The publishing world is alight with Amazon Derangement Syndrome (and it amuses me endlessly to watch some far-left indie authors gleefully embrace that term without the faintest clue that it's a send-up of Bush Derangement Syndrome that they themselves evidence.)
The latest "Amazon is eeebil!" is because Hachette, a publisher who's part of a multibillion dollar media conglomerate - you know, the "poor downtrodden victim" as per the New York Times - is the first publisher to emerge from the lockdown on negotiations after they were found utterly guilty in a price-fixing conspiracy with the five other major book publishers and Apple. The judge is nobody's fool, and has staggered the dates of the release from negotiating lockdown so the unrepentant Price-Fix Six cannot negotiate in collusion. So they're in contract negotiations with Amazon, and nobody's saying what the terms asked or demanded are... but strangely, Big Ebil Amazon isn't rolling over and giving the tiny (hah!) nuturers of culture (hah!) downtrodden (hah!) victims (bwahahaha!) everything they want. If you want to see the classiest declaration of all out war you'll ever read, see here: http://www.amazon.com/forum/kindle?_encoding=UTF8&cdForum=Fx1D7SY3BVSESG&cdThread=Tx1UO5T446WM5YY
Now, let me tell you about the real danger of Amazon. It's sleep deprivation combined with one-click ordering.
Several days ago, Calmer Half was working on a section in the latest book where cluster bomblets are used in an attack. And he emerged from his writing daze to tell me all about Rhodesia's ingenious homebrewed version of cluster bomblets - which involved bouncy balls. Lots and lots of bouncy balls. (Apparently when South Africa copied the design, they set up factories to make plain black bouncy balls, because the generals felt that using brightly multicolored balls was Just Not Cricket.) And in reminiscing, he naturally wandered over to Amazon and typed in "bouncy balls."
Yesterday, a familiar brown box showed up on the porch. Mystified, he opened it - and discovered he'd accidentally ordered one bag of 250 bouncy balls. Neither of us remember him ordering them... but he did.
So, of course, we opened the bag and bounced one just because bouncy balls. ...And the cat appeared, and has been in fanged and clawed ecstasy since.
Bouncy balls. Hardwood floors. Cat. 0430 hours.
Thursday, May 29, 2014
Saturday, May 3, 2014
inertia
Three trips to donations dumpsters and two trips to the dump with a full truckload later, we're getting close to getting ready to move. Not that we've got a set move date or location, but it's like watching the snow line coming down the mountains when summer's still hanging on at sea level.
It's been an awesome few years in the current house, but people move on, and lives change. So sensing the impending move, I came home from work and handed a list of locations to Calmer Half, of everywhere that I could potentially go for My Company. He looked at it in complete disbelief. "Are you going to be promoted? Why would you uproot our lives for a lateral move?"
I frowned in lack of comprehension. "Because we're moving anyway? Pick anywhere you want to go? Or we can move across town, and stay here? All the same to me! But if we have to move, why not pick somewhere new, and make it a move for the better instead of the same?"
After a week of mutual incomprehension, the day came when the light dawned in his eyes. "I'm in my (grey-haired and unashamed of it decade)! You're in your (Refusing to admit gray hair exists decade)! When I was (that age), I was traveling all over Africa!"
Huh.
Wonder if I'll get rooted like that, when my hair is a glorious gray and white?
...nah. There's still too much of the world to see!
It's been an awesome few years in the current house, but people move on, and lives change. So sensing the impending move, I came home from work and handed a list of locations to Calmer Half, of everywhere that I could potentially go for My Company. He looked at it in complete disbelief. "Are you going to be promoted? Why would you uproot our lives for a lateral move?"
I frowned in lack of comprehension. "Because we're moving anyway? Pick anywhere you want to go? Or we can move across town, and stay here? All the same to me! But if we have to move, why not pick somewhere new, and make it a move for the better instead of the same?"
After a week of mutual incomprehension, the day came when the light dawned in his eyes. "I'm in my (grey-haired and unashamed of it decade)! You're in your (Refusing to admit gray hair exists decade)! When I was (that age), I was traveling all over Africa!"
Huh.
Wonder if I'll get rooted like that, when my hair is a glorious gray and white?
...nah. There's still too much of the world to see!
Saturday, March 22, 2014
Age and treachery, part 35
"Old age and treachery overcome youth and enthusiasm, every time." -My father
Calmer Half came into the bedroom with a cup of tea, a cat, and the amused news that our friend was out in the living room, very frustrated. I looked up from Old NFO's book, The Grey Man - Vignettes, and made an inquisitive noise. He shrugged, and the cat leapt down to attack my hand. "The kids won't wake up."
"Oh, that's easy." I reached carefully to hug him with my left hand while my right hand was still encased in a ball of kindle and cat, happily teething away on my skin and the kindle case. "I'll just get some pants on, and get them right up."
