One of my favorite things in the world to have happen.
I heartily endorse both Shaenon/Jeff’s and Eric/Wednesday’s Patreons, as well. Shaenon does my Tom Vargas covers (she’s looking forward to starting on BANSHEE BEACH), and Wednesday is my increasingly long-suffering editor tasked with tempering my atrocities against the semicolon. Good folks, good creatives, check them out.
Lucidity is not sanity. You can be perfectly clear and intelligible, while at the same time quite mad. For that matter, even if our protagonist succeeds he’s still going to be quite mad.
Is what’s happening in ‘Market Equilibrium’ a good thing, or a bad thing? I’m not sure. Mostly it’s just a thing. That’s a lot of time just how the world works.
People usually decide that a Cuckoo city is just something weird that the Precursors do, for their own reasons. The Precursors generally don’t do much where the younger species can see them, anyway. Besides, they’re not inherently bad, just… weird. You learn to let it go.
It was… not the best month, creatively. Had to push through a few times. Hopefully July will be better.
Anyway, enough whining!
Sorry, but ‘Almost Spoiled For Choice’ speaks sooth: Prohibition might have cut down on how much individuals drank, but it had pretty much no effect on how many individuals drank. Although I suppose cutting down our per-capita consumption had its points. Lord knows our ancestors routinely drank at levels that would alarm college seniors.
“Off to Space Once More” is not one of the glamorous magitech universes. You’ll get your hands dirty — I mean, like physically dirty. There are smells. But when you do the Procyon Run by the seat of your pants and the skin of your teeth, you can say afterward that you’ve done something.
I regret that the latest entry in THE BOLD MARAUDER is a few days late, but it wasn’t a great weekend, sorry. Still, better late than never, right? And we’re getting a reveal, too. Hurray!
‘Almost cracked’ is doing a lot of heavy lifting in ‘Silent Running.’ A lot of heavy lifting. Putting individual humans in solitary orbit for five years will result in a lot of psychological pressure. Depending on who you ask, it’s either fortunate or unfortunate that most of those volunteers managed to sustain themselves on a diet of pure rage…
The humans in ‘MYOB’ instinctively distrust any suggestions that they, well, MYOB. It feels unnatural. Besides, what if the war suddenly becomes their business. Best to be prepared, right?
