: it’s rare that I get to see a movie that combines the Cthulhu Mythos (sorta) with automatic weapons fire.
The sequels, of course, pretty much sucked… oh, God help us all, but they made it into a television show.
I was alerted that Hollywood’s going to do Foundation – which will, of course, suck: but it probably won’t suck epically, so we’re going to have to help them with that. I’ll start: the director? Tim Burton. It’s not that Burton’s bad; it’s just that Burton is all wrong for Isaac Asimov.
Feel free to chime in with your own suggestions for casting: the only rule is that the choice either has to be hilariously wrong, or fascinatingly wrong.
After all, judging from some of the stuff that Phoenix supposedly did to get into his parts in Walk the Line and The Village*, he might be involved in something pretty deep, here. A decent man wouldn’t mock that – or the other possibility, which involves recreational chemicals.
You and your friend are flying to Myrtle Beach to do some golfing. Sounds like fun; have a good time!
Oops! Your regular carrier cancels your flight! Well, that’s all right: they get you a flight on another airline. So, you fly off…
…and your plane promptly loses both engines because of a flock of what were likely geese*. And, oh, look, there’s the Hudson River.
Fortunately, your captain today is Chesley B. Sullenberger III, who proceeds to demonstrate that he’s just that good. So you manage to actually walk away from a forced water landing in the middle of winter. Don’t buy any more lottery tickets, by the way – and look both ways while crossing the street from now on. You’ve used up your quota of luck for a while.
All of this means that you never actually make it to Myrtle Beach.
And so, when you eventually get around to calling your original carrier to cancel your return trip, guess what happens?
You know, in some cultures the response to this would be to lock the customer service representative in a room with a gun and expect him to do the honorable thing. I’m not saying that this is the right solution – but it’s probably the one that Spirit Airlines might end up wishing that it could pursue… Continue reading Spirit Airlines did *what*?