He arched an eyebrow at my mischievous smile, and I whispered my plan. "Pancakes and bacon. Few people can sleep through a dishwasher being noisily unloaded, and no college kid ever slept through the smell of free food."
It worked, too :-)
Calmer Half came into the bedroom with a cup of tea, a cat, and the amused news that our friend was out in the living room, very frustrated. I looked up from Old NFO's book, The Grey Man - Vignettes, and made an inquisitive noise. He shrugged, and the cat leapt down to attack my hand. "The kids won't wake up."
"Oh, that's easy." I reached carefully to hug him with my left hand while my right hand was still encased in a ball of kindle and cat, happily teething away on my skin and the kindle case. "I'll just get some pants on, and get them right up."
He arched an eyebrow at my mischievous smile, and I whispered my plan. "Pancakes and bacon. Few people can sleep through a dishwasher being noisily unloaded, and no college kid ever slept through the smell of free food."
It worked, too :-)
Saturday, February 22, 2014
Loose Change
Today, Calmer Half and I got out in the sun for a walk. It was only about a quarter mile, up and down the road, and my lungs wouldn't have taken another fifty feet - but I'm feeling well enough to feel housebound. This is progress! The sun was shining, air calm, birds singing, squirrels scampering, old dogs sprawled in the yard and not even bothering to lift a head as we toddled by.
As we walked along the road, we saw fourteen cents and a pair of nail clippers scattered on the ground. I eyed it, and contemplated if stooping to pick up abandoned money would be worth the coughing fit that bending would trigger. Looking over at Calmer Half, I saw the most disturbed look on his face, as his eyes scanned the quiet suburb intently, hand hovering over the pocket that hangs heavy.
"Love?" I couldn't figure that one out. He looked over at me, and grimaced.
"I'm used to things like that being left in the street so the target will stay still long enough for the sniper to get a good shot." He squeezed my hand in a vague apology.
"Ah, but you're in America now." We toddled on, leaving the coins, and the past, behind.
"I know."
"I love this country."
"I love you."
As we walked along the road, we saw fourteen cents and a pair of nail clippers scattered on the ground. I eyed it, and contemplated if stooping to pick up abandoned money would be worth the coughing fit that bending would trigger. Looking over at Calmer Half, I saw the most disturbed look on his face, as his eyes scanned the quiet suburb intently, hand hovering over the pocket that hangs heavy.
"Love?" I couldn't figure that one out. He looked over at me, and grimaced.
"I'm used to things like that being left in the street so the target will stay still long enough for the sniper to get a good shot." He squeezed my hand in a vague apology.
"Ah, but you're in America now." We toddled on, leaving the coins, and the past, behind.
"I know."
"I love this country."
"I love you."
Friday, February 14, 2014
Saint shot full of arrows day
Calmer Half and I had our date day yesterday instead of today, celebrating both Valentine's and 10 years of his still walking after his back being broken. It was glorious! We went to two different stores on different ends of the city, "looking for ammo." Which made a glorious road trip in the sunshine with the car heat on pleasant - and after stopping at a Krispy Kreme with the "Hot now!" sign on, we proceeded to a third side of the city for the best Thai around.
It was even better than expected - the owner was out, and while his wife was being sole waitress, the son had been dragooned into cooking. The guy was doing his best, and it's clear he really learned how to cook from his parents! However, he's very new at the restaurant - he wasn't up to doing the full menu, and the food we got was made much closer to home cooking than restaurantized-thai. His mother rocketed around looking anxious while he whipped up fresh spring rolls half the size, half the meat, and bursting with flavor, and the tom yum soup I got had at least twice the lemongrass and kaffir lime leaves westerners normally get. He did forget that critical question of "how hot?"
That's okay, I know what sliced bird's-eye chilis look like, and how to pick them out. It was glorious!
It was even better than expected - the owner was out, and while his wife was being sole waitress, the son had been dragooned into cooking. The guy was doing his best, and it's clear he really learned how to cook from his parents! However, he's very new at the restaurant - he wasn't up to doing the full menu, and the food we got was made much closer to home cooking than restaurantized-thai. His mother rocketed around looking anxious while he whipped up fresh spring rolls half the size, half the meat, and bursting with flavor, and the tom yum soup I got had at least twice the lemongrass and kaffir lime leaves westerners normally get. He did forget that critical question of "how hot?"
That's okay, I know what sliced bird's-eye chilis look like, and how to pick them out. It was glorious!
Monday, February 3, 2014
sick, I am
Apparently Yoda had laryngitis, because after I croaked out the information that was absolutely needed today...
Well, higher management was making noises suspiciously like giggling, and contributing radio traffic like "After the input from Dagoba, there, the Death Star has decided..."
...yeah. Fortunately, higher was also pretty good at working with me today on "I've got X,Y, and Q under control, Z will take care of itself until the boss between us gets back, So-and-So already has a heads-up that he may need to fill in for me, so when you can spare him from critical task F, just pull him. I go see the doc now, and not coming back till I'm well."
I have good management. Though, higher has the funniest face when they come out of a blind corner, so I don't see them until after they've heard me say "Someday my prince will come, and he'll be bearing ten thousand rounds of 22 Mag..."
Well, higher management was making noises suspiciously like giggling, and contributing radio traffic like "After the input from Dagoba, there, the Death Star has decided..."
...yeah. Fortunately, higher was also pretty good at working with me today on "I've got X,Y, and Q under control, Z will take care of itself until the boss between us gets back, So-and-So already has a heads-up that he may need to fill in for me, so when you can spare him from critical task F, just pull him. I go see the doc now, and not coming back till I'm well."
I have good management. Though, higher has the funniest face when they come out of a blind corner, so I don't see them until after they've heard me say "Someday my prince will come, and he'll be bearing ten thousand rounds of 22 Mag..."
Thursday, January 16, 2014
Good Books - detective noir flavor
Are you in the mood for some human wave fiction - stuff where the good guys are good, the bad guys are bad, and navel gazing or humanity-is-awful is prohibited? Here's some good stuff by authors I know and like, whom you might not have run into yet.
If you're in the mood for the love child of Dashiel Hammett, Larry Correia, and Jim Butcher, try Pixie Noir by Cedar Sanderson.
It's got all the gritty detective feel of a detective noir film - except the PI's a pixie, who's paid to bring a lost faerie princess to court. Said princess lives in rural Alaska, rides snowmachines, is proficient with a shotgun, and has no inclination to go anywhere with a stranger...
As for the authenticity of detail and the level of humor, Cedar lived out close(ish) to Tok. This is a woman with an impish sense of humor, a motherly eye for knowing when trouble's about to get disastrous, a steady hand on the shotgun, and a deeply shared appreciation of the awesomeness of indoor plumbing.
Want more detective noir, heavily leavened with humor that's about as non-PC as you can get? Try Dave Freer's Bolg PI series. Some of you may know Dave already from his Baen work (Rats, Bats, and Vats - a darkly humorous look at cloning soldiers in the future, and culture clashes.)
Start with Bolg, PI: Away With The Faries
Private Investigator Bolg, a Pictish gentleman who happens to be vertically challenging, a self-proclaimed dwarf and tattooed so heavily he appears blue, finds this restricts him to oddball clients. In this his first case, a wealthy fruitcake who want to dance with the fairies. Most PI's would do their best to avoid this because they know there are no fairies. Bolg would like to avoid it because he knows the fairies too well, and they're mean.
(Includes a magician who charms feminists into doing his ironing, and the PI thinks the pub's sausages are organic - after all, they probably have organs in them... Yeah, that kind of book.)
Dave Freer is another former South African who, instead of moving to the USA like Calmer Half, moved the family to Flinders Island, Tasmania, where he homesteads, dives for lobster, and hunts wallaby for dinner. He also writes YA steampunk, and helps me tease my husband by reminiscing about food from home not available elsewhere. (Calmer Half is currently counting coup by having found an intermittent source of Mrs. Ball's Chutney.)
If you're in the mood for the love child of Dashiel Hammett, Larry Correia, and Jim Butcher, try Pixie Noir by Cedar Sanderson.
It's got all the gritty detective feel of a detective noir film - except the PI's a pixie, who's paid to bring a lost faerie princess to court. Said princess lives in rural Alaska, rides snowmachines, is proficient with a shotgun, and has no inclination to go anywhere with a stranger...
As for the authenticity of detail and the level of humor, Cedar lived out close(ish) to Tok. This is a woman with an impish sense of humor, a motherly eye for knowing when trouble's about to get disastrous, a steady hand on the shotgun, and a deeply shared appreciation of the awesomeness of indoor plumbing.
Want more detective noir, heavily leavened with humor that's about as non-PC as you can get? Try Dave Freer's Bolg PI series. Some of you may know Dave already from his Baen work (Rats, Bats, and Vats - a darkly humorous look at cloning soldiers in the future, and culture clashes.)
Start with Bolg, PI: Away With The Faries
Private Investigator Bolg, a Pictish gentleman who happens to be vertically challenging, a self-proclaimed dwarf and tattooed so heavily he appears blue, finds this restricts him to oddball clients. In this his first case, a wealthy fruitcake who want to dance with the fairies. Most PI's would do their best to avoid this because they know there are no fairies. Bolg would like to avoid it because he knows the fairies too well, and they're mean.
(Includes a magician who charms feminists into doing his ironing, and the PI thinks the pub's sausages are organic - after all, they probably have organs in them... Yeah, that kind of book.)
Dave Freer is another former South African who, instead of moving to the USA like Calmer Half, moved the family to Flinders Island, Tasmania, where he homesteads, dives for lobster, and hunts wallaby for dinner. He also writes YA steampunk, and helps me tease my husband by reminiscing about food from home not available elsewhere. (Calmer Half is currently counting coup by having found an intermittent source of Mrs. Ball's Chutney.)
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